Chapter 12
The meeting with Gideon was set for noon. Cypher insisted the entire crew come—a show of force, he called it. Safety in numbers. I wore my best clothes and the First Anchor prominently around my neck. If Gideon tried anything, I wanted him to see what I was capable of. What I'd become.
We arrived precisely on time. The same terra elemental woman answered the door, but this time her expression held a flicker of respect when she saw Cypher wearing the crown under his hood. She led us to a private room in the back, away from prying eyes.
Gideon sat behind an enormous desk. He stood when we entered, his calculating eyes sweeping over our group before settling on Cypher.
I noticed his fingers twitch, as if he was seconds from drawing a weapon.
As if it was second nature to expect trouble.
I would be glad when business with Pike was over and done.
"Captain. I see you survived Nytheris."
"As promised." Cypher pulled the codex from his pack and set it on the desk. "The codex. As requested."
Gideon reached for it almost reverently, his fingers trembling slightly as they touched the leather binding. "Incredible. I never actually believed it existed."
"It exists. And it's yours, as per our agreement." Cypher's voice was flat. "Now. Payment."
"Of course." Gideon pulled out two heavy coin purses and set them on the desk. "Five thousand two hundred and fifty sovereigns for the girl, minding your negotiated advance. Twenty thousand for you. As agreed."
I stepped forward and took my purse, feeling its weight. This was it. Enough money to hire the best lawyer in the city. Enough to save my father.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Gideon said, already opening the codex. His eyes widened as he saw the first page. "This is... the original Nytherian script. I'll need time to have it translated."
"Take all the time you need," Cypher said. "We'll be leaving the city within two weeks."
Gideon looked up then. "Leaving? Why the rush?"
"I have business elsewhere. Personal business. I'm sure you understand."
Something flickered across Gideon's face, but he simply nodded. "Of course. Safe travels, Captain."
We left quickly, not speaking until we were several streets away. Then Jask let out a breath. "That went better than expected."
"Too well," I said. "Did you see his face when Cypher mentioned leaving? He suspected something."
"Let him suspect. By the time he figures out the codex won't work for him, we'll be ready to set off. We'll grab it and go." Cypher turned to me. "First priority—get your father out of the Dredge. How quickly can you hire a lawyer?"
"I know one. Marcellus Finn. He's expensive but excellent. If I go to him today, he might be able to start proceedings tomorrow."
"I'll come with you."
"No. I need to do this myself. It's my father, my responsibility. If I walk in there with you being—" I gestured vaguely from his toes to his head, "—well, you, then I won't be taken seriously and he'll see it as intimidation."
Cypher's brow furrowed, mouth opening to object, but Kora cut him off. "She needs to do this without you brooding over her."
He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Vic accompanies you. That's my condition."
I arched a brow up at him. "Condition? As of the handoff, I'm no longer part of your crew, and therefore—" I measured the steel in his eyes as he turned to face me fully, against the energy it would take to fight him on this.
Not worth it. "Vic it is, then." My sigh could have been heard across the city.
Marcellus Finn's office occupied the top floor of a building in the legal district. It was all dark wood and leather chairs, filled with law books and certificates of commendation. The man was older, maybe sixty, with cunning, intelligent eyes.
"Miss Farren," he said when his secretary showed us in. "I've been expecting you."
That brought me up short. "You have?"
He gestured to a pair of chairs. "Please, sit. Tell me what you need."
I laid out the situation. Father's arrest for illegal distribution of anchor crystals, his incarceration in the Dredge, my need to secure his release.
When I finished, Marcellus steepled his fingers.
"The charge is serious. The Assembly doesn't look kindly on unsanctioned anchor distribution.
However, there are mitigating factors. Your father has no prior offenses.
He's well-respected in the community. And if we can argue that his clients had legitimate need...
" He trailed off, thinking. "I can do this. But it will take time and money."
"How much money?"
"My retainer is two thousand sovereigns. The total cost, including bribes and administrative fees, will likely run to four thousand."
I had six thousand. Enough for the lawyer and my mom's medicine for several months. It would work.
"I can pay that."
"Excellent. I'll begin proceedings immediately. With luck, we can have him before a tribunal within two weeks. Actual release..." He spread his hands. "A month, perhaps. Maybe less if we're fortunate."
A month. My father would spend another month in the Dredge. But then he'd be free.
I paid Marcellus's retainer and left his office feeling lighter than I had in weeks. Vic walked beside me in companionable silence until we were halfway back to the docks.
"You did good," he said. "Your father's lucky to have you."
"I'm lucky to have him." I clutched the remaining coin purse. "I need to stop at the apothecary. Get more medicine for my mom."
We made the detour, and I bought six months' worth of lung tonics. Pia packed them carefully and gave me a sympathetic smile. "Your mom is fortunate to have such a devoted daughter."
I wasn't sure about that. A truly devoted daughter wouldn't be planning to leave.
We left the apothecary, with the tonics, and something in me settled now that they were in my hands. Vic walked beside me, his eyes thoughtful as we navigated the crowded streets.
"Your mother's condition," he said suddenly. "What exactly is it? I've heard you mention tonics, but never the illness itself."
I hesitated. My mother's illness wasn't something I discussed often, partly because it hurt to talk about, partly because there was so little to say.
"We don't know what it is," I admitted. "That's the worst part. It started years ago when I was young. Her lungs began filling with this dark fluid. At first, we thought it would pass with rest, but it never went away. It just kept getting worse."
Vic's brow furrowed. "Dark fluid? What color exactly?"
"Almost black. She chokes on it sometimes." My breath caught, remembering the sounds of her late night gasping. "We have to give her this tonic that opens her airways and dissolves the fluid enough for her to breathe again. But it's just managing symptoms, not curing anything."
"Have you consulted specialists? Someone with advanced healing abilities?"
"Everyone we could afford. No one's seen anything like it." I kicked at a loose stone in our path. "The best theory anyone had was exposure to void energy, but that doesn't make sense. My mother never traveled through the Gallery."
Vic was quiet for several steps, his eyes distant with thought. I recognized that expression—the same look he got when examining a complex injury or studying the codex. His mind was turning over possibilities, examining angles, filing away information.
"What about your father? Did he ever bring home materials from his work? Anything unusual?"
"Just anchor crystals. But our home is work. We live in our shop." I shrugged. "Believe me, we've been over this a thousand times. There's no explanation that makes sense."
"Hmm." The sound was noncommittal, but I could practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes. His fingers tapped against his leg, a rhythm that likely matched his thoughts.
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" I asked, unable to keep the small smile from my face.
He looked surprised, then sheepish, adjusting his eyeglasses. "That obvious?"
"You have a particular expression when something catches your interest. Like a hound that's caught a scent."
"I like puzzles," he admitted. "And medical mysteries are the most interesting kind. The human body is such a complex system. When something goes wrong, there's always a reason, even if it's not immediately apparent."
We turned onto the street leading to the docks, The Night-Piercer's masts visible in the distance. "You think you can solve what a dozen healers couldn't?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I'd like to try, if you'll let me. I've seen conditions in different realms that might provide insight. And the crew has contacts across the Gallery—healers with specialized knowledge."
Hope flickered in my chest. It was a dangerous feeling. I'd learned long ago not to hope too much when it came to my mother's illness. It only made the disappointment heavier when new treatments failed.
"I can't pay you," I said. "Not after the lawyer and the medicine."
"I'm not asking for payment. I'm offering as a friend. As someone who cares about the crew. About you."
I swallowed hard. "Then yes. I'd appreciate your help."
We reached the ship and paused at the gangplank. Vic's expression had shifted from thoughtful to determined. "I'll need to examine her. And fluid samples, if possible. The more information I have, the better chance I have of understanding what we're dealing with."
"I'll take you to see her tomorrow," I promised. "But don't tell her you're trying to cure her. She's had her hopes raised and dashed too many times already."
"Understood." He hesitated. "And Juno? Whatever you decide, about staying with the crew or returning to your old life, I hope you know we all care about you. You've become part of our family."
Family. Is that what the crew had become to me? People I could trust, people who would stand beside me no matter what?
"Thank you," I managed, fighting to keep those damn tears at bay.