Patrick needed no further persuasion; he went to the counter as though a separate force compelled him, wolfed down the food with his fingers as utensils. He drained a jug of water, thought seriously about throwing up.
To his credit, the lord’s nose did not wrinkle in response. He simply waited patiently, his hands clasped behind his back. A soldier by the door looked in with his baton extended.
Theo watched Patrick solemnly, his expression bleak, as though he’d come to impart terrible news.
Patrick froze at the thought. “Is… is she—”
“She’s fine,” Theo said quietly. Then he looked away.
So did Patrick, neither man able to separate feeling from business.
Terrence Shop cleared his throat as Patrick wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
“Mr. Colson, I’d much rather have this discussion in private, but the guard behind me will fret on the other side of this door, unable to see if you decide to pummel me with that terranium. You should know that he is a fire Charmer and a little quick on the trigger. It’d be best if you didn’t give me cause to shout for his assistance.”
Patrick gave the guard a cursory glance. “A fire Charmer, you say?”
Lord Shop nodded once.
“Bullshit.”
Shop’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “I assure you—”
“Ain’t ever seen a fire Charmer with burn marks on their hands,” Patrick said. He looked back at the guard, who only scowled. The hand around the baton clenched, knuckled white where the scars stretched over bone. “Either you’re the poorest Charmer in the Trench, or you’re an iron worker, and the lord here is lyin’ to me.”
Terrence Shop did not react.
So then, he was a careful man.
“To have an iron worker pose for you must mean your own medium is somethin’ piss-poor. Are you a Scribbler, maybe? A Cutter?”
The lord’s jaw flexed, just slightly.
“ACutter,” Patrick whistled. “Well, hope you don’t bury me in fuckin’ jewels.”
“I didn’t come to threaten you, Mr. Colson. But if it must be said, my sonisa Charmer—”
“You didn’t promise to drown me though, did you?” Patrick continued. He looked at Theo. “And I know him capable of it. He drowned a whole lot of men recently. Did he tell you? Fire Charmers and all.”
The lord was quiet again. Contemplative. “Nevertheless, if you choose to be foolish, Mr. Colson, it will end quite badly for you. I came to speak, that is all.”
“Pat,” Theo said, voice like gravel. “Just listen. Please.”
Patrick looked at him. In Theodore he saw two separate men. He couldn’t trust even half of him. “Ain’t got a damn thing else to do, Teddy. I’m all ears.”
Lord Shop nodded to the guard, who backed out of the room willingly enough, closing the door behind him.
Patrick took stock of the lord and found him difficult to read. But not impossible.
“Mr. Colson, the matter on which we speak is delicate.”
Patrick laughed again. “The matter of treason? Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty fuckin’ delicate.”
The lord’s face darkened. He seemed to evaluate Patrick where he stood, his eyes skirting over every part of him. Eventually he said, “I asked my son to relay to me his time in your employ. He told me you shot men who defied you, or else beat them. He described you as a man who uses brutality to get what he wants. It was all rather unimpressive to me.”
Lord Shop took a step toward the sack of terranium and eyed it curiously. “I’ve known a hundred men who have governed the wayyougovern, Mr. Colson. With fear and might. I find it base. Uninspired. Wolves scrapping for kill.”
“And what’re you?” Patrick asked. “The fox in the trees?”
