Page 24 of Cage of Starlight
“Tory.”
Gavin shakes his head. “Seriously, why’d they put the Lune onSeedbait?”
Scar-face punches Gavin in the shoulder and levels a look at Tory that could melt glass. “Pick up the pace. If we’re too late for eggs and gravy, I take it out on your roommate here.”
They speed up, dodging sleepy Seeds through nondescript halls. It’s hopeless to memorize the route. “What’s the deal with Vantaras, anyway? It’s not like he’s actually the big guy’s son.”
All three men look at Tory like he’s sprouted a new head. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a sucking chest wound.”
“You think there’s anyotherVantaras who’d dare to bear the Grand General’s name? ’Course he’s the guy’s son.”
“But he’s not . . .” Tory makes shapes with his hands. Bullish, boxy. Old.
“Nah, it’s a whole thing. He’s half Lune, half Vantaras. Not good enough for Daddy, so he got shipped off to the Box. When his first wife died, Papa Vantaras picked up some chick from across the border, married her. Rumor has it he wasn’t just after herassets. He wanted information, connections—whatever it is those bastards use to slaughter us so well when we’ve got three times the fighting force. The way her kid got tossed in the Box, I’m guessing Mama didn’t fess up. So the General went to war for it, and he sent Mama’s boy out to the ass-end of nowhere to make sure it all ran smooth.”
“Real smooth,” Gavin’s rat-faced friend mutters. “He the one that caught you, Seedbait?”
Tory nods.
“Join the club. They send him out to catch all the escaped Seeds—the suspected ones, too. He’s never failed, not once.Perfectcapture rate.”
“Yeah? Well, fuck him very mu—”
He rounds the corner and runs straight into Vantaras, who jerks back, lips pressed tight. Hair neatly brushed, dusting over one eye. Uniform flawless, while Tory stands in rumpled prison clothes. Vantaras with his prim posture and his white gloves, pressing people like Tory into unspeakable prisons and onto battlefronts for his father’s pleasure. Shame and anger make a bonfire in Tory’s belly. The finger his scalpel nicked aches.
“Good morning, Arknett,” Vantaras says.
Tory crosses his arms.
“I’m expected to show you to the mess hall.”
“I can get there on my own.”
Vantaras’ eyes pass over Gavin and his gamblers, cold. He doesn’t even have to speak to make them scatter.
Tory glares at their retreating backs. “Or not.”
“You won’t be entering with the rest. Follow me.” He strides away before Tory can respond.
Down the hall they go, past an endless line of people in washed-out gray-blue. It terminates in front of a set of wide double-doors. Dr. Helner waits on the far side of the doors, flanked by a straggly-haired middle-aged man on one side and the blond officer from yesterday on the other.
Vantaras stands at attention. “Good morning, Sir.”
“At ease, Lieutenant.” Blondie turns his gaze to Tory. “I don’t think we had the opportunity for proper introductions yesterday. I am Colonel Erwin Kirlov. I oversee the First Lieutenant.”
Heat spills through Tory’s chest. Vantaras needsoversight, does he?
This guy seems like a real stickler, too.
Kirlov turns his flat gaze on Dr. Helner. “You may leave, doctor.”
She smiles. “And miss the chance to guide our Channeler? No, thank you.”
The doors of the mess hall creak open, and Seeds pour inside in neat rows. Helner watches like she’s observing a colony of ants. Kirlov watches like he’ll gun down the first man to step out of line.
Inside, people fill their plates with afeastof different foods. Tory moves to follow, but Helner surges forward and clamps a hand on his shoulder. “Wait a second. I’ll be supervising your food intake, remember? Same for Prentice here.” Helner gestures to the straggly fellow with gray-streaked brown hair.
