Through the drifting clouds of dust, figures began to stir. He was a little disgusted with himself as relief washed over him. They were his enemies. He should crow victory at their defeat, be angered that they still lived. But he didn’t want them dead, not really. Didn’t want any more blood on his hands. He glanced to Tibs, to the guilty smear down the side of his head, then sharply away. Too late for clean hands.
Pelkaia and Coss stumbled up alongside them, and they all knelt down behind the false shield of the rubble he’d wrought, praying to the sweet skies Aella hadn’t spotted them yet.
“What now?” Pelkaia hissed, all business, not willing to delve into a finger-pointing match until they were safely away and she could take her time clobbering him.
Behind them, the Remnant’s doors began to disgorge a stream of disheveled, confused guards. Detan dared to hope the distraction was at least enough to give Ripka a clearer path to safety.
“I suggest you put the mean face back on,” he said.
“Why bother? She can yank it away at any moment, blasted girl has grown too strong.”
Detan caught Coss’s eye. The rumpled man’s brows shot up as understanding passed between them. Coss nodded.
“Not,” Detan said, “if we can keep her busy, and hope Ripka can get the Larkspur pointed our way in a hurry.”
“Bad plan,” Tibs said.
“Only one I got.”
“Honding,” Aella’s voice rang out, sing-song, through the dust and destruction, “you’ve been a very naughty boy.”
He gathered himself, and stood to face his fears.
Chapter Forty-One
Ripka took a step backward, giving ground to Kisser and her guards. They herded her back until her thighs pressed against the low, thick edge of Nouli’s worktable. Honey lingered to her left, fingers tapping against her hip to some internal song. She had to diffuse this, quickly. Before it grew into a bloodbath they couldn’t escape drowning in.
“He wants out,” Ripka said, tipping her head toward Nouli without taking her gaze from Kisser. “See? All packed and ready to go. Wants to take you with him. We can do that. I can get you out of here, Kanaea. Back to the mainland.”
She snorted and kicked a crate out of her path. “You think I want to stay here forever?”
“You didn’t sell us out?”
“To the sand munchers? I might have whispered in their ear. But make no mistake, I want off this rock as much as you do, lil’ Miss Leshe. I’ve just got my own methods, my own loyalties, and you’re not on that list.”
“Loyalty?” Nouli clutched his bag to his chest, cheeks red. “You lecture on loyalty, child? Child of my sister? What do you know of it save that you scorned it?”
“Whoa,” Ripka held her hands out to Nouli and Kanaea, standing sideways between them. In the corner of her eye Enard slipped to the side, angling himself nearer the biggest of Kanaea’s pet guards. “I don’t know what blood’s gone sour between you two, but I know it’s not Nouli running around with the Glasseaters.” She jerked her chin at the two bruisers.
Kanaea snorted. “You think these men are Glasseaters? Are you crazy? Those rats are taking cheese from Radu’s hand, not mine. Not the empire’s. We all know it. Been traipsing around here like they own the place, getting freedoms no one else has to go tend their mudleaf crops. Radu thinks the inmates don’t notice, but they do. Guards do, too.” She tipped her head to the man standing closest to Enard. “That’s why they help us – help the empire–” her lip curled over the word, “because good men and women don’t want to bend knee to Radu and his scheming.”
“And yet you set them on us,” Ripka snapped.
She rolled her eyes. “Poorly, it seems. Thought those dogs had more teeth.”
“You sold them out!” The satchel squeaked in Nouli’s grip.
“Yes, Uncle, I did. For your own good.”
The guard nearest Enard stepped forward. Enard caught her eye, a question, and she gave a slight shake of the head. Best not escalate the situation until they had no choice. Nouli was a frail man, addled by age and addiction both. And she still held out hope of taking Kanaea and her chemical genius with them. If not for the saving of Hond Steading, then at the very least to keep her out of Valathea’s hands.
“Master Bern,” the guard said, “is it true that these two have devised a way for you to escape the Remnant?”
“Yes. These people, they’ve brought a way.”
“A way that is rapidly losing viability,” Ripka said, trying hard not to glance at the window she’d crawled through and think of the confrontation brewing in her wake. “We must go, now. If you both do want to leave, then–”
“I can leave whenever I want,” Kisser said. “The empress may want Uncle on lockdown, but no one cares what his sweet niece is up to. Not even Warden Baset would hold me here if I requested it. I’m just not ready yet. I don’t need you.”
“And would Radu let you walk if he knew about this?” Ripka waved a hand over Nouli’s worktable. “He’s hunting the source of Nouli’s experiments. It’s only a matter of time until he has you both hung for dipping into his profits.”
“Profits?” Nouli’s voice was tight, barely restrained. “You told me the subjects were addicts seeking temporary relief from their suffering. You said nothing about profits!”
Kisser spit and jerked her head to one of the guards at her side. “Protection doesn’t come cheap, Uncle, and I couldn’t let Radu know what you were up to until we had solid footing, not with the way Thratia has him wrapped around her fingers. The stuff works. My leaks via the guards into Petrastad are proof enough of that. We could make a fortune, selling it on both sides of the war. Me to the empire, and Radu to Thratia. Think of the gold. We could rebuild the Bern estates anew. You could rebuild your library.” Her eyes shone with genuine, if sickening passion. Ripka looked away, unable to stomach the stark fanaticism in her face.
“You mean this? Truly?” Nouli asked, his voice firm, even. Ripka admired him for that.
“You’ve earned it! This exile is a farce and everyone knows it. We need only the grains to restore you to your proper place.”
“To restore the Berns to their proper place,” he echoed.
“Yes!” Her fists clenched over her chest and she leaned toward him. Hopeful, vulnerable.
“No,” Nouli said.
“What–”
He kicked the leg of his table, a practiced jab, and the whole workstation collapsed in a rain of broken glass and spilt chemicals. Ripka jumped away as the many-colored fluids began to pool together. To fume wisps of cobalt smoke.
“Idiot!” Kisser hissed. “Honey, restrain that one.” She flicked a hand at Ripka and advanced upon her uncle. Nouli stepped backward, hesitant, his eyes glued upon the swirling puddles of his concoctions. Sweat sheened his brow, and Ripka realized he was waiting for something she didn’t want to wait around to see.
Honey didn’t say a word to Kisser. She slipped forward, smooth as a viper, stuck her knife in the neck of the guard closest to her, humming a soft tune as she danced away from his crumpling, spasming body.
Kisser whirled toward her once-accomplice, eyes wide. Honey grabbed her hair, yanked so that she bent over backwards and fell hard to the ground. The other guard turned toward them. Nouli’s eyes bulged.
“Get out!” Ripka barked, leaping over the felled guard and Kisser to grab Nouli’s arm and haul him out into the hall. Shouts and stomps and curses echoed behind her but she pushed on, shoving Nouli ahead, praying to the blue skies he knew where he was going.