I keep smiling, because it seems to annoy him, and reach for one of the oranges myself.
“But I suspect we will come to an agreement,” Naga goes on. “There is the matter of your sister.”
I fumble the orange. It hits the table, bounces onto the floor mat, and rolls away. I feel like one of Naga’s goons has punched me in the stomach all over again, but I try to keep my face still. He can’t know. He can’t know. “I don’t have a sister.”
Naga sighs. “What did I say about wasting my time?”
“I really don’t—”
“Her name is Gelmei Tori, and she lives in the Second Ward, in a house you pay for. She enjoys paper folding and dancing. Once a week, she visits the Painted Market, and lately she’s been meeting a boy to talk about how to address the problems of society. He’s been giving her books—”
“Stop.”
“Do I need to remind you how easy it would be for something to happen to her, Ms. Gelmei? She has no family, no protector, no one to petition the Ward Guard on her behalf. No one but you. If the alley she takes to the market happened to contain a gang looking for fresh meat for the brothels, who would know?” He separates a slice of orange, eats it with the delicacy of a bird. “There are clients who will pay well for highborn girls, or at least”—his mouth quirks upward—“convincing fakes. Have I made myself clear?”
I stare at the table as though the secret to saving Tori is hidden in the wood grain. So it had all been for nothing. All the work, all the blood, all the death. I’d climbed out of the dockside garbage heap one corpse at a time, lifting my sister over my head so she wouldn’t be stained by the filth. And for all the rot-sucking good it had done, I might as well have slit my wrists and left Tori to fend for herself.
Hagan had died for this, because I’d thought he might talk. I suppressed a hysterical laugh. They might not even have interrogated him. Why should they? Naga already knows everything.
I feel like I’m in free fall, my fingers scrabbling at a crumbling rock face, searching for a handhold. There has to be something. I want to scream, to break the table in half, to break Naga’s smug face. But I stop, because—
“You’re about to tell me there’s a way to save her.”
He arches a delicate eyebrow. “And why would you think that?”
I hold up a hand, and one blade ignites with a crack-hiss. The green light shimmers and gleams off his glasses.
“Because if you know so much about me, you know there’s nothing else I care about,” I say. “And if you tell me there isn’t a way I can save Tori, then there’s nothing to stop me from carving you apart like a rotting turkey.”
A pause. The crackling of Melos power fills the silence, green lightning arcing up and down the blade. The rush and heat of magic runs through me, giving me goose bumps. I’m so close to him. The slightest effort, and—
“You are quite clever, Ms. Gelmei,” he says, finally. “But I suggest you conduct yourself with a little more respect.”
“You want something from me. Given how careful you are with your time, I doubt you drop in on every prisoner to personally threaten to sell their family to a whorehouse.” I let the blade die. “You know I can’t refuse. So rotting well get on with it.”
A very slight smile. “As you wish, Ms. Gelmei. What do you know about Soliton?”
For a moment, I’m speechless, back in the Second Ward house with Tori. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.
“Soliton,” I manage after a while, “as in the ghost ship? The harborside spook story?”
“Yes,” Naga says. “That Soliton.”
I shrug, wondering how I ended up talking to the second-most-powerful man in the Empire about fairy tales. “It’s supposed to collect damned souls for oblivion. But it’s a myth, right?”
“We in His Imperial Majesty’s government have worked very hard to make that the general impression,” Naga says. “But Soliton is quite real, I assure you.”
“And it gathers damned souls?” I raise my eyebrows.
“In a sense. Soliton calls on the Empire roughly once a year. When it arrives, it collects a … tax. A cargo of young mage-born, including at least one adept.”
“It … what, sails in and demands them?”
“It waits for us to hand them over.”
“What if nobody does? Why would the Empire put up with this?”
“The port of Ghaerta, in Jyashtan, attempted to deny Soliton its due one hundred and twelve years ago. What happened is unclear, but the entire city burned to the ground in a single night, and the local garrison was slaughtered. Since then, to my knowledge, no one has run the risk.”
I shake my head. “This is ridiculous. You can’t expect me to believe that the Empire has been handing over its own mage-born children to a ghost ship for—how long has this been going on?”
“Since at least the time of the Blessed One. Five hundred years or more.”
I stare at him, wondering if it’s possible that he’s mad. He wouldn’t be the first Imperial councilor to go crazy.
“You don’t believe me.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I just thought you might want to have all the information.”
“You want to send me out as a sacrifice, don’t you.” It’s not a question.
“Of course. We’ve had you under observation for some time.”
“I’m assuming that the sacrifices don’t make it back.”
“No one has ever returned.”
“Now who’s wasting our time?” I shake my head. “You could have just tied me up and tossed me in a boat.”
“Correct.” The smug little half smile again. “We don’t want you to become a sacrifice to Soliton. We want you to steal it.”
4
“Steal it.” My voice is deadpan.
“Yes.”
“The five-hundred-year-old ghost ship that doesn’t exist.”
“It exists. And it is much larger and much faster than any vessel ever built by our own shipyards or those of Jyashtan.” He waves a hand. “I will not trouble you with politics, but the Emperor expects war against the Jyashtani within five years. Soliton would have a drastic impact on the balance of power.”
“Blessed above,” I swear. “You’re serious.”
“I am.”
“And how…” I pause, shake my head, and spread my hands. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Don’t bother. We have almost no information. There are people on Soliton; that is well established. We believe the sacrifices are not immediately killed, but as to what happens to them or who controls the vessel, nothing is known.”
“So what makes you think this is possible?”
“It may not be. But we judged you to be suitable to make the attempt. You are young enough that the ship will accept you, personally powerful, and have spent your entire life working your way into a position of authority in a violent, degenerate society. And, of course, you can be properly motivated.”
“Oh, rot.” I stare into his cold eyes. “You mean if I agree to go, you’ll leave Tori alone.”
He blinks, and then actually laughs, a small, sharp bark of a sound.
“Oh no,” he says. “As you said, if we simply wanted you to go, we could force you to do so. Your sister is necessary in order to make sure you come back.” He leans forward. “Here is the deal, Ms. Gelmei, the only deal you will ever get from me. You will board Soliton. You have until it returns to the Empire—approximately one year—to assume control of it, by whatever method you can, and deliver it into our hands here in the harbor of Kahnzoka. For the next year, your sister will be unmolested. If you succeed, the two of you will be free. If a year passes, however, then rest assured Tori will suffer in some suitably horrific fashion. I hope that you don’t doubt my imagination in such matters.”
I’m having trouble breathing, and my heart is beating very fast. “That’s not … you have no idea if I even have a chance. You can’t hurt Tori—”
“I can,” he interrupts. “I will. This is not a negotiation. I am telling you what the consequences of your actions will be. If you dislike one of the possible outcomes, I suggest that you apply your talents to avoid it.”
There’s another long silence. Slowly, I get my anger under control. Naga just stares, inscrutable behind his glasses. He peels off another slice of orange and pops it into his mouth.
“I will kill you for this,” I tell him. “I don’t know how. But I will. I swear to you.”
He heaves a sigh. “Ms. Gelmei. Do you have any idea how many people like you have told me that? And yet.” He spreads his arms. “You may have to wait in line.”
Another pause.
“Nothing else? No further impotent threats to make? Very well.” Naga brushes off the front of his coat and gets to his feet. “My men will be here to transport you to the docks at sundown. We wouldn’t want you to be late.”
* * *