Page 134 of The Last Hope
THIRTY-THREE
Court
“What do you want for it?” I ask the Fast-Tracker. We’re on the west side of Montbay. The rough waves unsettle a rickety wooden structure that bobs up and down. AFOR RENTsign hangs on the front door of the house barge. Calling it ahouseis utterly kind. It’s more of a structure. But there’s a roof and privacy, two things our group badly needs.
We don’t know how long it will take to find the baby—or if this baby is even real—and we can’t spend our nights on the streets.
After Franny and I struck out in the tunnels today, we had to find a boat to row through the canals. The abandoned ones were along the west side of the mainwater. So as we searched, we both noticed theFOR RENTsign on this house barge.
But nothing can be simple.
The problem—Fast-Trackers all seek something different. And I can’t be certain this one wants bills for rent.
Colorful tattoos ink the FT’s flesh, gliding up along his neck. He glances back warily at the house barge. “My Influential mother just died in it,” he tells me. “I’d say with that kind of luck, it’s worth more than you’ve got.” He looks between each of us in our group. The others stand back, letting me talk. Out of everyone, they believe I can convince him the best. Let’s hope they’re right.
“Bills?” I question.
“Two thousand,” he demands.
My stomach sinks, but I think the emotion stems fromMykal, since he’s the one who put us in this position. But I don’t blame him.
“Two thousand bills? For that thing?!” Kinden says in disbelief, pointing a finger at it. Padgett leans into his hip and whispers quickly, probably telling him to keep his mouth shut.
The FT lifts his chin. “Like I was sayin’, it’s worthmoresince my mother died there. Take it or leave it.”
I swallow hard. “What if I had something of equal value?” I question.
The FT laughs and looks me up and down. “You’re pretty, but not worth two thousand—”
Mykal lunges forward, already hot-blooded from today. Swiftly, Stork grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him back to his side. Pieces of blond hair fall into Stork’s face, and Mykal lets out a low growl.
The Fast-Tracker takes a step back. “Heya, keep that one away from me.” He sets a grimace on Mykal.
“Do you drink?” I ask.
He full-belly laughs. “Are you a chump? What kind of question is that?” He laughs again. “Do I drink?” He touches his chest. “Have you not heard the stories of Bollow Bormcastle? The Fast-Tracker who lives on the west sea line and can drink any FT to the ground, all the while keeping the contents in his belly during therougheststorms? I’m a fykking champion.”
Great.
This might actually work.
“What if I told you that I had the world’s best liquor? It’s like drinking gold.”
Stork whips his head to meet my gaze, eyes wide. “No,” he snaps angrily. “That’s mine.”
Confusion pinches every part of me. I know Stork loves to drink, but I didn’t think he’d be possessive of it right now. Mainly because he didn’t even pack the flask.
Idid.
Not only that, but he’d always planned to stop drinking assoon as we touched Saltare-1. It’s what he told me. For the mission, he wasn’t going to numb his grief any longer. He’d be focused. Clear.
But maybe he’s tempted by the flask. I’m not linked to him. I don’t know how far his cravings run.
“I’m the one holding it,” I remind Stork.
He glowers and releases his grip on Mykal. “Do you know what I did for that?” He sneers. “No, I don’t think you do. It’s not yours to give away, Court.”
Bollow swings his head from me to Stork and back to me, lips slowly lifting. Enthralled by this exchange.
