She leaned in and powdered Magnolia’s nose while Inge worked on her neck.
“I heard Alicia will be given away to one of the warriors from the hunt,” Inge said. “You remember her from the banquet, yes?”
“No wonder she keeps clacking her teeth at me,” Magnolia said.
“I’d prefer to stay with el Pulpo at this point,” Sofia said. “Some of the younger warriors have been known to kill their wives for the slightest infraction.”
“Kill them?” Magnolia asked, twisting in her chair.
“Close your eyelids so we can finish,” Sofia said.
“You sure you don’t have anything in black? Magnolia said. “This isn’t really my style.”
“Style?” Inge asked.
Magnolia sighed. “Never mind.”
A knock came on the door and she opened one eye as Imulah’s bald head poked into the room.
“Hold on!” Magnolia said, covering her breasts with her arms.
“She’s not quite ready yet,” Inge said.
Imulah backed away but left the door ajar. “Hurry up. We don’t want to keep the king waiting.”
“We will be done shortly,” Sofia said. She walked over to the bed to examine the two dresses laid out on the mattress. A long strapless green dress and a short peach-colored one.
“I think this one will look the best,” Inge said of the second option. Sofia picked it up and handed it to Magnolia.
Slipping into the light, tight-fitting dress, she pulled the straps up and turned toward Inge, who held up a white shell necklace and earrings. Sofia tied delicate sandals to her feet while Inge helped her with the jewelry before stepping back to look her over.
Both wives smiled, admiring the product of their labors, but Magnolia didn’t even stop to look in the mirror. She didn’t care what she looked like; she just wanted to get this over with.
“Thank you,” Magnolia said on her way out. Imulah led her quickly through the halls, into the gardens, and over to the elevator cage, where two soldiers stood sentry. They opened the gate to allow her and the scribe inside. The cage then lowered, clanking toward the docks below.
The last glow of sunset faded in the distance. Imulah watched intently, as if searching for something.
“I always look for the green flash,” he said.
Magnolia studied his silhouette as the light inside the elevator flicked on. The tip of his gray beard moved in the breeze. Sweat trickled down his wrinkled forehead, toward his pale gray eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder what those eyes had seen over the years.
“What is this flash?” she asked after a pause.
He pointed toward the horizon. “I’m told that sometimes, when the sun goes down, there is a very brief green flash. It occurs in just a split second, hardly visible to the naked eye. I’ve always looked for it but have yet to see it.”
Magnolia followed his finger, but movement in one of the tower windows distracted her. A girl no older than eight, half hidden by a drape, watched the slow-moving cage as it passed.
“I’m not sure that it’s real,” Imulah said. “But if it is, someday I would like to see it.”
“I never thought I would ever see a sunset,” Magnolia said.
Imulah turned slightly and smiled. But the smile quickly faded and his features darkened.
“You must not fail tonight, Magnolia, or I fear your visit to the Metal Islands will be cut short in a most unpleasant way.”
The cage continued to lower, and she realized they weren’t heading to another level for this dinner. They were heading to the docks. Several soldiers and dockhands were preparing a long white speedboat below. No other boats were moored there.
A few minutes later, they were boarding the vessel. A single dockhand jumped in, followed by two Cazador warriors. Neither of these men wore armor, but they were armed with automatic rifles and machetes. Belts of bullets crossed over the chest of the man on the right, almost concealing a long scar from his naval to his pectoral muscles. Tattoos marked his arms, and his chin sported a beaded goatee. The other soldier was also covered in tattoos and had a red Mohawk.
They didn’t look like the type to put up with any crap, and she wasn’t sure she could take them if the opportunity arose.
Imulah climbed into the boat and gestured for her to take one of the padded seats in the stern. The two soldiers sat in the bow, their weapons cradled.
The dockhand was an older man with a shorn head. He wore a white shirt, seashell necklace, and tan shorts. After firing up the boat, he turned to look at Imulah, who gave him a nod.
The vessel pulled away from the docks and headed out across the water. On the horizon, one by one, the other oil rigs lit up, but one remained dark.
To her surprise, the dark structure seemed to be their destination. She tensed as the boat banged over the wave tops, the engine groaning. Both soldiers kept their eyes on her during the ride. She flashed them a smirk, though she wasn’t feeling especially sassy tonight.
On the decks of the first oil rig they passed, hundreds of tarps and tents were strung up between shacks of metal and wood. On every level, families sat around kettles cooking over small open flames. Magnolia caught the scent of barbecue, which almost made her sick. She tried not to think about the sort of meat they were eating.
How could they? They had the resources to create makeup and seashell necklaces, so why did they need to eat human flesh? Because of some sick idea that it made them stronger, or because they really didn’t have a choice?
She felt nauseated at the thought, and the jolting of the boat didn’t help.
Folding her arms across her chest, she closed her eyes and tried to fill her mind with positive thoughts. What she needed right now was hope—hope that the airships would descend and save her or that X would come back and help her escape.
But with each passing hour, those scenarios seemed less and less likely.
When she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She turned to see how far they had traveled, and could hardly even spot the airship on the top level of the capitol tower.
“Almost there,” Imulah said. She didn’t remember ever seeing the big, dark structure before, and at a glance, it looked unoccupied.
There were no farms, slaughterhouses, or tent cities—just a few sparks, and lights set up on the metal platforms. On the top level was construction equipment, including a crane.
As they got closer, she could see that this place was inhabited after all. Hundreds of figures were working on the decks. Sparks from welders rained down, going out before they reached the water.
She took a longer look. Were those cages?
Two of the platforms looked as if they were being turned into a massive prison. She stood and turned as the boat curved away and headed toward a hodgepodge armada of vessels, bobbing in the chop with their running lights on. Long ropes tethered them to the pillars of the oil rig several hundred feet away.
She braced herself, holding on to the gunwale as the speedboat slowed and her sandals skidded on the slick deck. She was surprised to find the Sea Wolf among the boats. The mainmast was gone, and three large motors had been added to the back.
“We’re here,” Imulah said.
The speedboat pulled alongside her former vessel, and men on the deck threw over a rope. The driver turned off the engine and lashed the vessels together. Once they were secure, Imulah motioned for Magnolia to make her way over to the Sea Wolf.
She climbed aboard a very different boat from the one she had sailed with X and Miles. The Cazador mechanics hadn’t just fitted it with new engines; they had given it a fresh paint job. And they hadn’t stopped there. The image of the wolf was gone, replaced by a glistening image of an octopus.