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“You’re lying—”
“I’m not.” Jerrod gestured around the room. “You can confirm it with your friend the Ragpicker King if you like. I’m sure he’s heard the buzzing by now. The Maze is no longer Beck’s, and likely Andreyen will want to march his own people in soon.”
Kel thought of Mayesh.Odd. One does not usually willingly take leave of a position of power.
“Beck was thriving here,” Kel said. “Why leave so suddenly?” He narrowed his eyes. “On the other hand, he was planning to betray his patron, someone of importance on the Hill. Did that patron discover Beck was hoping to stab him in the back?”
Jerrod threw up his chalk-powdered hands. “You’re thinking too small, Anjuman. I don’t know who Beck’s patron was—there is some information it is better not to possess. I have been happy in my ignorance. But I do know one thing. You are thinking of your Prince and your House Aurelian, as you always do, while Beck was thinking of the whole of Castellane.”
“What did he know of the whole of Castellane? The Maze does not represent it, any more than the Palace does.”
“He knew enough to leave you a message,” said Jerrod. “Which, by the way, is the only reason I came when you called for Beck. Because he knew you would come, and he asked me to tell you this when you did.” He looked thoughtfully at the palm of his hand, as if there was a message scrawled there. “ ‘Trouble is coming for the Hill, Anjuman, and Marivent will not be exempt. You have no idea how bad it will get. Blood will run from the height to the depth. The Hill will drown in it.’ ”
Kel felt the back of his neck prickle. “A warning indeed,” he said. “But Beck is not concerned for my welfare. This could be another game he’s playing, couldn’t it?”
Jerrod smiled enigmatically. “Some people are only convinced by empirical evidence, I suppose. You need not heed anyone’s warnings, Anjuman. Feel free to fuck around and find out yourself.”
“Right.” Kel started for the door. Halfway there, he stopped and turned; Jerrod was still seated on the overturned table, his mask gleaming like a quarter-moon. “Would you tell me one thing?” Kel said. “Why didn’t you kill me? That night your Crawler stabbed me. Once you realized I wasn’t Conor. Didn’t you worry I could make some kind of trouble for you?”
“You’ve made plenty of trouble for me,” Jerrod said shortly. “The answer is simple. I saw Ji-An on the wall. She seemed invested in keeping you alive, and I didn’t want to go directly against the Ragpicker King.”
It was a sound enough reason, but it didn’t sit quite right with Kel. Something about the whole situation gnawed at him. Abruptly, he said: “You’re not going to tell me anything really useful, are you?”
“No,” Jerrod said pleasantly. “I’ve discharged my last responsibility to Beck. Time for me to look for other work. Perhaps I’ll see if your Ragpicker King is feeling generous. He could always use another good Crawler in his employ.”
“He’s notmyRagpicker King—” Kel began, and nearly laughed. He was letting Jerrod get under his skin, and to what end, really? “You know what? Go ahead. I’ll let him know you send your regards.”
“Send my regards to the pretty poisoner, while you’re at it,” Jerrod said. “He isn’t the only one waiting for Artal Gremont to return to Castellane, you know.”
And he grinned.
—
As Kel approached Scarlet Square, he recalled how sure he’d been, the last time he had spoken to Andreyen, that he had severed their connection. That he owed Andreyen Morettus, inheritor of the title of the Ragpicker King, nothing at all.
And yet here he was, feeling a sense of near-relief as his feet carried him through the Warren to the Black Mansion. Jerrod had been very convincing, but Kel had known a great many convincing people. He thought of the Council, sitting around the face of their great clock, each one untrustworthy, each one convincing in his or her own way.
Of course, Andreyen, too, was not to be trusted. But the key was not trust, Kel thought. The key was knowing in what ways someone could be trusted, and in what ways they would lie. And Kel did not think Andreyen would lie about this.
The garden in the square’s center was brilliant green in the sunlight. As Kel approached the mansion, he saw the door swing open, and Merren and Ji-An, wearing her foxglove jacket, came down the stairs to meet him. He saw Ji-An close the door firmly behind her. So he was not going to be let inside, Kel thought. Not yet.
“Does he not want to see me?” Kel said as Merren sat down on one of the middle steps. He wore a yellow jacket, stained at the cuff with something green and dangerous looking. Kel thought of Jerrod:Send my regards to the pretty poisoner.
Merren might sprawl, but sprawling was not in Ji-An’s nature.Back straight, she raised an eyebrow at Kel and said, “If you want to see Andreyen, he’s not here.”
“I can wait,” Kel said.
“All day?” said Ji-An. “You might not have heard, but Prosper Beck has gone. The Maze is unguarded. Andreyen has some strategy to work out.”
“So it’s true,” Kel said. “Beck’s really left?”
“Like a shadow in the night,” said Merren cheerfully. “All his people left wandering about, looking for someone to tell them what to do.”
“I don’t suppose you know anything about why,” said Ji-An, looking closely at Kel. “Youtalked to him.”
“I’d like to flatter myself that I charmed him into telling me all his plans,” said Kel, “but I doubt it. Jerrod said he fled because he knew of a danger to Castellane, but—”
“But Jerrod Belmerci cannot be trusted,” said Ji-An.
