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It was still dark when they rolled into the quay. Irritable and deprived of sleep, the girls stumbled down the ladder while down at the beach, Bartol spoke to a man clad in white and blue.

Isla breathed in the pre-dawn air. She took the scent of wet sand and fish, itched at the sticky warmth that cloyed her skin. How odd it was to be home. Home? But it isn't. Not really.

The guard tipped his ocean-bleached hat as they passed, leaving Bartol to deal with all the administrative nonsense. The fisherman's voice was heavy with an exhaustion he did not need to feign as he pleaded with the man.

'... that's fine, Bart. I know you've been gone all day. We can skip the inspections tonight.'

'These border checks ... really. To fish in our own waters. What a nuisance.'

'It's mostly for the fleets travelling in and out. Never know what sort the sea might dump out on us. Pity our fishermen get caught in the web.'

Their voices faded as Isla followed Kusuma up the beach. Her shoes – thin and worn after a turn of constant use – soaked up the sand and sunk underneath her. She was glad when they hit the dry mudbank.

'Welcome to Surikhand,' whispered Persepa behind her. 'How do you like it so far?'

Hot, despite the wind howling in from sea. It was too dark to see anything other than the faint glow of lanterns ahead. Isla's heart ached with that inexplicable feeling of dread. 'I've only been to Biripor once, eleven years ago. I was only nine at the time, but I remember it clearly. The smell ... the taste of the wind ... sound of the waves. It's all so peaceful.'

The Shapors kept house a good distance north of the quay, where the beach gave way to reeds and prickly grass growing as tall as a man's thighs. An inlet bridged the terrain, streaming in from the sea. A panoply of houses rose upon short, wooden stilts, placed with no regard for design or symmetry, or any of the orderliness with which the Elings were so consumed.

Farther downstream were some marshlands, if the smell was anything to go by. But the doors were thrown open, and a sizeable woman herded them out of the stench. Their introduction was brief. Mother Shapor heated a pot of goat milk for the girls, clucked them to bed like a big mother hen, and moments later, Isla found herself gazing at the thatched ceiling, four girls curled on the mattress around her.

This is what it's like for them, she thought as she dozed off. A family of six, sharing a house of two bedchambers and a kitchen.

In the morning, she discovered that the Shapors, as did their neighbours, would bathe in the inlet with no care for modesty or shame. Their chamber pots were the marshes downstream, their dining halls wherever their children decided they wanted to play.

Mothers chased their toddlers around the yard – wicker plates in hand – trying to feed their irrepressible brood. Kusuma was watching them when Isla joined her, soaking in the early morning sun. 'This is our little corner of Biripor. Not much, but it's home.'

'You have a wonderful view.' They had the eastern sky before them, stretching over a vast field where men had let out their goats to graze and chickens to roost, and from where the sun had begun its leisurely rise.

It was good to be back on dry, solid land. Now that she was rested, Isla could fully appreciate the change. It seemed only yesterday she was tending the coffee shop with Juri ... chatting with Noi over a pot of tea ...

She never thought she would see Surikhand again – but there it was, just as she remembered: alive with laughter and gossip, fresh with scents of the earth and sea.

'Kusuma. I didn't know you had a guest.' A woman had stopped in front of Bartol's house, her right hand still full of the rice she was trying to feed to her screaming child.

'Mother Adnan.' Kusuma put a hand on Isla's shoulder. 'This is my eldest sister.'

'Your sister?' Mother Adnan stepped closer to study the two girls.

'Yes. She arrived late last night.'

'Ah. The one who works in Pior Lam? Quite a distance from Biripor ... four days from their southern port, no?'

Isla smiled, trying to mask her mounting panic. Bartol had not prepared her on the details of their story. She had no clue how long it took to reach Pior Lam. Her knowledge of Surikh geography was restricted to the maps she had seen in Noi's bedchamber; all she knew of Pior Lam was that it was the northern-most province of the kingdom.

'Bart rarely talks about you. Though when he does, it's always clear how proud he is.' Mother Adnan was facing her now, sizing her up with her murine eyes. 'What was your name, again?'

'Lilja,' said Isla after a false start. She had been under the impression that Lilja was a constructed character; not that she would be filling in the shoes of a girl who truly existed.

'Are you here to visit? Or have you grown tired of Pior Lam? You work for a baron there, don't you? What was his name, again? ... oh! it's slipped my mind ...'

'Raj Danu. An unknown baron, really.' Kusuma came to her rescue. Isla was reeling back at all the questions. She had forgotten how much the Surikh liked to poke about into everyone else's lives. 'Eldest Lilja is only staying for a short visit; she's too important for them to let go of.'

'Is she?' Mother Adnan's brows tweaked higher into her hairline. 'You've got to tell me how you managed to make yourself indispensable to a baron. What is it you do?'

'Sisters! We're going to be late!' They all turned at the sound of Eppi's voice. The girl was standing in the reeds, hands on her hips, leaning over two barrows filled with buckets of what Isla later discovered was brined fish.

Kusuma's hand eased upon Isla's shoulder. 'Sorry, Mother Adnan. Got to go to market! Come, Eldest.'

The girls hastened down the trail towards Eppi. Soon the three of them were off through the fields; Kusuma and Eppi laboriously pushing a barrow each, Isla clearing the reeds before them.

'Bet Mother Adnan was giving you both a hard time,' Eppi was saying.

'She's a talker,' added Kusuma. 'One of our more ... inquisitive neighbours.'

'You mean a snoop, Elder. You can say it, you know.'

Isla laughed at Eppi's frankness.

'The rest of our neighbours will know about you by the time we get back,' Eppi continued. 'You can trust me on that.'

'No, she won't,' said Kusuma, stern. 'Mother will take care of her.'

'Your father said we would go over our official narrative today. I didn't know I'd be helping you sell fish instead. Not that I mind,' Isla added quickly. 'I'm just worried someone catches me in a lie. It will put all of you at risk.'

'We couldn't leave you with Mother Adnan. She's more persistent than the law officers and their hounds combined.' Kusuma wiped her sweaty brow with the back of a hand. 'All you need to know for now is that you arrived from Pior Lam last night. The man you work for is Raj Danu. Our family used to work his lands. Five years ago we left and moved here.'

'And Lilja stayed?' Isla asked. When no one answered, she looked back at the two sisters. They were focused on moving their barrows over the uneven ground. 'Your eldest sister. She's a real person, is she not?'

It was Eppi who answered after a moment's hesitation. 'She's no longer with us.'

Isla's mouth fell shut. She was not like Mother Adnan, pushing for as much detail as her curiosity demanded.

The market was an area sectioned off where the beach met the embankment. Tents and stalls stood against one another, rope-to-rope, table-to-table, leaving just enough room for carts to roll by single file.

Persepa and Sabri were setting up their stall when they arrived. The market was just stirring awake. The fruit merchant was taking out his baskets, the butcher stringed out his meat, and far beyond them, the florist arranged her flowers.

By the time they had finished laying out the fish, the first stream of customers had started to arrive. By mid-day they were down to their last selection of seabass and mackerel.

Kusuma took a waterpot and ushered Isla down to the embankment. They washed their hands, sat by the ledge, staring out at the quay, now heavy with ships at berth. Passengers descended onto the platform, where they were greeted by border officers in white and blue coats so stiff the wind could not carry them.

'There you are.' It was Bartol, more concerned than he was cross. 'I didn't think you'd be out to the markets. It's not safe here yet.'

He offered his arm, and Isla let him help her up. He nodded then to the quay; to the ships – or one in particular. The one Isla had been secretly watching, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of one or two familiar figures.

When Bartol spoke again, he had let his voice drop so only Isla could hear. 'Osmer isn't the only one who uses sylphid for messengers.' He stared at Tempestorm, grim, as though Isla did not already get his point. 'They would've sent the passenger list on ahead. If your name is on the Surikh redlist, there'll be guards waiting to apprehend you when you come ashore.'

A good thing we're steps ahead of them. Isla had not known the particulars, but she and Sir Edric had been prepared exactly for that.

'That's why Osmer had me transport you, isn't it?' Bartol continued. 'I won't ask why you're on the redlist, but I will ask that you keep your head down. Even being so close to them ... you don't know what they're capable of.'

Down by the beach, border officers checked for papers as each passenger descended. When the last had debarked, two officers marched up the platform and waved the crew over.

'I ran away,' said Isla at last.

'What's that?'

'That's why I'm on the redlist. I was an early-bloomer, and by the time they declared me a fourth-rank, my theurgy had still to settle. So my parents ... they arranged to leave Surikhand before my next blooding was due. They were worried the testers would declare me a third-rank and –'

'– have you conscripted,' Bartol finished. 'Your parents made a good decision.'

Isla sniffed. 'I'm not sure. The testers would have reported me to the redlist for absconding. And my parents –'

'They did what was best,' Bartol said, firmer. Beyond them, the officers were now deep in argument with the crew. 'It would've been worse for you if you stayed, what with the Maha Rama's newest Act ... can't remember the name of it, for the life of me ...'

'It doesn't matter.' I'm back, now, and the eugeneic act is the least of my problems.

Bartol straightened, an urgency in his voice. 'We have to leave.'

Even from their distance, Isla could sense the tension brewing by the ships. Both officers had their hands on their belts, hovering over the hilt of their swords. By contrast, the ship's crew were gesticulating wildly, waving something in their hands.

A crowd had gathered around the embarkment, murmurs rippling through them. An officer had drawn out his blade; his other hand tightly wrapped around a crewman's neck.

This is my doing. It's me they're looking for. She could not stand there and let innocent men pay for her subterfuge. Isla lurched forwards, stopped only by Kusuma's arm linked around hers. 'I can't ... I can't let this happen.'

'Lilja!' Bartol snapped. Kusuma tugged her, uneasy.

Somewhere in the quay, a familiar figure strode towards the officers. Isla recognised that swagger anywhere. Kithrel hauled the officer away from the sailor, and positioned himself between them like a barricade.

Isla's heart sunk. He's the third mate. He's responsible for the passengers.

Kusuma pulled her harder. Isla stumbled deep into the crowd and lost sight of Kithrel.    

      
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