"Sariel's prosecution?" Belimai clarified.
"Yes."
"I suppose you refused to get out of the way. What am I saying? Of course you refused." Belimai shook his head. "You really are a damn saint, aren't you?"
"No, I'm not. I'm not even close. I've done mindless, stupid things." Harper closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry I accused you of going back to ophorium. I should have known you never would."
"I've always kept myself so clean before." Belimai smirked. "I probably would have lost my nerve halfway to Brighton, in any case."
"No," Harper said softly, almost to himself. He knew Belimai wouldn't have. He hadn't lost his nerve when Scott-Beck had sliced him open. It had taken trained Confessors months just to get a single name from him.
"And you have the audacity to accuse me of being a martyr," Harper said.
"I shouldn't have said that." Belimai bowed his head.
"It would have come out sooner or later." Harper shrugged.
"No." Belimai reached out and touched Harper's shoulder. "I only said it to hurt you. I wanted to make you feel as bad as I did." Belimai smiled. "It's my own little way of sharing what I have with you. Aren't you lucky?"
"I think I am." Harper almost winced at his own words. He sounded like a stumbling fool. "If you had gone to the Inquisition, Belimai...I don't know what I would have done."
Harper felt suddenly horrified at how close he had just come to losing Belimai. If he hadn't woken up when he did, Belimai would have simply slipped out the door and never have come back. The thought of such a loss tore deep into Harper's chest, like a physical pain. He wanted to tell Belimai how much it hurt him. He wanted to find the words that would convey just how desperately he yearned to keep Belimai's company. All that came to his mind were the fumbled first attempts of his youth, just a string of jumbled sounds whispered into his pillow. In the intervening two decades he had taught himself to say even less. The practice of silence and evasion was no longer an effort; it was his nature. He had spent too many years distancing himself from direct honesty, and now that he wanted to find the words to make his confession, he couldn't.
Harper caught Belimai's hand gently and pulled him closer.
"Do you remember the first time we slept together?" he asked.
"Yes." Belimai frowned slightly at the change of subject. "You were so drunk I'd be surprised if you did, though."
"I remember the morning after," Harper went on. "You wanted to make sure that I didn't harbor any romantic inclination toward you. I assured you that I didn't."
"I remember." Belimai watched him intently, as if the next words Harper said might cause the floor to collapse beneath them both.
"I may have lied," Harper admitted after a moment.
The change in Belimai's expression was fractional. The corners of his mouth curved up only an increment. His thin, black eyebrows lifted just a breath. It was only the slightest smile, but there was an open, joyful honesty to it that Harper had never seen in Belimai before.
"I'm glad to hear that," Belimai replied. He dropped down on to the bed beside Harper and leaned against him. The heat of Belimai's body soaked through the chill of Harper's clothes. Harper wrapped his arms around Belimai, taking comfort in the simple sensation of holding him.
"Harper?" Belimai asked after several minutes.
"Yes?"
"What's that in the bed?" Belimai pointed to where the crushed remains of a golden pastry lay pressed between two folds of the blanket. Harper laughed. He had forgotten about the butter pastries Morris had given him. It felt like that had happened days ago.
"My breakfast. There should be another one around here somewhere."
"I see." Belimai picked the pastry up. He examined its stiff, flattened form for a moment, then took a bite.
"A little stale, but still edible." Belimai held it out to him. "Hungry?"
"I don't suppose there would be anything else to eat here, would there?" Harper asked.
"I might still have a few decayed biscuits from when I was still bothering to poison the rats."
"You're not much of one for domestic bliss, are you?" Harper took a bite out of the butter pastry. It wasn't as bad as he expected. The slightly salty flavor reminded him a little of Belimai's skin. He took another bite.
"You're hardly one to talk," Belimai replied. "I've seen your townhouse. At least I have things on the walls.. .Well, on the floor now, but that's not my fault. Did you just eat all of that pastry?"
"There's another one in the bed somewhere," Harper replied after swallowing the last bite.
"Fine. Leave it to me to root around in the bed, searching for bits of food." Belimai shifted through the blankets and then frowned down over the edge of the bed. "It seems to have gone missing. Hey, there's my shoe though."
"I've already eaten my fill. The shoe's all yours," Harper replied.
"Very funny." Belimai pulled the shoe out from under the bed, then sat back up beside Harper. "So what are we going to do now?" he asked.
"I don't know," Harper replied.
"Don't you?" Belimai glanced at him.
"What do you mean?"
"You know very well what I mean. It isn't like you to not have a plan in mind. I doubt that you'd even be here if you weren't planning something."
Harper kept silent.
"Harper, I almost turned myself over to the Inquisition because I didn't know what was really going on," Belimai said. "Just tell me, all right?"
"You shouldn't get involved in this," Harper said.
"I shouldn't, but I'm going to. I know myself well enough to guarantee that I won't just sit here thumbing through some cheap novel while you're being hunted down by the Inquisition. You wouldn't let me do something like that alone; why should I let you?"
Harper gazed at Belimai for several moments. His argument was absurd and exasperating, but it was also right. Had their positions been reversed, Harper would never have abandoned Belimai, not even if Belimai told him to. He wouldn't have been able to respect himself if he did such a thing. At last he sighed and stood up.
"Let's go then," he said, "I'll explain things along the way."
Belimai shot up onto his feet with a victorious smile.
"If it makes any difference," he said as he pulled on his shoes, "I lied that first morning too."
"Really?" Harper asked.
"I did know where your cap was."
Harper smiled. "I thought as much."
Chapter Twelve
Dumbwaiter
The full moon glowed behind the clouds like a paper lantern hanging in the night sky. Diffused light gleamed off the wet stones of the White Chapel walls. The rain still fell, but not heavily. Harper hardly noticed it. It had been days since he had been completely dry.
At least the miserable weather kept the guards in the back kitchen near the fire. The rain disinclined them to investigate trivial noises or notice shadowy forms moving through the haze. They hunched by the bread ovens and sipped warmed cider as Harper and Belimai crept past.
The guards could afford to be a little careless. There was only one way to break into White Chapel, and that was to climb up to the wide windows at the very top of the massive structure. The rain served the guards far better than it did any intruder. Even on a dry night, the barbed bars and sheer stone offered little climbing surface. Tonight, the wet walls glistened like glass.