When the shops thin out, replaced by squat Ender houses, I widen the distance between us. With fewer Enders here, my presence is easier to notice.
The Yellow Brick Road comes into sight and Fink finally reaches his destination: the guardhouse.
It’s a three-story building constructed of black stone. The entrance is a double door with an arched stone alcove. The woodof the front door is thick and strapped in iron with matching iron bars on the windows. Heavy drapes are pulled closed on all the windows, but there’s light in every room and silhouettes pass back and forth.
It’s a bustling building.
Thankfully Fink goes around back where a guard is having a cigarette break.
Smoke clouds in the silver light cast by the lampposts. I edge in closer, sticking to the shadows of the next closest building.
Fink lights his own cigarette with a spin of his lighter. He exhales in a rush. “Have the scouts spotted anything yet?”
The guard flicks ash from the end of his cigarette. “He’s about two hours out.”
“Crice,” he mutters.
“Yep,” the guard says.
Crice was a Cardinal God. The God of the South. Sometimes his name is used like a curse word. Of all the gods, Crice was the most fickle.
“Of all the nights,” Fink says and takes another pull from his cigarette.
“The celebration might make it easier. Everyone of importance will be there, including the girl.”
The girl.Kansas.
Fink nods and exhales smoke through his nose. “We have to make sure the alarm isn’t sounded when he arrives. We’ll lose the element of surprise.”
“I’ll do my best.” The guard drops his cigarette and crushes the ember beneath the heel of his boot. “The captain is up my ass tonight. It’s not going to be easy.”
“It’s not supposed to be easy. The West pays us for our competence, not the difficulty of the task.”
The guard gives the little man a look like he is being obtuse. Which he is.
“When the Tinman arrives,” the guard says, “I will be sure to escort him straight to the girl. Alarm or not. That’s what you’ve paid me for.”
Fink scoffs, but there is a clear discrepancy in power between these two men, and he’s not willing to push the guard any further. Fink might hold higher rank, but the guard could gut the council member with a quick swipe of his blade. And he would do it. I can tell just by looking at the man. He’s an opportunist. A greedy bastard. A little bit bloodthirsty.
“Fine. Do you have final numbers on guards at the ball?”
“Thirteen in total. Six are on our side.”
“Good. Very good.” Fink flicks his cigarette into the bushes. “I’ll make sure the girl stays put at the celebration.”
“You do that.”
Fink turns on his heel and hurries back to the road.
TWENTY-SIX
Dorothy
Ana is running around the Red Wander questioning everyone on whether or not they’ve seen Rook.
“They were supposed to wait here!” she shouts and then disappears into the garden.
I don’t want to worry—Rook is a grown man—but he has no memories, and someone is clearly trying to kill him. Henrietta warned us that the Tinman was close, but I wish I would have asked her how close.
