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“He had an Obsidian?” Holiday asks tensely. “What did he look like?”
“It was a she.”
She parses the word. “A she?”
“Saw her from behind. Big, white hair…She…shot Kavax.”
“Do you have any idea why he took you with him from the shuttle?” the Sovereign asks. “That’s the one piece of this that doesn’t measure up.”
“No. He was gonna kill me. Had his gun to my face and all that. But then he didn’t. He dragged me out and said he was going to set me free, give me some money to start a new life.”
The Sovereign frowns. “The men that Philippe delivered the children to. Do you remember anything about them aside from what you already told us?”
“I couldn’t see most of their faces. It was dark and they wore black. But there was one…a Pink. The boss.”
“Is there anything else you remember about him? A name? A scar? A ring? Anything…”
“No…wait.” I search my memory. “He had a cane.”
“Were there any embellishments on it?”
I squint, trying to remember. “It was white, the length of it. The top was black. Shaped like a monster.”
“A monster,” the Sovereign repeats. “What sort?”
“I couldn’t tell, but it looked like it had arms…loads of ’em.”
The Sovereign pulls out her own datapad and throws an image of a fleshy, multi-limbed creature into the air in front of me. “Is this the monster?”
“I think so. Yeah.”
The Sovereign stares at me. “You’re certain this was on his cane?”
“Sure. I mean yes. Why? What does it mean?”
She doesn’t answer. Holiday shifts in worry. “Ma’am…”
The Sovereign rises from her chair and walks to the window, where she stands for almost a full minute before speaking. “It’s not a monster, Lyria. It’s a cephalopod. An octopus. It is the symbol of the Syndicate.” She turns back to face us. “The Syndicate has my son.”
Dark fear seeps from her eyes into the room. And for the first time, she does not seem in control, not of this room, not of this world, not of the fate of her own son.
“The Syndicate…” I repeat. Even on Mars we’ve heard of the Syndicate. Reds will pay three years’ wages for them to smug
gle their families to Agea or Attica or even Luna. Many never make it.
“It’s a criminal organization, a highly evolved one that ruled the underworld of Luna for years,” the Sovereign explains. “When the Society fell, there was a civil war among them until a new leader bound the survivors together and then purged the rest of the gangs. She’s known as the Queen. The man you saw was likely one of her dukes. In all likelihood, it is the Duke of Hands, her prince of thieves. As far as I know, you’re the only person outside the Syndicate ever to have met him and lived. Your Philippe was likely a thorn.”
“It can’t be them,” Holiday whispers. “They’re just criminals. They wouldn’t dare cross the Sovereign….”
“They wouldn’t have dared against Octavia, no. But they’re not afraid of me. Just like the Vox Populi.” She’s quiet and looks at the door her council went through. “Maybe Victra was right. I invited this. I gave away all my teeth.”
“Damn Victra. The Republic should never be the Society,” Holiday says firmly. “Isn’t that the point of all this?”
“What was it that Lorn once said? ‘Mercy emboldens evil men.’?”
“Why do they want your son?” I ask.
“Leverage…” She has an epiphany but doesn’t share it. “Holiday, we need Theodora to contact Darrow. Call an emergency meeting of the Sovereign Council. Then find me Dancer. I want him in my office in an hour.”
