“Surely there were better ways to test me.” We’re almost back. Enough time for her to think me stewing, chafing at the situation. If I’m too quiet, too accepting, then she’ll doubt it’s real.
“None as swift, or as informative.”
“Perhaps. But it doesn’t build trust.”
“I do not need you to trust me. I have a place in this city. You are a stranger and your iunctus is a fugitive. You exist through my goodwill alone.” She says it with quiet certainty, steering us to the right, just away from the sweeping gaze of an Overseer ahead. I think I’m beginning to see the patterns she sees, albeit still long after she does. “We are not allies. We are not friends. Your capabilities are of interest to me, but I needed a more thorough demonstration before we proceeded.”
Vek. So calm and cold.
“So what do you want from the Nomarch?” I raise an eyebrow at her glance. “I’m going to need to know eventually.”
She looks like she’s not going to tell me. Then she sighs. “Anonymity. I need to avoid having my face checked by the Overseers just as much as you do. I wish to be forgotten by Ka.”
She says it as if it is almost embarrassing to admit. Meets my gaze with a sheepish shrug.
It’s a good act. I pretend to believe it. “Why not just destroy the Nomarch, then, if you have access?”
She snorts. “There are fail-safes. Surrogate groups of iunctii housed in other cities, always connected to the primary. Always knowing what the Nomarch knows. Destroy the one here, and Ka will simply transport in a duplicate to take its place.” She frowns. “Quite aside from the fact that much of Duatwould eventually break down without the Nomarch, of course. It operates the machinery that cleanses our air. It monitors the filtration system for our water. It maintains the farming on the upper level. Take it away, and everyone here likely dies within a few months. Which would be counterproductive,” she adds dryly.
I don’t say anything to that. If the Nomarch controls all those systems, then it surely must control the Gleaners. And perhaps any extra layers of security that sit around the pyramid.
On the other hand, if Ka is the one imbuing the Nomarch …vek.
“How long until you can get me in?”
“There should be a window in about six months. We can train you to—”
“I don’t have that kind of time. I need it to be weeks.”
We angle slightly to the right, passing behind the path of a large group and into the relative quiet of Netiqret’s street. She frowns. “We have to approach this cautiously, Siamun. Ka, the Nomarch—if they get any hint that we have found a weakness, they will adapt. Ruin our chances.”
“In six months, my need to get to the Nomarch will be irrelevant.” A lie—I have no idea how long I have—but I’ve already wasted too much time just getting over to this side of the river.
We stop outside the gate to Netiqret’s residence. She considers me. Frustrated, but she knows there has to be some give-and-take for this to work. Despite her previous assertion, I’m simply not a resource she can replace.
“It will be far more dangerous.”
So it’s possible. “Better than pointless.”
She nods slowly. “It is likely best if you speak to your iunctus before he sees me,” she observes. “Allow me to go and make some enquiries. I will return soon.”
She leaves and I enter the settling privacy of the house, calling Ahmose’s name loudly to let him know I’m not another iunctus coming to kill him. Silence is my only answer. I climb the first flight of stairs. Ahmose is sitting in a chair in the far corner of the darkened room. He twitches as I enter. Bronze sabre still gripped, too tightly.
“Ahmose.” I focus on him, rather than the bodies and rent flesh between us. Make my voice gentle. “Gods. Are you alright?”
He stares at me, then gives a bitter, slightly manic laugh. “Perfectly.”
I take a place beside him. Not saying anything. Not sure what I can say. We sit for almost a full minute, just gazing at the bodies.
Ahmose moves first. Slowly extends his hand, offering me the stained bronze blade. Hilt first.
“I know you had to,” he says.
I take the sword. I cannot imagine what it must have been like, for him. He is a naturally anxious man; for him to be attacked is one thing, but to not be in control of his own body during the ordeal … “I’ve told Netiqret that if anything like that happens again, we walk away.”
“We’re not doing that already?” His eyes are fixed on the shadowed pools of gore.
“We need her.”
