“No,” Gyre said. “I imagined that. I always knew that by the time I got the chance, the Order would have made you into one of them.”
“You’ve been fighting the Republic—killing innocent people, smuggling dhak—”
“I haven’t killed anyone innocent,” Gyre said. “Unless you count Auxies, which I don’t. And I’ve smuggled quickheal, and bone-break potion, and—did you know Dad had a shed full of weevil killers on the farm? That’s your dhak. I’m sure the weevils will be grateful for your efforts.”
“It’s not about the fucking weevils.” She could see the cavern under Litnin, the children in cages waiting to be torn apart by plaguespawn. “The Order keeps people safe.”
“The Order props up thugs like Raskos in the name of keeping all the power to itself,” Gyre said. “But I don’t expect you to understand.”
“I—”
Maya hesitated. There was so much she wanted to explain, but Gyre’s anger was a palpable force, hanging in the air between them like a dark curtain. Before she could think of a way around it, there were shouts from outside, new voices. Maya thought she recognized Tanax’s.
“Are you going to kill me?” Gyre said.
“Of course not,” Maya said. “You’re my brother. You—”
“Then I’m leaving,” Gyre interrupted, “before Raskos does it for you.”
He bent to retrieve his pack. Maya stepped forward and put her foot on it, raising her haken again.
“You know I can’t let you just … steal this,” Maya said. “Please, Gyre. You don’t have to go. I can protect you.”
“I very much doubt that.” Gyre stared at the pack for a long time, as though trying to figure something out. Then he sighed and turned away. “I assume you don’t have any objections if I take my friend, at least?”
The voices outside were getting louder. Maya bent and picked up the pack herself, then shook her head.
“If you have to go, then go.”
“I doubt I’ll see you again,” he said.
“Gyre—”
He let out a breath. “Goodbye, Maya.”
She watched, mutely, as he rounded a corner toward where the catwalk had fallen. For a moment she considered going after him, igniting her haken and forcing him to his knees. If only he would stay and listen. She was certain she could explain, cut through whatever poison the years had built up inside him.
Instead, she turned away, letting deiat fade from her body. She felt suddenly, unutterably tired.
At the entrance to the warehouse, Tanax was just coming through the broken doors, with Beq and Varo close behind him. Beq caught Maya’s eye, frantically, and made a gesture Maya didn’t understand. Maya frowned and stopped, dropping the torn pack.
“Agathios Tanax,” she said. “I need to report the discovery of a considerable quantity of dhak and unsanctioned arcana, which I believe belongs to—”
“Agathios Maya,” he grated, and raised his haken. His blade, a shimmering line of folded space, twisted and shivered in front of her eyes. Maya went silent.
“I am seizing you in the name of the Twilight Order,” Tanax said, his voice cold. “You will have the opportunity to present evidence in your defense.” He took a deep breath. “You stand accused of treason.”
Chapter 15
It was good that Kit was so light, because Gyre had to make his exit from the warehouse with her limp body slung over his shoulder, and his legs already felt like rubber beneath him.
For a moment, head still ringing from Maya’s blow, he’d been unable to find her amid the wreckage of the catwalk, and he wondered if she’d already run for it. Eventually, though, he spotted the blue of her hair, lying motionless on a broken table among scattered arcana. Stomach churning, Gyre bent beside her. To his relief, she was still breathing, though a cut on her scalp was bleeding badly. When a few prods didn’t wake her, he hoisted her up and staggered toward the back of the warehouse. Voices were already audible from the front door.
Fortunately, Maya’s arrival had attracted all the guards on the premises. Gyre went out a back door and found the rear of the building unattended.
Traffic was light in the manufactory district at this hour, and he had to walk several blocks before reaching a road busy enough to hope for a cab. A few passed him by, either because they were off for the night or because they didn’t like the look of the scarred man with an unconscious girl on his shoulder. Finally, though, a two-wheeler pulled up. The driver, a big woman with an enormous shock of frizzy teal hair, looked down at them with concern.
“You all right, friends?” she said. “You been robbed? Need a lift to the guard station?”
“Not robbed,” Gyre muttered, trying to put a little slur into his words. “Jus’ a good night at the tavern. Little punch-up.” He swayed—no great trick—and gave the driver a sloppy grin. “You should see the other guys.”
She laughed. “Try not to bleed all over the cushions, all right?”
He gave her an address about a block from Lynnia’s. It was a risk, going there, but he’d hardly be the first injured person to stagger up to the alchemist’s doorstep at all hours. It’ll be all right. I think. I hope. At this point, he didn’t see another option.
Once they were in the cab, Gyre gave Kit a more thorough examination, wrapping her head in a makeshift bandage torn from his sleeve. A few other cuts bled shallowly, and the two smallest fingers on her left hand were definitely broken, with bruises blooming all along that arm. She must have landed badly. Still, she hadn’t cracked her skull, so he didn’t think she was in immediate danger. Lynnia can take care of her. Of us.
He leaned back against the threadbare cushion, heart slamming in his chest. His pupils were still wide with nighteye, and the neutralizer was gone with his pack, so every lamp and lantern seemed like a miniature star. Afterimages of that flaming sword danced across his retina, even when he closed his eye.
Maya. After twelve years.
Fuck.
He hadn’t had a plan, when he’d talked to her. The words had just come tumbling out, the product of a thousand imagined conversations, a hypothetical argument turned horribly real.
The hard part is that it went about as badly as I expected.
Something at the back of his mind, the part of him that had never grown up, screamed at him that he should have stayed. Talked to her, made her understand. I wouldn’t have gotten the chance. The notorious rebel Halfmask had a prison cell to look forward to, at best, and more likely quick execution. He doubted that Maya, young as she was, had the authority to change that.
And maybe she wouldn’t have wanted to. Just because she’d let him go, in the heat of the moment, didn’t mean she would take his side in front of the dux and her fellow centarchs.
She’s a centarch. The look in her eyes had been all he needed. The superior glare that said he was beneath contempt, even before she’d recognized him. I always knew I would never get her back.
Kit moaned weakly, but her eyes stayed closed.
The cab driver let them out, and Gyre shoved a few thalers into her hands, waving aside her offers to help. Gathering Kit in his arms again, he trudged around the corner and made his way to Lynnia’s front door. On the doorstep, he realized he didn’t have his key—he hardly ever came in this way, and it had been at the bottom of his pack—but the lights were still on, and Lynnia opened the door to his knock.