admitted you had friends at the Workshop and even showed him their new invention. Now he knows you
Madam Petra clucked her tongue. “Yes, he did,” she allowed. “They might not trust Dmitri, but I wonder why they trust us? With the price that’s on their heads, I could set up as a duchess. Think of that, Katarina—no more tedious affairs with smelly goblins or witches or penniless refugees. We’d be the richest women in the land!”
“I thought you said you didn’t threaten,” said Max, ignoring the woman’s playful smile.
She merely shrugged. “My boy, nine automatic weapons have been targeted upon you since you sat down. Is that a threat or merely a fact? I’ve seen how quick you are, Max, but I doubt your companions could even rise before they were cut to ribbons.”
“We aren’t here to quarrel with you,” interjected David. “We traveled a long way to speak with you in the hope that you can deliver a message to someone senior at the Workshop—preferably Jesper Rasmussen.”
“Jesper’s irrelevant,” said Petra, dismissing the man with a wave. “He’s a figurehead. The chief engineers run the Workshop. Unless you count concessions, Jesper hasn’t made anything in decades. What is it you want from them?”
“I’m going to be as direct as I can,” said David, leaning forward and staring hard at her. “We believe Prusias means to attack Rowan even if we meet his demands. We believe the Workshop is developing something special for him—some sort of secret weapon. We want an alliance with the Workshop. If the Workshop cannot join with us, we want you to share whatever information you can about their activities and this weapon they’re developing. Is that direct enough?”
“Admirably so,” said the smuggler. “What you want is impossible, of course, but you did lay it out nice and neatly. And you have made me curious.… Why on earth would the Workshop jeopardize its existence and technologies to join with little Rowan on the eve of her destruction? What is possibly in it for them?”
“Freedom,” replied David simply. “A chance to help humanity and reunite with old friends. This might be their last chance to break free unless they intend to serve Prusias and his kind forever. Is that what they intend?”
“They intend to survive,” said Madam Petra frankly. “Even with Elias Bram’s return, an alliance with Rowan is the shortest path to their own destruction. Candidly, I’m amazed that Rowan would make such an absurd proposal, much less preach to others about helping humanity. While your Director was sipping tea and hiding behind her walls and treaties, the rest of civilization faded away. Do you remember what the world used to be like?”
“Of course.”
“No,” said Madam Petra, rising to pace before the broad window. “I mean do you
“Yes,” said Max, realizing that almost anyone else would think the woman was raving mad. “And I remember Miles Davis. My dad used to listen to this album. And I remember you. My mother would buy any magazine with your picture on it; she said you had style.”
The smuggler gave a rueful smile and glanced at her daughter. “Katarina remembers, too. I wish she didn’t. We were living in Paris when they announced that the government had been dissolved. The authorities told us to paint Astaroth’s sign on every door and window, lest the Demon’s interrogators come knocking. You should have seen it—bankers, lawyers, doctors, and officials all weeping in the middle of the night and painting that terrible symbol on anything they could reach. And for most of them, it didn’t even matter. They were still sent to prisons or reeducation camps; they still died in plagues and fires or fell to whatever came scratching at their windows once the city really fell into chaos. The things I’ve witnessed …”
The woman fell silent at this and turned to gaze out at the placid gray lake.
“When my husband was dying, we used every contact and pulled every string to gain admittance to the Rowan field office. Niels had been bitten by a vye, you see. He was infected. Each day, his sanity ebbed and he became more dangerous. We had to tie him down … I couldn’t let Katarina near him. I begged your Agents for aid, but they had no more antidote and cited ‘other priorities.’ In the end, I had to kill Niels myself. So you can imagine I find it a little difficult—a little
“I can’t argue with anything you’ve said,” replied David. “When Astaroth rose to power, the world was falling apart. Rowan couldn’t help one in a thousand who needed and deserved their help. But Piter’s Folly is an outlier, Madam Petra. Whatever free humanity exists is seeking shelter at Rowan—hundreds are arriving every day and the harbor towns and inland settlements are growing. Whether you love Rowan or despise it, our realm represents the best chance for humanity to survive and maintain some semblance of freedom. Surely the Workshop doesn’t want to play a role in its destruction.”
“Katarina,” said Madam Petra, leaving the window and smoothing her daughter’s hair. “Dmitri will be wondering why this meeting has run so long. I want you to go downstairs and ask the chefs to make you some lunch. If he pesters you, say that we’re discussing a possible gold-mine partnership. The Broadbrims are afraid of anyone else knowing their discovery and thus we don’t want to be disturbed. If he seems impatient, make him sit for a portrait. I want him occupied. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” replied the girl, slipping out the door and closing it firmly behind her.
Madam Petra turned back to her guests. “My sources tell me that there are over eight hundred thousand people living within your realm and almost ninety thousand sheltered within Rowan’s outer walls. How many of those can you muster to defend it? How many of those are old men and women, or children too young to heft a sword or stand a watch? Prusias has over twenty million subjects; his main army is nearly bigger than your entire population and there are no crones or quaking boys among its ranks. The King of Blys doesn’t need the Workshop to conquer Rowan; he just needs an excuse. And you gave him one when Bram destroyed Gravenmuir.…”
“Perhaps Prusias is getting ahead of himself,” said David. “We passed the remnants of his forces on the road. It looked like Aamon is winning.”
Madam Petra gazed about the room, at its rich decor and strange luminescent paintings, before shrugging at David. “Does it look like I plan to flee from Aamon?”
“No,” said Max. “But the docks of Piter’s Folly are filled with others who aren’t as optimistic.”
“Of course they are,” laughed Petra, returning to her seat. “Who do you think is feeding the rumors? The only thing I like better than a frantic buyer is a desperate seller. The sheep are selling me their homes and property for a pittance. And when Prusias wins this war, they’ll come skulking to my door and buy them back at thrice the price. War doesn’t destroy fortunes; it makes them.”
“How do you sleep at night?” asked Max, incredulous at her callous pragmatism.
“Like a baby,” she purred, finishing her champagne. “It’s a hard world we live in. If others aren’t smart enough to play the game, it’s better that I have their chips.”
“What makes you so certain that Prusias will win?” asked David.
“Now, that’s valuable information,” replied Madam Petra, examining her nails. “What will you give me for it?”
“Some valuable information in return,” said David.
The smuggler flashed the very smile that had once charmed the world. “Oh, I like this,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Dazzle me, David Menlo. What little tidbit is worth Prusias’s big secret?”
David gestured toward Toby. “My friend here is not a goblin.”
Madam Petra blinked. Her smile faded. “Of course he is,” she scoffed. “I saw him through the pinlegs.”
“And the pinlegs was mistaken,” retorted David. “Allow me to present the illustrious smee. Toby, if you’d be so kind as to take your natural shape.”
A moment later, Madam Petra was staring at the smee’s mottled, yamlike body slouching in her expensive chair. The woman’s lip curled.
“Charmed,” said Toby, dipping his twisty head.
“Er … likewise,” she muttered, glancing quizzically at the creature before returning her attention to David. “And you think
“Tut-tut,” chided David. “You’re not seeing the possibilities, my dear Madam Petra. Our associate just fooled your pinlegs. He—”
“Fooled the pinlegs,” she repeated, sitting up. “His aura wasn’t detected.…”
