Page 39 of Cage of Starlight
“You’ve said. Useful, though, if you’re going to keep messing with me.” She inhales again, looking to Tory. “I figured out the pipe smoke lets me resist her illusions.”
To Tory, Ari grumbles, “Any mind-altering substance makes it less effective, unfortunately.” She starts walking. “This way.”
He’d tolerate weirder and wilder personalities than hers to be free. He hurries after her, through the thinning woods and toward a dirt road. “I don’t have any money.”
“Didn’t expect you to.”
“Then why are you helping?”
She smiles. “Consider it an investment. We’re in the business of shaking things up, and historically speaking, when the First Children are born into the same generation, the world’s overdue for a shakeup. Now that we knowyou’rehere, we’ve got our theory more than half confirmed. Just be aware that we might end up asking you for a favor at some point.”
They pass Belmin, putting up water buckets and preparing the horses. Caravan cars packed with goods blur by. In the first, paper-wrapped lamps with bubbled shades huddle in covered boxes, blown into dream-shapes and dyed with streaks of blue and gold. Tory knows them: the House in Hulven has three. Carallian glass from Belmin’s hometown. His big break, or so the stories go. The second car is packed with shocks of cloth dyed in rich colors and decorated with maned serpents and prints of stars and vines enwrapped. Arlunian designs.
The third is a closed car, windowless. Ari leads him to the back, where two wide, wooden doors wait.
A man in long brown trousers and a ratty green sweater leans against them, eyebrow raised. His hair is red as a summer fox’s and just as wild even with a token tie trying to pull it together at the back, his eyes wine- or blood-colored in the low light. His smile’s vulpine, too—toothy-wide and hungry, though it sours at the sight of Tory’s uniform.
“Picked up a stray pup? They bite, you know. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Tory shouldn’t, given that the guy has just insulted him, but he trusts the man immediately. He tugs at the bracelet locked around his wrist. He’ll need wire-cutters to remove it. “My teeth are plenty sharp, but I’d rather turn them on the bastards who did this to me.”
The smile returns, broad and warm. “Oh, Ms. Belmin, Ilikethis one. Can I keep him?”
It’s Hasra who answers. “Absolutely not, Larsen. He’s going to Arlune.”
“Who is he?” Tory whispers. When Hasra only presses her lips together, he meets the redhead’s eyes. “Who are you?”
“Riese.” The man extends a hand to envelop Tory’s. “I lead a ragtag group of Seeds based close enough to the border to keep us safe. You might have heard of our work. We and our allies have been haunting their supply routes. We even got inside that damn Compound of theirs hoping to cause some problems, short-lived though it was. Their security was stronger than we expected.”
Tory’s stomach flips. The rebels. These are the rebels Hasra told him about.
The fire that flickered to life in him when Vantaras stole his scalpel—the hunger tofight—flares again in his belly. In Hulven, it was an idle dream. Now, he could make it real. No more whittling himself down, no more hiding.
Hasra snags his wrist. “Don’t even think about it. I want you safe. This man is not safe.”
“Nothing worth the time ever is,” Riese says. “How long you been in?”
“In where?”
“Their little pen of pet Seeds. Too much time under their thumb rots the brain, but I’m getting the impression you’re quite fresh.”
“A few days,” Tory says.
“Wonderful.” Riese’s eyes glint. He pulls the doors wide and gestures inside with an elaborateafter yousort of flourish. “Forgive my unkind words earlier. In my experience, the creatures in the Box areeither rabid or tragically domesticated. It’s rare to meet one like you.” He says it like it’s an honor, like he sees something amazing in Tory. The fire flares brighter. “If it’s tearing throats out that you’re after, I think we can accommodate you.” His wide grin goes dangerous, and Tory can’t help echoing it. “It would seem we’ve all gotten lucky today. I happened to be out west doing some reconnaissance and caught up with Ariana here to hitch a ride to the border.”
West. Hulven is not far west. “There’s a mining town out there,” Tory blurts, foot half-lifted to get him into the car.
Riese’s smile warms. “I saw it. Cozy little place. Vines are doing a number on the wall.”
Tory wants to saydid it look well?but he forces his lips to close around the words. “You could use someone like me?”
“Weneedsomeone like you. Take your time thinking. I have to speak with some friends across the border about a little joint mission of ours, so you can mull it over until we arrive, but I think you’ll say yes.”
“No.” Hasra pushes Tory up into the car. “Riese, leave it.”
“You leave it,” Riese snaps, and sighs when Hasra just scowls. “Why? He yours?”
“He is.” Hasra climbs up and guides Tory to join a huddling crowd against the back wall.
