Page 45

18

AMITY

The next morningQilan hands me a shopping list. It’s written on a scrap of paper ripped out of her notebook. On the back are notes in the language she’s studying, Dena’ina.

I scan the list. I saw most of this stuff when I was at the market yesterday, before the excitement. I pull on my jacket and check that I have cash.

Qilan still looks a little concerned, maybe because of my report of what happened yesterday with the fight breaking out.

“Ami, just so you know, you don’t have to go back there. You can take it easy, get used to things up here.” Underneath her initial suspicion she’s kind of a motherly person. I saw that last night when she was talking with Ren in a low voice about Ren’s brother. She went out late with Ren to “get Eli out of a jam.” Now she’s given me something to do, some way to help, which I appreciate, so I tell her that.

“I’m happy to have something to do, Qilan. I’m used to having a lot going on.” I’m a little surprised I don’t feel more scared. But the market’s not that far, and even without security stations or CSOs nearby, I feel like I can watch for danger and get back to the house quickly if I need to.

“I’ve got this. I’ll call if I have any questions or if I need anything,” I assure her.

“Okay,” she agrees and turns back to her work. The feeling of her trusting me, believing I can keep myself safe and get what the house needs, warms my heart.

It’s sunny again today, and a little warmer. I keep my coat on, since it feels a little bit like protection, but unzip to cool off. Near the market I start to sharpen my gaze, scanning a little more carefully. I’m watching for people in an argument or anyone carrying a weapon. Also, if Vale is here, I’d prefer to see him before he sneaks up on me again.

With that in mind, I skim the outside of the market, staying close to the clumps of people, mimicking them, trying to blend in. I see a couple of tall men, but no Vale.

I slip in from the side, away from the main entrance, and wait for coffee, surreptitiously glancing around me. I still don’t see him. Clutching my cup of coffee, I retreat back to the edge, relaxing my gaze, letting my attention flit from one thing to another.

I know eventually I’ll have to start collecting the things on Qilan’s list, but there’s not a huge rush. I’ve got all morning.

Then I catch a flash of someone, standing over by the knife dealer from yesterday. Close cropped hair and a bodyand shoulders a little taller and broader than the men around him.

I slip over to the left, lingering behind a line of people waiting for the fishmonger. The smell of fish is strong and I breathe through my mouth for a minute while I wait for him to move on.

Vale walks slowly down the next aisle of tables and tents, his head a slow swivel from side to side. I can’t keep a small smile off my face, thinking he might be looking for me but I found him first.

I stay behind. My guess is that he will turn the corner and go down the next aisle, checking all the people in that direction.

I’m a little surprised when he jerks open a tattered door and strides into a building at the edge of the market. It has a broad window in the front with a counter and stools. I shrink back, peeking out from behind a parked truck.

Then I glance around. I’m not sure how weird I’m acting, but no one seems to be paying attention.

I watch through the window as Vale grabs a drink—is that alcohol? I can’t tell—and settles down at the counter, all the way to the side where a shadow partially hides him from view. He’s looking out at the market.

I smile. It’s a good idea, watching from the window. He didn’t realize I would be here before him. I duck over to the side of the building, wondering if there’s an entrance in the back. Behind the row of joined buildings is a parking lot and dumpster, trash strewn around, and back doors to the shops.

For some reason my heart is beating faster, the nerves Iexpected before I came to the market catching up with me a little late.

Giving myself a shake, I jerk the back door open and stride through. A little bell rings—darn it—and I see several heads turn, including the bartender and a couple of men hunched over pints in the middle of the morning. Weird.

Vale’s head turns too.

I give him a feigned look of surprise and then proceed to ignore him as best I can while I approach the bar.

When the bartender looks up to help me I freeze, looking around. There’s no alcohol in the Peaceful Society, and I don’t want to drink any now. But all I see scribbled on the board and lined up behind this bar are different kinds of bottles and alcoholic drinks.

“What will it be?” the man asks.

I open my mouth and close it. Should I get a beer and not drink it? I feel myself starting to flush, embarrassed as I search for an answer to his question.

“She’ll have a Shirley Temple.” Vale’s snuck up, taking advantage of my inability to place a drink order.

I furrow my brow at him but he mutters “It’s non-alcoholic” as the man turns away to mix some things together in a glass, topped off with a cherry. Vale draws a bill out to pay for it before I can object.