The door opened. The lamps were already burning, meaning Galt or Kazen had been in this room earlier in the day. At least, Sandis assumed it was morning. There were no windows down here. Galt shoved her in, followed, and closed the door behind them.
Kazen had a large desk with a dark stain on the rightmost portion of it, and behind that a large set of black bookshelves stood about three-quarters full. Many of the books were scholarly articles whose titles one couldn’t see without looking at the front cover. Sandis had always made a habit of looking away from books and other papers, not wanting to give away that she could read them. Such covertness seemed pointless now.
In the corner near the end of the shelves stood Kazen’s astral sphere—gold in color and held up on a tall wooden stand. The Noscon figures on its mobile plates were raised and nonsensical to her. There was a small bin at the foot of the sphere. It held two scrolls, one of which looked incredibly old, like it might crumble to dust if Sandis touched it. The other was white, crisp, and new. Small spots of ink bled through the paper, but not enough for Sandis to make out the words.
On the left wall was Galt’s desk, much smaller and in poorer repair, littered with papers, trash, and half-eaten snacks. At least the garbage bin beside it had been recently emptied.
Against the far wall rested a simple table, about the height of Sandis’s navel. Sandis remembered that table. She’d been branded while strapped facedown on its surface. And again later, to receive Ireth’s name atop her spine.
“Black ashes,” Galt sputtered. The curse sounded so harsh and final on his lips. When Rone said similar words, they were merely intense— Sandis gritted her teeth, banishing the thought, though the cool, dripping sensation that filled her and made her shiver was not so easily ignored.
“One hour, he said,” Galt mumbled, walking to the far end of the room as though he could find Kazen behind one of the shelves. When he came back, he kicked a chair in Sandis’s direction and barked at her to sit.
She sat.
He paced back and forth, complaining under his breath. Went to a cupboard near his desk and opened it, though his body blocked the contents. Nodding to himself, Galt closed the cupboard and sat on the edge of his desk, knocking over greasy, crinkled paper, and folded his arms.
Shouting filled the hallway. It started gradually at first—a few raised voices. But within moments there was bellowing and cursing. The sound of a chair falling over.
“Black ashes,” Galt swore again. He launched at Sandis and grabbed her wrist, nearly snapping it when he yanked her to his desk. Some rummaging produced a pair of steel handcuffs, and though Sandis didn’t resist, Galt restrained her like she did and clapped the cuffs on her before looping the opposite side through the handle on one of the desk drawers. He shoved her onto the floor.
“Try to move and I’ll make mincemeat out of you.” Galt turned and hurried out of the office, leaving the door cracked open in his wake.
Normally, Sandis would have sat very still, even with her arm held up uncomfortably by handcuffs.
Instead, she yanked hard on the cuffs, intending to pull the drawer free and run for it. But the drawer held fast, locked.
If she could not escape, she’d use the time Galt had given her. Standing, Sandis looked over Galt’s scattered papers.
She wished she could read faster, but she had no trouble making out the important parts. Two leases—apparently Kazen owned housing in the city—a letter in poor handwriting, blank pages with nothing on them. A small ledger, empty save for a couple of lines of Noscon writing.
She opened the drawer above the one she was cuffed to. Gagged when a half-rotted apple core rolled toward her. There were pens and some ink jars—that was it. She tried the one above that. More paper, a ruler, empty ledgers.
Sandis could barely reach the drawers on the other side of the desk. The top one was empty. Did Kazen realize how disorganized and useless Galt was?
She opened the second drawer. She couldn’t see inside it but felt around. A book, another book. Something round. Something metallic— She pulled out a key. Blinked.
The shouting in the hall intensified.
Sandis slammed the drawer shut and knelt back where Galt had left her. Glancing at the door, she tried the key in the locked drawer. It fit. Rone would roll his eyes at Galt’s stupidity.
Rone doesn’t matter anymore.
She yanked the drawer open, and to her relief, it came free from the desk and clattered to the floor. A menu for a local restaurant spilled from it. Sandis turned the drawer over and emptied its contents, praying with everything she had that she could use the ruckus in the hallway to escape the lair without being caught—without condemning the others to punishment on her behalf. But as she stood, the drawer dangling from her wrists, she noticed the drawer’s other contents spilled at her feet.
Files. Just like the ones in the citizen-records building. And the top one bore Heath’s name.
“Kolin citizens can’t be sold as slaves,” Rone repeated in her memory. “I wonder if your master or whoever had it taken so you couldn’t be traced.”
Shouts echoed in the hallway. Lowering herself to her knees, Sandis picked up the file. Heath Ottobert. She’d never known his and Rist’s last name. Beneath it was Rist’s file, and next, hers.
Gaping, she flipped the file open. It was all right there, with her parents and grandparents and Talbur listed above her. No mention of Anon. But this was hers. They had taken it.
Here was the proof that she existed. She was a legal resident.
But . . . Kazen hadn’t kidnapped her. He’d purchased her from slavers.
So why did he have her citizen record?
Sandis’s grip on the file loosened. Two papers fell out from the small stack.
A gunshot in the hallway pierced her ears. The shouting fell silent.
Galt was going to come back.
She scooped up the papers and shoved them into the file, but a name caught her eye. A name she recognized easily and without struggle: Gwenwig.
She froze. Pulled free the grayish paper. The top margin read, Gold Exchange, and beneath it, Elvita Bank and Trust.
This was the paper. The one that had started it all.
It shook in her hands as she found Talbur Gwenwig’s name, three lines from the top. District Three, Fourteen Magdara.
An address.
The door burst open. Sandis shoved the files and the key into the drawer but didn’t have time to put the drawer back into the desk.
“What are you doing?” Galt asked, red faced from whatever had happened in the hallway. He grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and heaved her upward, forgetting he’d cuffed her to the drawer. The steel cuff bit into her wrist when he tried to shove her into the wall. He spat a nasty string of words, fumbled for the cuff key, and freed her from the weight.
He shoved her into the wall. Pressed his forearm into her neck.
“Trying to be sneaky?” His voice was low, and his breath smelled like meat. “Do you think you have any power here?”
Galt’s other hand came up and squeezed her breast. Sandis flinched; Galt smiled. “You know,” he whispered, more to her mouth than to her ear, “I could have my way with you and tell Kazen that rat of yours did it.”
Her breakfast boiled in her stomach. She met his eyes. “He’s already summoned on me. He’d flay you from crotch to eye socket if you tried.”
Galt’s face darkened.
“I do hope,” Kazen’s voice began, and Galt instantly released Sandis and reeled back like she was a snake, “that you’re treating my vessel well, Galt.” Kazen strode in and removed his hat from his head. He pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket and used it to wipe off a splatter of blood on his cheek.
Galt glued his gaze to the floor. “Just keeping her in her place.”
Sandis hugged herself.
“Hmm.” Kazen paused beside Galt and dropped his handkerchief, letting it fall at his assistant’s feet. “Do see that I don’t have to keep you in yours.”