“Yes,” he said, businesslike. “Placed by our cuckoo in Arbenhaw. And you’ll be our newest one—we hope—on Bower Island.”
I stared at him. The candlelight flickered on his jaw.
“I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “How can a person be a cuckoo?”
But with a creeping horror, I was beginning to understand.
“That’s what Leadership have taken to calling us,” he said, leaning back, stretching one arm along the bench. “A bit of a dig at the Hundred, I suppose. You know that cuckoos lay their eggs in other birds’ nests?”
I shook my head, but not because I hadn’t known it—more to ward off the revelation I knew was coming.
“ ‘Stay close to your enemy and you have more chance of tripping him.’ That’s why they place us, or recruit us, right under their noses.Parts of the system we’re determined to bring down.” He paused. “Don’t tell me those Instructors run such a tight ship that none of you have ever even heard of the Cage?”
“Of course I’ve heard of you,” I whispered skittishly. “You want better rights for Orha, like they’re getting in Breova, but you blow things up to try to get your way.”
“Sometimes violence may be necessary to shock an oppressive system out of stasis.”
Under my blouse, the hairs on my arms prickled.
It was said the Cage were named in defiance of the Hundred, a riposte to their tradition of taking birds as namesakes. It was said they wanted to corral the Houses, to hamstring them, to curb their influence. And some said the Cage Orha wanted that influence for themselves. That it would go to their heads, just like before the Great Revolt.
“Actually,” he said, “we’re people who want fairness. We’re not just Orha but common folk, too. The histories are clear on what caused the Great Revolt—Orha amassing too much power, abusing it—but who wrote those histories? The Hundred did. When their ancestors got their hands on laconite, realized just what they could do…”
He left the disturbing line of thought hanging.
“Anyway,” he added, “the Revolt was centuries ago. We want a fresh beginning. To start from first principles.”
I was suddenly acutely aware of the curtain, of the feet occasionally passing beneath it. The words he was saying could get us both killed, but the music and the laconite together drowned our voices.
“Why here?” I said, glancing around, feeling trapped, knowing that Llir and Tigo were out there somewhere. “Why couldn’t we meet in an alley somewhere?”
“Why here?” he repeated, grinning. “I work here.”
I took in his servant’s uniform, its crest: a masked jester. “You’re pretending to work here? Won’t somebody notice?”
His eyes flashed a brilliant blue through his mask. “No, I really do work here,” he said, grinning again. “Cuckoo, remember? I hear a lot, treading these floors. The Cage always has someone stationed here. It’s a place the Hundred can ‘disappear’ for the evening…talk business, or pleasure, without showing their faces.”
Somewhere beyond the curtain, a woman laughed shrilly. It reminded me of Vercha. My abdomen clenched.
“I don’t know what this is,” I said, shifting away from him, “but they’re waiting for me. The Shearwaters. I can’t stay here.” I began to clamber awkwardly from the booth. “The note said you had information about my friend, but I didn’t realize…” That it had been from theCage.That these rebels—murderers,the pamphlets said—wanted me to do something for them on the island. A weight had settled on me, dark and miserable. Did they even know anything about Zennia at all? Or had the note just been a way to lure me here?
“Ah, yes,” the man said. “It was…Zennia, wasn’t it?”
My chest constricted. “What do you know about her?” I whispered. I wanted to rip off that lion mask, try to read in his features whether he was stringing me along.
“An information exchange,” he stated. “That’s all we’re proposing.”
I gazed at him, unable to respond.
“Youtally the types and quantities of laconite on Bower Island and report on the family’s usual movements, and in return,wetell you what we know about your friend.” He watched me in the wavering light from the candle. “It’s information only a resident of the island can provide accurately. There may be laconite in their fortifications that we can’t see; they’ll have garments with it, armor, maybe weapons…And to properly study the family’s routines?” His eyes twinkled. “Well, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, the island’s location makes spying…somewhat difficult. Unless you’re a member of the family’s inner circle, or otherwise, one of their trusted servants.”
His eyes flickered over me, perhaps wondering if I was yet trusted enough.
“Laconite,” I repeated, my thoughts moving sluggishly. “The Cage is going to do something. Something to the Shearwaters. I don’t understand—what could destroying them achieve? There are ninety-nine other Houses out there, some much worse.” I thought of Crake. Of Shrike, whose innocent-looking namesake was infamous for impaling its prey on spines and twigs…
The man merely smiled, infuriatingly good-humored.
“You’re not going to destroy them,” I said, scrutinizing him. “It’s something else.”
