“Wow,” Kit said, over Gyre’s shoulder. “No wonder your people unleashed the Plague.”
Naumoriel’s head snapped around, and his smile faded. “Do not speak of what you have no means to understand, girl.” He waved a hand, and the big construct’s tentacular arms stretched down to lift him up into their embrace. “We leave at first light.”
“Come on,” Kit said, “let’s get the tents up.”
The ghouls, it turned out, had provided two neat little tents, made of some shiny material lighter than cloth but as waterproof as oiled leather. No sooner had they driven the pegs into the earth than Kit dove inside hers and buttoned the flap. Gyre stared after her for a moment, then sighed and went back for a few more fungus balls.
In spite of the long walk, some instinct kept him from falling asleep. He lay on his back and stared upward, silver eye showing him the ceiling in perfect clarity. After perhaps an hour, he heard shuffling outside and then a rustle at the tent flap.
Kit pushed her way in, wrapped in one of the warm, lightweight blankets the ghouls had provided. She wormed her way up beside him and propped herself on one elbow.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly.
“Hi yourself,” Gyre said. “What’s the matter, are you cold again?”
“Not really.”
“Nightmares, then?”
“Sometimes.” Kit sat up, her head nearly brushing the ceiling, and disentangled herself from the blanket. She was naked underneath. “But not tonight.”
She bent down and kissed him, fast and hungry. Her hand spidered across his chest, slipped down to his waist, and expertly popped the button on his trousers. Before it could plunge beneath them, he caught her by the wrist, and she pulled away a fraction.
“What?” she said.
“Is this another … what did you call it? Moment of weakness?”
“I mean. Probably. So?” A sly tone entered her voice. “Sorry, did that hurt your poor little pride? Here, let me make it better.” She grabbed for his cock, and he yanked her hand away. “Ow!”
“Kit,” Gyre said, letting go. “What are you doing?”
“I thought I was coming over for a quick fuck. Maybe to be followed by a longer fuck.”
“I mean … all of this. The way you’ve been talking to Naumoriel.” Gyre sat up himself. “You didn’t raise any objection when he refused to fix your heart until after this new mission.”
“Do we really have to talk about this now?” Kit said. “It’s been a long day and I think I am actually dripping, so if we could just—”
“Kit.”
“Fine!” She threw her hands in the air and drew her knees up to her chin. “I was going to talk to you later anyway. I just wanted to make sure he was asleep out there. I have no idea how much he can hear.”
“What don’t you want Naumoriel to hear?”
“That I’m onto him, obviously.” She pulled her legs in a little tighter. “He’s never going to fix my heart. Of course he’s not. And he’s never going to give you what you want. Either we die getting him to whatever he’s looking for, or he’s going to keep us on his leash forever.” She shook her head. “Or else, once he has his ‘power under the mountain,’ he’ll toss us aside like yesterday’s breakfast and leave us to rot. You know he will.”
“The thought has occurred to me,” Gyre said. “But I always knew that was a risk of looking for the Tomb.”
“You chose to risk your life trying to turn the world upside down. I’m just trying to fucking stay alive until my next birthday, all right? Forgive me if I don’t like the idea of being dropped on a dung heap to wait for my personal hourglass to run out of sand.”
“I don’t like it much either,” Gyre said. “But what’s the alternative? You said yourself we’re dependent on the ghouls.”
“On the ghouls,” Kit said. “Not on Naumoriel.”
There was a pregnant pause.
“Think about it,” Kit went on. Her voice was low and fast. “Naumoriel isn’t popular among his people, right? He’s practically an exile. And he said that dealing with us wasn’t something their leaders would approve of. If his project were to go wrong out here, well … who would know, apart from the two of us?”
“That’s …” Gyre paused. “That still doesn’t solve your problem.”
“It does if we find this ‘power’ and take it for ourselves,” Kit said.
“We don’t even know what it is,” Gyre said.
“We know it must be something spectacular,” Kit countered. “You’ve seen what the ghouls can do already. What goes far enough beyond that for Naumoriel to risk everything—his own life, even?”
“And you’re assuming it’ll be something we can use—”
“We don’t have to use it. Whatever it is, we just offer to sell it to the rest of the ghouls. Make our bargain over again, only this time we’ll have the whip hand. That ought to be enough to be worth a little dhaka to fix me up. And for you—what would you need, to destroy the Order? An army of those construct things, maybe?”
“Maybe,” Gyre muttered. “It’s a plaguing big risk. There’s so much we don’t know.”
“I think it’s not as much of a risk as letting Naumoriel get what he wants and trusting to his gratitude afterward,” Kit said.
Gyre gave a slow nod. “So what are you planning?”
“I’m playing it by ear for the moment. The more we can get Naumoriel to tell us about where we’re going, the better. Aside from that, we wait for an opportunity.” She grinned in the darkness. “I just wanted to get us on the same page first.”
“I may have an idea,” Gyre said. “At least it’ll be … a little insurance. If he gets out of his construct again tomorrow, see if you can get him talking.”
“I’ll do my best. He seems to like you better than he ever liked me. Probably because you’ve both got cocks.” She shrugged. “Or I assume he does. Do ghouls fuck like regular people, do you think?”
“I have no idea,” Gyre said.
“Elariel has tits, anyway. I should have asked her while I had the chance.” Kit looked thoughtful. “That’d be … I mean, all that fur, right?”
“Kit,” Gyre said again.
“Plaguefire, I know I’m horny when I start thinking about ghoul snatch,” Kit said. “Do you still want to fuck?”
“What you said, back in the tavern.”
“Are you still thinking about that?” Kit said, with a theatrical sigh. “What is this, you won’t give it up until I whisper ‘I love you’ in your ear?”
“I want to be sure where I stand.”
“Argh!” Kit rubbed her hands frantically through her spiky blue hair. “All right. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry! Is that good enough?”
“I don’t need an apology,” Gyre said. “I just want to know … what you think, I guess.”
“What I think is that my life has not done a great deal to prepare me for the experience of maybe giving a little bit of a shit about someone, okay? So maybe I’m not the best at dealing with it. And after what happened to you in the Tomb …” She hesitated. “I thought you might blame me. For, you know. Getting your eye socket ripped open and days of shrieking agony.”