Chapter 394: The Neighborhood Had Started Walking

The man on the balcony waved a frying pan at us, which made the invitation considerably more convincing than the ancient moving island beneath his house.

Lukas studied the moving houses through the sighting tube. I nudged it toward the frying pan, and he shoved my tail away before I could adjust the focus.

The attendant matched the swinging pan to a flag pattern on his signal sheet, then admitted the flag probably hadn’t survived winter.

"He’s the market host, and he’s telling us the east ladder is clear," he explained. "Nobody’s lived on that street since the last migration, as far as my shift notes said."

*"Your notes say nobody lives there, but that bloke’s cooking,"* I said. *"Either ring him or admit we’re watching the world’s most upsetting bed-and-breakfast."*

[System: Ask if the eggs are included, mate. Don’t let a dead population sting you for extras.]

*If he fries tourists, you can explain that to Lyra.*

The radio confirmed three occupied buildings and an hour to cross before the tide changed. Nobody answered my question about food, which seemed an appalling use of communications equipment.

Lukas asked about the creature before I could ask about the frying pan. The answer was a coast grazer, a natural armored animal that followed warm channels through the Saltback Reach. Old buildings had been fixed to its shell during a period when apparently nobody considered ordinary land sufficiently entertaining.

"The survey office stopped including it as a permanent settlement," the attendant said. "Apparently someone kept selling the same waterfront lot twice."

[System: Buy a place on its arse, mate. When the neighbors complain, tell them the whole suburb’s about to take a shit.]

*You lost the right to choose our address halfway through that sentence, and I want that decision recorded.*

I started opening my wings, felt the treated edge pull, and immediately decided boats were classy. Lukas had already asked the boatman for a crossing, the smug prick, as though he knew which way my brilliant idea would go.

Returning the crawler cost eighty credits and the crossing another forty. Lukas handed over the keys for collection while I asked whether being mostly luggage qualified me for a discount.

The boatman looked at my teeth and said he charged extra for livestock, so I discovered a sudden respect for his original price.

We crossed in a low workboat with our bags secured under a bench. The creature’s nearest armored limb rose beyond the hull, broad enough to make our entire transport resemble something forgotten beside a bathtub.

Lukas photographed the houses, then turned the camera toward me. I kept my injured wing folded and tried to look like someone who had chosen the little boat for cultural reasons.

"I’ll send the girls the picture where you aren’t inspecting the water for snacks," he said.

*"Send them the handsome one, and crop out whatever you think I’m about to eat."*

[System: Crop him out altogether, mate. Three lovely women deserve a nice picture of the sea.]

*Keep talking and your next drink comes in a sippy cup.*

The market host lowered a cargo cradle beside the ladder. I rode up with my chin raised until Lukas called me a very expensive delivery. Then I refused to move until he announced me properly, which lasted exactly as long as it took the market host to mention the eggs were getting cold.

The market host was an old seabird beastman with gray feathers and an apron greasy enough to have its own criminal history. He gave us a quick look, then lifted the pan again.

"If you’re hungry, the eggs are almost done, but the table near the edge isn’t safe when she turns."

*"Put us near the kitchen, and if she turns, I’ll save the pan before Lukas."*

"I paid for the crossing," Lukas reminded me, following close enough to prevent that becoming a real seating arrangement.

The market host led us along wooden walks between shell plates. Raised frames let the houses move with the animal, and red boards marked holes where less successful houses had fallen away.

I eyed a red board where part of a house had fallen off. Whoever rented that one had certainly gotten an ocean view, although I doubted they’d wanted it straight through the floor.

Traders packed the market as the ground tilted, steadying jars and scales with the tired ease of people who considered a moving floor everybody else’s problem.

I ordered eggs, fried bread and sausage, then asked whether the sausage came in a less insulting quantity. The market host tipped another piece onto my plate. I loved him immediately and decided the boatman could learn from his people skills.

Lukas reached toward my plate while the ground tilted, and I pinned its edge with my tail before he could call that an accident.

[System: Look at you defending a sausage, mate. Your old man built a criminal empire and you’re doing the same thing with breakfast.]

*He can send his complaints to the beach, and I will feed them to the landlord.*

Lukas ate while the market host explained that the grazer would follow the outer channel toward Saltsink over the next several days. The town had boat repairs, doctors, and a dock that didn’t occasionally scratch itself against a cliff.

A berth here would let us follow that route without hiring another crawler. We paid sixty credits for the sheltered room beside the market, with breakfast included, because I refused to undermine the best part of the agreement.

My evolution notice kept nagging at the edge of my sight. I promised it a turn after the sausage, earning a disgusted noise from Old Mate. Then the market host went quiet beside the window.

A boat had appeared beyond the channel markers, its bow carrying a heavy launcher beneath a folded black flag. It anchored outside the shallow approach instead of attempting the crossing in the falling light.

His pan slipped low enough to touch the floor. I stopped chewing, because until then I’d thought nothing on this street could make him forget breakfast.

"They’ll wait for the morning turn," he said. "That’s when she lifts the valuable plates clear of the water."

I followed his gaze to the long barbed heads stacked beside the launcher, each attached to a cable thick enough to drag a truck.

The plate they were pointing toward supported our room, the market, and the kitchen that had just promised me breakfast.