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But Creon …
‘One more thing,’ I heard myself say. ‘I was wondering … do you have any idea …’
‘What’s the matter with Creon?’ she finished, letting out another of those merciless giggles as she saw my face. ‘Can’t tell you, Emelin. Gossiping is against my rules, remember?’
To hell with her rules. ‘But you’re saying somethingisthe matter with him?’
‘You had already reached that conclusion yourself, hadn't you?’ Her grin – shark’s teeth, predator eyes – was hardly reassuring. ‘Just talk to him. He’s not going to learn to use his own big boy words if I keep communicating on his behalf.’
I wished that didn’t sound so reasonable. ‘But—’
‘Emelin,’ she cut in, voice strained. ‘Am I getting that key?’
Well.
End of conversation, presumably.
I steeled myself and drew the little trinket from my pocket, trying not to wince at the frantic eagerness with which her eyes followed the silvery gleam of the metal. The moment I opened my fingers, she snatched it from my palm as if it was a medicine she required to live.
‘What cell?’ Her voice was laced with urgency. ‘Where is she?’
‘104.’ I pushed myself to my feet, nodding at the alf steel door in question. ‘Say hello from me. Or maybe don’t.’
She laughed out loud – a laugh so triumphant it made the hairs in my neck stand up. For one moment, I was overcome by the urge to grab the key from her hands and run … but then we’d be even farther from a solution to the Thysandra problem, and I would have a whole new problem to deal with, too.
I knew what she wanted – Thysandra. She knew what was at stake – again, Thysandra. Our deal should hold water.
‘Thank you, Emelin.’ She almost sang the words, that familiar melodious cadence. ‘I’ll let you know when she tells me anything important.’
‘Thank you.’ I forced myself to smile. Too late to turn back, now; the best I could do was hope and have faith. ‘Have a good day, then.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll have awonderfulday,’ she said, laughing again as she skipped towards the door of cell number 104.
Gods help me.
And gods help Thysandra, most of all.
I avoided the heart of the Underground on my way back home. It meant I had to navigate my way through narrow, winding corridors I’d never seen before, taking me ages longer than a straight path through familiar territory would have been – but at least the extra time was time spent in absence of thinly veiled looks, and some wandering around didn’t seem too bad a price to pay to escape the ogling and whispering of my allies.
I was in no hurry, I reminded myself with every step. My one task for the day had been completed. My letter had been sent. For a few hours, I could simply consider myselfdone– could lock myself in a quiet bedroom with Creon, get him to use his big boy words, then reward him appropriately for the effort once he had told me what was bothering him. No ambitious expectations. No political games to play.
For the twenty minutes it took me to walk back to the Skeire home, I was free.
Then I pushed open that rune-covered front door and found both Tared and Creon waiting in the living room beyond – sitting quietly with three chairs between them, both staring grimly at the floor. They emanated the air of males bracingthemselves for an unpleasant task ahead, a look of unhappy but unanimous resolve.
My heart skipped a beat.
Fuck. Had anything happened? Did Tared have any idea what I’d just done, or had the two of them managed to get themselves entangled in some brand new feud in the hour that I’d left them to their own devices? Had the Mother attacked some innocent island, or—
‘Oh, there you are,’ Tared interrupted my frantic thoughts as he veered up.
And only then did I see the folded parchment he was holding. Not my letter. This was a new message, on expensive-looking vellum, sealed with the same white wax I’d seen on Valter’s correspondence with northern patrons.
The city.
Already?
‘They were unexpectedly quick,’ Tared said, reading my widening eyes correctly. ‘Didn’t need more than an hour or two to make their decision.’
