“I am well,” he replies.
“You don’t have to lie.”
“It is not a lie.” He lifts his brows. “I believed I would die in that prison. If not for you and your friends, I undoubtably would have. Though I admit”—he offers a slight smile—“I was not expecting such a rescue. It was…” He motions around like he can’t quite find the word.
A mess, I think. The whole mission, start to finish, was a mess. “Sorry.” I scratch the back of my neck. “I know you probably expected more from the Legion’s most prestigious fleet.”
He throws me an odd look. “Are you apologizing for saving me?”
I blush. “No. I mean—maybe. No. It’s just… if I’d realized what happened to you, I could have done something ages ago. Ishouldhave realized, but I was too wrapped up in my own hurt to even guess that you might be in trouble.”
“Ran Doc Min is responsible for that.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Keller.” The Master’s face creases. “I can tell you are determined to take the blame here, but you really have no reason.”
Which is the same thing I said to Lament not five minutes ago, and how’s that for irony?
“You said Ran Doc Min used my safety to interrogate you,” I argue, not quite ready to let this go. “They could have kidnapped any Master to ask about Mount Kilmon, but they choseyou—”
“They chose me,” Master Ira interrupts, “because Trey Morton is my brother.”
“He’s—wait.” I blink. “I’m sorry. For one obviously absurd moment, I thought you said Trey Morton is your brother.”
“I did.”
“But that’s—that doesn’t even—hecan’t be.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s completely evil! Also”—I tick each item off with my fingers—“you don’t look alike, you’ve never mentioned him, and you don’t even share a name. Your surname is…” I trail off. “Um. Ira.”
He’s looking at me with a mix of amusement and affection. “Would that make my first name Master?”
“Oh hell.” I bury my face in my hands. “How is this happening?”
“I’m sorry. Should I have sat you down first?”
I press my palms into my forehead. I’d sort of forgotten the Master could be like this: unflappable, lighthearted even in the face of hard things. Maybe that’s where I learned to make jokes in uncomfortable situations. Only, when Master Ira does it, it’s not a deflection or a defense. He’s just… embracing the horror. Moving through it with grace.
“I think,” the Master starts, “if you dressed Trey in robes and gave him a topknot, you would find we look very much alike. As for not often speaking of him, things have been strained between us for many years. You can guess why.”
“He mentioned you,” I say, popping my head back up. “He showed up on our flight deck one night and told me you were doomed. Said something about having a personal stake in the matter.”
“Trey is a longtime Ran Doc Min loyalist. He has tried many times torecruit me to the Determinist movement. I run a children’s home. You can imagine how useful that might be to a cult like the Determinists. All those young minds waiting to be indoctrinated. When I refused to have any part of it, Trey turned on me.”
“Oi! Lamb!”
I jump at the sound of Caspen’s voice, my hand darting to my ray gun, eyes automatically jumping to the sky in search of danger. But there is no danger. Only Caspen hanging out The Bargainer’s door, waving to get our attention. “Don’t go bleeding out before the stitches.”
I release my gun, relaxing a fraction. “She’s scolding us for dawdling.”
Master Ira arches a brow. “Is that so?”
“We should get inside.”
“We have much to discuss,” he agrees, “both with each other and with the rest of your friends. But first, I want to thank you properly for saving my life.”
