“That certainly makes things more possible,” Nevin muttered, not looking up. “Stasis webs are heavy, and unless you’ve got a centarch to help you, the only way to open them is with blaster fire. Risks damaging the contents, and it’s noisy. You said this thing we need to steal—”
“The Core Analytica,” Kit supplied.
“—you said it’s not very large?”
“I could carry it easily,” she said.
“Then we have a lot more options.” Nevin glanced shyly at Yora. “With a good team and the pick of the alchemists’ shops, I think we can do it.”
“Assuming this thing works,” Sarah said, setting the destabilizer down. “Which I can’t guarantee.”
“It’ll work,” Kit said.
“If,” Ibb said, pushing back his hat, “we do this at all.”
The room went quiet.
“You know I’m not going to pay for half a result,” Kit said. “If you want your share—”
“I understand.” Ibb shook his head. “But my share will be a small comfort to my husband and kids if I come back as a corpse.”
“I’m sorry about Harrow—” Kit began.
“No you’re not,” Ibb said. “Do us both a favor and don’t lie about it.”
“Fine,” she shot back. “He knew the risks. We all knew the risks.”
“Did we?” Ibb’s eyes narrowed. “You knew that thing was waiting for us. No wonder you were so eager to get out of there.”
“I hoped it wouldn’t still be active,” Kit muttered.
“And you didn’t think we could have used some kind of warning?”
“What for? All we could have done was run away, and we did that anyway.”
“He’s right,” Yora said coldly. “You should have told us.”
“Fine.” Kit shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unrepentant. “I’m sorry. I was worried that if I warned you, you’d back out.”
“I gathered that.” Ibb got to his feet and stared at Yora and Gyre. “And maybe we should.”
Nevin was hunched farther over his drawing, looking miserable. Sarah, silent through this conversation but watching closely, now turned to Yora.
“If we back out now, then Harrow died for nothing,” Yora said. “And we need the money.”
She looked at Gyre. Ibb turned to him, too, and Kit was watching out of the corner of her eye. Gyre swallowed.
The Tomb. Everything that had happened—Kit having a code-key to an intact tunnel, the stone-armored guardian—pointed to her telling the truth about having been there. How else could she know everything she does? And if she had found it—
He gave a slow nod. “I’m staying.”
“Fine.” Ibb swept his coat from the back of the chair. “It’s been a pleasure working with you. Come and find me when you come to your senses.”
“Ibb—” Yora began.
But he was already stalking from the room. Kit watched him go, then turned back to the others and smiled brightly.
“Fair enough,” she said. “Let’s see about this plan, shall we?”
Chapter 9
The villagers of Litnin assembled to see them off, offering Tanax stiff, formal bows when he told them to expect a further inquiry from Republic authorities. Maya suspected the villagers knew very well that this was an empty threat, as neither Council nor Republic was likely to spare much effort chasing down a few potential conspirators now that the smugglers had been destroyed. She herself got smiles and nods as she walked past, especially from the children. She saw Streza, waving goodbye with one hand and hugging her brother tight with the other.
Varo, morosely apologetic that he hadn’t arrived in time for the fight, seemed determined to make up for it by setting a quick pace on the return journey to the Gate. Maya’s legs soon ached, and the straps of her pack chafed, but she had the satisfaction of seeing Tanax no better off. He did his best not to show it, however, possibly because their new companion, the messenger girl whose name turned out to be Dhira, loped along behind the scout without the slightest sign of being winded.
And Beq—Maya didn’t know what to think about Beq. They’d had a moment of connection, alone in the night, and she’d worried at the time that it would make things awkward between them. Beq’s attitude the next morning had been relentlessly normal—normal for Beq, anyway—and only occasionally did Maya catch the girl watching her, when she thought no one was looking. She did her best to force herself not to read too much into it. For all I know, she’s embarrassed she ever talked to me.
Maya talked to Dhira instead, at least for as long as she could keep up. Messengers were a unique and well-respected group among the Forge servants, because the nature of their assignments could bring them into considerable danger and strand them with no way to return. It took a centarch to open a Gate, so while it was always possible to travel from the Forge, for a messenger the return was never certain. A messenger sent to find a centarch who’d been killed—or even left their post unexpectedly—could find themselves stranded weeks or months from home.
Dhira seemed to take this as a matter of course. She was a tall, muscular girl, with short-cropped gray hair and the humble bearing that all Forge servants affected in the presence of centarchs. Like Varo, she glided through the woods with an effortless grace, while behind her Maya fought down spikes of pain in her thighs and Tanax stumbled through the underbrush, face sheathed in sweat.
“You really have no idea why the Council pulled us out?” he said between labored breaths. He’d been harping on that theme since they’d departed. “It doesn’t make sense. Surely you could deliver the letter to the dux as well as we can.”
“I’m afraid I only have my instructions. The letter is ciphered, and only for the eyes of Dux Raskos himself. After delivering it, you’re to assist the dux and await further word from the Council. Beyond that, you know as much as I do.”
“We could just return to the Forge and ask,” Maya said. “It wouldn’t delay us long.”
“No,” Tanax said, apparently coming to a decision. “If those are our orders, we will obey them. I’m sure the Council has its reasons, as always.”
“Reminds me of a friend of mine,” Varo said from ahead of them. “He and I were out on the road, and we got a message to head back to base by the following evening or there’d be plague for everybody. We rode all night, nearly killed ourselves doing it, and when we got there it turned out the messenger had got the wrong patrol. So we got chewed out, even though we’d only obeyed orders, and had wall duty for a month.”
There was a pause.
“That’s it?” Maya said. “What happened to your friend?”
“Eaten by a pack of rabid thickheads,” Varo said promptly. “But that wasn’t until later.”
Maya grinned, and then grinned wider at Dhira’s perplexed look. Behind her, a crash indicated that Tanax had had yet another encounter with a thornbush.
They reached the Gate early on the second day, after Varo and Dhira persuaded Tanax that “as soon as possible” didn’t mean they should try for an all-night march. Grumbling, Tanax had insisted that they at least keep their rest to a minimum, so they’d set out as soon as the sun peeked hesitantly through the interlocking branches overhead.