“You must like the sojourn ship best, then.”
“In a manner of speaking,” she said. “But it’s a little claustrophobic on this ship when you live in a room the size of a closet.”
We reached an open area, a grate above one of the oxygen converters, which were three times my height, and twice again as wide around. They processed the carbon dioxide we emitted, drawn in by the ship’s vents, and converted it through a complex process I didn’t understand. I had tried to read a book about it on the last sojourn, but the language was too technical for me. There were only so many things I could master.
“Stay here,” she said. “I’m going to get someone.”
“Stay here?” I said, but she was already gone.
As I stood on the grate, beads of sweat collected at the small of my back. I could hear her footsteps, but because of the echoes, couldn’t tell which direction they were going. Would she bring back a horde of renegades to finish the work she had begun during the attack? Or was she sincere in saying that she no longer wanted to kill me? I had walked into this situation with so little regard for my own safety, and I wasn’t even sure why, except that I didn’t want to watch the execution of an innocent when there were so many guilty hidden away.
When I heard the scrape-scrape-scrape of feet on metal stairs, I turned to see a tall, lean older woman loping toward me. Her long hair shone like the side of a transport floater. I recognized her from the picture next to Teka’s bed.
“Hello, Miss Noavek,” she said. “My name is Zosita Surukta.”
Zosita wore the same clothes as her daughter, the pant legs rolled up to expose her ankles. There were deep lines in her forehead from a lifetime of scowling. Something about her reminded me of my own mother, poised and elegant and dangerous. It wasn’t easy to intimidate me, but Zosita did. My shadows traveled faster than usual, like breath, like blood.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” I said. “Your name sounds familiar.”
Zosita cocked her head like a bird. “I’m not sure how I could manage to make the acquaintance of Cyra Noavek before now.”
I didn’t quite believe her. There was something about her smile.
“Teka told you why I’m here?” I said.
“Yes,” Zosita said. “Though she doesn’t yet know what I will do next, which is to turn myself in.”
“When I asked her for a name,” I said, swallowing hard, “I didn’t think it would be her mother’s—”
“We are all prepared to face the consequences of our actions,” Zosita said. “I will take full responsibility for the attack, and it will be believable, since I am a Shotet exile. I used to teach Shotet children how to speak Othyrian.”
Some of the older Shotet still knew other languages, from before it was illegal to speak them. There was nothing my father or Ryzek could do about that—you couldn’t force a person to unlearn something. I knew some of them taught classes, and that doing so could earn a person exile, but I had never thought I would meet one.
She tilted her head, to the other side this time.
“It was, of course, my voice that spoke over the intercom,” Zosita added.
“You . . .” I cleared my throat. “You know Ryzek’s going to execute you. Publicly.”
“I am aware of that, Miss Noavek.”
“Okay.” I winced as the currentshadows spread. “Are you prepared to endure an interrogation?”
“I assumed he wouldn’t need to interrogate me if I came of my own accord.” She raised her eyebrows.
“He’s concerned about the exile colony. He’ll want to get whatever information he can out of you before he . . .” The word execute stuck in my throat.
“Kills me,” Zosita said. “My, my, Miss Noavek. You can’t even say the words? Are you so soft?”
Her eyes shifted to the armor that covered my marked arm.
“No,” I snapped.
“It’s not an insult,” Zosita said, a little more gently. “Soft hearts make the universe worth living in.”
Unexpectedly, I thought of Akos, whispering an apology in Thuvhesit, instinctively, when he brushed past me in the kitchen. I had played his gentle words over and over in my mind that night, like it was music I couldn’t get out of my head. It came to me just as easily now.
“I know what it’s like to lose a mother,” I said. “I don’t wish it on anyone, even renegades I hardly know.”
Zosita let out a little laugh, shaking her head.
“What?” I said, defensive.