Page 124 of The Bone Season

‘You could just tell me.’

‘Perhaps I do not trust you, Paige.’

The absolute gall of him.

‘Not that Iwantyour trust,’ I said, ‘but I’ll thank you to remember that you have all the power here, and I still haven’t breathed a word to Nashira.’

‘That may be because you have no evidence.’

‘I would never give her anything. I don’t care if you don’t believe it. Think whatever you like of me.’

‘Help me form an opinion.’ Warden held my gaze. ‘You have not only kept my secret. You are holding one of your own, Paige Mahoney.’

‘What?’

He rose. I watched him remove a panel from the wainscoting. When he drew something from the hidden nook, I stiffened.

‘I believe this belongs to you.’ He sat back down with it. ‘The night of your arrest, the Overseer mistimed his shot, causing you to fall. The only reason you survived is because your backpack caught on a wire.’

My heart pounded.

‘Aludra is responsible for examining our prisoners’ effects. Fortunately, I saw your backpack first,’ Warden said. ‘None of the other detainees were trained to run or climb, as you were. None of them had this.’

He held upOn the Merits of Unnaturalness. I could feel myself turning grey.

‘I should have known,’ I said in a whisper. ‘You would never give a human a bath or a meal without a return, would you, Warden?’

‘This is not an interrogation, Paige.’

He placed the pamphlet on the table.

‘Aludra did not see this,’ he said, ‘but she and a human assistant did make other observations. Aside from the marks on your palm, you also have other scars on your hands and arms, consistent with defence wounds. One of your boots had an improvised pocket for a knife. Your hands were callused, indicating a familiarity with climbing and strength training. You carried a pistol and ammunition that could only have been acquired on the black market at significant cost.

‘Your database entry states that you are a waitron at Oxidate, a bar in Holborn,’ he continued. ‘I decided to test this claim. No regular patrons have ever seen or heard of you. Your employer has continued to pay you, despite your conspicuous absence.’

Bill was a local voyant. In exchange for exemption from syndicate tax, he paid and vouched for me, giving the impression that I had a steady job. I smoothed it out by withdrawing the money and handing it to Jaxon. For three years, that deal had allowed me to live a double life.

Jaxon had forgotten to tell Bill I was missing.

Shit.

‘Even if you did work at Oxidate,’ Warden said, ‘payment for ossistas is low. You could not have acquired an illegal gun after only three years of work.’

‘What do you know about the cost of illegal guns?’

‘There is also the matter of the phone found after your arrest. Your fingerprints were detected on its surface, but you are not the registered owner. Like the gun, this device must have come from the black market. Either someone purchased these supplies for you, or you have an undeclared source of income.’

I was starting to sweat.

‘The device had made just one call, to a public telephone box,’ Warden said. ‘Why is that?’

‘It was a misdial,’ I said.

‘I doubt it.’ The slightest tilt of his head. ‘You mentioned having voyant friends. Did any of them belong to the syndicate?’

He had me. At this point, a white lie would serve me better than denial.

‘I’m a thief – lockpicking, finewiring, that sort of thing,’ I finally said. ‘I steal for a local fence. They pay me upfront and sell my spoils at a profit. I’m good enough to have afforded the gun, but I’m small fry.’

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