Page 67 of Requiem of Silence

“Should we call for a constable?” Zeli wondered.

Lanar clucked his tongue. “We should call for a doctor, though I don’t believe there’s any medicine for foolishness.” His voice was a whip crackling in the air. “Why would you flaunt your money around like that, are you an imbecile?”

His tone made Zeli’s bones turn brittle; she froze in surprise at his venom. Varten straightened his back, but there was no righteous anger in him. His hand still covered his stomach but his shoulders were slumped. He looked like a deflated balloon. His head dropped until only his hair was visible. “I’ve got more in the bank,” he mumbled.

She reached out to him then, placing a hand on his arm. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

He shook his lowered head. “I’m fine. And I’m sorry, Iwasbeing stupid.”

“It wasn’t your fault.Iwas the one who wanted to see the money change colors.”

“But you didn’t rob us.” His voice was low and rough. She’d never heard him sound like this.

“No, and neither did you.” She wanted so badly to see his face, to reassure him. “It was a mistake. I-I didn’t expect…” She looked around again at the endless throngs of people. Any of them could be a criminal. Just because people dressed well and didn’t have the air of poverty and desperation she’d grown up wary of didn’t mean they were good.

“You’re not an imbecile,” she whispered, just for him.

He lifted his head then and gave her a rueful look that said he didn’t quite believe her. A heavy band squeezed around her chest—that desolate, barren expression was so foreign on him. It was justwrong.

Varten was meant to be lightness and smiles and good humor. He was not this gutted thing, so obviously beating himself up.

Lanar sighed. “The banks are closed at this hour. We will not be able to book passage until tomorrow.”

The Rumpus started tomorrow and if they didn’t arrive until midday, they could well miss their opportunity to access the Archives.

“There’s another option,” she said, annoyed at Lanar for the way he’d spoken to Varten. Annoyed at the thieves and the crowd and the city. “Platform eighty-nine?” She had no desire to sell her people’s pain for transport, but that was the currency they had available.

Lanar’s eyes narrowed in distaste and she thought about how little they knew of him. Nothing really, as he wasn’t much of aconversationalist. Yalisa and Eskar had seemed to trust him enough to offer passage, but just because he was a countryman that didn’t mean he was a friend. His words, quick and hurtful, had added to an already bad situation. She was no longer certain she wanted him around.

She focused instead on Varten, grabbing his arm gently. This was their mission, they’d undertaken it together, and they didn’t need anyone else’s approval. His expression radiated uncertainty. “The Tinker will help us.”

Although she wasn’t always sure about trusting her own judgement, she had a good feeling about the Tinker. And at least they had something he wanted, an odd something, but it could be bartered.

However, Varten looked to Lanar for confirmation. It seemed he would not make a decision without it. Growing even more annoyed, she turned to face the man.

After a short lifetime, he nodded. “Very well,the Tinkerit is.”

She bristled at his tone, and almost missed Varten’s sigh of relief. She wanted to speak to him privately, reassure him that they could do this on their own, the way they’d planned. She wasn’t even certain how much she believed it, but Varten’s confidence was part of what had been propelling her forward. This was probably just a temporary setback because of the speed and surprise of the robbery. It would just take him some time to return to normal.

But a tickling in the back of her mind warned caution. As they headed out of the station and back onto the tarmac, she stayed alert, her heart heavy and her guard up now more than ever.

Varten was having difficulty swallowing. Next to him, Zeli’s head was on a swivel, hypervigilant to their surroundings to preventanother attack. But all he could do was feel the arms around him, squeezing him like a vise. Pinning him motionless and helpless.

He was back in a cold room, straps holding him down on a hard table. Needles piercing his skin. The liquid injected into him was freezing, it made his veins burn cold. His throat threatened to close up and he tried breathing in slowly through his nose to get some air.

His mind didn’t return to the prison very often, though it existed there at the edges, the metal bars and cement floors looming just out of sight whenever he closed his eyes. Moments of powerlessness brought him back. When his body betrayed him and his mind was set adrift, lost in a sea of suffering.

He should have stayed in the palace in Rosira, at least there he couldn’t hurt anyone. Get anyone hurt. The thought of something happening to Zeli nearly undid him. He’d never forgive himself. Just like he hadn’t forgiven himself for the last time his ineptitude had resulted in harm and pain for people he cared about.

His ears pounded and he stumbled, blind to his surroundings. A smaller hand in his, squeezing tight, brought him back. He blinked, suddenly back in the present, and looked down at Zeli, whose face was creased with concern.

He longed to reassure her, but couldn’t say a thing. What was there to be sure of?

His own stupidity had resulted in them being robbed. Life in the country, life in a cell, hadn’t prepared him for this city. These people. He’d put the target on his own chest and hadn’t used plain common sense. Just another liability.

They approached platform eighty-nine and his spirits fell further. He’d taken an immediate liking to the Tinker with his obvious eccentricities, but the pile of metal sitting on the platform didn’t look like it would fly anywhere. It didn’t look like any of theother ships they’d passed. Instead of sleek and aerodynamic, it was boxy and blocky. A disparate mass of dull gray parts that seemed more like a scrap heap than a vehicle.

The three of them stopped short, staring at it. Confusion and dismay settled across Varten’s shoulders. His vision swam and he thought he might pass out.

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