Page 114 of Ship of Smoke and Steel

“The Scholar says it isn’t alive. Just a kind of a machine. It may not understand.”

“There’s still a few hundred miles to go. And even if we stay on course, nothing says we’ll get close enough to the Rot to be in danger.” He pauses. “Do you believe him?”

“Let’s say that I think he has a point.”

“And yet you sent the message that you’d be willing to kill the Butcher.” Zarun looks at me curiously. “You didn’t like the offer the others made you?”

“I can always go after I’ve won the challenge,” I say. “If the Scholar is wrong, it’d be nice to have somewhere to come back to.”

Zarun laughs. “Poor Shiara worked so hard to convince everyone it would be better to get rid of you quietly. It’s a shame to waste all her effort.”

“Not from your point of view. This is what you wanted me for from the beginning, isn’t it?”

He runs his eyes up and down me, with a faint smile. “Not the only thing.”

“Well. Now you’ve gotten everything you wanted.”

“And yet I find myself unsatisfied,” he says.

He steps across the room, closer to me. I’m standing by the sleeping pallet, my back to the wall, and I look up at him without giving ground. His smile widens.

“Have you given any thought,” he says quietly, “to what happens after you win the challenge?”

“Do I get to be on the Council?”

“It’s not quite that simple. To be on the Council, you need a clade, a power base of your own. There will be a … realignment. One that is potentially very favorable to me.” He leans a bit closer. “And to my partners.”

“Partners. There’s a slippery word.”

“Would you prefer something more … solid?”

“Are you making me an offer?”

“You are a remarkable woman, Isoka Deepwalker. I find that I want you for more than a pawn or a quick rut.” His voice drops. “You’ll have a place by my side in the Council. Authority in the clade. Safety for you and your pack.”

“And all I have to do is warm your bed?”

“I consider that a benefit, not a drawback,” he says. “But if you kill the Butcher for me, I will owe you a considerable debt. And I hate owing debts.”

“An attractive proposition,” I deadpan.

“I thought so.”

“How about this? I kill the Butcher for my own reasons. As for the rest, we’ll see.” I shoot him a challenging stare. “Maybe I’ll just keep you in my debt.”

“You never give an inch, do you?” He sounds genuinely impressed.

“Not if I can help it.”

Zarun grins like a wolf.

23

And so I find myself in the Ring. Again.

I had thought the crowd was impressive the last time I was here. This time, it rises up around me like a bowl. They stand on boxes, and tables, and barrels, and bookcases. Now and then there’s a splintering crash and a wave of laughter as some priceless, overburdened object gives way.

On the dais sit the officers. Zarun is taut, expectant, eyes gleaming. Karakoa looks on with interest, while Shiara affects boredom. The Scholar is sullen, arms crossed, tapping his cane nervously. The Butcher’s chair is empty.