“Of course we trade with him,” the Prime says. “How do you think Luce the Reaper turned away his army with just a few words? We have something he desperately needs. We trade it in exchange for certain goods, mainly iron and water, and the understanding that he will not touch a soul behind Powder Town’s perimeter or our agreement is forfeited.”

“He could take whatever he wanted,” I insist. “He has the numbers.”

“But he doesn’t have this.” The Prime touches the side of her head. “We produce something here, something that only a few of us know how to make. If we die, or end up on sleeping ilk, the method of producing this valuable substance vanishes, and then the General’s army is powerless.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They carry modified rifles, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“And what do those weapons require in order to fire?”

“Black powder.”

“And what is the name of this town?”

My mouth falls open. “You make black powder here?”

“It has to come from somewhere.” The Prime smiles. “Powder Town was founded when the first Prime discovered how to make black powder years ago. They made it in secret, for a while, and by the time the General rose to power, the town had leverage: a product that the General couldn’t rule without. Our arrangement is a cautious one, but he will not meddle in my affairs if I continue to haul a shipment of powder to Bedrock each moon.” She leans back in her chair, hangs her wrists from the armrests. “So tell me, Delta of Dead River: Why should you be granted refuge in this haven?”

I consider this a moment. I could beg for my life, plead for mercy, but after begging the General and his Loyalists for these very things, I’m beyond requesting that people treat me decently.

“The General is after me,” I admit.

“So I’ve been told. I may not have a black-dressed army to do my bidding, but Luce the Reaper is a third of my Trinity. She oversees security, and her scouts saw the Loyalists coming long before you did. We know they are after you. What I want to know is why?”

I glance at Asher. He raises his brows as if to say, Your call.

“He thinks I’m gods touched. He thinks I can read something, when I can’t.” It’s a piece of the truth. “He’s holding my entire pack at Bedrock. If I can’t figure out how to read what he wants me to, he’s going to kill them all. I came here hoping to find help.”

“We do not get involved in Bedrock affairs,” she responds. “I can offer you help by way of refuge. That is all.”

“But if I don’t—”

“Refuge in exchange for work. Take it or leave it.”