Chapter Twenty-Two. Gin #2
Silva. Rollo’s maid who delivered me breakfast every morning.
The one he trusted with his secrets. She doesn’t seem to remember that I didn’t work there, but was hidden in his room.
Before I answer, Silva says, “I work for House Dominant now. Lord Rollo found a better situation for me. When I’m not here, that is.
” Figures. Many Ophir take one or two or three servile gigs just to be able to afford to eat gruel and keep a tin roof over our heads.
At least she doesn’t remember where she knows me exactly.
It feels like hundreds of pounds of pressure leave my body.
But hearing Rollo’s name is painful. It reminds me of all I’d lost. Eban saves me.
“How are the holiday preparations going? At House Dominant, I mean? Lady Emilia means to best Lady Ariadne’s Liberation Day Ball? ”
“Oh, you know it. Lady Emilia can’t stop talking about how her Liberation Day party will be the one everyone talks about. Yeah, it’s busy, as usual. I was there today making deliveries for the feast. Still more tomorrow.”
“Is your lady still looking for help?”
“Oh yes, she’s already fretting that she doesn’t have enough footmen and kitchen maids. She needs far more than usual, even,” Silva adds. “I think this party is going to be the biggest Lacon has ever seen. They say there’s even going to be a tournament. Are you two interested in getting work?”
“Yes, if jobs are still open?” Eban asks.
“I think they’re still looking for people to work in the storeroom. There’s a lot of heavy lifting to be done down there and so those are hard to fill.”
“Jobs in the storeroom, huh?” Eban says mildly. “Would that be underground … near the vault, perhaps?” A daring question and I hold my breath.
Silva looks at him intently before replying. She looks around, then leans down, lowering her voice. “Yes, near the vault … It’s heavily guarded, though. I’d use a lot of caution, if I were going down there.”
Eban nods.
She hesitates, as if she’s fighting an internal battle, then shakes her head at herself. “You’re Eban, aren’t you? You used to work with Vergel.”
“Yes.” Eban’s cheek twitches.
“I thought so. He was a good boy, Vergel. He was from the southern garrets, like me. I knew his family, when they were alive, that is. You should be careful,” she says.
“There’s still a bounty on your head and word is that it’s quadrupled.
Whatever you did, I’ve never seen the Blackcoats so riled up.
” She looks around again, making sure no one’s watching.
“I don’t want to know what you’re planning and it’s best if I don’t.
But I will tell you there’s another way into the vault.
A passageway from a tunnel through the cliffs, hidden in a cove only accessible from the sea. ”
Eban raises his eyebrows and leans forward. “Is there now?”
“House Dominant has underground tunnels that only the servants use, and they lead straight to the vault.”
“What did you lose to the Lacon?” Eban asks.
Silva’s eyes dim. “My brother. He stole an orange from a cart meant for Lady Emilia’s table. One orange. He was a child. They beat him to death.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, but it’s not enough. Nothing will ever be enough.
“Don’t be sorry,” Silva says. She reaches out and grabs my hand. “Avenge him instead.”
“We’ll give you a cut, of course,” Eban says. “Of whatever we take.”
“That’s fine,” Silva says, leaning back in her seat again. “If you make it out alive. Honestly, watching them get cleaned out is enough pay for me.” She motions her head to the back room of the pub. “I’ve been skimming off the top as it is. I’ll get whatever I can out of these monsters.”
Before we leave, Eban presses a few silver takas into Silva’s hand and thanks her.
She pockets them and nods. “Like I said. I don’t need thanks. Just revenge.”
As we leave the pub, I stop cold. Eban walks a few steps ahead before he realizes I’m not following him and turns around. “What is it?” He scans our surroundings, looking for the threat.
I wasn’t sure at first, but yes, it’s definitely him.
A young aristocrat, holding an automated dog in his arms.
Rollo.
Lord Rodolfo de Allende of House Eternal.
Flanked by two of his bodyguards as he hands out copper piloncitos to Ophir children in the street and allows them to pet the mechanical creature.
I remember, then, that the night he rescued me from Madame Verona’s goons wasn’t the first time I’d met him.
I’d seen him around the Sleeve before then, this highborn lord doling out charity to hungry street urchins.
I’d caught his eye, then refused his coin.
“Nothing from an estate born is free,” I’d told him.
Rather than turn him off, it intrigued him.
He’d been persistent, returning the next night, and the next, trying to get my attention.
It wasn’t until I was lying on the street, helpless and vulnerable, when he came to my aid, that I saw something other than a threat in him—I saw a protector.
And more than that, if I’m truly honest with myself, I saw a way out of the Sleeve.
I realize now that Rollo had always styled himself as a savior of the Ophir.
A benevolent patron. It eases his guilt.
Strokes his ego. And keeps him entertained.
That big bedroom must be awfully lonely without me.
No one to keep him company, no one to listen to his theories on science and mechanics. How automatons are the future.
He’s dressed in his fine, beautiful clothes, and he smiles indulgently as the dirty children surround him.
I feel sickened by the sight. What did I ever see in him?
How did I ever think I felt anything for someone so patently oblivious and smug?
I thought he was kind, that he was generous and brave.
But now—seeing him cosseted by his wealth, protected by his entourage—I realize that his generosity is merely a ploy, a way to convince himself he’s not a villain.
To assure himself that he’s not like the other Lacon, that he’s better than the others of his kind.
Perhaps that’s all I was: a pet like the one he’s holding.
A project. It made him feel good to spoil and pamper me.
Saving my life was probably just an adrenaline rush.
Did he ever care about me? Or did he only care about making himself feel better?
I think I have my answer.