The mapcase was locked, but with the kind of simplistic lock that Slate could have cracked in her sleep. She popped it, one-handed, and went back to the strip of moonlight.
It opened like a clamshell to reveal a rolled map and a worn leather book. Slate flipped the book open to reveal cramped,nearly unreadable handwriting and drawings of everything under the sun.
Brother Amadai’s journal. Well, well, well.
Slate shoved the mapcase in her pack and left the rest.
I could take the gnole and run. Let these rune break their teeth on Caliban and Brenner. By the time they crack those nuts, the gnole and Learned Edmund and I can be well out of here, and it knows something about the Clockwork Boys. I have Brother Amadai’s journal and the scholar to translate it. The odds of success just went up amazingly.
I could do it.
I should do it.
The tattoo eased. There was no question what course of action it approved.
She couldn’t do it.
Brenner was a rat bastard and she trusted him as far as she could throw him, and he’d still never failed her, never sold her out, never turned her in. And Caliban was an arrogant jerk and he’d ridden down a flooding streambed with lightning crashing down around him and caught her horse and saved her life.
And he always had a handkerchief.
“I’m going after them,” she said, and winced as ink teeth dug into her flesh. “Can you wait for me outside the village?”I have to take the sword. I can’t leave it here.She slung it awkwardly over her shoulder, hissing as the straps brushed the tender flesh of the tattoo.
The gnole frowned. It had immense lower canines, like a badger, but it looked more worried than fierce. “Don’t do it, lady—if she’s got them, they’re old meat anyway. That boss rune isbad.”
“Yeah, well, they’ve said I was dead meat a time or two, too.”She pulled the curtain back, peering into the village. It was still deserted in the moonlight, and the rats were laying down in piles.
“Is it clear?” The gnole’s snout peered over her shoulder, pressing close between her cheek and the hilt of the sword. Its fur was bristly and rough against her skin.
“Looks clear. Go on.”
“How long am I s’posed to wait?”
“Use your best judgment. If it looks like I’m going to get caught, get out of here, go south of here, and cross the river. You’ll find a man and a bunch of horses. His name is Learned Edmund. Tell him that I sent you, and he’ll take you back to Anuket City.”
The gnole paused in the entrance of the hut. “You sure about this, lady?”
“Unless you want to come with me.”
It grimaced. “You help a gnole, maybe a gnole helps you sometime, but I ain’t going up against that boss rune for nothing.”
“Then stay out of my way.” Slate rubbed her hands on her trousers, hunched her shoulder to keep the sword up, and turned toward the largest hut.
Pain spiked up her arm. She missed a step and staggered.
A small, solid body braced her up on that side. The gnole barely came up to her waist, but it steadied her with graceless ease. “God’s scat, lady, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. The tattoo was really gnawing now. Her arm tickled, which was almost certainly a sign that she was bleeding.
It’ll be okay. If I rescue them, it’ll let up, and if I die it won’t matter.
I hope it’ll let up.
I’m not betraying the Dowager, you stupid thing! I’m helping my friends, but that doesn’t mean I’m betraying the mission!
The pain subsided a little, but there was still a definite pinch. It wasn’t quite buying her rationalizations.
That makes two of us.
