She had never seen the streets of Malakesh so empty, not even on those dark and thankfully rare days when plague stalked the city. Most everyone must be huddled inside, Vessa supposed, out of the unnatural light and hoping that if they ignored this strangeness then the sun might decide to saunter back into the sky as if nothing had happened. Even the galagan lizard from the previous day had finally abandoned the festering remnants of the dog's corpse, which now sprawled alone and forlorn in the middle of the road. Vessa was suddenly struck by an odd thought: just as rats flee sinking ships or fleas a corpse, perhaps the vermin of Malakesh were streaming from the city in a chittering, writhing horde, some animal impulse telling them that this eternal twilight portended an onrushing calamity.
She couldn't blame them if they were. Fingers of lavender stretched from the horizon into a sky mottled by patches of black and purple. The colors shimmered and twisted, some growing lighter while others darkened, but night – or the dawn – never seemed truly imminent. The city was trapped in an interstitial moment, the kind that usually comes and goes in an instant, barely noticed, like the blink of an eye. Seeing something that should have been so fleeting continue to linger was disconcerting, and made her skin crawl.
She left the main road and entered the narrow, twisting side streets and alleys of the Rat Quarter. Shapes huddled under piles of rags, and small, fierce-looking children crouching in the shadows paused their games to watch her pass. Most of the doors of these listing houses were shut tight, but a few were flung open, revealing the lives of the Rat's inhabitants. Through one doorway she saw a young mother bend to hack a chunk of meat from the corpse of a small pig, her babe's thatch of black hair just visible atop the basket slung across her back. The girl looked up and caught Vessa's eyes and nodded a wary greeting. Vessa glanced up at the sky and felt a flush of shame for accidentally bringing such fear and disruption into their already difficult lives.
She needed to find Del and figure out what in the seven abysses was going on. Instead of recovering the Eye for the faithful of Aradeth, they had in fact been deceived into stealing the artifact from them. But by whom? The Night Brotherhood? Certainly, they would be the obvious suspects. One of the shadow societies? Perhaps they were behind all this, and after being hired to find the Eye, they would simply sell it back to the high priest for an outrageous amount. She and Del would serve as very convenient scapegoats in that scenario. And what about Sahm? She had seemed so young and innocent. If it all had been a performance, then the girl deserved a spot in the most celebrated troupe of mummers in the city. Vessa shook her head, trying to order her thoughts. She didn't want to descend into a dreamsmoke den while confused, lest an accidental whiff of the drug trap her within the labyrinth of her own mind, endlessly following the twisting threads of these mysteries but getting nowhere. She needed clarity right now.
Down an otherwise empty alleyway, Vessa paused in front of a small, nondescript door of red wood. Taking a deep, steadying breath – how long it been? – she knocked loudly.
"Where does the balobo bird nest?" The words were faint, muffled by the thick wood.
Vessa cleared her throat. "In the temqua tree, the roots of which trail into the poison water."
The door swung open sharply, and Vessa took an involuntary step back, her hand going to her sword hilt.
A small, gnarled woman with skin the color of teak stood in the entrance, blinking up at her. She smacked her gummy lips and smiled toothlessly. "By the last lord of Hardlight, tis Vessa. Haven't seen you round so much, girl."
"I was in the south. The Silken Cities."
"Thought you might have been tryin' to slip the golden serpent's coils." The old woman cackled. "Not so easy, is it?"
Vessa gritted her teeth. "I'm not here to smoke. I need to find Del."
"Maybe he don't want to be found right now."
Vessa crouched down in front of the tiny woman, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the strong smell of rot, and stared hard into her glittering black eyes. "Take me to him. It's urgent."
The crone held her gaze for a long moment. Finally, she shrugged and turned away. "Come with me, then. And don't make any problems for the others."
Vessa followed the old woman as she hobbled down the narrow, darkened passage, then waited as she withdrew a key of black iron and inserted it with a hollow clunk into a massive lock. She gave the key a few hard twists, each accompanied by a grunt of effort, and then the door swung open. Laughter and the sweet strains of a plucked kepla spilled into the passage, along with a tendril of golden smoke that writhed along the floor like a blind snake, groping towards Vessa as if it knew her.
Which it did. Vessa felt the familiar ache begin in her chest. No. No, she had to find Del. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the dreamsmoke den.
It hadn't changed in the last few years. Pastel curtains of rippling translucent cloth partitioned the large chamber into a hive of small rooms, each filled with mounded cushions and sprawled bodies. Golden ribbons floated through a glittering haze, twisting around insubstantial images that formed and melted away in moments. A great silver fish flicked its tail and was gone. Shadowy, long-limbed shapes cavorted in a mad dance before dissolving. A child with luminescent eyes reached out an imploring hand, her face twisted in fear, then receded into the golden fog.
Dreams made real. Vessa breathed through her mouth and tried to avoid the thickest strands of dreamsmoke, but even still she felt the old tingling begin in the back of her skull. Her body wanted nothing more than for her to sink onto the cushions and give herself over completely to the drug.
Del. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Del's life – and her own – were at stake now. She had to be strong.
She found him lolling beside a spent dreamsmoke lamp, the fire beneath it long since gone out. A flaxen-haired girl, her large eyes glazed and skin sallow, clung to him like he was a piece of driftwood in the middle of the ocean.
"Del!" Vessa nearly shouted, and though her partner did not stir, the girl pouted and squirmed deeper into his embrace.
"Up," Vessa snarled, digging the toe of her boot hard into the soft flesh of the girl's thigh. Hissing in pain, the den courtesan rolled away and scrambled on her hands and knees through the maze of piled cushions and hanging strips of silk.
With the warmth of the girl gone, Del finally began to move, passing his hand sluggishly in front of his face. "What . . . what's happening? Mother?"
She didn't have time for this. Vessa grabbed her partner by his ankles and pulled him forward so hard that his head slipped from its pillow and thunked against the floor. "I'm not your mother."
Del groaned, clutching at the pillows around him until they toppled over and covered his chest and face. Vessa sighed and thrust her hands into the pile, reaching for his tunic, but then recoiled as a small green snake with gleaming red eyes slithered out from a crevice between two tumbled cushions. The snake flicked its tongue at her and then slowly faded into nothing, becoming faint wisps of shimmering gold.
Vessa shook her head, trying to clear it. She needed to get out of here before the dreamsmoke sunk its claws any deeper into her – escaping the knives of the Lost Men would be impossible while wallowing in the drug's clutches.
With a snarl, Vessa reached down and hauled Del to his feet. He blinked watery red eyes at her, trying to focus. "Vess?" he slurred, swaying.
"It's me, you fool," she said and began dragging him towards the door. just before they reached the exit, the wizened old woman materialized in front of Vessa, scowling. "Where ya goin'? Yer boy didn't pay, and he sucked up a dragon's worth o' the smoke."