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Ghelel slid her gaze between the two. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘M'Lady…’ Amaron began.
‘I mean that Laseen instituted the Claws, yes, but who was in charge of Dancer's own killers, the Talons, way back then? Hmm?’
Ghelel settled her attention on Amaron. ‘So you are a murderer as well.’
The big man rested his hands at his belt. ‘I prefer the term political agent.’
‘There you are,’ the Claw said. ‘You have picked up the very knives that wiped out – or very nearly wiped out – your own family.’
‘We had nothing to do with those killings.’
‘So you say, Amaron… So you say.’
Ghelel again glanced from one to the other, shocked. Why had Amaron allowed her to interview this man knowing what he would no doubt reveal? Was this some sort of a test? But why bother? She suddenly found she could not draw breath; the cell felt as if it had slammed shut upon her. She backed away to the door, searching blindly behind her for the jamb. ‘I will not allow such things,’ she managed, her voice hardly audible to her.
The Claw arched a brow. ‘Not even for those who deserve it? Laseen, perhaps? Be assured, Tayliin, that list, once begun, will grow long and long…’
‘Never.’
‘So be it. You will fail then. And all those soldiers who will die for your cause will have died in vain.’
Ghelel felt as if the man had stabbed her then and there. ‘What are you doing?’ She wiped wetness from her eyes.
‘Educating you,’ he said. But his eyes were on Amaron and the smile that had been playing about his mouth was gone. It seemed to Ghelel that the man was now uncertain of something. He's wondering why Amaron is letting him talk! Yes, she had been wondering as well. She drew strength from the man's doubt.
‘Yes? To what end?’
The Claw laughed his derision. ‘You stupid child! Can't you see you'll end up exactly like her? You say you hate Laseen yet to succeed in the path you have chosen you must pick up the tools of power – the very tools you pretend to scorn!’
Amaron cleared his throat. ‘That's enough, I think. M'Lady…?’
‘Yes.’ Ghelel pulled a hand across her face. Yes, more than enough. She turned and left the cell. The Claw did not call after her. Amaron locked the cell and followed. At the stairs, she stopped and stood waiting, hugging herself. He stopped as well and studied her with what she thought a dispassionate evaluative gaze.
‘Why did you allow that? Why not have him killed?’
A slow thoughtful shrug. ‘You would have heard this accusation eventually. Better directly now than whisperings later when you might wonder if I had tried to cover it up. This way there is a chance – a small chance – that you might come to trust me.’
Right now she could hardly trust herself to speak. ‘You play a dangerous game, Amaron,’ she managed, her voice dry and hoarse. He was a solid shape in the darkness, silent for a time.
‘That is the only kind worth playing.’
Ghelel studied the man, his aged, lined dark face that had seen, what, a century of service? Yes, she could see how the old ogre must've liked this one. ‘No killings in my name, Amaron. That I will not allow.’ He frowned, considering.
‘Hard to guarantee. But I will promise this – I'll ask first.’
Ghelel hugged herself even more tightly, as if afraid of what might happen should she let go. ‘Yes. You can ask. But I swear. Not the way it used to be. It will not be like that.’
Amaron nodded. And as Ghelel climbed the stairs, still hugging herself, it seemed to her that in the man's slow assent she read the surety on his part that, eventually, things would slide that way – if only through their own accumulating weight. Please Burn and Fanderay preserve her from that! Please preserve her!
The night of the meeting, Hurl watched Storo push himself from his seat in the Rod and Sceptre after the gongs of the wandering street watch rang the half-night call. The squad had all cleared out long before then. No sense hanging around exactly where anyone watching would want you to be. She and Su
Su
Su
They passed a Seti horse-minder standing watch with his sons over his charges all roped together while a pack of the mongrel Seti dogs roamed the Round snarling at everyone. In the chaos it seemed a miracle to Hurl that they didn't lose the Captain, but the man was making no effort to hide.
All around them in the dark she imagined a constant dance of positions and vantages. Silk was out there in the night, maybe overhead on the domed rooftops these Heng architects seemed to favour. Jalor and Rell were also following, but on a far lower profile – Jalor because that son of the Seven Cities could move like a cat, while Rell, well, that guy was just amazing – none of the squad could figure out why he was wasting his time with them. Storo had tried to promote him more times than Hurl could recall but he wasn't having it. The young fellow would just look away all shamefaced whenever the subject of promotion or commendation came up. As for Shaky, Hurl suspected the bastard had just plain slunk off on everyone like he always did.
Now, Hurl knew the Captain was on his way to meet a crew he'd warned them was the ruthless gang of pirates he'd started out with long ago. A gang he said was outlawed by the Empress. Were they watching to see whether Storo had reported the contact to Fist Rheena? Hurl's back itched trying this alley-work. This was Silk's trade, not hers.
‘They're go
‘Will he what?’ Su
‘Turn.’
Su
She gaped. ‘Dammitall! When did you dig them up?’