More whispers, and the sound of people moving about. Jack beckons me away from the grate, and we hunch down once more and retrace our steps.
“So because Zarun won’t agree to execute me,” I say, “I get to fight the Butcher in the Ring?”
“Quick on the uptake, our fearless leader,” Jack says. “That’s the gist.”
“He knew this was going to happen?” I shake my head. “Of course he did. He was practically baiting her.”
“Zarun and the Butcher have been at daggers drawn since I came aboard,” Jack says. “Only the pressure of the other two keeps them from open war. Which is, of course, the point of having rules. If the officers could fight each other we’d soon all be crab food.”
I remember Zarun’s smile, the day he’d taken me to look for dresses and we’d run into the Butcher.
“You wanted to know why I’m helping you? It’s because she hates you. You made her look weak and foolish when you came aboard, and every inch you rise is a twist of the knife in her back. She never could get over a grudge.”
“So you’re helping me out of spite?”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t hold grudges. Hate makes people stupid. If this keeps up, sooner or later she’ll make a mistake. And then…”
“He set her up,” I say quietly. “He saw this coming, and now…”
He’s using me, a knife he can afford to lose. If I kill the Butcher, all the better for him. If I die, then he hasn’t lost much.
Rot.
“He didn’t send you into the Captain’s tower,” Jack says, sounding a little offended. “If he hadn’t argued on your behalf, you’d face simple execution, with no chance to fight your way out.”
“I’m sure another occasion would have presented itself.” If I hadn’t given him the opportunity, he would have created one. “Is the Butcher as tough as she looks?”
“Tougher, if anything,” Jack says, with obscene cheeriness.
“What are her Wells?”
“She has a touch of Rhema, for certain.” Jack shrugs. “Scuttlebutt says she has Melos as well, but no one’s seen her use it.”
We reach the hole in the wall, leading back into the cellblock. Jack steps aside to let me go first, and I pause.
“This is where you would kill me, if you were so inclined,” Jack says. “The guards are at the other end of the corridor. You might make it.”
“I swore I’d go back, didn’t I?”
“You did. But does that mean anything to you?” She cocks her head.
I climb through the hole, stretching once I reach the wider corridor.
Jack smiles, climbing through after me. “And what should Clever Jack tell Zarun?”
“Tell him … I’ll think about it.”
“Think quickly,” Jack advises. She shuts the door behind me, and I hear the bar slide back into place.
* * *
There’s no question of going back to sleep. I use the chamber pot, wash as best I can, sit back on the pallet, and wait for my next visitor. I have a feeling it won’t be long.
Sure enough, the bar slides away again a few hours later. I compose myself, and when the door opens I barely twitch. I was expecting Zarun; instead, it’s Shiara in an elegant black-and-red kizen. The Scholar is behind her, leaning heavily on his cane.
“Welcome,” I say. “I’m sorry I can’t offer any better hospitality.”
Shiara gives a thin smile. She picks her way into the room as though the floor were covered in dung. The Scholar follows her and closes the door behind them.
“Deepwalker,” Shiara says. Her Imperial has an upper-class accent, but it sounds studied to me, as though she’s deliberately putting it on. “I regret we haven’t had the chance to get better acquainted.”
The Scholar just frowns, hands twisting around the head of his cane.
“The Council has deliberated as to your punishment,” Shiara says, then glances at the Scholar. “And his. The penalty for trespassing in the Captain’s domain is death.”
I bark a laugh. “Oh yes. I’m sure he’s very angry with me.”
“Mythology has its uses,” Shiara says tightly. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand the fine points of leadership.”
I refrain from pointing out that I was boss of the Sixteenth Ward, which had ten times as many people as live on Soliton. I just shrug, and she sets her shoulders, looking annoyed.
“Therefore,” she goes on, “you are facing execution. But we hope to avoid that, if you are willing to … behave.”
“You’re worried I’m too popular,” I translate.
“Quite.” Shiara’s expertly painted lips quirk. “The Scholar has, let’s say, implored us to let you accompany him on an expedition to the so-called Garden. The Council has agreed that, if you wish to take the risk, we could commute your sentence. Assuming you were prepared to leave quietly.”
“Isoka, please,” the Scholar says. “This could be our only chance.”
“It is certainly your only chance,” Shiara says.
“Unless I fight the Butcher,” I say brightly.
They both freeze, and the smile drains from Shiara’s face. I mime astonishment.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Was I not supposed to know about that?”
“Zarun told her,” the Scholar says. “Of course.”
“Zarun is not thinking in the interests of everyone,” Shiara says. “These are dangerous times. The last thing we need is a leadership struggle.”
“But as long as he doesn’t agree with the rest of you, I have the right to challenge,” I say.
“You do.” Shiara sighs. “But you should consider what would happen afterward, even if you win.”
“Isoka—” the Scholar begins.
“Do you think,” I say to Shiara, “that your colleague and I could speak alone? As the two who would be going on this … expedition.”
She looks between us, suspiciously, and then sighs again. “I suppose. I will wait outside. Don’t take long.”
When she’s gone, the Scholar lowers his voice. “I know you don’t trust her, but this offer is genuine. Shiara may not be convinced that I’m right, but she’s at least concerned.”
“I don’t have any particular reason to distrust her,” I say. “It’s not the offer I’m worried about.”
“Then what?” His voice is a hiss. “If we don’t turn the ship soon, everyone is going to die.”
“I’m not convinced we can turn the ship, even if we find the Garden.”
His eyes narrow. “Why?”
“I have … my own sources.” I still don’t trust him any further than absolutely necessary. “But I think the Garden will protect us from the Rot, if we can make it there.”
“Then we might as well try,” the Scholar says. “At least—”
“If that’s the case,” I cut him off, “then I’m not leaving without Meroe and the rest of my pack.”
His eyes widen in understanding, and he taps his cane on the floor. “I see.”
“So if you want my help,” I continue, “find Meroe and tell her I need to see her. Tell her…” I hesitate. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
“We’re running out of time.”
“Then hurry.” I gesture around the cell. “I’ll wait.”
I hear the Scholar and Shiara talking in the hall as they leave. The Scholar sounds insistent, Shiara annoyed.
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I had a plan to get to the Captain, and it blew up in my face. Now I’m playing it by ear. It seems like I have something everybody wants—the Scholar needs my power, Zarun wants me to kill the Butcher, and Shiara and the rest of the Council don’t want me throwing a wrench into their carefully planned administration. And Hagan … I don’t know if Hagan is helping me or taking some kind of elaborate revenge from beyond the grave.
All I know, at this point, is that it’s been nearly a day since I’ve seen Meroe and I can’t forget the feel of her lips, her body pressed against mine. If there’s no turning back from this choice, I have to see her again before I step over the threshold.
22
An hour later, there’s a knock at the door. Not the sharp rap of a jailer rousing a prisoner, but the quiet tap of a polite request to enter.
My princess. I sit up at one end of the pallet and clear my throat.
“Come in.”
The door opens. Meroe is flanked by two nervous-looking crew with hands on swords. She steps inside and they close and bar the door behind her.
I clear my throat again. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She’s wearing a dress in the same style I first saw her, airy and colorful, with the same silver bands on her arms. “I heard … rumors. I didn’t realize they’d actually locked you up.”
“It hasn’t been that bad.”
“Isoka, you should know…” She looks at the floor. “Zarun came and asked me about the dredwurm. He already seemed to know most of it, so I didn’t see any point in lying to him.”
“It’s all right,” I say. “I heard from Jack. No one has tried to threaten you or Aifin?”
She shakes her head. “Zarun’s people are watching us, I think. But that’s all.”
There’s a pause, which stretches on uncomfortably. I shuffle sideways on the pallet.
“Would you like to sit?”
After a brief hesitation, Meroe gives a tight nod. She lowers herself carefully, keeping as much separation from me as the small space allows. Her shoulders are hunched, nervous. Rot, but I want to wrap my arms around her. Another pause.