“Nothing good. They’d let him go, and it might be my head that I grabbed him. Or another few months in a Penitent, and”—he laughed, bitterly—“I can’t really afford to clear my schedule at this point. Aside from the excruciating pain, which is also a factor.”

She sat watching him, watching her.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a while.

She opened her purse, and opened the red book, and passed the vellum sheets to him. “Read these. I’ll wait.”

He accepted them, scanned. “Who are these other names? Some of them show up as much as your guy: Arthur Nicodemo Cuthbert. Jalai’iz. Whatever kind of name that is.”

“It’s Talberg. And Margot’s the only one I recognize. The others probably work for the pilgrims.”

“That’s a weak argument, Kai. They all could be in danger.”

“Maybe. But I know Margot is. And his theft was a miracle; there can’t be others like him out there. If it was that easy to break into the pool we’d know by now.”

“You won’t let me keep the list? Or copy it?”

“The more you know, the more screwed we are if word gets out. A Craftswoman can flense the truth from your mind.”

Claude folded the parchment again, and passed it back to her. He was not smiling now. She wanted to squirm, wanted to stand, and knew Penitent-trained officers, and Claude, well enough to stay still. Movement made you look weak, to them.

“This is important,” she said. “Margot is a danger to the Order. Without the Order, the island folds. We’ll be one more tourist destination. And once that happens, wouldn’t Iskar love to snap us up? Nice excuse to expand their Archipelagic presence.” Unfair, she knew. The Penitents’ first rule: defend Kavekana. They broke that into their prisoners. But she needed Claude’s help, even if she had to call on his training to convince him. “Will you help us?”

“I will,” he said at last.

She didn’t let her expression change. “Good.”

“I’ll arrest this man. No idea how long I can hold him once he calls for a Craftsman, or his embassy. But it’s a start.”

“A start is all I need. Keep him safe while I go to Jace.”

The desk separated them, and space, and time. They lay between themselves, turning on a sodden bed.

“I need to finish my lunch,” he said.

She stood. “You’ll take care of this today?”

“As soon as I can. Whatever gods are watching, I hope they help us both.”

“Let’s keep gods out of it.”

She closed the door behind her, and retraced her steps through the silent halls. At the front desk she signed the logbook and left, out into the green and the sun and the screams.

Chapter 33

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