"I have to turn myself over to them. We both know it," Belimai said.
Harper thought that someone might have shoved a steel blade into his guts. A shocking, hard pain wrenched through him. He stared at Belimai in stunned horror for a moment. His sister must have told Belimai about Sariel. There couldn't be any other reason that Belimai would turn himself in.
"You can't do that." Harper grabbed Belimai, knocking the shoes from his hands. "Why can't you just forget about him? All he's ever done is ruin your life!"
"What are you talking about?" Belimai stared at him.
"You and Sariel." Harper knew his voice was rising with rage, but he couldn't seem to stop it. "Do you think I'm just going to let it happen all over again?"
"Harper, have you gone mad?" Belimai asked.
"You aren't going to turn yourself in for Sariel," Harper stated flatly.
"I was never going to, you idiot," Belimai snapped. "I'm doing this for you."
"What?" Harper's anger and pain dropped into an abyss of confusion.
"I ought to jab you in the eye for making me have to say it out loud," Belimai growled.
"You can jab me anywhere you like; just explain what you're talking about."
Belimai glared at him, but Harper found the expression almost reassuring after that strange, wide-eyed look Belimai had given him earlier.
"You did say you were turning yourself in to the Inquisition. .." Harper spoke with slow deliberation, watching Belimai's face with each word.
"I didn't say anything about Sariel. Why did you bring him up?"
"Why else would you want to turn yourself in?" Harper brushed past Belimai's question.
"Sariel's not even—" Belimai cut himself off as a realization came to him. "He's been arrested, hasn't he?"
"Joan didn't tell you?" Harper asked.
"No."
"Then why were you going to the Inquisition?"
"You're an idiot, aren't you?" Belimai demanded.
"Yes, I am. So, tell me why you were going to the Inquisition."
"Because of you, you moron," Belimai said. "Look at what I've already done to you. You're tired and filthy. You can't go home. The Inquisition is hunting for you. You're a mess from trying to protect me."
"So, you were going to turn yourself in for my sake?" The idea was touching, but also terrible. Harper knew he couldn't have lived with himself if he had been the reason Belimai turned himself over to the Inquisition.
"I wouldn't be doing it for my own sake. Of course it would be for you." Belimai scowled.
"Don't even think about it, Belimai." Harper shook his head. "Do you think I could stand it if—"
"If what? If you finally got rid of a pathetic junkie? That would be a shame, wouldn't it?"
"No. You know that isn't how I think of you."
"Weren't you just accusing me of going out to find a fix? Wasn't that you, Captain Harper?" Belimai forced his mouth into a smile, trying to look as if he took pleasure in proving his point. "You know, you're not fooling anyone but yourself. You know I'm trash. You wouldn't have a use for me any other way, would you? You need some crust of Prodigal shit to rescue so you can feel like a savior. So you can sacrifice yourself. Who knows, if you could get yourself killed, someone might even decide to make you a saint."
Harper opened his mouth to tell Belimai that he was wrong, but Belimai went on in a rush.
"Well, fuck you!" Tiny rivulets of blood seeped from Belimai's eyes. "I don't want to be saved. I don't want you to be my personal martyr. I'm going to turn myself in and save you."
"You can't." Harper's words came out in a tight whisper. He swallowed and felt as if he were drinking shattered glass.
"Like hell I can't." Belimai snatched up one of his shoes and looked around to find the other. "We'll see how you like being the reason a man loses everything, you perfect bastard. Where is my goddamn shoe?"
"It won't do me any good if you turn yourself over," Harper said quietly. "The Inquisition isn't after you anymore. They never were. You just fit the description of the Prodigal they needed. They found someone else."
Belimai stood there, caught in a paralyzed flux of rage and uncertainty. At last he hurled his shoe at Harper. The heel smacked across the corner of Harper's shoulder. He hardly registered the blow.
"I'm sorry, Belimai." Harper sat back down on the edge of the bed. "They arrested Sariel when they couldn't find you."
"They took Sariel?" Belimai asked quietly.
"There are only a few of you in the entire city who can fly, and the Inquisition only has records of you and Sariel. It was bound to be one or the other of you."
"So once they had Sariel, I no longer mattered. You aren't in trouble for hiding me?" Belimai asked.
"That first night was dangerous, but after that, no." Harper wanted to say something more, but all that came out were cold statements of fact. He sounded like he was giving a court testimony.
"Why were those two captains looking for you?" Belimai crossed his arms over his chest. "Have you found a new lost cause? Your sister, your brother-in-law, some bad dog?"
Harper leaned down to where his wet coat lay in a heap. He dug through the pockets and pulled out the papers he had stolen. He handed them to Belimai.
"I'm not the good Inquisitor that you like to imagine me to be, Belimai."
"No?" Belimai glanced between the papers and Harper. "Aren't you the man who wants to redeem every living Prodigal?"
"No." The slicing pain in Harper's throat cut his voice to a thin breath. "I've never wanted to redeem you. I wanted to join you."
Belimai's brow wrinkled. Harper knew Belimai couldn't understand how he could want such a thing. For Belimai, Prodigal blood was nothing but a curse. Belimai looked down at the papers as if he could find an explanation there. He read intently. Harper watched Belimai's frown deepen into a scowl. At last, Belimai folded the confessions and handed them back to Harper.
"Have you done any of these things?" Belimai asked.
"No. I've broken my vows and I've lied, but I didn't murder Lord Cedric's niece or her maid. The Brighton abbot drummed up these charges to protect a friend of his from investigation. He had the one witness to the crime killed. Now I'm the only thing left in the way of a smooth prosecution."
"Sariel's prosecution?" Belimai clarified.
"Yes."
"I suppose you refused to get out of the way. What am I saying? Of course you refused." Belimai shook his head. "You really are a damn saint, aren't you?"
"No, I'm not. I'm not even close. I've done mindless, stupid things." Harper closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry I accused you of going back to ophorium. I should have known you never would."
"I've always kept myself so clean before." Belimai smirked. "I probably would have lost my nerve halfway to Brighton, in any case."
"No," Harper said softly, almost to himself. He knew Belimai wouldn't have. He hadn't lost his nerve when Scott-Beck had sliced him open. It had taken trained Confessors months just to get a single name from him.
"And you have the audacity to accuse me of being a martyr," Harper said.
"I shouldn't have said that." Belimai bowed his head.
"It would have come out sooner or later." Harper shrugged.
"No." Belimai reached out and touched Harper's shoulder. "I only said it to hurt you. I wanted to make you feel as bad as I did." Belimai smiled. "It's my own little way of sharing what I have with you. Aren't you lucky?"
"I think I am." Harper almost winced at his own words. He sounded like a stumbling fool. "If you had gone to the Inquisition, Belimai...I don't know what I would have done."
Harper felt suddenly horrified at how close he had just come to losing Belimai. If he hadn't woken up when he did, Belimai would have simply slipped out the door and never have come back. The thought of such a loss tore deep into Harper's chest, like a physical pain. He wanted to tell Belimai how much it hurt him. He wanted to find the words that would convey just how desperately he ye
arned to keep Belimai's company. All that came to his mind were the fumbled first attempts of his youth, just a string of jumbled sounds whispered into his pillow. In the intervening two decades he had taught himself to say even less. The practice of silence and evasion was no longer an effort; it was his nature. He had spent too many years distancing himself from direct honesty, and now that he wanted to find the words to make his confession, he couldn't.
Harper caught Belimai's hand gently and pulled him closer.
"Do you remember the first time we slept together?" he asked.
"Yes." Belimai frowned slightly at the change of subject. "You were so drunk I'd be surprised if you did, though."
"I remember the morning after," Harper went on. "You wanted to make sure that I didn't harbor any romantic inclination toward you. I assured you that I didn't."
"I remember." Belimai watched him intently, as if the next words Harper said might cause the floor to collapse beneath them both.
"I may have lied," Harper admitted after a moment.
The change in Belimai's expression was fractional. The corners of his mouth curved up only an increment. His thin, black eyebrows lifted just a breath. It was only the slightest smile, but there was an open, joyful honesty to it that Harper had never seen in Belimai before.
"I'm glad to hear that," Belimai replied. He dropped down on to the bed beside Harper and leaned against him. The heat of Belimai's body soaked through the chill of Harper's clothes. Harper wrapped his arms around Belimai, taking comfort in the simple sensation of holding him.
"Harper?" Belimai asked after several minutes.
"Yes?"
"What's that in the bed?" Belimai pointed to where the crushed remains of a golden pastry lay pressed between two folds of the blanket. Harper laughed. He had forgotten about the butter pastries Morris had given him. It felt like that had happened days ago.
"My breakfast. There should be another one around here somewhere."
"I see." Belimai picked the pastry up. He examined its stiff, flattened form for a moment, then took a bite.
"A little stale, but still edible." Belimai held it out to him. "Hungry?"
"I don't suppose there would be anything else to eat here, would there?" Harper asked.
"I might still have a few decayed biscuits from when I was still bothering to poison the rats."
"You're not much of one for domestic bliss, are you?" Harper took a bite out of the butter pastry. It wasn't as bad as he expected. The slightly salty flavor reminded him a little of Belimai's skin. He took another bite.
"You're hardly one to talk," Belimai replied. "I've seen your townhouse. At least I have things on the walls.. .Well, on the floor now, but that's not my fault. Did you just eat all of that pastry?"
"There's another one in the bed somewhere," Harper replied after swallowing the last bite.
"Fine. Leave it to me to root around in the bed, searching for bits of food." Belimai shifted through the blankets and then frowned down over the edge of the bed. "It seems to have gone missing. Hey, there's my shoe though."
"I've already eaten my fill. The shoe's all yours," Harper replied.
"Very funny." Belimai pulled the shoe out from under the bed, then sat back up beside Harper. "So what are we going to do now?" he asked.
"I don't know," Harper replied.
"Don't you?" Belimai glanced at him.
"What do you mean?"
"You know very well what I mean. It isn't like you to not have a plan in mind. I doubt that you'd even be here if you weren't planning something."
Harper kept silent.
"Harper, I almost turned myself over to the Inquisition because I didn't know what was really going on," Belimai said. "Just tell me, all right?"
"You shouldn't get involved in this," Harper said.
"I shouldn't, but I'm going to. I know myself well enough to guarantee that I won't just sit here thumbing through some cheap novel while you're being hunted down by the Inquisition. You wouldn't let me do something like that alone; why should I let you?"
Harper gazed at Belimai for several moments. His argument was absurd and exasperating, but it was also right. Had their positions been reversed, Harper would never have abandoned Belimai, not even if Belimai told him to. He wouldn't have been able to respect himself if he did such a thing. At last he sighed and stood up.
"Let's go then," he said, "I'll explain things along the way."
Belimai shot up onto his feet with a victorious smile.
"If it makes any difference," he said as he pulled on his shoes, "I lied that first morning too."
"Really?" Harper asked.
"I did know where your cap was."
Harper smiled. "I thought as much."
Chapter Twelve
Dumbwaiter
The full moon glowed behind the clouds like a paper lantern hanging in the night sky. Diffused light gleamed off the wet stones of the White Chapel walls. The rain still fell, but not heavily. Harper hardly noticed it. It had been days since he had been completely dry.
At least the miserable weather kept the guards in the back kitchen near the fire. The rain disinclined them to investigate trivial noises or notice shadowy forms moving through the haze. They hunched by the bread ovens and sipped warmed cider as Harper and Belimai crept past.
The guards could afford to be a little careless. There was only one way to break into White Chapel, and that was to climb up to the wide windows at the very top of the massive structure. The rain served the guards far better than it did any intruder. Even on a dry night, the barbed bars and sheer stone offered little climbing surface. Tonight, the wet walls glistened like glass.
Harper cursed silently as his hand skidded off a smooth corner and he began to slip. He lunged forward and grasped one of the window bars. The curving barbs of iron bit into his gloves. Harper pulled himself up before the metal tore into his hand.
Harper would have preferred to go on another night, but he didn't have time to waste. He didn't want to give Abbot Greeley a chance to find Brandson or move Lord Cedric.
He hefted himself over the iron rods to another barred window and balanced his weight on the thin lip of stone above the bars. Slowly he stretched up and groped for a hold higher up on the wall. Rain spattered against his face as he squinted up at the pale stones. He ran his gloved hands across the wet surfaces. The scabbed cut in his right palm throbbed with each motion.
At last he worked his fingers between cracks in the masonry and braced his hands.
His sore arms and back strained as he pulled himself up. A sharp pain jumped through his hand as the scab on his palm broke open. A warm gush of blood soaked through his glove and his right hand slipped. Animal panic shot through him as he swung out over the empty air of the four-story fall. He clenched his left hand desperately against the edges of stone and tried to regain his hold.
Suddenly, hot fingers grasped his right wrist. Belimai lunged down from the air and pulled Harper back against the wall. Harper felt tremors of exertion shake through Belimai's arms. Harper wedged his right foot into a crack in the stonework and pushed himself up to a thin ledge.
It was nothing more than a narrow water pipe, barely wide enough for Harper to stand on, but it held his weight. Belimai simply drifted in the air in front of him.
"You should have just let me do this. I could reach those windows easily," Belimai whispered.
"You don't know the way the building is laid out. You'd be lost once you were inside," Harper whispered back. "Did you get any of the windows open?" "One, but it's narrow." "I'll manage. Where is it from here?" Belimai turned and gazed through the darkness and rain that blinded Harper. He shifted just slightly, and the air around him twisted and turned like an extension of his body, catching him as he moved. Watching him made Harper feel slightly nervous and sick. His body revolted at the mere idea of simply step-ping out into the air.
Belimai turned back to Harper. "If you can follow this pipe about four feet, there's a deep c
revice where a chunk of stone has come out of the mortar. That might work for a grip. The windowsill is above that."
Harper inched his way along the pipe, pressing close to the wall. Under the soft patter of the rain he could hear the minute creeks and moans as the pipe began to fold under his weight. He kept moving until, suddenly, the constant splashes of rain stopped. He looked up into the dark shadows of the overhanging windowsill.
"Can you reach the ledge?" Belimai asked from behind him.
"Not from here. The sill juts out too far," Harper said. The pipe under his left foot suddenly crumpled. Harper shifted his weight quickly, but it would only be a matter of moments before the rest of the pipe gave also.
"You're going to have to lift me up onto the sill."
"I don't think I could lift you—"
"I'll kick off from the wall to get out past the overhang. You use my momentum to push me up." Another section of the pipe folded under Harper's feet.
"This pipe's about to snap," Harper said flatly.
"I'll get you up there." Belimai moved in close behind him.
"On three." Harper drew in a deep breath. " One. Two. Three."
It took all of his will to throw himself out into the empty sky. Instinctively, his eyes squeezed shut, as if to spare him from the sight of what he had just done. His momentum pitched him out past the overhang of the windowsill. He felt Belimai's hands against the base of his back. A hard shove drove him upward. His stomach and chest slammed suddenly against a stone surface. Harper clung to it.
For a moment he simply hung there, catching his breath and calming his racing heart. Then he squeezed through the window. Belimai followed him inside.
The room was tiny and dark. Harper reached out and felt a cool surface of porcelain and then the narrow lines of water pipes. The last time he had been in White Chapel, the new flushing toilet hadn't been fully installed. Now it seemed to be up and running, though he wasn't sure how much damage he had just done to the pipes outside.
"Do you know where we are?" Belimai sounded a little out of breath from hurling him up to the window.
"In the new water-closet." Harper cracked the door and peered out into the hallway. Three gas lamps flickered on the walls, but the guards seemed to have already made their pass. The hall was empty for the moment.
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