Page 57 of City of Stone and Silence

I nod, too uncertain of my voice to speak.

“Well then,” he drawls, all trace of wariness gone. “Let’s go and talk to the boss, shall we?”

“What did you say to him?” Garo asks, as the pawnbroker—whose name turns out to be Nouya—locks up his shop and leads us outside.

“Sort of a … password,” I say quietly. “I got it from Isoka, but she told me not to use it unless I really had to.”

He nods thoughtfully. For the moment, I have my Kindre senses firmly shut down until my guts stop squirming, so I don’t know if he’s convinced. I’m too busy trying to justify what I just did to worry about it.

I touched Old Sewa’s mind because he was going to hurt someone. And those guards back in the restaurant, when they were about to kill Garo. This is the same, isn’t it? Isoka’s in danger, and I need to help her.

Besides, it’s not like Nouya will be harmed permanently. I think. I hope.

Even my excuses ring hollow. It’s wrong, reaching inside someone and twisting their thoughts, violating their self. I try to imagine someone changing me, without my suspecting anything is wrong, and it makes me want to throw up all over again.

“Tori?” Garo says. “Are you all right?”

I look up at him, and for a moment I see only a marionette, wooden limbs and a painted face, strings coiling to lead back to my hand.…

Isoka needs me. I blink, and the vision passes.

“I’m all right,” I say. “Just a little … nervous.”

“That’s understandable.” He gives a tentative smile. “For what it’s worth, you were impressive in there.”

I risk a smile back. “Good to hear, because I’m making this up as I go along.”

Nouya finishes locking up and beckons. “The boss will be up at the Black Flower by now. Can’t promise you’ll get to see him. I can get you in the door, but you’re on your own from there.”

“That’s good enough,” I tell him.

“And then you’ll give me the statue?”

I nod. He grins, wide and guileless, and beckons again. I fall into step beside Garo, my heart hammering.

The hour is getting later, and the streets are abandoned by the standards of the Eleventh Ward, where things are so crowded it’s never really quiet. Here, as we move away from the gate, it gets very dark and still. A few candles flicker, but always behind curtained windows, and people move about in big, boisterous groups with weapons to hand. In spite of my meddling, Nouya retains enough caution to move quickly and quietly, and we slip through the winding alleys without attracting attention.

“Just so I know what to expect,” Garo says in a low voice, “do you have a plan?”

“Not really.” I’m trying to keep my eyes on Nouya and simultaneously look in every direction at once. Each alley entrance seems to hide a dozen menacing shadows. “Find out if Thul knows anything, and go from there.”

“What if he won’t see us?”

“He’ll see us.” Whether he wants to or not. I’ve come this far, what’s one more atrocity?

“All right. What then?”

“Find Isoka. Help her.”

“What if—”

He cuts off as we round a corner and come into view of the Black Flower. Our path has curved around, west and north, until we’ve come up against the wall that marks the boundary of the Sixteenth Ward. The Flower is a huge, ramshackle building that leans against that wall for support like a drunk against a lamppost, slumping back and to one side as though it were moments from collapse. A broad first floor spreads out quite a ways along the wall to either side, while a narrower second story sits directly over the main entrance. Light spills out through an open doorway flanked by armed guards.

A large, muddy area to our right is devoted to carriages, which seems to be how most people arrive here. Groups of well-dressed men and women are conducted to the entrance by more armed servants, while grooms and footmen bustle about attending to their horses. Garo, looking around, suddenly frowns.

“That’s Lord Mondara’s crest.” He squints. “And Lord Goruka. I know some of these people.”

My heart goes cold for a moment. “Any of them likely to recognize you?”