I grabbed her shoulder and swung her around. “You don’t understand,” I snapped. “You don’t have a choice. It’s me or the degans-it’s that simple.”
“No, it’s not!” she said. “I’ve already broken the oath I took to the emperor once. I’m not going to do it again.”
“Your oath?” I said. “Screw your oath! Let me tell you something about promises; they aren’t blind, they aren’t immutable, and they aren’t fragile. I’ve seen more oaths and promises broken in the last few days than I want to think about, but I learned something about them in the process-you can’t keep every one of them. No matter how hard you try, it’s just not possible. So you have to choose, not only which ones you are going to keep, but how you’re going to keep them. You have to look behind the words, behind what you want them to mean, and see what they’re really about.
“It’s easy to hold on to the idea of what the words meant to you when you spoke them, but that’s not what it means to take an oath. A promise like that has to change as you change, and more important, it has to be able to adjust to fit whatever the world throws at you. The question isn’t whether or not you keep your word; the question is whether or not you keep the intentions behind the words.” Even if your Order disagrees with you, I thought. I understood that now. “If you walk away from me, you not only don’t bring the emperor back the book he wants, you also put yourself in debt to the degans. You, a White Sash, trusted guardian of the emperor, will be beholden to them. You had an agreement with Iron Degan, but who knows what the hell they will ask you to do?”
Lyria looked away. I didn’t bother telling her the degans essentially had a job similar to hers, only with a slightly broader focus. That wouldn’t exactly help my case right now.
“Listen,” I said, “you can draw this line now, after you’ve already crossed it once, and pretend you’re pure, but we both know that’s a lie. The degans will come collecting, and you’ll be in it even deeper. Or you can do this one thing and walk away clean from any other obligations. Which one serves the emperor better in the long run?”
Lyria looked up at the walls of the Imperial cordon, seeing beyond the brick and mortar.
“Why do you want me to lie about the book?” she said.
“Because it’s the only way to keep you and your friends from tearing apart the city-and some of my friends-looking for it. The only way they’ll be safe is if the emperor thinks the book is cinders.” The only way your boss won’t skin me alive for what I know, I thought, but didn’t say.
Lyria let out a slow breath. When she spoke, I almost couldn’t hear her, it was so soft, so final. “Fine. What do I do?”
I reached into the satchel and partially withdrew the charred remains of the journal. There was just enough left to identify the book as Ioclaudia’s, but not enough to be able to tell that pieces were missing. I’d burned it myself once I had gotten away from the warehouse.
“When the fire dies down in Ten Ways, you’ll go back to the warehouse in the Barren where the other two Whites were…” I paused, the rest of the sentence hanging in the air between us. Lyria took a slow, dangerous breath. “Where your brothers died,” I amended. “You’ll find this book there, along with whatever’s left of a body and a sword. Leave the sword, but take this. I’ll make sure it looks as if the book was spared in the fire.”
I slid the remains of the journal back into the satchel, then drew out a small cloth-wrapped case. “Here, take this, too. It might help you get in good with your boss.”
Lyria reached for it, then hesitated. “What is it?”
“A relic,” I said. A bribe, I thought. “The reliquary is a bit worse for wear, but the artifact itself is all right.” It’s meant to keep you from being too pissed off at my using you. I pushed it into her hands. “It’s the pen Theodoi used to write the Second Apologia.” I don’t need any new enemies right now.
“How did…?”
“Long story,” I said. “You’re better off not asking.”
Lyria stared at the bundle for a moment, then carefully slipped it into her belt. “And after this, I never see you again, correct?”
“Not even in your dreams,” I said.
“You’d better hope not,” she said. Then she extended her hand.
I looked at it, surprised, and reached, out of habit, to exchange the Clasp. Except she wasn’t Kin. Our fingers brushed, and then she was grabbing my wrist and using it to hold me while she drove her knee into my stomach.
I doubled over, collapsed to my knees, and started retching.
“Can’t have it look like we’re parting on good terms,” explained Lyria coolly from above. “People might get suspicious.” I watched her boots as she walked away.
If I’d had any breath left in me, I would have laughed. Instead, I gasped and watched my lunch spread itself across the cobbles.
I was just starting to suck air back into my lungs when a pair of soft brown shoes came walking up and stopped beside me. The legs sprouting out of the shoes wore faded red stockings.
“Still making friends wherever you go, I see.”
I knew the voice. It was one I shouldn’t be hearing. I pushed myself into a sitting position and looked up at Kells.
My heart surged in my chest at seeing him alive, but I wasn’t sure if it was out of joy or fear. He was healthy, hale, and even looked to have put on a couple of pounds. He was also smiling.
That couldn’t be good.
My wrist knife was in my hand in an instant.
“Ah-ah!” said Kells, raising a scolding finger. “The Sashes are watching, and they tend to frown on what you’re thinking about doing.”
“Two Kin trying to kill each other in the street?” I said, rising to my feet. “What would they care?”
“We’re Kin-they’ll care, on principle, if nothing else.” Kells looked me up and down. “Secondhand clothes, same old boots, a freshly bruised face-at least I know you didn’t cross me for money.”
“I didn’t cross you,” I said.
“No,” said Kells coolly. “You abandoned me. You left me swinging in the breeze, at Nicco’s mercy, trapped in a cordon surrounded by imperial troops. ‘Cross’ doesn’t even begin to describe the totally thorough screwing you gave me.”
I tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t. I had an explanation, of course, but didn’t offer it. No matter what I said, it would sound like an excuse. All Kells knew was that I hadn’t followed his instructions, that I hadn’t brought him the journal so he could hand it over to Shadow. Thanks to me, he was an Upright Man without an organization; a fallen Kin wandering the streets-just like me.
Kells didn’t want excuses, and I didn’t insult him by offering any.
“I swore I’d make you pay for that,” he said. “Pay long and hard. And I will-don’t worry-but not like you might think.” I tensed. Kells sighed. “Come on,” he said, stepping past me. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
I was so stunned, I simply stood there.
Kells stopped and turned around. “What?” he said, obviously enjoying my confusion. “You don’t think I’d dust you now, do you? You’re off-limits. If I even tried to touch you, Solitude would have my ass.”
“Solitude?”
“How hard did that Sash hit you, Drothe? You were the one who cut the deal to get me out of Ten Ways, remember? Solitude kept her promise-she got me and half of my people out of there before the Imperials waded in in real force. I work for her now.” Kells began walking again. I followed without thinking.
“You work for Solitude?” I said.
“Ironic, isn’t it?”
“That’s one word for it. I didn’t expect Solitude to honor any part of my deal with her after what I did.”
“You mean after you played her?” said Kells. “I wouldn’t have, either, but she’s a different creature. Even after you came up short, she stepped in and used your name to get my attention. Before I knew it, we were exchanging the Clasp. I can’t say I’m thrilled at the terms, but I’m alive, and so are a lot of my people; I can’t fault her for that.”
“You can’t fault her,” I said. “But what about me?”