theoretical role in Alexander's madness. If the Tombs wanted Alexander dead, they would shoot him. Unless they needed to discredit him first. I really needed to know more about what was going on in the Council.
'What about this Bright girl?' I asked. 'What do you know about her?'
'Not much. They're a recent addition to the Council. Her father has very diversified interests. One of which, curiously, is not the Council. It was her brother that worked to get them a seat in the chamber. And as far as I know, he's the one who sits it. Aaron, his name is, I think. She acts as his second.'
'I take it they hate all Founders, everywhere, and would do everything in their power to bring us down?'
'Beats me.' Wilson finished his beer then carefully turned the mug on its head and rested his hands on top of it. 'But it sure seems she has no love for the Tombs. Maybe she'd talk to you. Tell me,' he said, looking around the bar. 'Does this all seem strange to you?'
I finished my beer and pushed the glass away. It left a wet trail on the table, like a slug.
'Does what seem strange to me?'
'This crowd. What is tonight, Tuesday? Tuesday's not usually a big drinking night.'
I put a hand on the girl's wrist when she brought me the next round. She stiffened, but met my eyes.
'What's with all the people?' I asked. She answered, but it was too quiet for me to hear. I gave her a tug, until she bent close.
'They're coming for you,' she groaned. Voice like a graveyard cracking open, rattling up from the deep parts of her chest.
'What?' I asked, squeezing hard. Wilson squinted at me and leaned in to listen. The girl blinked and looked at me like I was an idiot.
'I said, people are cutting loose before the curfew. Council's shutting the city down tomorrow. Some kind of Badge thing.'
'First I've heard of it,' I said. 'I've never known them to shut down the whole city.'
'Not since the red fever came through here,' Wilson said, looking mournfully at his upturned mug. 'It's pretty strange.'
'Anyway,' the barmaid fluttered her eyes at me. 'Much as I enjoy being held by such a fine gentleman, I do have other tables.'
'I really doubt you've been held by many gentlemen,' I muttered.
She gave me a look, then twisted her arm free and slapped her palm flat across my cheek before stalking away.
'What was that about?' Wilson asked, eyes twinkling.
'Nothing,' I said. 'Let's get out of here.'
'Aren't you going to finish your beer?' he asked.
'Nope.'
'Aren't you going to pay for the beers you finished?'
'Nope.'
'Woo, it's a party! We're on a tear!' Wilson jumped up and slapped me on the back. 'Skipping out on checks and walking out on your father. Next thing we'll be beating up kids for their allowance!'
'What the hell has gotten into you?' I snapped.
'I'm just glad to see you making mistakes again. You're more fun when you make mistakes.' He grabbed me by the shoulder with his iron-hard fingers and kept me from walking away from him. 'Seriously. What'd the bitch say the first time? I thought your face was going to fall off.'
'I don't know what she said,' I answered, looking nervously around the room. 'But someone made a threat, through her. A threat or a warning.'
Wilson's smile broke, but only for a moment. He looked for the barmaid, but couldn't find her. Without another word he started pushing for the front door.
'Did she look like she had cogwork?' he asked.
'She looked like she had great tits. That's as far as I got.'
'You're not helpful,' he hissed.
'I thought I was more fun when I made mistakes.'
'That has its limits. Let's get somewhere quieter and…'
The sirens started. Out in the streets, the drunken crowd gave a whoop and a holler, and then gunfire sprinkled the air and people started screaming. We stopped talking, and just ran.
Chapter Ten
This is what I wanted to do; what I was going to do. I wanted to run as far from this bullshit as modern transportation would take me. Grew up the pawn of my old man, played the game according to his rules, according to the rules of this little society we had formed on this godscursed river. And he played me, betrayed me, cut me off. Everything that man had ever done was meant to shape me into a tool for his name. And when I broke, when the tool fell clattering to the floor of his shop, he cast me aside and went looking for someone else.
And now he had no one else, and he was coming back to me. Reinstating me into the family would only do one thing, it would get me killed. So here I was, dragged back into the chaos of Council politics, into the backstabbing and the plotting. Into the game. And I was done playing.
Somewhere outside of Veridon there was a morning where I could wake up and not worry about whether my name was about to get me killed. There was a town that had never heard of the family Burn, never heard of the wastrel of a son who disappointed his scheming father. There was a place where I was a nobody, worth nothing. Not worth killing. I was going to find that place. Now.
To hell with this place. To hell with Veridon.
Outside, it was like a festival. The street was stuffed with people, some of them screaming, some of them laughing. All of them drunk. The gunfire was distant, the sirens howling over the crowd like a trumpet call. The air was crackling with a hot spring breeze. Flares had gone up, lining the clouds of an early season storm in unnatural pinks and reds. Lightning shuddered across the sky. Wilson was still smiling.
There was a line of officers of the Badge moving down the street, steadily compacting the revelers into tighter and tighter quarters. The gunshots came from them, firing their shortrifles into the air as they proceeded. Wilson and I went with the flow of traffic, rippling in the other direction. It felt as if we were being herded.
'So, whatever ghost voice talked to you through the girl,' Wilson yelled into my ear — it was hard to hear anything over the crowd and the sirens — 'do you think it was the Badge they were warning you about?'
'Nope,' I answered. My shoulders were hunched tight under my jacket. I was getting pressed from all sides.
'Me neither,' Wilson said. 'Because it's pretty obvious that they're coming. Don't need to be warned away from that ruckus. Which leaves us with the interesting question.'
'Which is?'
Wilson looked around at the crowd, then back to me.
'What's the real threat, and where are they?' He muscled an arm free of the press and used it to clear some space around us. 'And how long before they stab us in the back, among all these idiots?'
'That's not a very interesting question,' I said. 'At least, I'm not interested in it.'
'You're not?' He gave me a quizzical look. 'Feeling suicidal?'
'No. I'm feeling finished.' I pushed to the side of the crowd, against one of the walls. The shop behind me had been boarded up, in eerily accurate anticipation of the riot. The keep had clearly seen this kind of weather in the air before. I stood with my back against the boards, watching the Badge get closer. Wilson fought his way next to me and stared into my face.
