“It’s never tripped a single alarm, never shown up in any scan I’ve been through.” That was what I wanted. The ability to walk onto any Radchaai station without alerting anyone to the fact I was armed. The ability to carry a weapon into the very presence of Anaander Mianaai without anyone realizing it. Most Anaanders had no need for armor; being able to shoot through it was just an extra.
Strigan asked, “How does it do that? How does it hide itself?”
“I don’t know.” I replaced the layer I was holding, and then the very top.
“How many of the bastard do you think you can kill?”
I looked up, away from the box, from the gun, the unlikely goal of nearly twenty years’ efforts, in front of me, real and solid. In my grasp. I wanted to say, As many as I can reach, before they take me down. But realistically I could only expect to meet one, a single body out of thousands. Then again, realistically I could never have expected to find this gun. “That depends,” I said.
“If you’re going to make a desperate, hopeless act of defiance you should make it a good one.”
I gestured my agreement. “I plan to ask for an audience.”
“Will you get one?”
“Probably. Any citizen can ask for one, and will almost certainly receive it. I wouldn’t be going as a citizen…”
Strigan scoffed. “How are you going to pass as non-Radchaai?”
“I will walk onto the docks of a provincial palace with no gloves, or the wrong ones, announce my foreign origin, and speak with an accent. Nothing more will be required.”
She blinked. Frowned. “Not really.”
“I assure you. As a noncitizen my chances of obtaining an audience will depend on my reasons for asking.” I hadn’t thought that part all the way through yet. It would depend on what I found when I got there. “Some things can’t be planned too far in advance.”
“And what are you going to do about…” She waved an ungloved hand toward unconscious Seivarden.
I had avoided asking myself that question. Avoided, from the moment I found her, thinking more than one step ahead when it came to what I was going to do about Seivarden.
“Watch him,” she said. “He might have reached the point where he’s ready to give up the kef for good, but I don’t think he has.”
“Why not?”
“He hasn’t asked me for help.”
It was my turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow. “If he asked, would you help?”
“I’d do what I could. Though of course, he’d need to address the problems that led him to use in the first place, if it was going to work long-term. Which I don’t see any sign of him doing.” Privately I agreed, but I didn’t say anything.
“He could have asked for help anytime,” Strigan continued. “He’s been wandering around for, what, at least five years? Any doctor could have helped him, if he’d wanted it. But that would mean admitting he had a problem, wouldn’t it? And I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”
“It would be best if sh—if he went back to the Radch.” Radch medics could solve all her problems. And would not trouble themselves with whether or not Seivarden had asked for their help, or wanted it in any way.
“He won’t go back to the Radch unless he admits he has a problem.”
I gestured, not my concern. “He can go where he likes.”
“But you’re feeding him, and no doubt you’ll pay his fare up the ribbon, and to whatever system you take ship for next. He’ll stay with you as long as it’s to his advantage, as long as there’s food and shelter. And he’ll steal anything he thinks will get him another hit of kef.”
Seivarden wasn’t as strong as she had once been, or as clear, mentally. “Do you think he’ll find that easy?”
“No,” admitted Strigan, “but he’ll be very determined.”
“Yes.”
Strigan shook her head, as though to clear it. “What am I doing? You won’t listen to me.”
“I’m listening.”
But she clearly didn’t believe me. “It’s none of my concern, I know. Just…” She pointed to the black box. “Just kill as many of Mianaai as you can. And don’t send him after me.”
“You’re leaving?” Of course she was, there was no need to answer such a foolish question, and she didn’t bother. Instead she went back into her room, saying nothing else, and closed the door.
I opened my pack, took out the money and set it on the table, slid the black box into its place. Touched it in the pattern that would make it disappear, nothing but folded shirts, a few packets of dried food. Then I went over to where Seivarden lay, and prodded her with one booted foot. “Wake up.” She started, sitting suddenly, and flung her back against the nearby bench, breathing hard. “Wake up,” I said again. “We’re leaving.”
12