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“They can track through most of the mantle, but the looms don’t see everywhere. There are slubs, irregularities in Arras’s weave, much like the ones near the Guild’s mines here.”
“Are the slubs caused by accidents?”
“There are no accidents in Arras,” Dante says in a quiet voice.
No, there aren’t, which means any irregularities, any slubs in the weave are man-made. It wouldn’t make sense for the Guild to put them there. They wanted total control. So why are they there? “I was tracked,” I tell him. “They put a transmitter in my food when I went out on a goodwill tour with Cormac.”
“I doubt it’s still there,” Dante says. “Transmitters like that break down too easily within the body, or pass through altogether. I’m surprised they bothered.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Probably to track you more conveniently. Perhaps Cormac didn’t want to use the looms, or maybe he wanted to be able to follow your movements throughout the day.”
That does sound like Cormac, but why bother with Erik?
“I wonder if they’ve been tracking him this whole time,” I say, feeling more sick every minute.
There’s a pause before he answers. “Probably not.”
That’s not reassuring.
“Do I have one here?” I ask.
Dante reaches for my arm. “I don’t see a scar,” he says.
“Erik had a scar?” How had I not noticed this?
“It was a pinprick. I wouldn’t expect the average person to pick up on it. But altered skin is different. I doubt even Erik knew he had it.”
“But why would he have it?”
“I don’t know, Adelice,” Dante says. “I guess the question I’d be asking if I were you is, how well do you know your friend?”
I don’t know him at all. I only know what he’s told me, what Jost has told me—but still I’m certain of my answer. “He didn’t know. I trust him.”
“Even if he’s lying to you?” Dante asks, wrapping the chip up in a handkerchief and putting it in his pocket.
“He’s not lying,” I say. “He didn’t know it was there.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Dante says in a soft voice. “Your friend sees the strands.”
I knew that. I’d known that since my first training session at the Coventry, when Er
ik reacted to my proclamation about the fake windows. I’d even seen him grip the strands when we came through the Interface to get to Earth. It wasn’t news to me, and yet I’d never stopped to consider what it meant. “I’m sure lots of men can.”
“The strands of the Interface or the knit of Arras’s weave perhaps, but Erik is hiding something,” Dante muses out loud.
“If you were going to implant a tracking chip in someone, why would you do it?” I ask instead.
Dante hesitates and then looks me directly in the eyes. “There are two reasons I would implant someone with a chip. Because I didn’t want to lose them, or because they were dangerous.”
I don’t like either option. Mostly because even though I trust Erik, I know it’s both.
TWENTY-FOUR
DANTE LOCKS THE GREENHOUSE BEHIND US. I’M not sure why a bunch of plants and potting tools need to be secured, but I know Dante wouldn’t tell me even if I asked him. In evening’s dim light settings, the glass is black. I trail a finger along a pane, considering something Dante said earlier.
“I wonder how our family got a pass to go,” I muse.
