Murdered.
“She found the fraud in their contracts and spoke it into nothing.”
“Did you ever try to stop her?” The question comes out sharper than I intend. “When you were hunting debtors she was freeing.”
Silence. Long enough that I think he won’t answer.
“I was ordered to. Once.” His voice goes flat. Careful. “A debtor she’d freed. The Ledger Master wanted him reclaimed—an example to others who might think truth-speaking could save them.”
“What happened?”
“I found him. Brought him back.” He turns away. “He died in the Hall. The Ledger Master made sure everyone knew that voided contracts could be reinstated. That freedom was temporary.”
My stomach turns. “So you undid my mother’s work.”
“I did what I was ordered to do. I followed my contract.” His boot scuffs against stone. “I told myself that was enough. That obedience absolved me of the outcome.”
“Did it?”
“No.” The word is quiet. Final. “It never does.”
We walk in silence for a long moment. The passage narrows, then widens. The compressed bone of the walls gives way to something rougher—natural stone, maybe, or whatever lies beneath even the graves.
“And he killed her for it.”
“He tried to kill her before that. Multiple times. She was too careful, too hidden. But then she did something reckless.” His voice darkens.
“What stopped her? Why didn’t she finish it?”
“I don’t know.” He turns a corner. I follow blindly. “I don’t exactly know how she was a threat to him.”
Rage burns in my chest. Cold and clean and sharp.
“We have to finish whatever she started.”
Rathok stops. I nearly collide with his back—catch myself with both hands against his armor, feeling his heat through the leather.
“There’s a problem.” His voice is low. Careful. “Your mother trained her gift from childhood. She had years of practice, guidance from other truth-speakers, time to understand what she was. You have?—“
“Hours.”
“Less than that.” He turns. In the gloom, I make out his shape—massive, solid, close.
“You don’t think I can do it.”
Silence. Long enough that I feel my heart sink.
“I think you’re the only one who can.” His voice drops. Roughens. “The Ledger Master felt it—felt you—across the entire city. If anyone can speak truth to bring him down, it’s you.”
“But?”
“But I don’t know if strength is enough without control.”
I step closer. The tunnel is narrow here—barely wide enough for both of us—and my movement brings me flush against him. Chest to chest.
“Let’s find another way.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “My mother was self-taught, too, wasn’t she? Before she found the other truth-speakers. Before she learned how to hide. She figured it out on her own.”
“She had time.”
“I have motivation.” I reach up. Find his jaw in the darkness. The rough texture of his skin beneath my fingers. “The Ledger Master murdered my mother. He trapped my brother. He wants to cage me and use my gift to enslave this entire city. I don’t need time. I need to stop him.”
He sucks in a harsh breath. I feel it against my palm—the sudden stillness, the way his whole body goes taut.
“Ivalys—“
“Keep moving.” I drop my hand. Step back into the shadows.
A moment of silence. Then he turns, and we continue.
