Page 108 of Ship of Smoke and Steel

Jack smiles, climbing through after me. “And what should Clever Jack tell Zarun?”

“Tell him … I’ll think about it.”

“Think quickly,” Jack advises. She shuts the door behind me, and I hear the bar slide back into place.

There’s no question of going back to sleep. I use the chamber pot, wash as best I can, sit back on the pallet, and wait for my next visitor. I have a feeling it won’t be long.

Sure enough, the bar slides away again a few hours later. I compose myself, and when the door opens I barely twitch. I was expecting Zarun; instead, it’s Shiara in an elegant black-and-red kizen. The Scholar is behind her, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Welcome,” I say. “I’m sorry I can’t offer any better hospitality.”

Shiara gives a thin smile. She picks her way into the room as though the floor were covered in dung. The Scholar follows her and closes the door behind them.

“Deepwalker,” Shiara says. Her Imperial has an upper-class accent, but it sounds studied to me, as though she’s deliberately putting it on. “I regret we haven’t had the chance to get better acquainted.”

The Scholar just frowns, hands twisting around the head of his cane.

“The Council has deliberated as to your punishment,” Shiara says, then glances at the Scholar. “And his. The penalty for trespassing in the Captain’s domain is death.”

I bark a laugh. “Oh yes. I’m sure he’s very angry with me.”

“Mythology has its uses,” Shiara says tightly. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand the fine points of leadership.”

I refrain from pointing out that I was boss of the Sixteenth Ward, which had ten times as many people as live on Soliton. I just shrug, and she sets her shoulders, looking annoyed.

“Therefore,” she goes on, “you are facing execution. But we hope to avoid that, if you are willing to … behave.”

“You’re worried I’m too popular,” I translate.

“Quite.” Shiara’s expertly painted lips quirk. “The Scholar has, let’s say, implored us to let you accompany him on an expedition to the so-called Garden. The Council has agreed that, if you wish to take the risk, we could commute your sentence. Assuming you were prepared to leave quietly.”

“Isoka, please,” the Scholar says. “This could be our only chance.”

“It is certainly your only chance,” Shiara says.

“Unless I fight the Butcher,” I say brightly.

They both freeze, and the smile drains from Shiara’s face. I mime astonishment.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Was I not supposed to know about that?”

“Zarun told her,” the Scholar says. “Of course.”

“Zarun is not thinking in the interests of everyone,” Shiara says. “These are dangerous times. The last thing we need is a leadership struggle.”

“But as long as he doesn’t agree with the rest of you, I have the right to challenge,” I say.

“You do.” Shiara sighs. “But you should consider what would happen afterward, even if you win.”

“Isoka—” the Scholar begins.

“Do you think,” I say to Shiara, “that your colleague and I could speak alone? As the two who would be going on this … expedition.”

She looks between us, suspiciously, and then sighs again. “I suppose. I will wait outside. Don’t take long.”

When she’s gone, the Scholar lowers his voice. “I know you don’t trust her, but this offer is genuine. Shiara may not be convinced that I’m right, but she’s at least concerned.”

“I don’t have any particular reason to distrust her,” I say. “It’s not the offer I’m worried about.”