“No. Just our experience, as you doubted Lune’s. Perhaps we have something to teach one another after all.”
Helios says nothing for a long, odd moment. When he speaks, his tone is entirely different. It shows the respect he has for Diomedes, if not for me. “You ask me to trust you, Lune. Very well. Prove you trust me. Come, but I’ll allow no more than ten of your killers aboard myDustmaker. The rest must follow in your snail ships.”
“Ten is an insult to a man of his station,” Rhone says from behind. “He’s a Lune.”
“Precisely,” Helios says.
I turn on Rhone, astounded by his lack of discipline. “Silence, Flavinius.”
The motion sends excruciating shocks of pain through my spinal cord and calves.
“He can bring all he likes onto theDragon’s Song…” Dido offers, wary as she scrutinizes Helios.
“Ten,” Helios says. “And if he comes along with us, he must ride with me. You two are too cozy as is.”
“Ten will suffice,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Choose them and load. We’ve wasted time enough. Diomedes, you have his mark.” He turns on a heel and departs with his cadre. That took a lot of energy. Helios thought I wouldn’t do it, and Flavinius tried to stop me. I wheel on him.
“Flavinius—tell me now. Should I leave you behind? Answer truthfully.”
“No,dominus. I apologize.”
“Then pick nine of your best. Pack your gear. And get on board.” I look past him. We’ll be taking Demetrius, Drusilla, Markus, Coriolanus, and five more of Rhone’s best but my whisper is missing. “Have you seen Kyber?”
“Yes,dominus. She took a shot from a sniper,” Rhone says.
“What, just now? I only just saw her,” I say in concern. Rhone motions up Demetrius.
“Got hit on the way to barracks to get her kit,dominus. She’ll live. Sniper didn’t,” Demetrius says. “We got her back to the medBay before she bled out. Knowing her, she’ll follow in theLightbringer.”
“Good,” I say. I waver. Pain pounds my temples and races along my spine, causing an ache between my shoulder blades. I feel sick. “Snipers, though?”
“They’ve been active since you’ve been under. So much for Lionheart’s word,” Rhone says.
“If they’re affiliated,” I muse, then I call out to the men not part of Rhone’s picked nine, and urge them to give Kyber my best wishes on a speedy recovery. As the Praetorians sort their equipment, I approach Dido and Diomedes.
“What did Helios mean by ‘your mark’?” I ask Diomedes.
“If you make any mischief, I lose my cloak,” Diomedes replies as if he’s won a great victory. Dido is not pleased. She frowns after Helios as if he’d sprouted horns.
“What is it?” I ask.
“The only reason he’d say yes is if he was worried we might need you.”
“Has he fought this Fá before, in the Far Ink?”
Dido shakes her head. “No. None of us have. Until this attack, we thought he was a myth. No matter. Ascomanni and Volk. They’re just genetic perversions and thick-brained infantry. They’ll probably tear one another apart before we even reach the Belt.” She presses something into my hand. “For the poison. It’ll help. Diomedes will show you how to use it. Goodspeed, boys. I will see you in Ilium.”
PART III
TEMPEST
Ah how shameless—the way these mortals blame the gods. From us alone, they say, come all their miseries. Yes, but they themselves, with their own reckless ways, compound their pains beyond their proper share.
—Homer
37
