The Cutter everyone in the patrol had called “Jock” came strolling back from the building, twirling his cane in his hand. “You’re in,” he said, pointing at me with the stick. “You’re not,” he said to Degan.
Degan shrugged, then went over and sat down against a wall. He was snoring before I was out of the courtyard.
I was led up two flights of stairs that felt like four, then down a long hallway. We stopped in front of a charred door. Through the soot, I could still see hints of fine carvings-flowers and leaves and a couple of bird wings. Jock rapped twice with his stick, paused long enough to give me sour look, then turned and walked away. I listened to his boots thudding hollowly on the wooden floorboards as he disappeared into the gloom.
I sighed and rubbed at the stubble on my face. How many days since Moriarty’s? Since Christiana’s? They were all blurring together, along with my thoughts. I blinked, slapped my face, and slipped two seeds. No help.
“Come,” called Kells finally. I opened the door.
The curtains were drawn, the room lit by a scattering of candles. Someone must have found a stash of glassware in the house, because every candle was set in its own wineglass, creating small tulips of light. They flickered in constellations around the room, casting a patchwork of light and shadow that rendered my night vision useless.
Near the center of the place stood a massive desk that seemed more banquet table than workspace. A row of goblets had been placed along its front, each one slightly shorter than the last, forming a miniature stairway of light. Behind the candles, and almost hidden by the desk, sat Kells, the dark expression on his face made even more severe by the uneven light. His hands were before him, their thumbs tapping against each other slowly. Other than that, he didn’t move.
I closed the door and was three paces into the room before I noticed the shadows behind Kells move. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, but then I saw them shift again of their own accord. I stopped, peered, and was just able to make out a tall, dark figure behind my boss, his form hidden by a long, gray-black cloak.
My rapier was out of its scabbard in an instant.
“Good to see you, too, Drothe,” said the familiar deep, smooth voice. The cloaked Kin stepped farther into the light, his face still hidden by the massive cowl.
“What the hell is he doing here?” I demanded of Kells.
“Drothe,” said Kells, “put your blade away.”
“Do you know who that is?” I said.
Kells arched an eyebrow. “Do you?”
The cloaked man hadn’t moved.
“I know not to trust him,” I said, gritting my teeth. “I know he led me to a pair of White Sashes who were more than ready to carve me into pieces, and I know he’s too well-informed about happenings in Ten Ways to be true. So, yes, I know him well enough.”
The figure chuckled, and even Kells gave the hint of a rueful smile. Their amusement didn’t improve my mood.
A disturbing thought occurred to me. I gestured with my rapier toward the man. “He’s yours, is he?” I said to Kells. “You put this walking bolt of cloth on my blinders to keep track of me, didn’t you?”
“Hardly,” said Kells.
“Then what the hell is he doing here?”
“Have a seat,” said Kells, gesturing at one of the two chairs in front of the desk.
“I’ll stand,” I said. I did move to stand beside the chairs, though.
“Suit yourself.” Kells came around the desk and perched himself on the corner nearest me. He paused a moment to openly study Nestor’s hard-worn clothes, then shrugged.
“So, what have you got for me?” said Kells.
I looked at my boss for a long moment, then over at the man in the cloak. “I’m still waiting for an answer,” I said.
“He’s here because I asked him to be here,” said Kells. “That should be enough.”
“Not when he’s been toying with me, it isn’t,” I said. “He’s been feeding me information and steering me in Ten Ways since the beginning of this mess.”
“Was any of the information I gave you wrong?” said the cloaked figure.
“That’s not the point,” I said.
“It’s precisely the point,” said the figure. “You may not have liked the results, but you can’t say I didn’t take you where you wanted to go.”
“You could have at least said something about the damn Sashes!” I said.
“Would you have gone in if I had?”
“You son of a bitch!” I snapped. “You had no right to send me in there.” I gestured at Kells with my free hand. “I work for him, not you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand here and tell tales in front of someone who nearly got me dusted.”
“You’ll-” began the figure.
“You’ll do what I tell you, Drothe,” cut in Kells. “And right now, I’m telling you to report.”
I looked from Kells to the figure and back. What the hell was going on here? In all the years I had been reporting to him, Kells had always held our conversations in the strictest confidence. Even back when I’d been Nosing on the streets, before I became a Long Nose, he had stressed the importance of keeping our conversations private. Had my breaking my cover in Nicco’s organization changed things that much? I couldn’t imagine it; yet here he was telling me to spill in front of someone not in his organization.
It didn’t make sense.
Kells stepped in closer and stared me in the eye. “I told you to report,” he said. “Now do it.”
And that was when I saw it-there, with Kells less than a foot from me, his breath in my face, his posture hard, his neck stiff, and his eyes… worried. They were wide and wavering and pleading. I watched as they flicked off to one side toward the cloaked figure now behind him, then over my shoulder.
Kells wasn’t angry, I realized; he was scared. And he needed me to follow his lead.
I didn’t hesitate.
“Go to hell,” I said, stepping back and hoping I was playing it right.
“What?” said Kells.
“You heard me.” I glared from him to the cloaked man. “I’m done answering everyone else’s questions.”
“Done answering questions?” said Kells. “You’re a Nose, damn it-my Nose! Answering questions is what you do!”
“No!” I said. “Sifting information is what I do. Separating rumors from leads is what I do. Putting my ass on the line so I can get a better picture of the street is what I do. And I do it for you, not him.” I pointed at the looming figure off to my right. “I’m not going to spill anything until I get some answers about him; about what the hell is really going on in Ten Ways; and about that damn journal everyone wants!”
Kells stepped in close and raised a finger in my face. “Your job,” he snarled, “is to gather the pieces, not to assemble the puzzle. If I wanted you in the middle of things, I would have put you there. I didn’t. So don’t complain when I remind you of your job. You seem to need it.”
“Wait,” said the cloaked figure.
Kells winked. I pushed on, although I doubt I could have stopped if I’d wanted to.
“You make it sound like I want to be here,” I said. “Like I enjoy having my ass kicked by more people than I can count.” I gestured toward the door and the cordon beyond. “I’m in Ten Ways because Nicco sent me here, not because I wanted to come. And I stayed here because I didn’t want to see your organization go down the shit hole. Not that it isn’t on its way already, from what I’ve seen.”
Kells moved in even closer to me, the twinkle going out of his eye. “Are you saying I can’t run my own organization?”
This wasn’t a ruse anymore, I realized, but I no longer cared. It felt good to be saying this, to be laying it out in front of Kells. I’d gone through too much in the past seven years, let alone the past seven days, to be playing games anymore.
“I’m saying you should have taken this seriously when I first brought it to you,” I said. “You knew Nicco was going to come after you, but you had to try to play games.” I swept my hand toward the cordon beyond the room. “Well, what the hell has it got you?”