heard the slight hesitation. My cutlass, Crake was undoubtedly thinking.
‘One of many reasons it’s such a work of art,’ he said.
Frey unclipped the earcuff and returned to Crake, who had resumed scrubbing the golem. ‘I’m impressed,’ he said, handing it back. ‘You want to go to a party?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘A ball, actually. Formal ball, held by Gallian Thade.’
‘The Winter Ball at Scorchwood Heights?’
‘Ummm . . . yes?’ Frey replied uncertainly.
‘You have invitations?’
Frey brandished the letter from Amalicia. ‘I will have soon. I was thinking you might go, and take Jez with you.’
Crake looked at him, searching for a sign of mockery.
‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘I could really use your help, Crake. Thade will be there, and if he’s working with someone else, it’s our best chance of finding out what he’s up to.’
Crake was still watching him narrowly, indecision in his eyes.
‘Look,’ said Frey. ‘I know I have no right to ask. You’re a passenger. That’s what you signed on for. You don’t owe me anything.’ He shrugged. ‘But, I mean, you and Bess . . .’
Bess shifted at the sound of her name, a quizzical coo coming from deep within her. Crake patted her back.
Frey coughed into his fist, looked away into the distance, and scratched his thigh. He was never very good with honesty. ‘You and Bess, the both of you saved our lives back in Marklin’s Reach. I’ve kind of got to thinking that, well . . .’ He shrugged again. Crake just kept on looking at him. The daemonist wasn’t making it easy. ‘What I’m saying - badly - is that I’ve started to think of you more as part of the crew, instead of just dead weight. I’m saying, well . . . look, I don’t know what business you’re really on, or why you took up with me in the first place, but it’s getting to be pretty bloody handy having the two of you around. Especially if you’re gonna start making more little trinkets like those ear things.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Frey,’ said Crake. ‘Are you offering me a job?’
Frey hadn’t really thought about that. He just knew that he needed Crake to help him out. ‘Would you take one if I offered it?’ he heard himself saying. ‘Part of the crew? Just till . . . well, until we get this whole mess sorted out. Then you could decide.’
‘Do I get my cutlass back?’
‘No!’ Frey said quickly. ‘But I’ll cut you in on a share of what we make.’
‘We don’t seem to make a great deal of anything.’
Frey made a face, conceding the point.
‘What would I have to do in return?’ Crake asked. He returned to scrubbing Bess’s massive back. A deep, echoing groan of pleasure came from the golem’s depths.
‘Just . . . well, stick around. Help us out.’
‘I thought I was doing that already.’
