“The Dowager knows something about the Clockwork Boys,” said Caliban.
Sonofabitch…
Slate threw her hands in the air, turning away. “God’s teeth! Why do we evenbotherwith secrecy, if men in goddamn solitary confinement can figure that out!?”
Damn. I should have kept my mouth shut. I forgot he was a knight—he might even have encountered the Clockwork Boys at somepoint. I suppose it doesn’t take a genius to put “Anuket City” and “Dowager” and “suicide” all together.
“Answer the question,” he said, directly behind her.
“You didn’t ask one,” she snapped, turning around.
He was closer than she’d expected. He loomed quite effectively in the narrow corridor, particularly since he had nearly a foot of height on her. He reached out and caught her arm in his scarred fingers.
She considered flinching and didn’t.A snapped neck would probably be the best to hope for, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers. I wonder if he takes requests?
“She knows something,” the former knight said again. “Doesn’t she?”
“Not nearly enough,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Not how they’re made, or where they come from. That’s half our job. The other half is to try and stop them.”
“Thatisa suicide mission,” he said.
“Mmm, quite.” She dropped her gaze to his hand. His skin was very white against hers. Probably he had always been pale, but months of captivity had turned his skin the color of wax.
He was holding her wrist. Why did men always grab your wrist? There were any number of ways to break that grip, of course, but it was mildly infuriating nonetheless.
He released her, looking oddly embarrassed.Was he trying to scare me? Poor man.“Did you think I was exaggerating?”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Assuming you live through it, there’s a full pardon offered. I don’t know if that would include reinstating your title or not.”
“We won’t live through it.”
“No, I shouldn’t expect we will.”
“Evengettingto Anuket City right now is a fool’s errand.”
“Good thing we’re fools, huh?”
“And what—” he began, but the door at the end of the hall banged open, and the warden gasped.
“You shouldn’t have let him out, ma’am!” He hurried down the hall and shouldered past Slate to stand between them, bristling like a paunchy bulldog.
“Why not? You were going to.” Slate reached out and plucked the folded clothes from his arms. She shook them out. Tunic and trousers, neither of them new, but clean enough and neatly patched. “Hmm. It’ll do, I suppose, and—yes, excellent, sandals.” She passed them both to Caliban.
There was a brief, awkward silence.
“Comeon,” said Slate irritably. “Our inevitable deaths aren’t going to happen by themselves.”
Caliban rolled his eyes up at the ceiling.
Damn, he’s having second thoughts. But he guessed too much, and I told him too much, I can’t let him stay here. Damn.
“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts—” she began.
It was the warden who touched her shoulder and said “Should leave a man privacy to change, missy.”
“Oh.Oh.Right. I’ll…err…be in the guard room.”
