Gyre nodded and closed the door behind him.

“I admit I expected to wake up in a prison cell,” she said, pulling her knees to her chest under the blanket. “Or not at all. Did you kill that centarch?”

Gyre gave an involuntary laugh. “Not even close.”

“Then what happened?”

“She let us go. It’s … a long story.”

“But she got the Analytica.”

Gyre nodded. Kit put her chin on her knees, eyes fixed on the opposite wall. After a moment of silence, Gyre dragged a chair over to the bedside and sat down beside her.

“Lynnia’s very angry with us,” he said. “With me, really. But she said we can stay here until tomorrow night, and you should be mobile by then. We can try—”

“You don’t need to wait for me,” Kit said. “Just go.”

“I need you,” Gyre said. “That hasn’t changed. And I think you still need me, if we’re going to get the Analytica.”

“You don’t understand.” She turned to face him. “It’s over, Gyre.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“Naumoriel doesn’t tolerate failure. After this, he’ll cut us loose. Use someone else.”

“I’ll apologize,” Gyre said. “Grovel, if I have to.”

“Gyre—”

He got to his feet. “We can’t just give up.”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Gyre turned away. “Stay here. Get some rest.”

Kit looked down at the bed and said nothing.

*

Gyre had a fair few bruises of his own, and his fighting gear was stained with sweat and blood, so he ventured out in civilian clothes and a hooded robe. He didn’t bother bringing any weapons. If the ghouls decided they were going to kill him, he wasn’t foolish enough to imagine he could change their minds.

Lynnia was working in the basement when he slipped downstairs and out into the city. It was still before noon, and the streets were busy as usual, full of hurrying pedestrians and animals hissing, bellowing, and squawking. It didn’t seem fair, somehow, that nothing had changed, that Deepfire went on just as it had before last night. Before my sister found me. Before someone killed Yora.

A cabbie was happy to take him back up to the manufactory district, and even happier to wait around once Gyre shoved a stack of thalers at him. He got some odd looks from passing vehicles as he approached the door to the ghouls’ hideout. It looked the same as before, windows boarded up, apparently long abandoned.

The closer he got, the less sure he was that this was a good idea. Maybe Kit is right. Maybe we’re better off just getting as far away from here as we can. They could flee into the Splinter Kingdoms, beyond the reach of the Republic, and …