The mother found us before the white hull cleared the channel.
She came up the bone stair with the child under one arm and a dockhand's grip on the other, the kind of grip that meant someone had already tried to buy the girl off the terrace. The child was six, maybe seven, face blotched, mouth pressed shut so hard her lip had gone white. She would not look at me.
"They offered three months' pay," the mother said. She was shaking and furious, which was better than afraid. "To have her say it again. On the quay. Where the Phoenix woman can still hear."
Elizabeth went still.
I looked past them. Shen Yuelan's ship had not run for open water. It sat on the outer reach, gold ribs bright, close enough to watch the city and far enough that Vale would have to swim a killing to reach it. A witness who intended to stay for the second act.
"Who offered," I said.
