Cleo’s heart drums against her ribs.
“You run, you die,” the Tinman says.Swipe.“You scream, you die.”Swipe, swipe.“You lie to me, you die.”Swipe.“Do you understand?”
A breath stutters out through Cleo’s nostrils. She nods. He meets her eyes. His are a stormy shade of gray, tinged in blue. Not unlike the ominous clouds outside.
Panic is burbling up her throat and she’s not sure if it’s a scream or vomit, but neither seems like a good option. She swallows it down.
“Did you see the girl?” he asks.
Cleo nods.
Easy question. Easy answer.
“Is she here now?”
“I… I… no.”
He rests the axe over his thighs and leans back into the chair. “What happened here?”
“The house. Fell. The sky. On the witch. The girl. She. Dead. Killed, I mean. Killed the witch.”
The Tinman frowns. “What witch?”
“The Witch of the East.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “The girl killed a Cardinal Witch?”
His voice, deep and husky, drips with disbelief.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. I mean. A kitchen knife.”
“Was it magical?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Cursed?”
“I don’t know.”
He stands up and paces the room. When he comes back around he drops the axe, letting the blade rest on the floor by his boot. “Where is the girl now?”
Every Ender grows up hearing stories about the Tin Woodman. His brother cursed him and stole his heart. Thewhyis unknown. What he was like before he lost his heart? Also unknown. Without one, he is merciless. Terrifying. Singularly focused. And most of all, competent.
Being in the same cardinal territory as him is bad enough. In the same house? Cleo wants to melt into the floorboards and never resolidify.
“The girl… Dorothy… I—” Cleo takes a breath. She thinks she knows the words. She can say them. She can get them out and then he’ll go and she’ll be free to carry on to wherever it is she ends up.
“The road,” she says. “Girl. On the. The road. To the wizard.” She swallows again. Harder.
“She’s going to see the wizard?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
