Gilded Cage (Dark Gifts #1)(93)

Should he tell them that Silyen Jardine knew – or claimed to know – the identity of whoever had Silenced him? But Silyen had already denied that knowledge to his father, and would simply do so again. It would set the Jardine father and son against each other, but how would that benefit Luke?

He didn’t have enough time to figure it all out. Then the cupola bell sang out a high, bright nine, and he no longer had any time at all.

Lord Jardine began speaking, and Luke realized that he wasn’t here for a trial. Only a sentence.

‘My own initial questioning has found no evidence of Skillful influence,’ the lord of Kyneston said, his leonine head turning to survey the assembled Equals. ‘Neither has examination by my fellow member of the Justice Council, Arailt Crovan. It seems likely that the boy is a lone-wolf attacker, radicalized by his time in Millmoor slavetown, incited by associates there as yet unknown.’

Luke’s heart roiled within him. Associates in Millmoor. They would rip apart his mind and find everything about Jackson, Renie and the club.

His choices became clearer. Delaying tactics here at Kyneston would simply result in further Skillful interrogation by Jardine or Crovan, which would inevitably betray his friends.

If the games he’d played in Millmoor had taught him one thing, it was that action created unpredictability and opportunity. Being handed to Crovan would mean a long journey to Scotland. That would offer opportunities for escape – assuming the man didn’t lead him out of Kyneston on a leash.

‘The boy’s guilt is beyond doubt. Almost all of us were present at his heinous murder of our former Chancellor. Many of us were unfortunate enough to witness it with our own eyes. I therefore move that the sentence of Condemnation to slavelife be passed immediately. The criminal will then be consigned to Arailt Crovan for reformation.’

Lord Jardine surveyed the chamber. Luke couldn’t imagine anyone being insane enough to raise their voice. There was no friend for him here, in this Parliament of Equals.

But someone spoke.

‘He’s innocent. You must let him go.’

At the very back, someone stood up. The voice – and the face – were impossibly familiar.

‘Heir Meilyr?’ Lord Jardine was frowning in a way that boded no good for the speaker. ‘You claim this boy is innocent?’

‘I do.’

The man – the Equal, Heir Something-or-other – was descending from the high tier in which he had been seated. And Luke wanted to shout at him to shut up, to sit down. To stop saying what he was saying, because this man’s identity was impossible and too awful to be true.

He wasn’t an Equal. He was Luke’s mentor and friend, Doc Jackson.

‘And you know this how?’

‘Because I know him. For the last year I have been living in Millmoor slavetown working as a doctor. I met this boy when he was brought to me as a patient, following a brutal beating by Security. Millmoor’s rebellious actions over the past months have been my doing. My attempt to show all Equals the unjust conditions forced upon the common people – by us.’

Luke couldn’t believe it. He cringed away from this person who wore Jackson’s face and spoke with Jackson’s voice, but who was an Equal.

‘Your attempt has failed.’ Lord Jardine’s voice was ice. ‘Was this boy your last throw of the dice? You told him to commit this final atrocity, or he did it of his own accord under your influence – there is little difference.’

Lord Jardine’s words crawled into Luke’s ears. Was this what it had all been about – the Doc’s resolve that Luke should come to Kyneston? Was this why he had been recruited for the club? A walking weapon, ready for Jackson – this Equal – to use.

To use – and then Silence. Was it this man whose Skill Silyen Jardine had detected? The person who wasn’t who they seemed?

But that wasn’t the story the Doc was telling.

‘Luke had no part in Zelston’s murder. I can tell you exactly what he did in Millmoor: acts of kindness and deeds of bravery. There is no need for you, or that man’ – Jackson turned and pointed to Crovan – ‘to rip up his mind for useless knowledge. The Chancellor’s death must have been a personal grudge; Luke the innocent tool used by the murderer. It could have been anyone here in this chamber. Even you, my Lord, who have gained most by Zelston’s death.’

The East Wing of Kyneston exploded for a second time in twelve hours, though only with shock this time. The uproar of Equals talking and yelling was deafening.

In the back row, an older woman was on her feet frantically calling out, ‘Meilyr, no! No!’

Gavar was staring at the Doc like he was seeing him for the first time.

‘The detention centre,’ Gavar said. ‘The escape. I knew it was Skill. That was you.’

But Jackson was looking only at Luke.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you who I was,’ he said, urgent and low. ‘And I’m so sorry this has happened. We’ll make it right, just as we did for Oz. Trust me.’

The doc’s face was as full of passionate sincerity as it had ever been. But how could Luke believe him now? How could you trust someone you’d never really known?

‘Enough!’

Lord Jardine’s voice had the same effect as his heir’s Skill in the MADhouse square that day, just minus the agony and the puking. The parliamentarians were instantly subdued.