Page 44

Tess sighed. “And why do you think we brought in a fuckin’ earth Charmer?”

Briggs gave me a furtive raised eyebrow. I felt a prickle of discomfit.

“As for the river,” Patrick interjected, “Theodore here will accompany, of course. He’s already improved the existing tunnels running south and west. He’ll divert the water, should it become a problem.”

“Oh, it’ll be a fuckin’ problem all right, Pat. It’s the fuckin’ Gyser River.”

The Gyser River was the continent’s longest and widest. It barreled through the Trench at impossible speed, splitting the brink in the east from Artisan-populated towns in the west, including Belavere City.

“You can strut that tunnel in as much timber as you want and pack it full of Charmers. They’ll still drown the same. It’s impossible.”

“Then by all means, brother, back out.” Patrick said. The dare sounded like a bullet sliding into its chamber.

Gunner glared, his upper lip curling slightly to reveal that strange tooth. But he said nothing. In the space of his inaction, Patrick continued.

“That goes for anyone else who wants no part in this. It’ll be dangerous. I won’t claim that the path will be smooth—and even if we get there, there’s no promise of return.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell us what you intend to do in Belavere City, assuming we make it through?” Theo asked. He did not shy away from the volume of his own voice. He looked Patrick square in the eye.

But Patrick remained impenetrable. “Two years ago, a mission into the city took a turn, and several men were taken prisoner at the National Artisan House. I intend to retrieve those men.”

Tess turned her back at the mention of prisoners, muttering something I could not hear.

Theo seemed unsatisfied. “Surely that’s not all you plan to do. I’ve proven my loyalty to you enough times, Pat,” he said, standing his ground. “I deserve to know the full scope of things.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows at Theo’s tenacity. “Your job is to get us through those tunnels without them flooding. What more should you know, Charmer?”

“I should know if the people I’m leading into the capital intend to gun down every Artisan within reach.”

Gunner scoffed. “Fuckin’ swanks,” he muttered, making it clear that he didn’t think gunning down every Artisan was necessarily a bad thing.

Polly cleared her throat. “I should like to know the same.” Her voice was more diplomatic than Theo’s but just as sure. “I’m on your side,” she said, her gaze shifting from Patrick to Otto, “but innocent people needn’t die.”

“Agreed.” Patrick nodded. “No innocents should die.”

Theo frowned, unconvinced. “And you intend to pop up in the middle of the city without needing to raise a weapon?”

“Ah, but we intend no such thing,” Patrick said, and Donny chuckled quietly. “That’d be suicidal.”

Theo frowned. “Then—”

“Thirteen years ago, Nina and I stumbled upon a cellar in the National Artisan House.” His eyes darted to mine for only a moment. “If we can tunnel into that cellar, we’ll have gained entrance to the House.”

I thought of ghostly linens and dry cake. Of Patrick’s hand squeezing around mine, begging me to be quiet. One look at his expression told me he was remembering the same.

Theo’s jaw ticked, and I could guess why. His father, Lord Shop, still presided in the House. “Do you plan on blowing the House to pieces?” he asked. “Like you did the school?”

Patrick tilted his head. I wondered if Theo had meant the barb to strike. If anything, Patrick seemed to be genuinely considering the option. “It’d be a sure way to win the war, eh?” he asked. “Blowin’ up all those lords.”

My heart pounded suddenly. I looked around at all the wooden mannequins, and my head replaced them with pieces of people. I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again, they would be gone.

Patrick checked his pocket watch, “Don’t fret, Teddy. If I blew up your daddy, I’d almost certainly be blowin’ up my own in the process. I intend no such thing.”

“Seems like a wasted opportunity, Pat,” Scottie said. “Do you know for certain that the prisoners are bein’ held in the House?”

“No.” Tess interceded now. “He doesn’t.” There was so much strain in her voice, it was a wonder she hadn’t screamed it. “He isn’t even sure the prisoners are still alive .”

Patrick looked at his mother with barely suppressed irritation.

I couldn’t tell how Tess Colson felt about the prospect of her husband’s death. There was no hint at acceptance or despair. There was only festering anger. I could practically see it sprinting across her skin.

“The House of Lords has always worked against us at a disadvantage. They don’t know where we are, or who we are.

We could attack at any time. They might have the superior weapons in their Charmers and Masons and Smiths, but we have the element of surprise.

We demonstrated how we could crumble their buildings around ’em once.

” Patrick’s eyes darkened. “What would stop us from taking their National House, then?”

“Hostages,” Otto said, nodding at his feet. “Takin’ bloody hostages.”

Patrick nodded. “A few months ago, Polly received a scribble from Belavere City. It was a notice sent to every province in the Trench. Polly?”

All eyes turned to the Scribbler, mine included. She blushed slightly, but nodded and recited in a neutral tone. “Union fugitives remain in custody. The House implores rebels to lay down arms and release its hostages. Surrender brings salvation. Long live Belavere.”

“That’s how I know they’re still alive,” Patrick said sharply. “Tanner won’t kill ’em. He’s using ’em as shields.”

“Gutless bastard,” Gunner muttered, a violent edge reaching his voice.

“Our aim is to find our men and bring ’em back safely,” Patrick said.

“By whatever means. If a few lords should die”—and here he looked directly at Theodore—“it will only be to save ourselves. We’ll be outnumbered.

Easily overrun. Our own weapons will be nothing compared to their mediums. This isn’t a mission for glory,” he said, ensuring they each understood what he asked of them.

“We remove the shield first. We’ll go back for the heart when the time is right. ”

“What do they mean, hostages?” I said suddenly. I looked directly at Patrick, watched closely for any flicker of reaction.

“What?” Gunner grunted. “He told you—”

“The notice called for the Union to release its hostages,” I continued, ignoring Gunner’s clear lust for revenge. “What hostages?”

The rest went still and quiet.

Patrick smiled disingenuously. “Perhaps they’re talkin’ about you three.”

But it was so obvious a diversion that I could only assume Patrick hadn’t been prepared for the question. I knew he could lie better than that. “I think they’re talking about Domelius Becker. The last Alchemist.”

Theo tensed beside me, but I barreled on. “If you gave them Becker, they might exchange their hostages.”

Patrick’s eyes were closed off. “That,” he said, “is not up for discussion.”

Polly gripped my hand at my side imploringly. “Nina—”

But I brushed her aside. “You wouldn’t make the sacrifice? Not even to save your own men?” I asked. “Your own father —”

“ Enough ,” Patrick said with so much ice that the room seemed to shrivel, everyone retreating slightly.

When Patrick next spoke, the words were hard as granite, low and deathly final.

His eyes pierced mine. “All you need to know, Nina, is that I’ve got reasons for the choices I make.

And someone must surely make them. I won’t fault anyone here for bowin’ out if you’ve weighed the danger and my own intentions and found it not worth your while.

” He drew a deep breath. “But you will decide in this room. Now.”

There was a restless silence, quickly punctured by Scottie, Otto, and Briggs stepping forward next to Patrick, tipping caps and adjusting their waistlines.

The Colsons were a unit, if a dysfunctional one. They waited together for the rest of us to accept or rescind.

Polly stepped forward next. She stood tall and held her hands in front of her elegantly.

Theo followed suit, looking once to me to convey some sort of message. “I’m for the cause,” he said. “So long as you keep your word.”

“I always do,” Patrick said in return.

This left me standing alone on the outside of the circle, my jaw straining under the pressure. “You’re a liar,” I said quietly. The words were only for Patrick, yet everyone but him seemed to react to them. Theo looked outright alarmed.

“You say you won’t fault us for walking away, yet you couldn’t possibly allow us to walk away now, knowing what we know.” I knew he heard the question I didn’t ask, of what would happen to me if I were to turn my back at this moment. What he would do with such a liability.

Patrick didn’t waver. “You’ll need to weigh the risks carefully then, won’t you?”

The dust motes in the air collided and sparked. My heart raced. Everything was a test. I knew, just as he did, that the fate of his plan rested with me.

I filled my chest with air, gritted my teeth, and stepped forward.

The collective seemed to sigh in relief. Theo more so than any other.

“We begin today,” Patrick said, divesting himself of his coat.

“Today?” I gaped, then noticed all the men, even Theo, seemed to be readying themselves for something. “I thought we were to meet Margarite.”

There was a smattering of laughter.

“You’ll be introduced in a moment,” Patrick said, extracting several pieces of parchment from his breast pocket. “Polly, could you have these sent off for me?”

Polly took the letters from him. “I’ll leave you all to it, then,” she said. Then she turned on her heel and made her way to the door.

“Where is she going?” I asked Theo in a quiet aside.

“The old post house,” he said. “That’s where the Scribbler’s cranny is.”

I frowned. “It looked abandoned.”

“It is,” Patrick said. “Save for Pol.”

Otto and Briggs were, at that moment, taking the ends of the large circular rug and rolling it up. “?’Scuse,” Briggs said to me, and I moved my toes from the rug’s edge.

As they rolled, they uncovered roughened timber flooring and a large wooden trapdoor. Scottie took the latch and lifted it away. A black abyss appeared beneath.

Patrick walked to its edge and peered within. “Nina,” he said. “Meet Margarite.”

I frowned, then moved forward to peer inside. I was immediately swarmed by the smell of fresh earth. The drop seemed interminable. “You must be kidding me.”

And one after the other, each man clambered down the ladder in their miner’s wear. Briggs rummaged in a cupboard first, then reappeared carrying a medley of shovels, picks, and hammers. He balanced them on his shoulder as he descended belowground.

I looked up at Patrick questioningly.

“Best to keep certain things out of sight,” was all he said, donning worker’s gloves. “This ain’t a tunnel I want anyone stumbling upon.”

Theo sighed heavily and disappeared down the ladder, leaving only myself, jaw agape, and Patrick and Tess, who headed for the door of the shop rather than the hole in its floor.

“Keep a close eye on the girl, son,” Tess remarked, then proceeded out into the square. Patrick went to bolt the door behind her.

“I think she likes me,” I murmured.

Despite all that had just transpired, Patrick laughed. As he came closer, I could see the tiny rivers of blood in his eyes. “Did you not sleep?”

He seemed bemused. “What?”

“You look tired. Did you not sleep last night?”

He stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. “You’d think she’d ask about the great hole in the ground,” he said to Isaiah, who had laid down by the trapdoor’s opening. “Or the presence of her fellow Artisan peers. But no, she asks if I got any bloody sleep.”

I said nothing. I simply waited. If I had to guess, I’d say he didn’t get a wink.

“No, Nina. Not much sleep to be found in the night.”

“You look terrible.” A lie.

He ignored it. “The hole isn’t deep. Only twenty feet or so, but it will feel a whole lot deeper. There are lanterns, so you’ll see well enough. Just breathe. If you feel faint, just say so and we’ll take you back up.”

I raised an eyebrow. Only days ago, he’d had me dragged through the tunnels. “Why the concern?”

He raised one single finger and tapped the back of my hand. “Because you’re scared,” he said. “You ball your hands up when you’re scared.”

I abruptly loosened them. “No, I don’t.”

“You do,” he said simply. “But my guess is that you ain’t afraid of being underground.”

I bit my tongue and shook my head, rather like a petulant child.

“So you’re afraid of us , then.” He nodded, confirming something I’d never admitted to.

“I’m not afraid. I simply don’t feel comfortable being stuck underground with men I hardly know.”

“Well,” Patrick said. “I’m afraid those are the terms of our agreement, Nina.” He held an arm out. “Ladies first.”

I put my weight on one hip, crossed my arms. “ You first.”

He sighed. His tone gentled. “No one will touch you, Nina. They wouldn’t dare. You have my word.”

“And what does your word count for, exactly?”

He gave me a piercing look. “That’s the question, isn’t it, Scurry girl? Exactly how much can we trust each other?”