The rain over Natra Phan fell in thick, silver sheets, turning the ancient floating market’s gangplanks into slippery tongues. For ten years, the floating city had been a sanctuary for outcasts, dreamers, and the mechanically inclined. But tonight, it was a trap.
“You don’t understand,” Kaelen said, rain dripping from his crooked nose. “The city is sinking. Not fast. But a millimeter a day. The Heart is trying to tell us how to reset the buoyancy seals.”
Everyone turned. A slender figure in oil-stained silk robes stepped out from behind a hanging lantern. Lin. The ghost-girl of the lower bilges. She was pale, almost translucent in the storm light, her fingers permanently stained black with grease. The crew called her a ghost because she never spoke above a whisper and could slip through a keyhole. Kaelen called her the only friend he had left. Natra Phan 2
“No,” insisted a new voice. Soft. Precise.
“Fine,” she whispered. “But if you’re wrong, I’ll throw you to the leeches myself. And I’ll keep the Heart.” The rain over Natra Phan fell in thick,
“He’s right,” Lin said, not looking at Vee, but at the Heart glowing in Kaelen’s hands. “I’ve been charting the keel seams for three moons. The southern pontoons have compressed by two full inches. If we don’t reach the Core by the next high tide, the entire Starboard Bazaar will tip into the Abyss.”
The descent was a nightmare.
“The Heart goes there,” Lin said, pointing.