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Mahlia watched the sergeant go. He was just a kid. They were all just kids. All of them waving guns and killing one another, while a bunch of men who claimed they were older and wiser pushed them around. Maggots like Lieutenant Sayle and Colonel Stern and General Sachs.

He was just some kid who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A kid who turned out to be useful to men who didn’t give a damn about him, except to make sure he did what he was told. Just like Mouse.

“Hey!” she called to him. “Soldier boy!”

Ocho turned. “Yeah?”

An idea was forming in her mind. A gamble. A big one. It wasn’t the way she’d imagined it, but she thought it could work. She could make it work. She just needed to believe, and reach out to this soldier boy.

“You want to get out?” she asked. “Get out for good?”

She held her breath, praying that she wasn’t just some civvy to him. That he didn’t see her as a peacekeeper castoff or a traitor, any more than she saw him as a soldier. They were just two people, victims of something bigger than either of them. There weren’t any sides, and there weren’t any enemies.

She just needed to make him believe it, too.

“Out of here?” The sergeant smiled. “No way any of us is getting out. There’s nowhere to go, and no one to take us. Blockades all around. AOG gunning for the triple hash.” He touched his cheek. “There’s no way out, not for any of us.”

“Scavenge companies go in and out,” Mahlia said.

“We ain’t scavenge.”

“What if I know where we could get some?” she said. “Rich stuff. Can you get us to the blood buyers? Can you get us and some scavenge to the docks?”

“That treasure room of yours?” Ocho hesitated, then said, “I can’t leave my boys.”

Mahlia almost gave up on the idea. The thought of all of Ocho’s other troops scared the hell out of her. She swallowed. She was gambling, again. Gambling big.

“Can you lead them?” Mahlia asked. “Can you get them to follow you? To follow me? Can you give us protection?”

Tool looked at her with sudden surprise and respect as he figured out what she was planning. Another rumble of artillery rocked the building. Ocho looked up at the cracking ceiling, then at Mahlia.

“They’ll follow me,” he said. “If they’re still there, they’ll follow.”

Mahlia’s heart was beating faster. She was going to do it. For real. She was getting out. She hugged Mouse close, one last time, and let him go.

45

CHAOS REIGNED IN the palace. Artillery fire rained down. Soldiers milled in groups, unsure of what they were supposed to do.

A few Eagle Guards were still around, trying to organize, but it seemed that Tool had destroyed everyone who had witnessed what had happened in the command center. And now, under fire, people were scrambling, more concerned for their own skins than anyone else’s.

Ocho led them into the rotunda, leaning against Mahlia and limping. His soldiers straightened and started to raise their weapons when they saw the half-man and the girl, but he waved them down.

“Where’s the LT?” they all asked, staring.

“He’s replaced,” Ocho said.

“By who?” Stork asked.

“Me,” Ocho said. Then he pointed at Mahlia and Tool. “And them. We’re all together now.”

There was a long silence. Ocho held Stork’s gaze until the taller boy nodded acquiescence.

“Good.”

Ocho started outlining orders to the platoon, organizing them all. He sent some to gather ordnance while he had someone strap his leg better, and then he had them all moving, a gathered knot of protection with Mahlia and Tool at their center.

Mahlia watched in awe as his platoon marched them right through the heart of the UPF. Soldiers ran hither and thither, preparing for a final battle that they couldn’t win, but no one had time for an armed platoon that seemed to have orders. They made it outside, squinting in the bright sunlight. Down the length of the lake, Mahlia could see the mouth of the river and the sea. Her goal, beckoning.

Another artillery round came screaming down. The dome of the palace shattered, crumbling inward. Soldier boys screamed and scattered in all directions, but Ocho kept his command, ordering them all down the stairs for the water. Ahead, Mahlia saw blood buyers struggling to load scavenge into their zodiac rafts.

She pointed at them, and Ocho nodded and shouted more orders. Everyone changed course, preparing for a fight, but then Tool pushed into the lead.

It was like watching a hurricane. One moment he was with her, the next he was among the blood buyers and their guards, hurling them aside. By the time Mahlia and the soldier boys reached the rafts, guards and blood buyers were thrashing in the water or running for their lives, all of them disarmed and harmless.

Mahlia and the soldiers piled into the zodiacs and fired them up. Tool leaped aboard. Mahlia’s zodiac tipped threateningly under his weight, but then it was upright again and they were buzzing up the length of the lake, following Mahlia’s directions, then cutting off into the canals.

All around, the city seethed with movement. People preparing for the Army of God’s assault. Civvies running for cover, grabbing last belongings. Soldiers setting up defensive positions.

To Mahlia, it was so much like the last time the warlords came, when they’d swamped the place that she’d grown up in, that she couldn’t help but feel terror at the approaching violence. She remembered troops storming from building to building, hunting every single person who had collaborated. Dragging people out onto boardwalks and executing them. Her mother trying to help her hide before the soldier boys burst in on them.

And now it was going to happen again. Another wave of violence as the UPF collapsed and new warlords rushed to fill the vacuum.

Ahead, her old apartment came into view. Mahlia pointed. Ocho nodded. “Yeah. I thought so.”

The zodiacs slowed. Nearly two dozen soldier boys piled out and dashed into the building. Mahlia pressed the hidden places in the wall, praying to the Fates…

It opened.

Before her, the warehouse lay waiting. Her mother’s collection. Her father’s hoarding. All of it still there. None of it looted yet. Stern hadn’t had a chance to do anything with this news. Or maybe the lieutenant had never reported it. It was all here. Paintings and statuary and ancient books. The treasure trove of a dead nation.

“Round it up,” Mahlia said. “Get as much as you can. Whatever fits.”

They grabbed great armfuls of scavenge. Old muskets. Uniforms of blue and gray. Banners with circlets of stars on blue backgrounds. Yellowed parchments. Everything that they could find that was light and could be loaded into the zodiacs.

“Is this going to work?” Ocho asked as they heaved more pieces of art and history into the zodiacs where they bobbed beside the boardwalk. “You think we can really buy out?”

Tool answered for Mahlia. “With your soldiers to escort, and Mahlia to bargain with the blood buyers, it will. You will win free.”

Mahlia looked over at Tool. Something in his tone worried her. “You will, too,” she said. “We can all get out like this. There’s plenty here to buy us all out.”

“No.” Tool shook his head. “They will not welcome my kind. I must go another way.”

“But…” Mahlia hesitated. “What will happen to you? You can’t stay here.”

Tool almost smiled. “Let me be the judge of that. The Drowned Cities may not be a place for you, but to me…” He paused and sniffed the air. “This smells like home.”

With a chill, Mahlia remembered what the Colonel had said when he had them trapped, about half-men not being able to live without a patron.