Staring at Gyre, at his scar, she felt her memory shifting again.

“Of course,” Gyre said. “Can’t let our brave defenders of the Order be contaminated with feelings.” He coughed, and spat blood on the tiles. “Mom and Dad are dead.”

“What …”

“Mom died less than a year after they took you,” Gyre said. He spoke quickly, as though the words were bubbling up from somewhere dark inside him. “It broke her, what happened. Dad would barely talk to me after that. I left when I was twelve. The next time I came back, he was gone, too. Some illness, the neighbors said.”

“I’m … sorry.” In truth Maya didn’t know how to feel. Her parents were barely memories, vague blurs of love and affection at the dawn of time. “No one told me.”

“How could they?” Gyre said. “After the Order kidnapped you, they didn’t exactly leave us an address.”

“The Order didn’t kidnap me.”

“You didn’t want to go.”

“I was five.” Maya’s hand went to the Thing again and found it marginally cooler. “They saved my life.”

His good eye narrowed. “You don’t remember what happened that day, do you?”

“I …” Maya swallowed, looking down at him. “I remember that you tried to stop them from taking me.”

“And do you remember Va’aht Thousandcuts carving out my eye, for the crime of spilling precious Order blood?” His lip twisted in an ugly smile at her hesitation. “I thought not.”

“Gyre …” Maya took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

He climbed, slowly, to his feet. “You don’t need to say anything.”

The venom in his tone was enough to stoke her anger again. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you became a rebel in order to come and save me?”

“No,” Gyre said. “I imagined that. I always knew that by the time I got the chance, the Order would have made you into one of them.”

“You’ve been fighting the Republic—killing innocent people, smuggling dhak—”

“I haven’t killed anyone innocent,” Gyre said. “Unless you count Auxies, which I don’t. And I’ve smuggled quickheal, and bone-break potion, and—did you know Dad had a shed full of weevil killers on the farm? That’s your dhak. I’m sure the weevils will be grateful for your efforts.”

“It’s not about the fucking weevils.” She could see the cavern under Litnin, the children in cages waiting to be torn apart by plaguespawn. “The Order keeps people safe.”

“The Order props up thugs like Raskos in the name of keeping all the power to itself,” Gyre said. “But I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I—”