“What other aspirations?”
His stare is piercing. “On the surface, they speak of maintaining a dominant military hold over the Fates. They see Gabriel as weak—and he is. You’d make a more competent commander.”
He bows his head over my hand and continues to work on my palm, filling in the scar with regenerative cells. “What do you want most, Reykin?” I whisper.
A vengeful glint enters his eyes. “That’s very simple, Roselle. I want the complete and utter decimation of Census.”
Finally, something upon which we can both agree.
He finishes his work on my palm, and then checks his timepiece. “If you insist on leaving Stars tonight, we’ll have to go now.” I wipe my face with the compress and wearily set it aside. Reykin rises from the bed and helps me to stand. “You have to meet a ship at the docks in Brixon.”
“Will I be recognized?”
“You don’t exactly look like yourself, Roselle.” I haven’t seen myself in a mirror yet and don’t intend to look now. He goes to the closet and comes out with two flat caps. He hands me the black one, and he puts on the charcoal gray one. He holds up a radiant golden star made from metal and only a couple of millimeters thick. “This is a device loaded with a malware program I created. It will infiltrate their technology and allow us to gain access.” He slips the star into a small compartment in the brim of my hat. “You need to upload the program into one of the secured networks. We only know of three locations. One is in the Stone Forest Base of Census, guarded by hundreds of agents, and they’ve been extremely vigilant since you helped blow them up.”
I shake my head and pay for it with stabbing pain. “I don’t think I can get back into Census. We’re not on friendly terms. Where are the other two access points?”
“One is at Fabian Bowie’s Palace in Purity.”
I cringe. “And the other?”
“The Sword Palace.”
Why I thought I could do this is beyond me.
Reykin reads my mind. “One thing at a time. You get access to one of these places, and we figure out our next step together.”
“How? You’ll be here, and I’ll be in Swords.”
“You let me worry about that.” I put the cap on and stuff my hair into it, pulling the brim down low over my face. “You look like a proper Star from Brixon,” Reykin says.
The hat reminds me of Flannigan. “It’s a serious hat.”
Clearly, he approves. He hands me a pair of gloves. Slipping the left one on, I notice that it has lead inside. “So that you don’t ping on any of the drones that might be looking for you,” Reykin offers.
As I put on the other one, I realize that there’s a faint little star still visible on my palm. “Did this one sticketh?”
“Sometimes Stars are like that.”
We take his well-designed hovercar down a lane lined with oak trees. Their leaves scatter like sparrows as we pass. I rest my head against the soft seat and giggle when he switches to flight mode and scares the crows, who fly from the black-railed fences as the engines radiate. The horses run in protest, too, their manes waving good-bye. I glance at Reykin. He’s staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I’ve never heard you laugh.”
I look away and sit up straighter. “How long until we get there?”
“Not long.”
“Explain to me how your program will work.”
Chapter 20
Sword-Shaped Heart
I’m at sea for about an hour when I take off my leaded left glove. A half hour after that, a very expensive airship pulls up to our port side. It’s a Verringer. The only person I know who owns one, besides The Virtue, is Clifton Salloway, who owns five. This one is entirely black, with black fairings and camouflage capabilities. It sets down on the water like some enormous long-legged insect. An impressive array of munitions level at the lumbering cargo vessel I’ve taken passage on.
A wide black gangway protrudes from the Verringer, latching on to the railing of our hull. Heavily armed bodyguards emerge from the luxury airship. The captain of my watercraft scratches his beard, unsure what to make of all these goings-on. Clifton’s personal bodyguard, Crucius, approaches him, and a flash of currency quickly subdues any protest.
I stand on the deck with Mags’s shabby cloak wrapped around me. It doesn’t keep out the cold wind, but it looks like something I could’ve acquired on my own. I’ve taken off my hat, tucking it inside the pocket of my cloak, and my hair falls loosely around me, wisps of it blowing in my face. Clifton disembarks from the Verringer and boards the rusted deck. Pulling the collar of his long coat closer to his neck, he has a look of relief on his face, but it turns to an angry scowl the closer he gets. Stopping in front of me, he reaches his hand and gently grasps my chin, turning my face to get a better look at my black eyes.
“Who did this?” he demands.
“I ran into some trouble in Stars, not far over the border. I had to abandon your Anthroscope. Sorry. I really loved that airship. I can pay you back.”
“I don’t care about the airship. Are you hurt worse than this?”
“There’s a probable concussion and a couple of broken ribs.”
“It was against my better judgment to let you pilot that aircraft alone. It’s way past time that you had bodyguards. I’m not listening to any more of your excuses about being your own protection. You’re vulnerable. You could’ve easily been killed.” Despite his scary manipulations, I believe Clifton has genuine feelings for me. Maybe he sees me as more than a possession—maybe I’m his friend as well.
“Come, let’s get you out of the cold,” he says, putting his arm around my shoulders. We cross the gangway and enter his mobile apartment. Leading me to a comfortable seat, he takes my cloak and urges me to sit, grabbing a soft blanket from another seat and laying it in my lap. I snuggle into it.
“I’m glad you’re not very mad at me,” I say. “I think I’m going to need your help explaining myself to my unit.”
“I am mad at you.”
“But not very mad,” I cajole.
“The problem has always been staying mad at you, Roselle, and you don’t have to worry about your Sword unit. They know nothing about this. I told Commander Aslanbek that you’ve been with me since your airship went missing. They think you’ve been collaborating on weapons and product strategy at our facility. I’ve had a difficult time fending off a certain Census agent, though. He’s convinced that I’m harboring you and two other Sword soldiers from your regiment—a Hammon Sword and an Edgerton Sword. Do you know them?”
“They’re my closest friends. You helped them about a year ago, remember?”
“Vaguely. I don’t remember the specifics.”
I pluck at the blanket in my lap. “I won’t involve you in it. It’s really not something you’d be interested in.”
He leans back in his seat, his eyes roving over me. “Worth getting your face beaten in for?”
“Only just slightly,” I reply with a rueful smile. “Had I known how awful I’d feel now, I may have reconsidered helping them.” Everything with Clifton has to be minimalized. He understands loyalty, but only to an extent. He expects me to cut any ties that he does not consider advantageous. If they infringe upon my time or my person, or take me from him, they have to go. He’d consider this ordeal a grievous crossing of that line. “I will never see them again, so the point is moot,” I add.
“Then we won’t speak of it again.”
“The Census agent will be a problem, though.” Agent Crow will never leave this be. He’ll hunt Hammon and Edgerton to extinction if he’s able.
“He’ll be dealt with. Your airship veered off course and went down today behind enemy lines. Gates of Dawn soldiers attacked you, but you managed to escape with some injuries. You contacted me because I’m your commanding officer. I came to your aid. I will have my team issue a statement, and I’ll field any and all inquiries on your behalf.”