Jerrod
has only gone a few blocks into the Maze when he becomes aware of the figure flitting across the rooftops overhead. It is clear that the moving shadow is following him: pausing when he pauses, turning as he turns.
For a moment, a cold finger of unease touches the back of his spine. He knows that chilly slide of nerves well; he has grown up with it on the streets of Castellane.
He steps carelessly into the middle of Arsenal Road, passing a series of ramshackle stalls that sell everything from false jewelry to soup (a penny cheaper if you bring your own bowl), then looks up and sideways. The figure is still there, gliding along the tops of warehouses.
He turns a corner abruptly, taking him deeper into the space between the Maze and the Key; he can smell the salt-rot stench of ocean water here, lapping against the shore. The alley is narrow and dirty, lined with stacks of empty, splintered boxes.
It was in an alley like this that Kel had nearly died. It is a moment does not enjoy dwelling on. He remembers how angry Prosper Beck had been when he’d returned with the news that they’d caught the wrong fish in their net: not the Prince, but his Sword Catcher. Beck had kicked the wall with a booted foot. Kel was never supposed to be harmed, , you ought to have known that.
He looks up now to where a strip of gray-blue sky shows between the roofs above. “Ji-An,” he says, “get down from there. I know it’s you, sneaking around.”
She lands lightly in front of him. She wears a silk jacket and trousers of a violet color so dark, it is nearly black. He remembers catching a glimpse of her on the rooftop that night Kel nearly died, a flick of shadow against a darker sky. “I do have a distinctive manner of sneaking,” she says. “Were you worried I was her? The Malgasi woman?”
“Perhaps for a moment. But much as she may dislike me, I doubt I am high on her list of priorities.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why have you been following me? Do you miss me that badly?”
She smiles coolly. “I’m just wondering what Prosper Beck plans to do with all those weapons you’ve stuffed into that warehouse. You are working for Beck, aren’t you?”
leans his back against a stack of crates. “You knew I was Beck’s man when you let me into the Black Mansion.”
“You said he was gone.”
“Well,” says. “He came back.”
Ji-An slowly shakes her head. She doesn’t seem angry, which surprises . He would have thought she, of all of them, would be the least forgiving. “How long were you in touch with him before you decided to quit on us?” she says. “You were the least surprised about what happened on Tyndaris with the Malgasi woman. Did you know about her because of Beck?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What does he hold over you?” she asks. “You were perfectly happy with us. I know you were.”
“Prosper Beck saved my life.” Clouds are gathering overhead, further graying the sky. “I owe him. Like you owe Morettus.”
Her expression softens. “Should we be worried about what information you plan to share with him?”
“No. Beck’s not your enemy. I don’t know what the weapons are for. Selling, probably—”
Ji-An’s eyes narrow. “Selling to Malgasi?”
“Definitely not.” I wish I could tell you all of it. “Malgasi hate every one of us. They’re the threat. Not Beck.”
“Hmm.” She bites her lip. “What are you not telling me?”
“I’m telling you everything I can,” says, and that, at least, is the whole truth. “That’s why I left the mansion. There was too much I couldn’t tell any of you. I don’t mind lying, but not to people I...”
Now she smiles. “Like?”
crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“Merren misses you, you know,” she says. “He isn’t even interested in experiments anymore. Just sits around staring at his alembics. Moping.” She examines her nails. “Sighing.”
glares at her. “Why are you telling me this?”
She straightens up, giving him a hard look. “I want you to promise on Merren’s life that Beck isn’t stockpiling these weapons to use them against the Ragpicker King or any of us.”
nods. “I can promise you that.”
The hard look softens slowly into something else. It certainly isn’t a look of trust, but it isn’t hatred, either. supposes he should take what he can get.
“Good enough,” Ji-An says, and—with a flick of shadow—disappears into the darkness, a moment before the sky opens up and pours down rain.