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The air smelled of beef stew and cornbread.
Lila ate enough for five people.
Dixon did not return to their cabin after they finished their meal. Instead, he stood up and followed Blair from the dining room, giving Lila a bashful wave goodbye.
Chapter 13
Lila woke with a crick in her neck, her head lolling to the side on the slick leather computer chair. Lights burned in the living room, and her computer screen blinked apathetically, marking the place she’d stopped before falling asleep. Feeble warmth trickled from the fireplace, only embers and ash glowing amongst the cold stone. The purple blanket she’d covered herself with slipped off her shoulders.
The couch beckoned for a proper nap.
Her bed beckoned even more.
Yawning, Lila rubbed the sleep from her eyes and turned her attention back to the logs. Several more days’ worth of untouched data remained for her to work through. The mole was still out there, possibly sending critical information about the oracles to the empire.
If her current search didn’t turn up anything, she’d capture the logs for the last three months and dig through it all, painstakingly rooting through the history of hundreds.
If she was very lucky, it might take her six months.
Lila cuddled up under her blanket. She still might not find the mole using either approach. Both assumed the mole sent messages from the compound.
But where else would the mole send them?
Lila turned her chair back and forth, pondering the question. Using a highborn family’s network would be stupid. Highborns could afford the best security and knew the consequences of frugality. They always kept logs, as per government requirements and for proof of innocence at court. A mole might get away with a message or two, but they’d be turned over to the authorities the moment the highborn admins found evidence of contact with the empire. It would reflect poorly on the family if they did not, no matter who had initiated the messages. Even an heir might be turned over to Bullstow for such an offense.
Using a lowborn company didn’t seem likely either. They kept logs as well, and erred on the side of caution, looking to their highborn peers to gain the public’s trust. If they lost it, the lowborn owner would find herself in the auction house seconds after bankruptcy.
The Allied Lands did not take kindly to failure.
Of course, there were alternatives. Unregistered companies flaunted the laws all the time, a few dumping their logs after only a few days. Criminals and thugs needed some way to do business, after all. But everyone knew using one left your dealings open to scrutiny and bribery, especially for anyone who might deal with the empire. A few might not care, but Chief Shaw allowed them a wide berth so long as they kept some sense of honor. They’d turn over a traitor if it meant keeping a few well-fed clients from a holding cell.
Mòr, on the other hand, had a good network and average security. The oracle’s queendom worked under their own rule of law, far outside the scope and purview of Bullstow. It might be the safest and easiest place to communicate with the empire, short of running one’s own server. But where would a person get the hardware and software for such a thing? The government kept such equipment under tight control. They also swept the net for illegal servers and had become good at finding and tracking them over the years.
No, the mole would use the oracle’s servers. She was sure of it.
But so far, her most promising lead turned out to be pictures of kittens.
Dixon would take her to the shop if she asked. She could fetch her programs and explore each photograph pixel by pixel, searching for hidden messages. Perhaps if they went during the day, they wouldn’t run into Tristan and Katia.
Lila tapped at her keyboard. She had no interest in seeing either of them, but Dixon needed to see his brother. They needed to have a proper talk, not exchange a few annoyed messages over a palm. Dixon also needed to pack a proper bag.
Maybe luggage was the difference between a vacation and running away.
Lila’s programs weren’t the only thing she needed in New Bristol. She needed to see Dr. Helen Hardwicke-Randolph at the woman’s clinic for her first prenatal appointment.
She just didn’t know how she’d pay for it.
Lila sent a message anyway.
Moments later, after confirming her mother still had not returned her money, Lila’s palm vibrated.
Come by tomorrow morning before the clinic opens. Six a.m.
Hopping up from her desk, Lila peeked into Dixon’s bedroom, finding his sheets cold and unwrinkled.
Lila entered the bathroom, slipping out of her clothes and into the tub for a quick shower. After dressing, she prowled around the cabin for half an hour before leaving for breakfast.
Connell had invited them over again the night before.
