“I don’t,” said Kells. “Too many people want it for too many reasons, and all of them will come sniffing around for you sooner or later. And since you’re mine, that means they’ll come to see me. That puts not just me, but the entire organization—
all
of us—at risk. I won’t have it.”
I swallowed and sat up straighter. “It’s not your call,” I said.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m the one with the journal,” I said. “I’m the loose end they’re all going to want to tie up. I’m not saying you won’t take some heat, but most of it is going to fall on me. That makes it my decision, not yours.”
Kells lowered his hand from his mustache. “Who the fuck are you?” He stood up. “
Who the fuck are you
to decide what’s best for
my
organization? I’m losing a damn Kin war right now, and you tell me I don’t get to make the call? You work for me, damn it—I’ll tell you what to do and you’ll do it!”
“Do what?” I said. “Give it to Shadow so he can kick Solitude’s ass? Where does that put us once he’s done? Under his thumb? Because we sure as hell won’t be able to stop him after that. Or are you wanting to buy off Solitude instead? Give her both the book and Shadow on a platter? We know even less about her than we do about him!”
“At least we have a relationship with Shadow,” said Kells. “He’ll be grateful.”
“Do you hear what you’re saying?” I said. “You’re willing to make”—I pointed at the closed door—“
that
the next Dark King?”
“Better the devil you know,” said Kells.
“Excuse me, but weren’t you the one who just told him to go to hell? I heard some pretty damn good arguments coming out of your mouth about why you
shouldn’t
give it to him.”
“Then maybe you also heard what I said at the end,” said Kells. “About giving him the book after he pulls my ass out of the fire!”
“Your ass,” I said. “Not mine. Not the Kin’s.”
Kells put his hands on the desk and forced himself to take a deep breath. “Think about it,” he said. “Think about it like I have to think about it, Drothe. If Shadow
does
manage to save my ass, I won’t be in a position to tell him no. The only reason I’ll have an organization at that point is because of his help. I meant what I said: If he pulls this off, I’ll give him the book. I gave my word, and I’ll keep it.”
“What about the empire?” I said. “What happens when
they
come looking?”
“He’s the big fish,” said Kells. “He’ll draw the most interest. Besides, there’s nothing that says Shadow will go down the same road as Isidore. He could surprise you and pull it off, you know.”
Yes, he could, I realized. And that was what worried me.
Don’t give it to anyone. Not even to me.
What Kells was saying made sense, except it felt wrong. He was seeing the journal as a piece of swag—a problem that would go away once it was out of our hands. I knew better. There was too much in Ioclaudia’s journal for people to simply forget about it. Nor would they forget about who else had had it—us, for example.
“You know that you and I will be the prime scapegoats,” I said. “No matter what Shadow says?”
“I know,” said Kells. “But it’s going to take time to beat back Nicco and Solitude, and Shadow won’t get the book until that’s done. I figure that gives us some time to figure out a way to pin it on someone else.”
I had made some noncommittal noises at that, which Kells had pretended to ignore. He wasn’t expecting an immediate change of heart on my part, but he figured I would come around. I always had in the past. Except the past felt like a long time ago, now.
From there the discussion had turned to Nicco and Ten Ways and strategy, but not for long. I was too far gone to be of any more use, and Kells had sent me packing off to bed. I just hadn’t realized how far gone I was until I had left his room.
I groaned and lifted my head off my arms. There were beds down there, I knew. . . . Rows of them . . . Only two flights down . . . Soft beds . . .
I was still thinking about those beds when I slid down onto the landing and curled up on the floor, happy just to meet the darkness.
I woke up to something hitting my foot.
I rolled over and looked up to find Degan standing over me. He had a short walking stick in his hand, which he was applying methodically to the sole of my boot. I also noticed I was in a bed in a private room. I didn’t bother to ask how I’d gotten to this one, or how Degan had talked his way in.
“Let’s have it,” I grumbled. “You’re only this annoying when you have bad news.”
Degan slipped the stick under his arm. “The empire’s closed off the cordon.”
That was bad, all right. I sat up and winced at the pain in the muscles of my back. “Tell me.”
“There are Swads at every gate into Ten Ways,” said Degan. “At least a legion’s worth. They’re not letting anyone in or out—except the White Sashes, of course.”
“Regular army
and
the Sashes?” I said.
“Word has it they’ve already started making forays into the cordon.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
My first thought was the journal, but that didn’t make sense. Yes, the emperor wanted it, but surrounding Ten Ways wasn’t going to flush it out. Besides, it would draw far too much attention to something he, of all people, wanted to keep quiet.
“The war,” I said. “The emperor’s had enough of Nicco’s boys’ playing Hunt the Rags. Now he’s out to remind us who really owns Ten Ways.” And probably bring it down around our ears. Markino was old—he wasn’t in a patient or understanding frame of mind anymore. “How long ago did they surround the cordon?”
“About three hours ago. From what I heard, one moment, everything was normal—the next, there were Black Sashes everywhere. They sealed the place up in less than a quarter of an hour. No one had time to get out.” Degan sighed, and I knew he was wishing he’d been there to see the execution.
“Three hours ago?” I said. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I just told you—Ten Ways is sealed off. Where were you going to go? Besides, Kells said to let you sleep.”
“Speaking of Kells, how’s he taking it?”
“Out in the field, assessing the situation.”
“Must be bad, then,” I said, standing up. My left leg was stiff, but not nearly as bad as I’d expected. I was pleasantly surprised to find that my gait felt almost normal as I followed Degan out the door and into the hallway. Damn, but Jelem knew his stuff.
Dusk was settling outside the building. There were candles aglow in the hallway, and someone had already gotten a small fire going in a brazier in the front courtyard.
Kells’s people were on the move, rushing from place to place with a sense of urgency only desperation can bring. No one was saying it, but I could see it in their glances, hear it in their panting breaths.
The empire is here,
they were thinking.
We’re going up against the Sashes just like Isidore did.
And everyone knew what had happened to the Dark King and to his Kin. No prisoners had been taken; no quarter had been offered; no deals had been cut.
This time wouldn’t be any different. If anything, it might be worse.
“Come on,” I said. “I need to . . .”
And I stopped dead in the courtyard.
Deals. The emperor hadn’t cut deals last time, but that was because no one had had anything worth bargaining for. What could the Kin have offered him, then? Nothing.
But what about now?
“You need what?” said Degan.
I held up a hand for silence—for a moment to think.
The Kin had had nothing to deal with before, but, now, there was Ioclaudia’s book. If there was anything that would catch the emperor’s attention, anything that might convince him to walk away from the cordon and the Kin, a dead Paragon’s journal might be it.
If it didn’t bring him down on us harder, that is. There was always the chance he’d want to wipe out anyone who could have seen the book in the first place. But that would be a hell of a long list, and besides, if the Sashes were already in Ten Ways, he was close to doing that, anyhow.
It was a risk, but it was also a way out; and all it required was for me to betray Kells. And the Kin. And, in a way, myself.
It was a basic principle: Kin didn’t go to the empire; we screwed the empire. We laughed in its face and pretended it didn’t scare us. We were Kin. We were wise to the game and able to live outside the rules because we were smarter than that. The empire was a system to be used, a heavy hand to be avoided, sometimes even a pocket to be lightened; but it was never a cove to be trusted.
Nor was any Kin who went to the empire to be trusted, either. Turning rat meant becoming ostracized by the people who had once called you cousin or brother. If I managed to cut this deal, every door I had ever known would close, every friendly face I had once hailed would turn away. I would be dead to the Kin. No one would care why I had done it; all that would matter was that it had been done. I would have gone outside the organization, outside the extended family of the Kin—to
the empire
, of all places—to solve a problem. Even Kells wasn’t considering what I was considering, and he had more on the line than I did.
Going to the empire meant not only being cast out, but also hunted, by the Kin. Why was I even considering this?
Because the alternatives were worse: Shadow as the Dark King, Kells as a lackey, and me under it all; or even worse, Solitude in charge, with Nicco at her left hand. Neither scenario appealed, and neither offered a very comfortable place for me once all the dust settled. Either I would work for a man I couldn’t help but see as broken, or spend all my time trying to dodge the Blades Nicco would send after me in droves. And in the end, the Kin would be crushed by the empire, anyhow.
No, far better to be the Nose who had walked into the emperor’s lair and saved the Kin, or at least tried. Even if they all turned their backs on me for doing it, none of them would forget me. I could live with that.
The only part I would regret would be having to betray Kells to do it, but I knew he wouldn’t give his blessing to this. He’d already decided on Shadow, and I couldn’t watch him follow that path.
“You need what?” repeated Degan.
“I need to get the hell out of this cordon,” I said.
“Not that I’m arguing,” said Degan, “but why?”
I stepped off to one side, away from the passing Kin.
“Kells wants to give the journal to Shadow,” I said.
Degan drew back. “Shadow?” he said. “How did . . . ?”
“I just know,” I said.
“And I take it you don’t like this idea?”
“No. Nor do I want it to go to Solitude.”
Degan stared at me. “Solitude,” he said. “So she’s the other Gray Prince involved in all this?”
“The one from the dream, yes.”
Degan stared at me some more. “You know,” he said at last, “I’m really starting not to like you. Not at all.”
“Get in line.”
“Dare I even ask what
you
want to do with it?”
I hesitated a moment before answering. “I want to give it to the person it belongs to.”
“Ioclaudia?” said Degan. “That’d be a hell of a trick, considering . . . Oh. Not Ioclaudia.
Him.
”
“Yeah.”
Degan considered. “Well, that
would
solve a number of problems at once.”
“That’s my thought.”
“Assuming he lets you live.”
“That’s the hitch,” I admitted.
“Do you have any idea how you might get the journal to the emperor?”
“I’m working on that,” I said.
“Which means you don’t have any ideas.”
I shrugged.
“Well, one thing I know for sure,” said Degan as he took my elbow and started leading me out of the compound. “You aren’t going to find the emperor standing around here.”
I couldn’t argue with his logic. Instead, I handed Degan one of Kells’s war cords and tied another on myself.
I steered us eastward into Kells’s territory for a bit, then cut north. That would lead us into one of Nicco’s strongholds, but our best chance of getting out of Ten Ways lay in that direction. The empire would be slow in closing down the Dancer’s Highway, but, even if they did, there were broken patches of wall and several inviting drainage grates in that part of the cordon.
The streets were empty, or nearly so, with only a few Kin patrols, a couple brave or oblivious Lighters, and us. We dropped the war cords just inside the edge of Kells’s territory, to better avoid being stopped once we left.
“So once we get out of here,” said Degan as we crouched in the deeper darkness of an archway, “where to?” We could hear fighting a few blocks away.