“There’s no other way,” Eban says at last. “We’ve got to get rid of him. He’ll sell our identities to both the Blackcoats and the Guild and we’ll be hunted down from all sides until we’re captured and executed. And probably tortured, for whatever additional information they think they can get out of us. And don’t forget, we’re still wanted for that botched hit on the gaming hall.”
Vergel groans. “No. No killing. It makes me feel like one of them.”
He means the Blackcoats, and I feel the same way. I don’t love the idea, either. I swore I was done with killing. Then I think of the gallows in the courtyard of the House Eternal, how I’d watched the stand-in as she swung, side to side, in those brutal moments when I thought it was real, and imagined myself swinging there instead, and I hate that even more.
“We have to track him down and we have to do it tonight,” I say. “I’ll head back to Aris’s hideout and find out whatever I can.”
“You mean split up?” Eban asks me. He narrows his eyes, crosses his arms, and leans against the wall again.
He’s afraid I’ll rat him out if he lets me out of his sight. I stare back at him just as intensely. “We have to, to get this done. That’s what I assumed.”
Eban kicks at a spot on the rotting wood floor. “I assumed the opposite.” Vergel side-eyes him. Eban doesn’t look back at him. “I mean. I figured you’d want to join us. What good is it to split up? It would benefit all of us to wait out the Blackcoats together. If you’re out there alone, you’re easier to capture.”
“What makes you think I’ll be alone?” I ask, suspicious. Even though Eban has every reason to be suspicious of me as well. I could go straight to the Blackcoats and do the same as this Zagar could, thereby saving myself. That’s the way it is in the Sleeve; it’s about opportunity and self-preservation.
“You and an old man taking down four thieves by yourselves? I figured you guys couldn’t find any other crew to work the job, so yeah, I think you’ll be alone.”
It’s annoying that he’s right.
“Besides, you heard the voice of the Ophir spirit. When I held up the bottle, I didn’t hear anything,” he says. “Somehow, you tapped into the power when I couldn’t.” He looks up and meets my eyes. “That might come in handy later.”
“I see,” I say warily. Fair enough.
“Not only that, but since we’ve established that you’re alone, wouldn’t you rather have backup with you? Just in case?”
I know he just wants to keep tabs on me, and he isn’t wrong about that. My chances of survival are better if I’m not alone. Especially when I have no idea what I could be facing. These boys may be strangers, but Aris, my last friend in the world, is dead. I’m on my own, a fugitive. A murderer. I killed that thief. There’s nothing stopping Eban and Vergel from turning me in, either, just as I suspect they thinkImight turn them in. We’re stuck with each other. “You’re right. I guess we should stick together.” Then I qualify that with, “For now.”
“Right,” Eban says. “For now.”
“No killing,” Vergel pleads. “It’s one thing to be ambushed—but…” He looks so young, my heart breaks a little.
“Agreed. We’ll meet this guy Zagar and pay him off,” I say forcefully to Eban. “Then after that’s settled, we go our separate ways.”
Eban looks stormy, like he might disagree with me. Then he says something unexpected. “Lift your sleeve,” he orders.
“What?” I’m confused.
“Let me see your arm,” he says, and rolls up his own sleeve.
My eyes widen when I see the mark on his arm. So I do what he’s asked me to do, I pull up my own sleeve and hold my arm next to his brown one.
They are matching symbols. Two vaguely diamond shapes, interlocking together to form a larger diamond.
“I thought it was a birthmark,” I whisper, staring at the two symbols. I look at Vergel, expecting him to pull up his sleeve as well.
“He doesn’t have it,” Eban says gruffly.
“What does it mean?”
“That I don’t know,” he says as I pull my sleeve back down. “Yet.”
He looks at me intently. “Remember, as Ophir, we are bound to each other bythe promise of the Kingdom of Waves.”
I’m rattled by the symbol we share, and that he brought up an old legend. The promise is a dream, a wish, a hope. It is the pledge that we Ophir will always help one another. It is a shared understanding: We lost our home, but we will make a new one. Our kingdom will rise from the waves once more. It is a fool’s hope and a fool’s pledge, but I admire him for using it to buy my loyalty.
“Fine,” I say. “For the Kingdom of Waves.”
I put my hand out, palm down. Eban steps forward and places a warm hand over mine. We lock eyes briefly before he looks back at his friend. “Vergel?”
