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“Come on,” I said softly, taking his hand.
“Let’s get some sleep.”

Deliphine was both more and less impressive
than I’d imagined.

From the moment Jenko pointed at the small dot
on the horizon, saying with a smile, “There she is,” I began to
squirm in eagerness. I’d dreamed my whole life of the world beyond
Davlova, but I’d never truly expected to see it. I spent the rest
of the afternoon in the wheelhouse with Jenko, watching through the
glass as the city drew ever nearer.

In my mind, Deliphine was the opposite of
Davlova in every way. It was clean and pure. Nobody starved in the
alleys. There were no whores on the corners or clans of orphans
pickpocketing on the streets. I envisioned a world where everybody
was comfortably middle class. And yet, I knew this couldn’t be
correct. After all, Deliphine was at the very heart of a rather
lucrative slave trade. That fact alone was enough to curtail my
visions of harmonious living.

At first, I could see only the dark line of
land where it interrupted the view of the sea. A cloud of smog hung
over it, like an ugly smudge on an otherwise intricate work of art.
As we drew nearer, I began to make out the docks and buildings,
both of which extended for miles up and down the coast. The latter
covered the slopes of Deliphine’s shores and disappeared over a
ridge a mile or so inland. The city itself was also bigger than I’d
ever dreamed, easily four times the size of Davlova. Maybe as much
as ten times bigger. It was hard to say how far the city extended
over the hills.

“The suburbs have grown so big, it’s difficult
to tell where the city ends and they begin,” Jenko said to
me.

I wasn’t even sure what a suburb was, but I
understood the gist of it. Deliphine was enormous, and I suddenly
felt frighteningly small. I’d spent my whole life in Davlova. I
knew every street and every byway. I could have navigated the
fourth quadrant blindfolded. But I didn’t even know Deliphine’s
major landmarks, let alone the deep, dark corners of her seedy
underbelly.

There were birds everywhere. Mostly loud,
obnoxious gulls, darting and flying haphazardly amongst the boats,
their shrieks nearly drowning out the sound of engines. The boat
traffic was heavier now too, and included everything from enormous
cargo ships to one-man, hand-rowed canoes. Presumably there was
some system or etiquette known to all the drivers, telling them who
had the right of way, but to me, it looked like chaos.

“I’m going to have to drive the boat out of
here through this?” I asked. The thought made me break out in a
cold sweat.

“The general rule is, stay to the right.
Bigger boats have right-of-way, because they can’t stop or change
directions as fast. The docks are the worst part. I’d recommend
leaving after midnight, but well before dawn. That’s when the
traffic will be slowest.”

“That makes sense.” Now seemed like as good a
time as any to begin learning my way around — building a mental
construct of landmarks — but faced with so much, it was hard to
know where to begin. “Where will we dock?”

He pointed. “See the bridge, over the mouth of
the river?”

It took me a moment to separate the bridge
from the city in my mind’s eye, mostly because the bridge itself
looked like a building. I’d never seen anything like it. Bridges in
Davlova were basically bits of sidewalk extended over ditches that
conveyed waste to the river. None of them were more than a few feet
long. But this bridge dwarfed everything around it, including the
river. It was square and angular, built of cold, brutal stone. It
was an impenetrable fortress straddling the delta, one enormous
foot planted heavily on each bank.

“We’ll be stopping just past there, a quarter
mile up on the south side,” Jenko said.

I was still goggling at the size of it. It was
bigger than any building in Davlova, and yet it somehow stood over
the wide mouth of the river. “It’s unbelievable.”

“And rather ugly, really, but it’s the only
landmark that can be seen from nearly any place in the city.” He
pointed to the looming towers. “That one’s the city jail. That one
over there holds courthouses. Once upon a time, this was the seat
of Deliphine’s government, but they’ve moved that now.”

“What’s it called?”

“I suppose it had a real name at one point,
but now it’s known as Dead Man Bridge.”

“Because of the jails?”

“That, and the executions. Two centuries ago,
pirates were hanged from it as a warning to other pirates. Later,
when the Bishops were in control, they burned heretics there. Then
the politicians overthrew them. After that, it was the bodies of
the Bishops rotting up there for weeks. And even now, it’s where
they hang grabbers.”

“Grabbers?”

“Slave thieves.”

I frowned, thinking of all the people Donato
had brought from Davlova and sold to the slave market. How had he
avoided being hung from the towering bridge?

Jenko apparently guessed my thoughts. “What
Donato did wasn’t considered a crime. It’s common for convicted
criminals from all over the continent to be sold to the slavers.
But stealing another man’s property and trying to sell it as your
own? That’s frowned upon.”

“That’s where they draw the line?” I asked,
incredulous. “Dealing in slaves is acceptable, but stealing
isn’t?”

“You’re thinking about it from a moral
standpoint, but the law has nothing to do with morals or ethics.
Its only purpose is to protect the slavers.”

“From who?”

“Well, think about it. A grabber shows up with
a couple of slaves he’s kidnapped. Says he’s their owner, but he’s
done with them, and sells them back to the slavers for a tidy
profit. They slavers turn around and sell the slaves to the highest
bidder. Then, after it’s all said and done, the original owner
shows up, demanding his property be returned, and the slavers find
themselves in a pretty tight spot. So now, the slavers ask for
proof of ownership.”

“What kind of proof?”

“Papers. Every slave comes with
papers.”

“Can’t paper be forged?”

He laughed dryly. “Of course. It’s a constant
power play between the slavers and the thieves, trying to see who
can be most clever, and plenty of grabbers think it’s worth the
risk. But if they’re caught…”—he pointed up at the looming
monstrosity of the bridge—“they hang.”

It made sense in a brutal way. “Holy Goddess,”
I said, shaking my head. “And I thought Davlova was
bad.”

The door behind us opened, distracting us from
Deliphine. Ayo came in, his pale brow furrowed in concern. “Where
are we going?”

“Up the river a bit, to a private dock near
the garment district—”

“We’re going the wrong way.”

Now it was Jenko’s turn to look concerned.
“What do you mean?”

“We need to go that way.” Ayo pointed south.
“Down there, there’s a brown building, and then an arch. And just
past there, we dock.”

Jenko glanced at me for explanation, but I had
none to offer. “Ayo,” he said at last, turning back to him, “is
this something you’re remembering from before?”

Ayo’s frown deepened. “No. I’ve told you, I
don’t remember anything about Deliphine. Or the
Dollhouse.”

“Then how do you know about the brown building
and the arch?”

“I just do.”

“Do you know what he’s talking about?” I asked
Jenko.

“Well, there are any number of brown buildings
he could be referring to, but the arch is a bit of a landmark, down
around the southern bend there. Erected in memory of lost
fishermen, long before I was born.”

“That’s the one,” Ayo said. “That’s where we
go.”

“To the arch?” Jenko asked.

But I had a feeling that wasn’t what Ayo was
getting at. “To the Dollhouse, you mean?”

Ayo frowned at me. He reached up to touch the
spot behind his right ear — the place he’d once called his black
spot, saying it swallowed everything. “I don’t know. I only know I
have to go that way.”

“And what happens once you get
there?”

Ayo ignored my question and asked one of his
own. “Why aren’t you turning?” he asked Jenko. “Why aren’t you
listening to me?”

“I’m not familiar with either the docks or the
city on the south side. Besides, it’s miles away from my house. We
have a reserved spot at a private—”

“I need to go that way!”

“
You can. Eventually. But
first—”

“Misha,” Ayo said, turning to me, “could we
swim?”

“Are you crazy? I don’t even know how.
Besides…” I gestured out at the water, which was packed with boats,
the water choppy from their shared wake. A person would be lost in
the traffic. “You’d never make it.”

He blinked at me, then squinted out at the
water, then back at me again, fidgeting anxiously with the hem of
his shirt. His tapped his foot impatiently on the deck. “I have to
go to the arch.”

“We will,” I said. “I promise.” Although I
suspected it was a promise I’d try to break. Anything born of his
black spot made me wary.

“It’s almost dusk,” Jenko said, “and like all
cities, Deliphine is safer in the daylight. Best to wait until
morning before going anywhere.”

“But we’ll go there?” Ayo asked.

“Yes,” I said. “But not tonight.”

He stared sightlessly out the window, gnawing
his lip as he debated my words. After a moment, he sighed in
defeat. “All right.”

He plopped heavily down on Jenko’s narrow cot,
apparently uninterested in Deliphine. I, on the other hand,
couldn’t stop staring. Everywhere I looked, chimneys of all sizes
spewed smoke into the air. The pall of smog over the city was
harder to see now that we were in it, but when I looked up, it was
as if a thin layer of gauze had been unfurled between my eyes and
the brilliance of the sky.

Dead Man Bridge was even more intimidating up
close, so deep and broad that several carriages abreast could have
crossed it. It blotted out the sky as we passed under it, as if
Deliphine were swallowing us whole. When we emerged on the other
side, the entire city was suddenly laid bare before me, naked and
foul, smelling of rot and sewage, every surface stained by soot and
filth. I could almost believe it was a corpse of some stinking
beast. The people rushing about the docks were like maggots,
writhing and feeding on death.

I shuddered. “It’s awful.”

Jenko laughed. “The riverfront isn’t exactly
pristine, but Deliphine has her charms.”

“If you say so.”

“Originally, Deliphine was strictly commercial
on the northern bank, and residential on the southern, but that was
centuries ago. Now, everything’s mashed in together, but the river
is still the central point of the city.” He turned to point
northeast. “See that tall building on the north side? The big one,
with the onion dome? That’s the capital. About a block west of
that, can you see the clock tower?”

“The red brick one?”

“Yes. That’s on the eastern edge of Phenisto’s
Bizarre.”

“A market?”

“One of them, at any rate. The oldest, and the
biggest.”

“Is that where they auction the
slaves?”

“Once upon a time, yes, but not these days.
They’ve moved that indoors. The rich folk didn’t like having to
stand outside in the sun while they bid on the wares.”

There was a dry edge to his voice. A tone that
told me he didn’t necessarily approve, but this was Deliphine,
after all. The slave trade was its bread and butter. I suspected
that whether the citizens approved or not, there was little chance
anybody intended to change it anytime soon.

“And where’s the Dollhouse?”

“Nobody knows. Even here, most people think
it’s only a legend.”

“How is that possible?”

“Well, there have always been stories about
people who are kidnapped or drugged, and wake up with stitches
behind their ear and a tattoo on their chest. They’re sold into the
slave trade. But the Dollhouse? That’s something else. That’s just
some rich bastard’s glorified sex toy, and since they’re rare…” He
shrugged. “It’s not something that’s taken too
seriously.”

“But, it’s horrific.”

He nodded. “It is, when you actually see it.
But most people don’t. People sold unwillingly into slavery,
though? They see that every day.”

We traveled upriver for several minutes. The
smell grew worse with each passing moment. I tried to distract
myself from the stink and my own nerves by asking about landmarks
as we passed, trying to get my bearings before we made
land.

“The spires mark the temples of the Duo,”
Jenko explained. “You know about the Duo?”

“Only vaguely. A god and a goddess,
right?”

“Yes and no. It’s more about the balance of
opposites. Dark and light. Male and female. Land and
water.”

“Doesn’t that leave a lot out?”