“And there’s no way you could know that from the far side of the suite,” said Leonis smugly. “That’s just a cheap attempt to ruin my good name.”
“The walls shake.”
“The walls are made of solid rock.”
“Just goes to show how powerful your snores are.”
“If they were that powerful, I’d find a way to weaponize them and hurl Jova across the arena floor.”
Lianshi propped her cheek on one palm and grinned at him. “Maybe you should start looking into that. Might be your only chance of winning a fight against her.”
Leonis looked despairingly at Scorio. “Can you please come back? Please? Do you see what I have to live with?”
Scorio tried to keep the bitterness out of his chuckle. His friends dwelt in another world. Staring at them, he marveled as to how different their lives were: they didn’t have to refill their pails from the ever-replenishing fountains of gruel; didn’t have to watch their backs every second they were in the city; didn’t have to sleep on a threadbare sheet in a ruined room with horrors passing outside their windows.
But then a warm glow filled his chest, taking him by surprise, erasing the bitterness as he suddenly saw it from another side: good. He was glad they didn’t. Glad they didn’t have to worry about their lives, and could instead focus on their advancement and Jova Spike’s impossible advantages.
“Have a word with Praximar for me,” he said, giving them a lopsided smile. “Get him to let bygones be bygones, and I’ll be swimming in that private pool with you guys in a heartbeat.”
Which only led him to think of Naomi—would he leave her alone in the ruins? Could he abandon her, no matter how gruff and distanced she tried to be?
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Leonis, pulling at his face with both hands and then sitting up. “Maybe we if get a really exalted patron. But speaking of which, we should be heading back.”
“Already?” Lianshi’s shoulders slumped dramatically as she pouted. “I hate meditation practice after I’ve stuffed myself. I always fall asleep.”
Leonis sighed dramatically. “All the more reason to get back to it.”
They stood, and for a moment Scorio panicked, wondering how he would cover his part of the bill, but Leonis simply tossed down a dozen octs upon the table, their faces gleaming with copper, and ushered him out of the room back into the main restaurant.
They stepped out into the blind courtyard, and Scorio was surprised to see that it was already Second Bronze—had they been in there that long? Wisps of cloud were rising from the canals to burn off some fifty yards above them, and the air was already hot and muggy.
“So when can we see you again?” asked Lianshi, hugging herself as she walked backward, eyeing him carefully. “This wasn’t a one-time deal, was it?”
“We can get out here every Eighthday,” said Leonis. “Want to make this meal a habit?”
Scorio smiled, feeling at once happy and melancholic. “I’d love to. Same place, even? See you guys back here next time you come to the Graveyard?”
Leonis draped a massive arm over his shoulders. “Sounds like a plan. And I promise to do my best to figure out how to get you to your locker, all right? Just don’t get your hopes up.”
“Agreed,” said Lianshi. “We’re on it.”
They walked in companionable silence to the end of the alleyway, where Scorio stopped, letting the others take a couple of steps before turning back to him.
“Probably best if we said our goodbyes here.”
“Scorio.” Lianshi reached out and took his hand. “It was really, really good to see you again. When you were taken from us, it… it hurt.” And she pressed her other hand over her heart, her expression sincere, open. “What we went through in the Gauntlet. It forged a bond between us three. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see that bond’s not broken.”
Leonis grunted in affirmation. “I won’t get all weepy about it, but I agree. It’s damned good to see you again.”
Scorio was trying to think of something wry to say when Leonis stepped in and wrapped them both again in a bear hug.
They smelled clean, their robes freshly laundered, and Scorio winced inwardly, wondering at how badly he must compare.
But when they stepped back, they were both smiling.
“Here,” said Leonis, taking his money pouch out of his robes and pressing it into Scorio’s palm. “Buy yourself some meat, for hell’s sake. Some new robes. Visit a barber.”
“Leonis,” hissed Lianshi, blushing.
“What?” Leonis stared at her frankly. “If I were in his broken sandals, I’d want a bath and a good meal, too. Friends don’t stand on pride.” He looked to Scorio. “It’s not a gift, it’s a loan. One day I know you’ll repay me a hundred times over.”
Scorio bounced the pouch in his palm then slipped it into his robe, his emotions roiling, his pride pricked, but Leonis’s open gaze defied any objections.
And truth be told, with that money he could get Naomi better alchemical equipment, treat her to a hot meal as well, get them both new sets of robes…
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure how you two would feel when you saw me again. I’m… I’m glad this went as well as I hoped.”
“Never doubt your friends,” said Lianshi. “One thing I’ve read repeatedly in my journals is that we’re born into this hell without family, without a past, without anything but our names. I’ve told myself a hundred times over to never give up on good people without a fight.”
“She’s not joking,” said Leonis gravely. “She was planning ways to get through the Final Door for two weeks after they took you. Only gave up when Helminth took her aside and warned her she’d be cast through herself if she didn’t straighten up. And even then, she tried to think of how we could use that as part of a strategy to get you out.”
“I couldn’t come up with anything,” said Lianshi apologetically. “Not as a Cinder.”
Scorio could sense more to the guilt in her words—perhaps there had been a terrible urgency at first, but it had been a couple of months since they’d last seen him. How easy it must have been to be seduced by the good life, the constant elixirs and training, the massages and fine quarters.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “What matters is that we’re reunited again. See you guys in eight days’ time?”
“Next Eighthday,” said Leonis. “Lianshi?”
She darted in one last time for a final hug, and then the two of them strode off, turning once as they entered the main avenue to look back and wave.
Scorio raised his hand, waved back with a smile, but both his hand and his smile fell away when they left his line of sight.
With a heavy heart, torn between bitterness and sweet joy, he began walking back toward the ruins and his fugitive life.
Chapter 24
Just eight days till Scorio could see his friends again, but heading back to the ruins, it felt like a year. If anything, their encounter had driven home how squalid his life had been up to this point. Suddenly Helena’s old, tattered robes felt indescribably grimy, his skin filmed with dust and dried sweat, his hair long, his face rough with a half-grown beard.
Hand wrapped around the octs Leonis had gifted him, he stepped out of the main rush of traffic heading south and to crouch in a doorway to survey the ward with a speculative glance. He was still in Ward 7, a bastion of wealth and privilege and center of Hydra’s power. Sufficiently so that as he crouched in the recessed doorway, a prim lady in pink and silver robes stepped up to drop a copper oct into his hands.
She was gone before he could respond, never having looked directly at him.
“All right,” he muttered. “Definitely time to clean up.”
He rose and approached a food vendor’s ornate stall. Piles of exotic fruit were heaped in perfect pyramids, each so beautiful as to be the ideal of its kind.
“Hey, you—get away from those dusk melons!”