Chapter 15: Middle of the Night — The Key of Oslov

Volume 17: The Tinderbox

Chapter 15 Middle of the Night

Chapter Notes

This chapter is still taking place on the night when the stream episode was shot and Besha had his ill-fated encounter with Stefan and Ceill, hence the time stamp.Thank you to chinuplilpup for your comment: i want to know the possible contradictions in tilrey’s own mind about how he views what happened to him, as he watches ceill grow up and look like him. I think so much about this, and you inspired me to add a bit to this chapter, though there’s plenty more to say about what’s going on in Tilrey’s poor battered psyche. More of that in the next chapter.Thanks so much, as always, to everyone who’s reading! <3

Chapter Notes

This chapter is still taking place on the night when the stream episode was shot and Besha had his ill-fated encounter with Stefan and Ceill, hence the time stamp.

Thank you to chinuplilpup for your comment: i want to know the possible contradictions in tilrey’s own mind about how he views what happened to him, as he watches ceill grow up and look like him. I think so much about this, and you inspired me to add a bit to this chapter, though there’s plenty more to say about what’s going on in Tilrey’s poor battered psyche. More of that in the next chapter.

Thanks so much, as always, to everyone who’s reading! <3

27 September, year 374, 1:30 a.m.

“No, of course not,” General Magistrate Davita Lindblom said. She lay on her unmade bed with her head in Tilrey’s lap, both of them still a little sweaty. “Why would we let Harbourer envoys come here? That’s never been done.”Tilrey stroked the silver-streaked hair away from her scalp, trying to keep his whole manner calm and reassuring. He would travel to Harbour in less than a month, officially to check on the garrison and unofficially to see how the True Hearth’s plans to infiltrate Bettevy were proceeding. He’d postponed making this proposal to Davita for as long as he could.“I can’t see the harm, Fir’n,” he said, using the honorific to put her at ease. “There’s so much mystery around Harbour in Oslov, and vice versa. With the pilot exchange program that Duke Dalziel proposed, we could begin to know each other.”“And what good would that do?” Davita sat up abruptly, her hair cascading over her shoulders. “I know you consider this Duke Dalziel a friend. But if he sends his people here, even two or three at a time, it means he wants to spy on us.”“We could control the movements of the envoys. Their whole experience.” Tilrey modulated his voice carefully, keeping his eyes down. He was still naked, while Davita wore one of her silky, colorful robes, but negotiating in the buff had never been a problem for him.“Surely you can’t object to a few more of our civilians traveling to Harbour as the Duke’s guests,” he added. “We already have a whole ambassadorial staff there, the garrison, the research station—”“So, what? We should add some … sightseers?” It was a rarely used word, and the Magistrate pronounced it with contempt. Sightseeing was a suspicious activity—decadent, even. Oslovs stayed at home unless the interests of the Republic forced them to go elsewhere.“I know you love the warm southern weather, my sweet boy,” she added more gently, slipping an arm around Tilrey’s shoulders. “It agrees with your constitution. But we’ve always minimized our exposure to Harbour and limited our relations to trade, and there’s no reason to change now. I even have doubts about that garrison that Albertine and Gersha pushed through the Council. They say it keeps our trade secure, but it could also be perceived as a way of supporting your Duke Dalziel against his more aggressive neighbor—what’s that other country called again?”“Resurgence.” Tilrey sighed.Her blithe ignorance of the name of the dominant power on the southern continent was a symptom of everything that needed to change about Oslov’s relations with Harbour. But he couldn’t say that, so he settled for saying, “Colonel Thibault of Resurgence has been gaining new territory for decades now. They say her empire stretches all the way to the Pacific coast. And she has electricity, gunpowder, dynamite.”Davita rolled her eyes. “These people are primitives. Call me when she splits the atom.”“You laugh, but Harbourers have many of the great library ruins of the Tangle at their disposal. Books are information; information is power. And Colonel Thibault is a formidable woman, from what I’ve heard.”In reality, Tilrey couldn’t be sure Colonel Thibault was even still alive. Her court was secretive, and information traveled slowly and unreliably in Harbour. But if Davita imagined the ruler of Resurgence as a genuine threat, she might be more willing to put her support behind Duke Dalziel and Bettevy. She might even think twice about destroying the city after she discovered that a steady stream of Dissident Oslovs had been migrating there.Not that the True Hearth could rely on Davita’s mercy. Tilrey had worked hard to introduce her to new notions of government and personal freedom, but her faith in Whybergism was immovable. In the end, they might have to force her hand.“A formidable woman? Maybe Colonel Thibault and I would be kindred spirits.” Both arms around Tilrey now, Davita rested her head on his shoulder. “I’d like to meet her one day. But an official exchange program? No. How do the Harbourers think of us now—as godless barbarians, you said? That’s good. If we let them come here, they might find out just how comfortably we live, and they’d start demanding our tech in exchange for their fruits and vegetables.”Funny how she assumed the envy would go in only one direction. Tilrey was fairly sure that, if enough Oslovs learned about Harbour, she would have trouble keeping her population at home.The True Hearth would never support a colonization of the southern continent, only a controlled voluntary migration that preserved local sovereignty. He and Gersha and the Southern Hearthers had sworn that. But some outliers, like Besha, had different ideas.It was so hard to thread the needle of this rebellion. It would take another year, maybe two, before Bettevy had a large enough hidden population of Oslov Dissidents for a peaceful takeover of the warehouses that trade depended on. Blockading that trade was the only way to force Davita to negotiate with people she saw as traitors deserving of exile.Only then would she learn that Tilrey was one of those people.“You’re so obsessed with personal mobility, my love,” she murmured in his ear. “First that foolish bill that would have allowed workers in the Laborer cities to visit their relatives in Redda, and now this.”“That was Gersha’s bill,” Tilrey lied. He nuzzled her, kissing the rim of her ear, restraining his annoyance. “He’s an idealist.”“Yes, but you’re a bit of an idealist, too, aren’t you? I suppose you can’t help it, being as exceptional as you are. You imagine the best of everyone.”She ran her fingers through her hair, tickling his scalp. Shifting his weight, Tilrey felt the ache of the light welts where she’d whipped him earlier.Exceptional. That was the word she always used to describe his difference from other Laborers. Once she’d admitted the existence of a few exceptions, she could dismiss the rest of his kind as fit only for repetitive toil.“Maybe I do,” he said, wishing he could leave. It was late, but a little Brothel therapy might set him to rights. Einara’s company was stressful these days, as their stalemate showed no signs of breaking. But Kai might be free.Davita didn’t seem to notice his growing impatience. “And your Ceill—he’s quite the idealist, too, isn’t he? Well, he’s young. But with those delicate feelings of his, you may have trouble getting him to accept a proper marriage.”“That’s at least ten years away.” Tilrey knew it was normal for her to express an interest in Ceill, but there was something about the way she spoke his son’s name that he didn’t like—something almost possessive. Besha did it, too, and Besha did worse; Besha treated Ceill like eye candy.“What does a ‘proper marriage’ even mean?” he asked.“A girl from a high-named family, of course. A Programmer or Diplomat with top 3 percent test scores. Don’t worry—I’ll pick the candidates for you and smooth the path. An exemplary wife will make people forget his lineage.” She smiled at Tilrey’s sour expression and flicked a lock of hair off his forehead. “Darling, be realistic. He looks exactly like you. ”He sighed and rolled over, away from her. “I wish he didn’t.”“Don’t be silly! It’s an asset, too. Those blue eyes will give Ceill the pick of the best women of his generation.”And older Upstarts will always look at him and see me. “Looks are nothing,” Tilrey said bitterly. “If you don’t have the power or the will to use them properly, they can easily become a curse.”Ceill should never have to use his looks for personal gain. Ceill deserved to stay the way Tilrey had been before he came to Redda—blissfully unaware of the effect his exterior had on people.“Oh, that’s foolishness.” She kissed the back of his neck. “Beauty brings joy to life. It’s one of the few things in the world I’m not cynical about, and you only slander it because you’re beautiful.”The people beauty brings joy to aren’t always the people who have it. But he said only, “So maybe you’re an idealist, too, then.”“Oh, far from it! When it comes to character, I fixate on everyone’s worst qualities,” Davita said musingly. “My husband, for instance—I love him to death, but I wouldn’t put him in charge of anything without my personal oversight. If you give him freedom, he follows his pleasure. And he’s an Upstart!”“Our tests don’t measure ethics or a sense of civic duty.” Tilrey’s voice shook with repressed frustration. To distract her, he smoothed a curl behind her ear. “With all due respect, I know dozens of Laborers who exemplify those virtues better than Besha.”Davita chuckled as if she could believe it. “But you’re talking about individuals. I’m talking about statistical generalities. It’s been exhaustively proved that intelligence correlates with the capacity for abstract thought, which in turn correlates with the ability to put the community’s needs first. That’s why we rule, my love. That’s why we govern.”You. Not me. He felt a fleeting impulse to snap it at her. But she would only kiss and pet him and call him an exception again. And then she would put him in his place by pointing out that all the power he personally exercised was a gift from her.“You govern because you were born to,” he said, kissing her neck. That part wasn’t a lie—within the limits of her prejudices, she made an excellent leader.“Mmph. Such a flatterer.” Davita brushed the crown of his head with her lips, then nudged him away. “I’d love another round, but I promised I’d have an early breakfast with Besha. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.”Just like that, Tilrey was dismissed. He gave her a last kiss, pretending to leave reluctantly, and swung his legs onto the floor, itching to get to the Brothel. It took the steward nearly five minutes to open up the back door. “Is Kai around?” Tilrey asked, stepping into the warmth of the Brothel’s corridor.“He might still be at the cast party in the Outer Ring. They just wrapped an episode.”Too bad. He would look for Kai in the patrons’ lounge, just in case. “And Einara?”“In her office, I believe, Fir Bronn. She didn’t want to be disturbed, but maybe she’d see you.” The steward bobbed her head respectfully.The new steward, because Tilrey had gotten Ansha sacked for his plot to get Ceill drunk before the E-Squareds. Though Ceill was safely at University now, Tilrey felt a thrill of pleasure every time he saw the woman’s broad, ruddy face. It was proof that he did have some small measure of power, and he was never happier than when he could use that power on his son’s behalf.Never mind that Ceill would surely be angry if he knew that Tilrey had shuffled the Brothel staff for him. Never mind that Ansha and Tilrey had once been the same.Tilrey was still feeling that warm glow when they turned a corner in the passage and ran right into Janta.Tilrey recoiled from the boy—the last person he expected to see. For an instant, he felt shame, because he knew Janta would intuit why he had come.Then he remembered who he was now, and that Janta answered to him, and he lunged forward and seized the boy’s arm. “What in green hells are you doing here?”Janta didn’t resist, but his eyes opened wide in undisguised fear. “I … I was seeing Ceill.”“Then where is he?” Tilrey grasped both Janta’s arms and gave him a little shake. The boy might be an expert at detecting lies, but he was terrible at lying. It was clear he had no good reason to be here. “Why isn’t he at the cast party with everyone else?”“Because … because …” Janta glanced nervously over his shoulder. “Ceill’s here somewhere. I’m sure.”“Oh, is he?” Tilrey jutted his chin at the steward, dismissing her. She looked unhappy. But she vanished down the hall, probably to tell Einara what had happened here.Einara. A terrible thought occurred to him: What if Janta had been secretly meeting with the Brothel keeper?It made all the sense in the world. When Tilrey first brought Janta to Redda, distracted by the lockdown crisis, he’d left the boy with Einara for a few hours. He’d even asked Janta to reveal his Harbourer origin by speaking the language to Einara, hoping to get inside her head. What had he been thinking?Janta seemed to have assimilated to the city so well: He was Tilrey’s loyal assistant, Gersha’s devoted student, Ceill’s adoring boyfriend. But what if that were all a performance? What if Einara had won him over with her wild talk of taking revenge on Oslov?You’re being paranoid, said Gersha’s voice inside Tilrey’s mind. Prejudiced. Xenophobic. Davita sees Harbourers as enemies, but you know better.Tilrey agreed with all of that, but he couldn’t afford to take chances.Filing the doubts away for later, he steered Janta back toward the Brothel’s back entrance. “We’re taking the tram straight home. And when we get there, you’ll tell me when and why you started coming to the Brothel and everything you’ve been doing here.”*It fell to Kai to chaperone Besha home.“He may try to hurt himself,” Einara had warned, down on her hands and knees cleaning up the blood in the suite. “Let his driver think you’re going to his apartment for a sexual assignation. Then watch him for a few hours and gauge his mood. He belongs to us now, and that makes him our responsibility.”Kai was prepared to deal with depression, accusations, and even Soldrid attempts from the Councillor. He wasn’t prepared for Besha’s actual mood: giddiness.The Councillor insisted on sending his driver away and walking home through the midnight streets. Several times he made a mad dash away from Kai, then stopped, laughing wildly, and waited for him to catch up. “Not as fast as you think you are, are you? Ha! What if I throw myself off a building?”“Personally, I’d say good riddance,” Kai said grimly, panting. He wasn’t in as good shape as he wanted to be. “I was supposed to spend tonight celebrating at my cast party, not babysitting your sorry ass.”Again that madcap laugh. “But here you are, and here I am! And this is the very first night of our new lives!”“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Kai muttered. “I’m starting to wish Janta had told my wife to kill you.”His spirits lifted a little after they made a stop at the Restaurant. It was closed at this hour, but Besha knew the head chef, of course. He ducked into the kitchen and came out with a bottle.“Their very best bubbly, straight from the green fields of Harbour—just like your lovely wife, and just as cold.” The Councillor took a swig from the bottle, then handed it to Kai as they stepped onto the frigid, twilit street again. “Drink with me. If you don’t, I’ll become difficult.”“Like you’re not already?”“Oh, but you have no idea. I can be absolutely unmanageable—so my wife says, anyway.” Besha traipsed down the street, already weaving a little with the effects of the alcohol. “Look how bright the stars are, Kaisha! It’s like they’re twinkling at me—witnesses to my disgrace.” He made an obscene gesture at the sky. “Fuck that!”Kai drank, too, though he ended up consuming much less of the bottle than Besha did. When they finally arrived at the apartment, Besha opened a second bottle. “For the sauna. Did you know I have my very own?”“You shouldn’t drink in the sauna,” Kai said wearily. But he followed Besha into the sauna, because he had no choice, and even stripped and sat with him in the dry heat and drank a little more, while Besha drank a lot more. Someone had to make sure the little wretch didn’t pass out.Kai felt oddly betrayed by everything he had learned from Besha and Ceill’s conversation. When he thought about it, he realized it was because he’d been enjoying the Councillor’s company these past months. Oh, Besha was a rat bastard all right, but for a Strutter, he was entertaining. And honest.Kai would never in a thousand years have guessed he was an accessory to mass murder.Besha was busy monologuing about his wife and how unshocked she would be if she knew what had happened tonight. “She’s always known what I am. ‘You’re a long-toothed scavenger,’ she tells me. But that wouldn’t stop her from turning me in—oh no! Davita always does her duty.”He slid over to Kai on the bench and slumped against him. “Do you have the same problem? Your wife—she’s terrifying, isn’t she? Does she swipe that knife at you to keep you in line?”Kai stiffened at the contact. “My wife loves me, Fir, and I love her. If you’re hoping to play us against each other—”“Oh no, no! I would never! Though I can’t blame you for thinking so.” Besha let his head loll on Kai’s shoulder. Kai shivered with disgust but didn’t push him away.“Davita’s always known my loyalty can be bought,” the Councillor said after a moment, “but she has no idea how much of a whore I am. First I sold myself to Malsha, then to her, then to Tilrey. And now to you clowns. Soon I’ll have trouble keeping all my patrons straight!”Kai didn’t envy him, but his capacity for compassion was stretching thin. “Everything will seem easier in the morning, Fir. We’ll tell you exactly what to do.”“Oh, joy.” Besha sighed. After drooling on Kai’s bare shoulder for a minute or so, he added drowsily, “I don’t even care that you’re Drudges, you know. I don’t give a shit about any of that. Malsha Linnett was right—none of it’s real.”“Oh?” Kai asked. “What is real, then, Fir Councillor?”Besha mumbled something in his ear that was impossible to understand. After he repeated it a few times, Kai got the gist:“The green fields of Harbour are real. Ask your wife. And I want to die there, just like Malsha did.”

27 September, year 374, 1:30 a.m.

Tilrey stroked the silver-streaked hair away from her scalp, trying to keep his whole manner calm and reassuring. He would travel to Harbour in less than a month, officially to check on the garrison and unofficially to see how the True Hearth’s plans to infiltrate Bettevy were proceeding. He’d postponed making this proposal to Davita for as long as he could.

“I can’t see the harm, Fir’n,” he said, using the honorific to put her at ease. “There’s so much mystery around Harbour in Oslov, and vice versa. With the pilot exchange program that Duke Dalziel proposed, we could begin to know each other.”

“And what good would that do?” Davita sat up abruptly, her hair cascading over her shoulders. “I know you consider this Duke Dalziel a friend. But if he sends his people here, even two or three at a time, it means he wants to spy on us.”

“We could control the movements of the envoys. Their whole experience.” Tilrey modulated his voice carefully, keeping his eyes down. He was still naked, while Davita wore one of her silky, colorful robes, but negotiating in the buff had never been a problem for him.

“Surely you can’t object to a few more of our civilians traveling to Harbour as the Duke’s guests,” he added. “We already have a whole ambassadorial staff there, the garrison, the research station—”

“So, what? We should add some … sightseers?” It was a rarely used word, and the Magistrate pronounced it with contempt. Sightseeing was a suspicious activity—decadent, even. Oslovs stayed at home unless the interests of the Republic forced them to go elsewhere.

“I know you love the warm southern weather, my sweet boy,” she added more gently, slipping an arm around Tilrey’s shoulders. “It agrees with your constitution. But we’ve always minimized our exposure to Harbour and limited our relations to trade, and there’s no reason to change now. I even have doubts about that garrison that Albertine and Gersha pushed through the Council. They say it keeps our trade secure, but it could also be perceived as a way of supporting your Duke Dalziel against his more aggressive neighbor—what’s that other country called again?”

“Resurgence.” Tilrey sighed.

Her blithe ignorance of the name of the dominant power on the southern continent was a symptom of everything that needed to change about Oslov’s relations with Harbour. But he couldn’t say that, so he settled for saying, “Colonel Thibault of Resurgence has been gaining new territory for decades now. They say her empire stretches all the way to the Pacific coast. And she has electricity, gunpowder, dynamite.”

Davita rolled her eyes. “These people are primitives. Call me when she splits the atom.”

“You laugh, but Harbourers have many of the great library ruins of the Tangle at their disposal. Books are information; information is power. And Colonel Thibault is a formidable woman, from what I’ve heard.”

In reality, Tilrey couldn’t be sure Colonel Thibault was even still alive. Her court was secretive, and information traveled slowly and unreliably in Harbour. But if Davita imagined the ruler of Resurgence as a genuine threat, she might be more willing to put her support behind Duke Dalziel and Bettevy. She might even think twice about destroying the city after she discovered that a steady stream of Dissident Oslovs had been migrating there.

Not that the True Hearth could rely on Davita’s mercy. Tilrey had worked hard to introduce her to new notions of government and personal freedom, but her faith in Whybergism was immovable. In the end, they might have to force her hand.

“A formidable woman? Maybe Colonel Thibault and I would be kindred spirits.” Both arms around Tilrey now, Davita rested her head on his shoulder. “I’d like to meet her one day. But an official exchange program? No. How do the Harbourers think of us now—as godless barbarians, you said? That’s good. If we let them come here, they might find out just how comfortably we live, and they’d start demanding our tech in exchange for their fruits and vegetables.”

Funny how she assumed the envy would go in only one direction. Tilrey was fairly sure that, if enough Oslovs learned about Harbour, she would have trouble keeping her population at home.

The True Hearth would never support a colonization of the southern continent, only a controlled voluntary migration that preserved local sovereignty. He and Gersha and the Southern Hearthers had sworn that. But some outliers, like Besha, had different ideas.

It was so hard to thread the needle of this rebellion. It would take another year, maybe two, before Bettevy had a large enough hidden population of Oslov Dissidents for a peaceful takeover of the warehouses that trade depended on. Blockading that trade was the only way to force Davita to negotiate with people she saw as traitors deserving of exile.

Only then would she learn that Tilrey was one of those people.

“You’re so obsessed with personal mobility, my love,” she murmured in his ear. “First that foolish bill that would have allowed workers in the Laborer cities to visit their relatives in Redda, and now this.”

“That was Gersha’s bill,” Tilrey lied. He nuzzled her, kissing the rim of her ear, restraining his annoyance. “He’s an idealist.”

“Yes, but you’re a bit of an idealist, too, aren’t you? I suppose you can’t help it, being as exceptional as you are. You imagine the best of everyone.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, tickling his scalp. Shifting his weight, Tilrey felt the ache of the light welts where she’d whipped him earlier.

Exceptional. That was the word she always used to describe his difference from other Laborers. Once she’d admitted the existence of a few exceptions, she could dismiss the rest of his kind as fit only for repetitive toil.

“Maybe I do,” he said, wishing he could leave. It was late, but a little Brothel therapy might set him to rights. Einara’s company was stressful these days, as their stalemate showed no signs of breaking. But Kai might be free.

Davita didn’t seem to notice his growing impatience. “And your Ceill—he’s quite the idealist, too, isn’t he? Well, he’s young. But with those delicate feelings of his, you may have trouble getting him to accept a proper marriage.”

“That’s at least ten years away.” Tilrey knew it was normal for her to express an interest in Ceill, but there was something about the way she spoke his son’s name that he didn’t like—something almost possessive. Besha did it, too, and Besha did worse; Besha treated Ceill like eye candy.

“What does a ‘proper marriage’ even mean?” he asked.

“A girl from a high-named family, of course. A Programmer or Diplomat with top 3 percent test scores. Don’t worry—I’ll pick the candidates for you and smooth the path. An exemplary wife will make people forget his lineage.” She smiled at Tilrey’s sour expression and flicked a lock of hair off his forehead. “Darling, be realistic. He looks exactly like you. ”

He sighed and rolled over, away from her. “I wish he didn’t.”

“Don’t be silly! It’s an asset, too. Those blue eyes will give Ceill the pick of the best women of his generation.”

And older Upstarts will always look at him and see me. “Looks are nothing,” Tilrey said bitterly. “If you don’t have the power or the will to use them properly, they can easily become a curse.”

Ceill should never have to use his looks for personal gain. Ceill deserved to stay the way Tilrey had been before he came to Redda—blissfully unaware of the effect his exterior had on people.

“Oh, that’s foolishness.” She kissed the back of his neck. “Beauty brings joy to life. It’s one of the few things in the world I’m not cynical about, and you only slander it because you’re beautiful.”

The people beauty brings joy to aren’t always the people who have it. But he said only, “So maybe you’re an idealist, too, then.”

“Oh, far from it! When it comes to character, I fixate on everyone’s worst qualities,” Davita said musingly. “My husband, for instance—I love him to death, but I wouldn’t put him in charge of anything without my personal oversight. If you give him freedom, he follows his pleasure. And he’s an Upstart!”

“Our tests don’t measure ethics or a sense of civic duty.” Tilrey’s voice shook with repressed frustration. To distract her, he smoothed a curl behind her ear. “With all due respect, I know dozens of Laborers who exemplify those virtues better than Besha.”

Davita chuckled as if she could believe it. “But you’re talking about individuals. I’m talking about statistical generalities. It’s been exhaustively proved that intelligence correlates with the capacity for abstract thought, which in turn correlates with the ability to put the community’s needs first. That’s why we rule, my love. That’s why we govern.”

You. Not me. He felt a fleeting impulse to snap it at her. But she would only kiss and pet him and call him an exception again. And then she would put him in his place by pointing out that all the power he personally exercised was a gift from her.

“You govern because you were born to,” he said, kissing her neck. That part wasn’t a lie—within the limits of her prejudices, she made an excellent leader.

“Mmph. Such a flatterer.” Davita brushed the crown of his head with her lips, then nudged him away. “I’d love another round, but I promised I’d have an early breakfast with Besha. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.”

Just like that, Tilrey was dismissed. He gave her a last kiss, pretending to leave reluctantly, and swung his legs onto the floor, itching to get to the Brothel.

It took the steward nearly five minutes to open up the back door. “Is Kai around?” Tilrey asked, stepping into the warmth of the Brothel’s corridor.

“He might still be at the cast party in the Outer Ring. They just wrapped an episode.”

Too bad. He would look for Kai in the patrons’ lounge, just in case. “And Einara?”

“In her office, I believe, Fir Bronn. She didn’t want to be disturbed, but maybe she’d see you.” The steward bobbed her head respectfully.

The new steward, because Tilrey had gotten Ansha sacked for his plot to get Ceill drunk before the E-Squareds. Though Ceill was safely at University now, Tilrey felt a thrill of pleasure every time he saw the woman’s broad, ruddy face. It was proof that he did have some small measure of power, and he was never happier than when he could use that power on his son’s behalf.

Never mind that Ceill would surely be angry if he knew that Tilrey had shuffled the Brothel staff for him. Never mind that Ansha and Tilrey had once been the same.

Tilrey was still feeling that warm glow when they turned a corner in the passage and ran right into Janta.

Tilrey recoiled from the boy—the last person he expected to see. For an instant, he felt shame, because he knew Janta would intuit why he had come.

Then he remembered who he was now, and that Janta answered to him, and he lunged forward and seized the boy’s arm. “What in green hells are you doing here?”

Janta didn’t resist, but his eyes opened wide in undisguised fear. “I … I was seeing Ceill.”

“Then where is he?” Tilrey grasped both Janta’s arms and gave him a little shake. The boy might be an expert at detecting lies, but he was terrible at lying. It was clear he had no good reason to be here. “Why isn’t he at the cast party with everyone else?”

“Because … because …” Janta glanced nervously over his shoulder. “Ceill’s here somewhere. I’m sure.”

“Oh, is he?” Tilrey jutted his chin at the steward, dismissing her. She looked unhappy. But she vanished down the hall, probably to tell Einara what had happened here.

Einara. A terrible thought occurred to him: What if Janta had been secretly meeting with the Brothel keeper?

It made all the sense in the world. When Tilrey first brought Janta to Redda, distracted by the lockdown crisis, he’d left the boy with Einara for a few hours. He’d even asked Janta to reveal his Harbourer origin by speaking the language to Einara, hoping to get inside her head. What had he been thinking?

Janta seemed to have assimilated to the city so well: He was Tilrey’s loyal assistant, Gersha’s devoted student, Ceill’s adoring boyfriend. But what if that were all a performance? What if Einara had won him over with her wild talk of taking revenge on Oslov?

You’re being paranoid, said Gersha’s voice inside Tilrey’s mind. Prejudiced. Xenophobic. Davita sees Harbourers as enemies, but you know better.

Tilrey agreed with all of that, but he couldn’t afford to take chances.

Filing the doubts away for later, he steered Janta back toward the Brothel’s back entrance. “We’re taking the tram straight home. And when we get there, you’ll tell me when and why you started coming to the Brothel and everything you’ve been doing here.”

It fell to Kai to chaperone Besha home.

“He may try to hurt himself,” Einara had warned, down on her hands and knees cleaning up the blood in the suite. “Let his driver think you’re going to his apartment for a sexual assignation. Then watch him for a few hours and gauge his mood. He belongs to us now, and that makes him our responsibility.”

Kai was prepared to deal with depression, accusations, and even Soldrid attempts from the Councillor. He wasn’t prepared for Besha’s actual mood: giddiness.

The Councillor insisted on sending his driver away and walking home through the midnight streets. Several times he made a mad dash away from Kai, then stopped, laughing wildly, and waited for him to catch up. “Not as fast as you think you are, are you? Ha! What if I throw myself off a building?”

“Personally, I’d say good riddance,” Kai said grimly, panting. He wasn’t in as good shape as he wanted to be. “I was supposed to spend tonight celebrating at my cast party, not babysitting your sorry ass.”

Again that madcap laugh. “But here you are, and here I am! And this is the very first night of our new lives!”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Kai muttered. “I’m starting to wish Janta had told my wife to kill you.”

His spirits lifted a little after they made a stop at the Restaurant. It was closed at this hour, but Besha knew the head chef, of course. He ducked into the kitchen and came out with a bottle.

“Their very best bubbly, straight from the green fields of Harbour—just like your lovely wife, and just as cold.” The Councillor took a swig from the bottle, then handed it to Kai as they stepped onto the frigid, twilit street again. “Drink with me. If you don’t, I’ll become difficult.”

“Like you’re not already?”

“Oh, but you have no idea. I can be absolutely unmanageable—so my wife says, anyway.” Besha traipsed down the street, already weaving a little with the effects of the alcohol. “Look how bright the stars are, Kaisha! It’s like they’re twinkling at me—witnesses to my disgrace.” He made an obscene gesture at the sky. “Fuck that!”

Kai drank, too, though he ended up consuming much less of the bottle than Besha did. When they finally arrived at the apartment, Besha opened a second bottle. “For the sauna. Did you know I have my very own?”

“You shouldn’t drink in the sauna,” Kai said wearily. But he followed Besha into the sauna, because he had no choice, and even stripped and sat with him in the dry heat and drank a little more, while Besha drank a lot more. Someone had to make sure the little wretch didn’t pass out.

Kai felt oddly betrayed by everything he had learned from Besha and Ceill’s conversation. When he thought about it, he realized it was because he’d been enjoying the Councillor’s company these past months. Oh, Besha was a rat bastard all right, but for a Strutter, he was entertaining. And honest.

Kai would never in a thousand years have guessed he was an accessory to mass murder.

Besha was busy monologuing about his wife and how unshocked she would be if she knew what had happened tonight. “She’s always known what I am. ‘You’re a long-toothed scavenger,’ she tells me. But that wouldn’t stop her from turning me in—oh no! Davita always does her duty.”

He slid over to Kai on the bench and slumped against him. “Do you have the same problem? Your wife—she’s terrifying, isn’t she? Does she swipe that knife at you to keep you in line?”

Kai stiffened at the contact. “My wife loves me, Fir, and I love her. If you’re hoping to play us against each other—”

“Oh no, no! I would never! Though I can’t blame you for thinking so.” Besha let his head loll on Kai’s shoulder. Kai shivered with disgust but didn’t push him away.

“Davita’s always known my loyalty can be bought,” the Councillor said after a moment, “but she has no idea how much of a whore I am. First I sold myself to Malsha, then to her, then to Tilrey. And now to you clowns. Soon I’ll have trouble keeping all my patrons straight!”

Kai didn’t envy him, but his capacity for compassion was stretching thin. “Everything will seem easier in the morning, Fir. We’ll tell you exactly what to do.”

“Oh, joy.” Besha sighed. After drooling on Kai’s bare shoulder for a minute or so, he added drowsily, “I don’t even care that you’re Drudges, you know. I don’t give a shit about any of that. Malsha Linnett was right—none of it’s real.”

“Oh?” Kai asked. “What is real, then, Fir Councillor?”

Besha mumbled something in his ear that was impossible to understand. After he repeated it a few times, Kai got the gist:

“The green fields of Harbour are real. Ask your wife. And I want to die there, just like Malsha did.”