Page 101 of City of Stone and Silence

“What is she saying?” Catoria says. “Is she—”

Without warning, Silvoa’s projection doubles over as though she’s been struck. There’s a grating burst of white noise, and then another voice, much louder. Prime.

“Dear girl,” he says. “You’ve been very naughty, I see. How unfortunate. You know what that means.”

And Silvoa screams, high and piercing. Catoria can hear this, and she claps her hands over her ears. I drop the conduit, and the projection vanishes, but the sound seems to linger, echoing through the room.

“That was … her.” Catoria stares at the twisted bit of metal on the floor, slowly lowering her hands.

“It was,” I say.

“And he … has her.” Her hands interlock, knuckles taut and white. “He’s hurting her.”

“She says that it’s … not as bad as it seems. Now that she doesn’t have a body.”

“Now that…” Catoria blinks, eyes swimming in tears. “Oh, Blessed.”

“We can help her,” I say. “You can help her. If we take over the Harbor system, she’ll be free.”

There’s a long silence.

Catoria looks up. Tears are running down her cheeks, but her eyes are fierce.

“What do you need?” she says.

19

TORI

The Black Flower is shut up tighter than the Imperial treasury.

Borad Thul’s pleasure palace has been turned into a fortress. Every window has been boarded up, and the main doors are firmly closed and barred. The hordes of eager pleasure-seekers are gone, and no sound of music and merriment comes from inside. Lights burn in a few upper windows in the main building.

“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Hasaka says.

“Tori knows what she’s doing,” Garo says, with a glance at me. I try to hold a confident expression.

Tori hopes like Rot she knows what she’s doing. The anger inside me flickers for a moment, threatened by fear. But I only have to think about the Immortal captain in irons, that defiant smile, to rekindle my rage.

“Do it,” I snap.

Jakibsa, standing beside us in the street, raises his mangled hands like he’s about to conduct a symphony. Blue light shimmers around the big doors. For a moment, wood and iron are pitted against raw magical force. Then the doors slam open, the bar shattering in a spray of splinters.

Behind it are a trio of guards with crossbows. Jakibsa snatches the weapons from their hands before they can fire. When the thugs go for their swords, Garo steps forward, igniting his Melos gauntlets. Their eerie light outlines the scene in flickering green.

“Who in the Rot are you?” one of the guards manages to croak.

“I’m here on behalf of the people of the Eleventh and Sixteenth,” Garo says. “We’d like to talk to Borad Thul, please. Would you go and fetch him?”

Two guards look at the third, who nods and hurries back into the complex. One of the others follows. The last, standing in the ruined doorway, looks around at us and sneers.

“You’re going to regret this,” he says. “Thul doesn’t forget an insult.”

“Let’s hope we get the chance to make it up to him,” I say, with admirable calm.

It’s not long before the flunky returns, frowning. “Master Thul will see you two,” he says, pointing to me and Garo. “The rest of you will wait.”

“That will serve,” I say, before Garo can object. I glance at Hasaka. “If we don’t come back, you know what to do.”