“Not where to, who to,” he said, marching me out into the narrow corridor and slamming the wire door to the carrel behind him.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, moving his right hand to his belt and unbuttoning the flap of his pistol holster so that the heel of his palm rested almost idly against the curve of the revolver’s handle. “You are.”
CHAPTER
28
WE LEFT THE LIBRARY at a brisk walk, and as we crossed the great central lobby on the main floor, he even let go of my wrist, though his eyes held me almost as tight. As we passed the main desk, I caught sight of Miss Fischer, stamping cards methodically. I could call out to her, I thought, say something innocuous sounding but out of character that would make her suspicious, and then …
What? She’d summon the police to say a Lani girl had been seen leaving the building with a well-built Mahweni?
No help there. I kept walking, feeling the big man’s presence at my shoulder, and as I did so, a strange calm descended on me. Before Emtezu had led me up from the basement, there was a moment when he had looked me in the face and said, “Ready?”
It might have been a half threat that was supposed to drive away any thoughts of stunts involving Miss Fischer, just a caution with a chill core of menace, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt more like a pair of actors about to step into a scene together, an act not so much of warning as of solidarity. Whatever we were doing, we were in it together.
“Where are we going?” I asked as we went clattering down the library stairs.
He said nothing but hailed a two-seater and barked an address to the driver, who gave him a quizzical look.
“You sure about that address, sir?” said the cabbie.
“Just go,” said Emtezu.
We sat in the back and he looked out the side. His hand was still near his gun, but his attention seemed elsewhere and he looked troubled.
If you bolt now, leap down to the street, and break into a flat sprint as you come out of your roll, you might find an alley, a fire escape, a maintenance ladder. You might find freedom and safety.…
I could see it all in my head. It could go wrong, of course. It could always go wrong. I could be caught under the wheels of the cab or trampled by a horse going in the other direction. Emtezu might stand and draw and shoot me down with military precision before I made it across the street. But then again, maybe not. Maybe it would all work perfectly and I would vanish into Bar-Selehm as easy as winking.
I stayed where I was. Yes, I might get away. But I had looked into Corporal Emtezu’s eyes, and what I had seen there was not the henchman’s murderous chill, the sadist’s amused anticipation, or the drilled soldier’s unthinking and potentially brutal sense of duty. There was something going through the head of the man beside me, something complex and uncertain, and I wanted to know what it was.
I didn’t know this part of the city, a wealthy enclave on the north-side shore of the ocean, where the port traffic gave way to high-walled mansions and opulent oceanfront hotels. The railway had brought holidaymakers from all over Feldesland, though such visitors were almost exclusively white, so I was taken aback by the florid animal gateposts at the head of a long drive.
A uniformed Mahweni approached the cab, another a few paces behind, his rifle unslung and ready.
He spoke first in one of the tribal languages, as if on principle, then translated.
“You can go no farther,” said the officer. His uniform was unlike any I had ever seen, heavily decorated with gold braid and topped with a pith helmet sporting ostrich feathers. On other men the uniforms might have looked foppish, silly, but the earnestness of the soldiers themselves, their no-nonsense scowls and the ease with which they wielded their weapons, suggested it would be dangerous to underestimate them.
Emtezu pulled a sheaf of papers from an inside pocket and thrust it toward the guard, who considered it, then stepped back to allow us room to climb down. I did so as Emtezu paid and waved the cab away. The driver gave me a look, then wheeled the horse, glad to be leaving.
I shot Emtezu a similar look, but he shook his head fractionally. He was telling me to keep quiet, to let him do the talking.