Indara’s horns curled above her head, spiraling toward each other in an intricate whorl. A gold chain linked the tips of the horns. Suspended on the chain, hanging just between the points of her ivory-colored horns, an amethyst pendant crackled with faint light. Even standing on a dais, the Qeren came to Errol’s chest. She somehow managed to look imposing despite their height difference.

“Do you know why I accepted your meeting petition?” Indara said. Her clear voice rang in Errol’s skull, loud and strangely resonant. Bell-like.

Errol shrugged. “Cedric is reliable, and you are thorough and meticulous. It’s your job to investigate every threat to the realm.” He winced a bit. Even to his own ears, he was struggling to sound compelling or intelligent.

Indara narrowed her dark eyes. Her nostrils flared and her silver nose ring gleamed with a sudden inner lustre. “Including every drunken rumor from washed-up builders?”

“So you don’t believe me?”

“If I did not believe you, then you wouldn’t be here having this conversation, would you? The boy who speaks with the Bridge and tames querulous builders! Try harder, little shark. Why did I grant you an audience?”

Errol sputtered. He’d waited over half the day to see Indara. Combined with a restless night tossing on his creaky mattress, his patience had worn thin. “Forgive my impudence, but I’m a hunter, not a spy. My days aren’t spent analyzing politician’s hidden motives. I find clues and occasionally kill people.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, passing a hand over his face as though he could wave away the words. “Apologies, that sounded like a threat. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

Indara laughed—a low, tinkling sound that again reminded Errol of bells. He snapped his eyes open to stare at her.

“Shame. I liked you better when it sounded like a threat. A Mako with teeth is a rare thing indeed.” She smiled, which took the edge off her words.

Errol made a conscious effort to smile back. He glanced around the room, noting that his palace escort, Captain Grimhilt, had already departed. They didn’t take him seriously as a threat then; he was only a common hunter, after all.

Maeda would have commanded an armed guard, he told himself with a flash of irritation, even before passing her last trial.

“Truth is,” Indara said, breaking into his self pity, “I’ve been tracking the energies of the Bridge for decades, and they corroborate your builder’s claims. Something is happening. A Fell Storm on the horizon? I don’t know about that. But something.”

“So I’ve told you nothing new? Why meet with me at all, as you said?”

The smile vanished from the Qeren’s face, replaced by a hard, hungry stare. “Now you parrot my question back to me, but again without answers. This time, I will tell you: Because I have need of a hunter who can keep his mouth shut.”

Something like fear flooded Errol’s heart, but like a thin oil slick on the surface of deeper water, it only masked a sensation of adventure that bloomed within him. He savored the taste on his tongue. “When do we sail?”

“Perhaps you’re not as dull as you’ve let on, hunter. Doesn’t the Bridge scare you?”

“Terrifies me, if I’m honest. But I’m sure you’ll make the trip worth my while. Besides, it sure beats paying for other people to drink at the tavern while I go hungry.”

Indara nodded, apparently satisfied that the conversation had steered back into a topic they both well understood: greed. “Three times your usual rate, shark. I’ll also put in a word with the Guild Master about achieving Eel, providing you don’t die on the Bridge.”

Errol started, unable to mask his surprise. Usually he was better at hiding his feelings, but Indara’s perception caught him off guard. He’d showed such little aptitude for managing his voltage stream that he’d given up dreams of any advancement past Bull, let alone a transfer to a more prestigious branch of Shark Clan. If he could pull off this mission, however, then Eel would be within reach one day, assuming Hammerhead was still beyond his abilities.

“I’ve taken the liberty to assemble a party for you to lead to the Bridge. Meet them here tomorrow at dawn. Do not breathe a word of my plans to anyone, if you value your meager life.”

“Doesn’t sound very glamorous,” Errol ventured.

“As the local expert on the Bridge, you’ll be in charge of the expedition. Nominally.”

“Plausible deniability built right in, you mean,” Errol said, recovering his balance enough to risk a grin.

“And you said you lacked a politician’s subtlety! What a charming liar.”

=+=

Errol savored the raw elation that coursed through him as he left the council chambers. His luck had finally turned. An expedition under his command. Details were scarce—he assumed captain Grimhilt would fill him in when necessary—but the shape of his future stretched out before him with alluring clarity. Favor with the council. Promotion to Bull when he returned, for certain, and maybe Eel if he trained rigorously enough. Today was going to be a good day.

He didn’t see the blow that spun him sideways into an alleyway.

His face scraped against the rough brick wall, abrading the skin, and his knee caught a drainpipe with a solid thud that promised pain in the days to come. Cobblestones rushed up to meet him, slamming into his ribs and compressing his shoulder with a sickly pop. Ringing in his ears told him that getting up was a bad idea, so he groaned and held up empty palms in a sign of surrender. Anyone who could sneak past his electrical sensor field so easily wasn’t worth the pain of fighting.

An all-too-familiar voice hissed in his ear, sending a frisson of fear down his spine. “What news makes the guppy whistle on his way home from the Chancellor’s office?”

“Maeda. As delightful as ever.”

His insolence earned him a kick to the ribs. Errol bit back a curse. Instead, he beamed at her sweetly and sat up, leaning against the brick wall of the alley to catch his breath.

“What could the exalted Chancellor possibly want with such a talentless hunter?” Maeda demanded. “Tell me everything, or I swear by the monsters of the deep that I will flay your skin off and then stitch it back on inside out as a reminder not to cross your betters.”

Errol staggered to his feet, annoyed that he still had to use the wall to stabilize himself, but he took a long moment to regard Maeda, trying not to be intimidated by the harpoon on her back or her cold, roving eyes. He even managed a passably steady voice when he answered her. “Sometimes, if you’re hunting dangerous prey, you have to be willing to be the bait.”

To his surprise, Maeda actually smiled. It looked closer to a smirk than the genuine thing, all sharp teeth and ill intent. It seemed so out of place on her that he found himself grinning back at the Hammerhead like a fool, even as her words delivered her typical bite. “I’m sure you have lots of experience as human bait.”

Errol shrugged. “As you say.”

“And who is the big fish you’re hoping to lure in with such, ah, tasty-looking chum?”

“Why don’t you ask Grimhilt? I’m sure he’d love to fill you in on all the sensitive details of our mission. Seems like a right talkative sort.”

“I’ll say this once, so listen carefully, chum. Cut me in on the deal now and I will train you how to bypass a weak electrical field like yours. It won’t be enough to get by a skilled hunter, but anyone Hammerhead or below won’t sense you. Leave me in the dark . . . well, my promise to turn you inside out still holds.”

“Hammerhead isn’t skilled?” Errol regretted speaking the words as soon as they tumbled out of his mouth, but the contempt she showed for the division she’d only joined last week cast a chill over him.

“Recruits like you are why the Shark Clan weakens. Devour or drown, little guppy. It’s the only way upward.”

He sighed, averting his eyes from her predatory glare. Maeda deserved every bit of her newly achieved Hammerhead rank, as much as it pained his pride to admit. At least she hadn't been promoted straight to First Knife, but it still rankled him that she'd been promoted again so soon after passing her previous trial, much less made Hammerhead division before he had even earned the distinction of moving up to Bull.

“We’re sailing to the Bridge. Tomorrow. First light.”

Maeda flinched, recovering her composure so quickly that at first Errol convinced himself that he’d imagined it. Her delayed response confirmed his suspicions, however: she was just as afraid as he was.

“No wonder you called yourself bait. Indara uses you for her own designs. You won’t last a week out there, Mako.”

The use of his rank felt like a sign of respect. Errol lifted his head and set his jaw. “Might make it back in one piece if I have some protection.”

“It’s a nice trick, making it sound like my presence on this little adventure is your idea.”

Errol ignored the barbs. “I’ll arrange for your passage on the ship if you help keep me alive out there—and I still expect training.”

“You’re not in much position to bargain,” Maeda reminded him.

“Neither are you. Indara clearly wants someone expendable, so I doubt she’ll swap you in for me if I go missing without explanation. No one cares if a footsoldier dies, but if an officer doesn’t come back from the Bridge? Bad look. Besides, I’m not supposed to talk about it, so it’s awkward if you rat me out.”

Maeda cuffed him on the shoulder, but without any malice. “Sometimes even a stupid shark catches a fish. You’ve just given me the hook I need. Contrary to your assumption, we’re in a very strong position to bargain.”

Errol narrowed his eyes. What was he missing that had her so excited?

“Do I have to spell it out for you, guppy? Indara could have asked any Tiger in the entire Guild if she’d wanted to; even one of the Great Ones would be hard pressed to turn her down if she commanded them to travel to the Bridge, except everyone would hear about the expedition. But a bumbling young Mako desperate to advance after years of obscurity? You’ll jump at your one big chance and keep your mouth shut.”

“What’s that got to do with bargaining?”

Maeda grunted. “That tells me that she wants to keep this trip a secret for as long as she can. So who benefits the most from finding out about the plan?”

Understanding dawned at last. “It’s a dangerous dance, sneaking something past Indara, but you think she’s so invested in secrecy that she’ll outbid any interested parties.”

Maeda ran a finger along the hilt of her dagger, a slow smile twisting her thin lips. “You’re a bit shrewder than I gave you credit for. Maybe you’ll survive the Bridge after all.”