Not for the first time, I missed the Fabrikator-made gloves that I'd had to leave behind in Ravka. Instantly, I drew back, pressing myself into the shadowy space between two buildings, heart hammering, my hand already reaching for the pistol at my hip.ĭagger first, I reminded myself, sliding the blade from my sleeve. This was what a country looked like when it wasn't under siege.Īs I passed a gin shop, I caught a flash of crimson out of the corner of my eye. The shop displays overflowed with sweets and baubles and all manner of finery instead of rifles, knives, and tin cookpots. Most of the streets were unpaved, and I always felt like the flat-roofed buildings with their flimsy wooden walls might tip over at any minute. There was something raw and unfinished about it. Cofton still didn't feel quite real to me. With a sigh of relief, I turned onto the city's main thoroughfare. That was one Zemeni custom I didn't think I could get used to. I saw a beautifully dressed girl in petticoats lean over and spit a stream of rust-colored juice right into one of the brass spittoons that sat outside every shop door.

Each store window I passed advertised different brands: Brightleaf, Shade, Dhoka, the Burly. Zemeni men liked to tuck the dried blooms between lip and gum, and even the women carried them in embroidered pouches that dangled from their wrists. The stimulant was considered a luxury in Ravka, but some of the sailors aboard the Verrhader had used it to stay awake on long watches. It was the center of the jurda trade, surrounded by fields of the little orange flowers that people chewed by the bushel. Mal and I had come to Cofton to find work that would finance our trip west. Everything tasted like ashes to me lately. The shopkeeper had claimed they were a Zemeni delicacy, but I had my doubts. The calf and collard pies were stuffed into my satchel and giving off a very peculiar smell. Mal and I met every day after work to walk back to the boardinghouse together, but today I'd gotten completely turned around when I'd detoured to buy our dinner. I checked the little map I'd drawn for myself and retraced my steps. Soon we would go farther, deep into the wilds of the Zemeni frontier. The town lay inland, west of the Novyi Zem coast, miles from the harbor where we'd landed.

T WO WEEKS WE'D been in Cofton, and I was still getting lost.

Siege and storm by leigh bardugo