“Still. It’s the best chance they have.”
“Except that there’s no way we’ll be able to convince them to go. The Scholar barely got the Council to agree to send me. They’re not going to pack all this up and haul it across the ship.”
“Forget the Council,” Meroe says. “Just talk to the crew. Tell them the truth. If they choose to follow you, the Council won’t be able to stop them.”
“How exactly am I supposed to do that when I’m stuck in a cell?”
“At a public event where nearly everyone will be watching,” Meroe says.
The penny drops. “Like if I were to fight the Butcher, you mean.”
“Like that, for example.” She grins.
“Rot.” I stare at her. “You really mean it. You want to help everyone.”
“Someone has to.”
I want to—I don’t know. Yell at her until she realizes how insane this plan is. Lie to her, tell her I’ll do it, then tie her up and drag her off with me and the Scholar and leave everyone else to burn.
Kiss her. Because she’s a better person than I could ever hope to be.
Then she looks at the floor, and all the certainty drains out of her face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I…” She swallows. “Be honest with me. Can you beat her?”
“The Butcher?”
She nods. “I realized I just assumed you could do it. I think I’d believe you can do anything. But…” Meroe shakes her head. “Please, Isoka. Don’t just tell me everything will be all right. If you—if something happens to you, then it’s all for nothing. Can you?”
This is my way out, I realize. If I want it. If I say I think the fight is hopeless, then I’ll be able to talk Meroe down, get her to come with us. We’ll be safe. Maybe.
Or else I roll the dice. Save everyone, or die trying.
Rot.
I don’t care about everyone. Maybe that makes me a monster, but I’ve always known that. To save Tori, to save Meroe, to save my own skin, I’d kill every crew on the ship if I had to. But—
There’s more to saving Meroe than just keeping her alive. If I take her with me, and we live when everyone else dies, then she’d never forgive herself. The goodness in her, the part that makes her care, might be snuffed out forever.
Then she’d be a monster, too. And I can’t accept that.
“I can beat her. I beat the hammerhead and the blueshell, and they were both bigger than she is.”
“Right,” Meroe says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt you. It’s just if you went in there, because I asked you to, and … got hurt, or anything—”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell her. And I will be. For her sake, if not for mine.
“I’ll start laying the groundwork,” she says. “There’s a few people I know who can probably help.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Have you been starting a revolution without me?”
“Not … exactly,” she says. “But you kept talking about getting close to the Captain. I thought we might need some support eventually.”
“Be careful.”
“You too.”
She looks up at me, hesitates, then leans forward impulsively. Her lips brush mine, as light a touch as a butterfly’s wing, less a kiss than a promise of things to come. She backs away, eyes wide as though amazed at her own daring, grinning like a fool. I think there’s a matching smile on my own face.
Without taking her eyes off me, she gets up and bangs on the door to the cell. I stand up as the guards pull the bar and let her out, drinking in the sight of her as long as I can.
“Wait,” I say, once she’s gone but before they can shut the door again. Both guards tense, as though they expect me to try something.
“I need you to find Zarun,” I say.
“Zarun doesn’t have time for you anymore,” he says.
“He will. Tell him…” I pause, then shrug. “Tell him I’m ready to kill the Butcher for him.”
* * *
“Not bad, for a cell,” Zarun says, looking around. “I didn’t realize we kept prisoners in such luxury.”
“It’s feeling less like a cell and more like an audience chamber,” I say. “I’ve had half the Council in here so far.”
“I’d expect nothing less of the mighty Deepwalker.” He looks down at his nails, flicks away a bit of grit. Today he’s dressed soberly, in shimmering black velvet and crimson ribbons. “I ought to be very angry with you.”
“For stealing the dredwurm’s eye, or for seducing you first?”
“My memory of that night is a little fuzzy, but I don’t believe I took much seducing.” He grins, then lets it fade. “I’m sorry about your man. You shouldn’t have gone after it with a pack of four.”
“They were the only four I could trust.”
“Jack would be hurt, if she heard that.”
“We both know Jack and Thora work for you first and me second.”
“True.” Zarun sighs. “Ah, well. I can’t find it in me to hold it against you. The hunt for the eye was always a distraction, and truthfully I’m glad to have it over with. Things are difficult enough as it is.”
“Do you believe the Scholar?”
“Soliton’s never gone close to the Rot before. I still have a hard time believing it would do something so dangerous. Why collect us all, only to kill us?”
“The Scholar says it isn’t alive. Just a kind of a machine. It may not understand.”
“There’s still a few hundred miles to go. And even if we stay on course, nothing says we’ll get close enough to the Rot to be in danger.” He pauses. “Do you believe him?”
“Let’s say that I think he has a point.”
“And yet you sent the message that you’d be willing to kill the Butcher.” Zarun looks at me curiously. “You didn’t like the offer the others made you?”
“I can always go after I’ve won the challenge,” I say. “If the Scholar is wrong, it’d be nice to have somewhere to come back to.”
Zarun laughs. “Poor Shiara worked so hard to convince everyone it would be better to get rid of you quietly. It’s a shame to waste all her effort.”
“Not from your point of view. This is what you wanted me for from the beginning, isn’t it?”
He runs his eyes up and down me, with a faint smile. “Not the only thing.”
“Well. Now you’ve gotten everything you wanted.”
“And yet I find myself unsatisfied,” he says.
He steps across the room, closer to me. I’m standing by the sleeping pallet, my back to the wall, and I look up at him without giving ground. His smile widens.
“Have you given any thought,” he says quietly, “to what happens after you win the challenge?”
“Do I get to be on the Council?”
“It’s not quite that simple. To be on the Council, you need a clade, a power base of your own. There will be a … realignment. One that is potentially very favorable to me.” He leans a bit closer. “And to my partners.”
“Partners. There’s a slippery word.”
“Would you prefer something more … solid?”
“Are you making me an offer?”
“You are a remarkable woman, Isoka Deepwalker. I find that I want you for more than a pawn or a quick rut.” His voice drops. “You’ll have a place by my side in the Council. Authority in the clade. Safety for you and your pack.”
“And all I have to do is warm your bed?”
“I consider that a benefit, not a drawback,” he says. “But if you kill the Butcher for me, I will owe you a considerable debt. And I hate owing debts.”
“An attractive proposition,” I deadpan.
“I thought so.”
“How about this? I kill the Butcher for my own reasons. As for the rest, we’ll see.” I shoot him a challenging stare. “Maybe I’ll just keep you in my debt.”
“You never give an inch, do you?” He sounds genuinely impressed.
“Not if I can help it.”
Zarun grins like a wolf.
23
And so I find myself in the Ring. Again.
I had thought the crowd was impressive the last time I was here. This time, it rises up around me like a bowl. They stand on boxes, and tables, and barrels, and bookcases. Now and then there’s a splintering crash and a wave of laughter as some priceless, overburdened object gives way.
On the dais sit the officers. Zarun is taut, expectant, eyes gleaming. Karakoa looks on with interest, while Shiara affects boredom. The Scholar is sullen, arms crossed, tapping his cane nervously. The Butcher’s chair is empty.
Meroe is on the other side of the arena, pressed against the jury-rigged rail. I’m glad to see Aifin by her side, along with Jack and Thora. There’s a chance that things could go very badly today. Worse comes to worst, I hope they can keep her safe.
As for me, I’ve been given the opportunity to bathe, though not to change clothes. So I’m still in my hunting leathers, stained with sweat and blood, which is perhaps appropriate. My hair is tied back and pinned up. As I wait, I stretch, feeling the tug of half-healed burns on my back. In spite of its scars, my body feels light, energized. I bounce on the balls of my feet, and smile at the roar of the crowd.