"You really can't see me," Nophel said.
"It seems not."
"I can't… I don't want to be Unseen," he said. "There are the Scopes to consider, my duty to them, and-"
"Let me think," Dane said, and already the command was back in his voice. He turned his back on Nophel and walked to the slash table, picking up a flexible pipe with a bone tip and breathing in a huge draw of the drug's smoke. That's how you think? thought Nophel. But he knew that Dane had a good mind, and whether or not the drug improved that seemed unimportant now.
For a few moments Nophel looked down at himself and concentrated, and the shadow of his limbs and body slowly faded. He closed his eyes and focused, and when he looked again he could see the shine of metal buttons on his shirt. They seemed to wink at him. When he looked up, Dane was walking back and forth before the wide window. Beyond, Nophel could see only sky, but if he went closer he could look out over Marcellan Canton and the hazy Course beyond.
I should tell him everything, he thought. But news of the Baker felt like power.
"Do they scheme?" Dane asked at last.
Yes, Nophel wanted to say, because a frightened Dane would be easier to manipulate. But he suddenly saw real fear in this man, and he felt something he usually felt only in the presence of the Scopes: pity.
"I don't think so," he said. "Not against you or the city. But I think they do still maintain an interest."
"How?" Dane asked. He was looking out the window now, his back turned on the unseen man, and perhaps he was picturing Nophel as he remembered him from the last time they'd met: disfigured, scarred, unsettled.
"They caught the thing that came out of Dragar's Canton."
"Caught it?" He spun around and advanced on Nophel, and Nophel realized that Dane's fear was not for himself. It was deeper and richer and composed of things Nophel would likely never be privy to, however much he asked and however much he thought of himself as almost the Marcellan's equal. "Caught it how?"
"Crossbow," Nophel said. He stood and held his ground. Dane stopped a couple of steps away from him, nostrils flaring.
"What was it?" Dane asked. "I need to know. You must tell me now."
"A Dragarian. A flying thing."
"And it spoke?"
Here we are, Nophel thought. Here is when I play the only card I have.
"It spoke," Nophel said. "Before killing itself, it spoke."
Dane's eyes widened a little, then he sat down on the bed, hands resting on his knees. His head turned left and right, as if scanning the room for something invisible. The Unseen, Nophel thought, smiling. I've made him uncertain, at least.
"What did the Dragarian say?" Dane asked.
"Make me whole again."
Dane paused in his movements, staring at the floor between his feet. Even his massive frame stilled, as though that sway of flesh could rest in a held breath.
"You dare to bargain with me?" he said quietly.
"I merely-"
"You dare to withhold something from me?"
"I can't be like this. I've seen what happens to them."
Dane stood quickly and reached out, his meaty fist closing perfectly around Nophel's throat. He squeezed, his face remaining calm and composed. He raised one eyebrow. "Don't take me for a fool!"
"I know you're no fool," Nophel croaked, and Dane released his hold, turning away. He wiped both hands on his robe as he strode back to the slash table.
"You have such a power now," Dane said, "but you're too weak to see it and too scared to use it. Look at you!" He turned again, long pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth. Dragging on the smoke, his eyes widened and glittered as he dropped the pipe and raised his arms. "Look at you! You're Unseen, Nophel, even more than you were before! Your dead hog of a mother gave you nothing, but her talent has made you what you are now."
"And what is that?" Nophel demanded. He was proud at the edge in his voice, the challenge he could still muster in the face of this man's intimidating authority and power.
"Mine," Dane said, tails of slash smoke still curling up from the corners of his mouth. "That's what you are. Completely. Mine."
"No," Nophel said, but he knew it was true.
"I have the White Water," Dane said. "The antidote. If those fools you say you've seen had come crawling back instead of losing themselves in the city, maybe I would have given it. Maybe."
"Then let me-"
"After you tell me what the Dragarian said."
"You swear?"
"No, Nophel," Dane said. "I swear nothing." He drew on the pipe some more, a gentler draw this time, and then he sat on a giant floor cushion, his robe falling open and displaying the rolls of fat covering his genitals.
He thinks nothing of me, Nophel said. Such disregard. Such disdain.
"It said, Baker," Nophel said. "Then, He will go to her. And he was always ours."
Dane closed his eyes. Sighed. And when he stood again, purpose in his stance and expression, Nophel knew that his drink of the White Water was still not assured.
"You're looking for anything unusual," Dane said. "Anything strange."
"I see a lot of strange things," Nophel said.
"Stranger, then." Dane stood behind Nophel. The mountain of a man smelled of perfumes and sweat and was still panting from the effort of their ascent.
The pretense of their relationship had been shredded; Nophel was Dane's servant. And yet… as they watched the Scope's images presented on the viewing mirror, Nophel sensed that Dane still held him in some regard. Several times as they'd climbed staircases and opened and closed doors on the way to the viewing room, Nophel had almost asked the Marcellan something plain and cutting, a question he had believed he'd known the answer to for some time: Do you truly believe in the will of Hanharan? But such talk might elicit punishment. Still possessed by the effects of Blue Water he might be, but Nophel had no doubt that Dane could bring him down.
"We're looking north," Nophel said. "I'll try to find the place on the wall where I met the Unseen."
"What was his name?"
"Her name. It was Alexia."
"Ah."
"You knew her?" Nophel turned dials and cogs, pulled levers, and a hundred steps above them the Northern Scope was lengthening its skull, projecting its one massive eye farther out over the wall beneath its chest.
"A Scarlet Blade. She took the Blue Water…" He whistled softly, thinking. "Maybe three years ago, during the Watcher crackdown. She was a good soldier."
"She's bitter now."
Dane did not answer, but Nophel sensed no gloating, no anger. Perhaps the Marcellan was sorry.
"There," Nophel said. The screen was filled with an image of the northern wall around Hanharan Heights. He tweaked a wheeled button beneath his left hand and the image shifted left, pausing again at the seat where he had met Alexia.
"If they're all out there, there must be dozens," Dane mused.
"I saw only a few. But the Blue Water continues to work. The removal is… progressive and deeper as time goes by." He shivered, remembering those gray, empty streets. He never wanted to see them again.
Dane rested a hand on his shoulder. It surprised Nophel so much that he jumped, knocking a cog and jerking the Scope's view to the right. That might have hurt it, he thought, but then he felt Dane's breath close to his right ear, and the Marcellan whispered, "I've no wish to hurt you, Nophel. But you're far more useful to me as you are, for now." He stood and pulled his hand back, coughing lightly, perhaps even embarrassed at the contact. Nophel thought that it was the only time the man had ever touched him, other than when he grabbed his throat.
"I need to see the Council," Dane said.
"To tell them what the Dragarian said?"
"That would be the very last thing I'd tell them."
He's trying to say something, Nophel thought. Dane's tone of voice had changed, become quieter and lower, as if something heavy bore down on him every time he went to speak. Desperate to reveal something to me.