“Of course not,” Gyre said.
“You sure? It’s been a long day.”
He rolled his eye. “ I don’t believe you’re helpless for a minute.”
“You’re learning.” Kit sat up, her coordination returning abruptly. “This your room? You don’t decorate much.”
“It’s just a place to sleep,” Gyre said.
“Nice of Lynnia to put up a notorious rebel,” Kit said. “What’s she getting out of it? A hot young lover? No need to be shy.”
“Lynnia,” Gyre said, maintaining his calm with an effort, “has been married twice, both times to women. You’re more her type than I am.”
“There’s a thought. Maybe then she’d let me into the interesting shelves.”
“She helps us because she believes in Yora’s cause,” Gyre said. “Freedom for the tunnelborn.”
“And you don’t,” Kit said. “Does that bother you?”
“Freedom for tunnelborn means hurting the Republic and the Order,” Gyre said. “Which means we’re on the same side.”
“Until something better comes along,” Kit said, tapping her chest with a finger.
“Kit—”
“So what did your rebel leader tell you?”
Gyre took a deep breath. “Raskos is moving the Core Analytica.”
Kit leaned forward, suddenly all focus. “Is he really?”
“Yora guessed he’s found a buyer for it.”
“Mmm,” Kit said noncommittally.
“She’s got a plan. We’ll have an opportunity to grab it when they try to get it out of the city.”
“I’m sure she does.”
Gyre narrowed his eye. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Here’s the thing,” Kit said, crossing her legs underneath her. “I heard from my own sources this morning. After the Auxies crashed our party, I guessed something was fishy, but now I know for certain. Someone in your group is talking to the dux.”
“Not possible,” Gyre said. “If we had a traitor, we’d all have been caught by now.”
“Yora had to bring in new people, didn’t she? Do you trust them all?”
“I—” Gyre stopped. He didn’t, not like he trusted Sarah and Ibb. “How do you know?”
“It’s a little hard to explain. But you understand that this means your ‘opportunity’ is almost certainly a trap? In fact, I’m reasonably certain they’re not moving the Analytica at all. I doubt the dux would risk it, not with the Order in town.”
Something tightened in Gyre’s chest. “The Order, here?”
“Two centarchs, at least,” Kit said. “They’re staying at the Spike, for now. Best guess is someone is leaning on the dux.”
Gyre shook his head. “Then we have to call everything off. Go to ground until they’re gone.”
“And if they take the Analytica with them when they go?”
“Your client will just have to take that risk,” Gyre said. His scar itched fiercely. “Going up against centarchs is suicide.”
“I thought the legendary Halfmask would be more daring,” Kit said. “Here’s the thing about a trap, though. If you know where it’s going to be, you know where it’s not going to be.”
Gyre paused for a moment. “You think the Analytica will still be at the warehouse.”
“Got it in one. While the dux and his Order friends are waiting for us to take the bait, we can sneak the prize out from behind their backs.”
“That … might be possible,” Gyre said. “I’d have to talk to Yora and the others—”
Kit rolled off the bed and leapt to her feet, suddenly exasperated. “Have you even been listening to me? Yora’s organization is compromised. If you tell her, Raskos finds out, and we’re back to walking into an ambush.”
“Then what are you suggesting?”
“We steal the Analytica. You and me. No leaks.”
“That’s …” Gyre shook his head. “We’d never get inside.”
“Most of the equipment is ready, and I can get the rest. I’ve been watching Nevin’s planning. We can do it.”
“We still need to warn the others.”
“We can’t. Because if we do, then our window disappears.” Kit crossed the room to stand in front of him, hands clasped behind her back. “You want what I’m offering? This is your shot. Screw it up, and there won’t be another.”
Gyre looked up into her eyes, alight with mischief, a slight grin on her lips. For a moment he was back in the tunnels, surrounded by bandits, her blaster fire the spark that ignited a sudden flare of steel and blood. Doomseeker.
He’d followed her this far. But—
“I can’t,” he said.
“You told me you’d do anything to get to the Tomb,” Kit said, her voice quiet and dangerous.
“I’ve seen precious little evidence that you can actually take me there,” Gyre said.
“Ah.” Kit regarded him in silence for a moment, then straightened up. “Tell you what. Come with me, and I’ll show you something.”
*
Gyre wasn’t sure where he’d expected Kit to lead him, but it hadn’t been here.
They’d caught a cab together, and Kit had directed the driver north and west, away from the Pit and toward the strip of manufactories and warehouses. The border between the industrial area and the residential part of the city was a ragged wound. A few small brick buildings stood together in isolated outposts where all their fellows had been knocked down to make way for encroaching industry, like the last clumps of trees on a logged-out plain.
Their cabbie deposited them in front of one of these buildings, a simple two-story town house now without its neighbors. A crust of broken bricks on one side showed where another structure had been shorn away. The walls were carved with graffiti, and all the windows had been boarded up long ago.
“Here?” Gyre said.
“Appearances can be deceptive.” Kit clapped him encouragingly on the shoulder. “Try to make a good impression.”
“Who, exactly, are we meeting? Your clients?”
“You’ll see.”
She strode up to the front door and rapped. For a moment there was no response, and then Gyre heard the scrape of a bar pulling away, and the door swung very slightly inward. Kit pushed it the rest of the way open, but Gyre could see nothing but a heavy black curtain behind it.
“Come on,” Kit said. “It’s safe. Probably safe.”
She found a seam in the curtain and slipped through. Gyre hesitated for a moment, then followed. The cloth was thick and utterly black, in several layers, folding and whispering around him. When he finally got free of it, he found himself in total darkness. His groping hands encountered Kit, and he kept hold of her shoulder.
“Kitsraea.” The voice that came out of the darkness was female, soft and musical, with the precise diction of someone speaking a foreign language. “Welcome back. You decided to take the risk, then.”
“It seemed like the best option,” Kit said. “This is Gyre, otherwise known as Halfmask.”