Page 50 of Cage of Starlight

He shakes his head, taste of blood still sharp on his tongue. “Huh?”

“I can take your Core out today. We know you’ve been worrying about it.”

Tory jerks from his haze. Shit, does she know what he and Sena did on the battlefield? Is that why Riese made him leave Sena behind?

He spins to face her, searching her eyes . . . and finds nothing. Just the quirk of her plum-dark lips.

“Why didn’t you tell us before ? We were pissing ourselves wondering if—”

“Shhhh.” A cold finger settles on his mouth. “Everything in time. Riese didn’t know if you would betray the group. He wanted to watch you, see if you’d be a good fit.”

“And if we weren’t? You’d just let them disable our Cores?”

A pang. Five days.

Riese chuckles. “We live in a world where everyone wants to kill us. A little ruthlessness doesn’t go amiss. You think nice people spearhead revolutions? If they do, you think they live to see the other side of them?”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. Nothing comes without a cost.

Helner interrupts. “Anyway, it’s messy. I don’t have good lighting here, barely have passable instruments. Even in carefully supervised removals, we can lose more than 10% of patients. This isn’t carefully supervised.”

“What are my chances?”

“I’m no slouch. I’d give you 80%.”

A one in five chance of death.

“You don’t have to have it removed,” Riese says from the corner where he’s shifting boxes and sorting through papers.

Tory scoffs. “I really think I do.”

Riese stands bolt upright, brandishing a stack of pages. “Found it!” He covers the distance with sure strides, navigating the mess of the tent with effortless grace. Backlit by lamplight, his unbound hair is a conflagration. “You don’t need your Core removed, and I’ll tell you why.”

Helner stands. “That’s my cue to go. I’m all about plausible deniability.

I don’t want any part in this if it crashes and burns.

If it does, that awful place needs at least one person interested in limiting casualties.

Can’t stay gone too long or they’ll notice.

I’ve irritated Kirlov enough that he won’t ever seek me out of his own free will, but better safe than sorry. Be back soon.”

Riese waves her away. “I asked Travin to take care of something, but he’ll ’port you back as soon as he’s free.”

When she’s gone, Riese drops a series of maps and documents on the table. “This,” he says, “is our plan.” The document on top bears a stamp he recognizes as the letterhead for the Compound. It was on Tory’s deployment papers.

“What’s all this?”

“It nearly bankrupted us, but this is one of many bits of information we’ve bought from Yized. Read it.”

The contents of the letter are simple, detailing the process by which Cores are tracked and how the information is backed up:

Simple stuff. Overload the stellite security core and the compasses in the Monitor Room and the Cores will be useless.

Without the compasses, no one could track or disable the Cores, and without the Security Core that’s been fed a drop of blood from every person within the facility, the security measures that allow only employees and Core-bearing Seeds to travel freely inside the Compound would be inactive.

It includes a postscript, marked with a mocking smiley face. I say this because you paid me to tell you, not because I think you could do it.

Stapled to the back, a map.

As requested. Have fun.

He examines it, finds the circled area marked Monitor Room in red ink.

Riese taps it. “That’s where the compasses used to track escaped Seeds are stored. That’s what I meant before. If you don’t want to worry about the risk of death from a botched Core removal, just leave it in. Once we’ve finished our work, it won’t matter.”

“I don’t care. I need it out of me.” Tory traces the area on the map Riese pointed out. The Monitor Room. Tory passed that door on his walks. “I could do this.”

“I know you can. I’ll send you back with everything you need. Michal Vantaras built on my work to make the Cores, and I’ll see them unmade, no matter the cost.” Riese presses a small slice of stone in a metal setting to the table. “You’ll need this.”

A tab, larger than the one Tory was given. It looks like the one Sena used to let Tory into the linen closet.

Exactly like it. Tory picks it up.

On the side, stamped into the metal setting: VANTARAS.

Riese rubs the back of his head. “Don’t be angry. I pocketed it when I helped you carry him to his tent earlier.”

Tory blinks, frowns, opens his mouth. Closes it. It’s an asshole move, but the irritation fizzles and fades in him. He didn’t even notice it happening.

To be fair, he was tuned in only to the whistle of Sena’s failing breath and the heat of fever that radiated through his clothes. Riese could have taken it off Tory and he wouldn’t have noticed.

“He’d have given it to you if you asked,” Tory mumbles.

“He wasn’t in any condition to answer questions.” Riese taps the stellite tab, scraping a thumb over the engraved name. Mildly, he says, “You didn’t tell me he was Vantaras.” Oh, he’s irritated. “The leverage we could’ve had! If I’d known, I might have done some things differently.”

“Yeah, well, you took your sweet time telling me things, too,” Tory says.

Riese sighs. “Fair. It can’t be changed now, and either way, we have everything we need.

For a while, we’ve been trying to figure out a way to infiltrate.

” His lips press together. “I couldn’t force anyone to take on a Core.

But someone already in their database, already with a Core, and willing to help us?

” He smiles. “You might see how you were the answer to all our problems. If you’re willing—”

It’s not even a choice.

“I’ll do it. And Sena—Sena can help with—” He smiles, hands shaking. Relief blazes through him, leaves him razed clean. “Sena! He . . .”

He can go back, stay safe. They’ll destroy all the compasses and get out. He won’t have to listen to Kirlov. If they can’t track him or disable his Core, it won’t matter that they can’t remove it. He’ll live. He’ll live.

This is it. This is their way. Tory hardly believed himself when he promised it, but it’s here, just in time and almost too good to be true.

“Bastard , ” he hisses at Riese. He should be mad that Riese stole Sena’s tab, but he’s grinning.

They’ll be safe. He’ll be free. This strange, terrifying, overwhelming thing between them, he can have it.

He’ll have plenty of time to hold it up to the light and make sense of it, put a name to it if he dares.

“You’re a rotten bastard, you know that? ”

Riese laughs. “I am what I am.”

Tory lurches to his feet. “I have to tell him.”