“There might not be an empire with him, either.”
“I can’t believe that. Not now. Not after…” He trailed off, staring at the square; at what he’d done. And I knew at that moment that, for Degan, there was no other option. To admit otherwise would mean he had thrown who he was away for nothing; or worse, for me.
I couldn’t ask him to do that-not after he’d already picked his path and sealed his fate.
“The book’s going in the fire,” he said. “Understood?”
I nodded. I knew why he had to do it-not for the emperor, or even the empire at this point, but for himself.
Degan put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he said.
“I know.”
Degan nodded and turned back around. That was when I hit him in the back of the head with the rope.
I couldn’t ask him to change his mind, but I couldn’t let him destroy the book, either. And that meant I had to take the decision away from him, no matter how much it ripped me apart inside.
There was a small flash and a pop. Degan staggered a step, then fell. Iron’s sword hit the paving stones with a clatter.
I could smell the bitter scent of singed hair as I knelt down next to my friend. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice almost breaking, “but I can’t let it happen like this.”
Degan was blinking rapidly, his eyes wide with surprise and shock. His mouth moved, but no words came out. I couldn’t even be sure he was hearing me. Still, I reached out and pushed Iron’s sword out of his reach, just in case.
“If it matters,” I said, “it’s not about the emperor or the empire-not anymore. If it were only that, I’d say to hell with it and toss the journal into the fire for you. I could give a crap about Dorminikos compared to my Oath to you. But it’s more than that. It’s Christiana and Kells and the people I’ve sworn to protect. It’s about the Kin being hunted down by the Whites all over again, just because a couple of us stumbled across the wrong piece of history. You were right when you said Shadow and the empire won’t stop, but they aren’t just going to come after me. They’re going to come after everything that matters to me. And I can’t let that happen-not even for you.”
Degan’s hand twitched feebly toward me. I pushed it gently aside.
“As long as I have the journal,” I said, standing, “I have options and I have leverage. And right now, that’s what I need. Destroying it would take all of those away.”
I looked down at Degan. His eyes were still shifting, still trying to focus on me, but there was a hard set to his jaw. He’d heard me, I guessed, and still could.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “For breaking the Oath, for what you did for me, for…” I looked at the rope and threw it away. “I’m just… sorry.”
Degan lay there and twitched and glowered. I turned away.
I looked around the square, wiped at my eyes, and looked again more clearly. I saw Spyro peering out from behind the curtain of his father’s stall.
“Spyro!” I yelled. The boy’s eyes grew wide, and he started to edge away. “Don’t you dare run, damn you!” I gestured at Degan. “Come get him inside your stall. Now!”
Spyro came loping over. We half carried, half dragged Degan across the square. Degan mouthed silent curses at me weakly, but otherwise didn’t put up a fight.
Mendross was peering out from behind the curtain when we arrived. His face was a mess-bloody and battered, the bruises just beginning to rise-but he nodded to me nonetheless. I nodded back, dropped all the money I had on me into a nearby basket, and gathered up the journal at Leander’s feet.
On the way out of the square, I stooped to pick up Iron Degan’s sword as well. I’d be damned if I was going to let it end up in some pawnbroker’s shop.
As I ran into the evening, I could hear the Rags arriving in Fifth Angel Square. Their timing was impeccable, as usual.
The moon had set, and I could detect a faint brightening in the east as I entered the Raffa Na’Ir cordon. The streets were silent except for the shuffling and cursing that came from behind me.
I stopped at a crossroads and waited. My right hand fiddled with the handle of my sheathed rapier.
“Damn you, Drothe-I told you I couldn’t make it all the way here,” said Baldezar.
“And yet you did.”
“No thanks to you.”
I watched as the Jarkman came limping up. He was using a crutch, his left leg bandaged and bound between two wooden supports. It hadn’t fully healed yet, and never would-not properly. Fowler’s cut had done more than just bite into muscle; it had cut tendon and broken bone. Baldezar was a cripple now.
On his back, Baldezar wore a large satchel filled with pens and inks, along with parchment and jars of treatments for the same. I had not offered to carry it. This was one instance where I did not regret my part in the outcome of events. He had tried to kill me-hobbling about the rest of his days was a smaller price than I would have paid had things been reversed.
And yet, Baldezar still carried himself with arrogance. Head high, shoulders as far back as he could manage with his crutch; he was a master of his craft and his guild, and he wasn’t about to let anyone forget it-even me. It was hard to feel pity for someone like that.
“The least we could have done was hire a litter,” Baldezar said as he came up beside me.
“The fewer people who know you’re with me, the better.” It was why I had kept at least a block ahead or behind him on the way here and why I had not paused to speak with him until now. Here, the only eyes that would see us were indifferent to both the Kin and the empire.
Baldezar humphed and readjusted the pack on his back. “Now what?” he said.
“Now,” said a smooth voice from the darkness, “you come with me.”
Baldezar jumped and nearly fell off his crutch as Jelem slipped out of a doorway. I noted he had been standing in a place where I should have been able to see him with my night vision.
“Nice trick,” I said.
“It’s neither nice nor a trick,” said Jelem. “It’s hard work. And you should be grateful I came at all.”
Jelem had been less than excited when I had found him earlier and demanded he find a safe house for me in the Raffa Na’Ir. His enthusiasm had dropped even further when I also told him I needed to collect Baldezar before we went to ground. In the end, it was only the promise of answers and more material rewards that had swayed Jelem to stick his neck out this far.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m keeping close track of who does me favors anymore.”
“That ought to be a short list, then, from what I hear,” said Jelem. “Come.”
I swallowed my retort and followed Jelem deeper into the Raffa Na’Ir. He doubled back on our path several times and paused twice to mutter glimmer into the night. Shortly after the second speaking, we arrived at a green door set in an otherwise unobtrusive mudbrick house. We passed through two rooms, out into an overgrown courtyard, and then into a separate, smaller outbuilding. It had once been a tack room, and a few harnesses and bridles still hung from dusty pegs in the walls. The place smelled faintly of leather.
Two tables, a pair of chairs, and a small chest occupied the space now, along with three tattered bedrolls piled up in the corner. A darkened lantern hung from a ceiling beam, and there was a scattering of candles about the room. Only one candle was lit. Two layers of heavy fabric had been hung across the single window to keep even that feeble light from escaping.
“There’s only one door,” I said. “That’s no good if anyone finds us-there’ll be no place to run.”
“Run?” said Jelem. “You said you wanted someplace to hide from both the empire and the Kin. If either of them finds you, it doesn’t matter if there are five doors, ten windows, and seven chimneys; you won’t be going anywhere.”
He had a point.
“How very reassuring,” grumbled Baldezar as he limped over and settled himself into one of the chairs with a moan. “Very well,” he said. “I am
here.” He gestured at Jelem. “That is here. What is it you want us to do, exactly?”
Jelem arched a dark eyebrow at Baldezar but remained silent.
I eyed both men, still hesitant, still unsure whether I could do this. It was desecration of a sort far worse than smuggling a holy tract or selling a talisman of belief. This was a desecration of the truth-of truths far older and deeper than I had any right to tamper with.
Except, as I had told Degan, there was no other choice-not after all of this.
I reached into my jerkin and pulled out Ioclaudia’s journal. I set it on the table.
“What I want,” I said, my hand lingering on the cracked leather of the cover, “is for you two to change history.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
“What the hell is this?” said Solitude, staring down at the sheaf of papers I had laid before her.
We were in a curtained alcove off the public room of a tavern in Two Crowns cordon. Outside, the sun was shining, and people were just stopping in the taproom for their early-afternoon drinks. It was three days after the fight in Fifth Angel Square, and parts of me still hurt.
“It’s Ioclaudia’s journal,” I said. “Or, at least, the most important parts of it.”
“The ‘most important parts’?” said Solitude incredulously. She was in browns today-leather doublet and skirt, tan shirt, rust shoes with bright yellow stockings showing beneath. As usual, she had a collection of charms hanging from her hair and clothing. I didn’t see any pilgrim’s tokens this time. “What happened to the rest of the journal?” she said.
I forced myself to meet her gaze. “I need it for something else,” I said.
Solitude was out of her chair in an instant. “You what?!”
“It’s the only way-”
“To what? Fuck me over?” Solitude flicked a finger at the papers. “You give me scraps while you keep the rest of the journal? That sure as hell doesn’t sound like the deal I remember making with you!”
“Things needed to be adjusted,” I said.
“Adjusted?” she said. “What the hell does that mean?”
I tapped the papers and dropped my voice. “It means everything in the journal about the emperor and reincarnation are in this bundle. You have what you wanted, what you said you needed to save the empire. The rest has to go elsewhere.”
Solitude narrowed her eyes. “Meaning?”
“Meaning Shadow,” I said. I didn’t mention Jelem or the pages he had demanded in repayment of the favor I owed over Tamas’s rope, let alone the notes he had taken in payment for working on the book itself. Given Solitude’s mood, the fewer names mentioned, the better.
If I’d been expecting another outburst, I would have been disappointed. Solitude bit her lip instead and turned toward the curtain. “Gryph!”
The Arm standing guard outside the alcove stuck his head in.
“Clear the taproom,” said Solitude. “I want everyone out-even the owner. This place is mine until I say otherwise.”
Gryph vanished back through the curtain. A brief commotion sounded on the other side, then quickly quieted down.
“All clear,” said a voice from outside the alcove.
“You leave, too,” said Solitude. There were footsteps, then a door closing, then silence.
Solitude spun back around toward me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she said. “We had a deal. You have no right deciding what to do with that journal, let alone breaking it up! You should have at least-”
“No right?” I said. “I have more right to that journal than anybody else in this damn city! I’ve sweat, bled, killed, and betrayed for that damn thing. While you sent out Cutters and tinkered with dreams, I was fighting Princes and Mouths and Arms in the street. I’ve seen people tortured and beaten because they were unlucky enough to be close to me. That journal is more mine than it is yours, Shadow’s, the emperor’s, or anyone else’s. If there’s anyone who’s earned the right to make a decision about it, it’s me!”
“And what was your brilliant decision?” said Solitude. “To give Shadow Imperial magic! You’ll make him the most dangerous Kin in the city! And what’s worse, when he starts using it, the empire will come down on all of us harder than a hammer on an anvil. Or aren’t you worried about that? Maybe you’re going to give some pages to the emperor, too, to cover your ass.” Solitude threw up her arms in disgust. “You can’t make everyone happy in this, Drothe. You shouldn’t even try.”
“I don’t give a fuck about anyone being happy,” I said. “If I wanted to cover my ass, there are a hell of a lot better ways to do it. I’m doing this because it’s the best way to help you, to help the empire, and to keep the people who matter to me alive. That’s all it comes down to anymore.”
“And Shadow? What about when he starts bringing things down around our ears?”
I sat back in my chair. “He gets the journal, yes, but not enough to do him much good.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she snapped.
“He’s never seen the book,” I said. “Never knew what was in it-just that you wanted it, and that it talked about imperial glimmer.” I gestured at the pages in front of her. “When I had… my people… remove those pages, I had them alter the journal as well. Parts added, parts removed, new water stains-there’re still notes on glimmer in there, but he’ll be working a hell of a long time to make sense of it.”
“And you think he won’t notice?”
“My people are very, very good.”
Solitude stared at me, her nails picking at the wood of the table. “Damn it!” she said at last. “We had a deal!”
“I kept as much of it as I could.”
“You kept as much as you wanted to,” she said. “There’s a difference.”
“The difference,” I said, “is that I realized I had obligations to other people as well, and that they were just as important.”
“How convenient-you get morals, and I get screwed.” I started to answer, but she held up her hand and continued. “No, shut the fuck up for a minute. I’m thinking.” Solitude reached down, picked up the papers, and leafed through them.
“What about the people who did this for you? Do we have to worry about them?”
“You don’t,” I said. I expected Jelem to remain content, but Baldezar? He had information on me now, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he became tempted to use it on me someday. The only thing that would likely keep him quiet was his own complicity in the whole affair. Falsifying part of a relic was heretical, after all, and for all his bluster, Baldezar was a coward at heart.
“And what are you going to ask of Shadow in exchange for the journal?”
“For him to walk away.”
“From?”
“Everything that has anything to do with me.”
“You think he will?”
“I don’t have much of a choice,” I said. “Like you said, I can’t keep him away from anyone he wants to reach, so the next best thing is to get him to step away on his own.”
“And if he won’t?”
I shrugged.
“You expect me to believe you don’t have a backup?” Solitude folded her arms. “There has to be more to it than that.”
“That depends,” I said. “Am I still yours?”
Now it was Solitude’s turn to shake her head. “Not after this. I can’t give you more than a clear path to the door, and even that’s being generous. Given what you know and what you did, I should dust you right now.”
“But you won’t,” I said.
“But I won’t,” she agreed. “You kept at least part of your bargain, and that counts for something. You could have given Shadow everything, but you went to a lot of effort to hide what you’re giving me. Make no mistake: I’m not happy about what you did-I’m damn pissed-but I’m not going to dust you.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Solitude waved an impatient hand. “Just get the fuck out of my sight.”
I rose and was
through the curtain and halfway across the taproom before she spoke again.
“Drothe,” she called. “One last thing.”
I stopped but didn’t turn around. “What?”
“About Iron,” she said. “What happened with him, really?”
I took a breath, let it out. “He tried to help me keep my word to you,” I said. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t know I was going to do this until afterward. He died keeping his Oath.”
Silence from behind the curtain.
I waited a moment longer, then continued through to the taproom, out the door, and onto the street.
The stairs at the back of the warehouse in the Barren creaked as I went up them. I pointedly ignored the week-old bloodstains my night vision picked out on the treads, just as I pointedly ignored the ghost pain that fired in my leg with every step.
Just like last time, it was dark; and just like last time, the place smelled of dirt and mold. But it wasn’t raining now; nor had I been sent here by Shadow to find someone; rather, I was here to meet the Gray Prince. Alone.
That was the strangest part-not having Degan at my back. I’d felt his absence while coming through the Barren, and felt it even more now. It wasn’t just the security of a strong arm and a ready sword that I missed, but the lack of his presence, his voice-even his dry sense of humor-that left me feeling exposed. It was as if part of my shadow were missing.
I had spent the past three days holed up with Jelem and Baldezar. My foray out to see Solitude had been my first major trip on the street since I’d killed Nicco. Plenty of people wanted me dustmans for that, along with a host of other things. Now was the perfect time to settle old scores, especially with an out-of-favor Nose. But even with all that, I’d slipped out twice-the first to ask Fowler to track down Degan, and the second to learn that she hadn’t had any success.
I still wasn’t sure whether I was relieved at her failure or not. Part of me wanted to talk to Degan one last time, to try to explain, to hear him say he understood, or even for him to tell me to go to hell-just as long as I could apologize. But another part knew better; knew that no matter what I said, things were broken between us. And that part was glad I wouldn’t have to go through the torture of trying to explain the inexplicable.
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