Red Rising(114)

“If we’re to have a conversation, please take this dagger out of my hand,” the Jackal says to me. “Believe it or not, it hurts.” He is not as playful as his words suggest. Despite his resolve, his face is pale and his body has begun to tremble from shock.

I smile. “Where is the rest of your army? Where is that girl, Lilath? She owes my friend an eye.”

“Let me go and I will give you her head on a platter, if you want. If you lend me an apple, I’ll even put that in her mouth so she looks like a pig at feast. Your choice.”

“There! Now, that’s how you got your name, isn’t it?” I say with mocking applause.

The Jackal clicks his tongue regrettably. “Lilath liked the sound of it. It stuck. That’s why I’ll put the apple in her mouth. Wish I could have been something more … regal than Jackal, but reputations tend to make themselves.” He nods to Sevro. “Like the Little Goblin there and his Toadstools.”

“What do you mean, ‘Toadstools’?” Thistle asks.

“That’s what we call you. Toadstools for Reaper and Goblin to squat on. But if you would like a better name beyond this little game, you need simply kill big nasty Reaper here. Don’t stun him. Kill him. Drive a sword into his spine, and you can become Imperators, Governors, whatever. Father will be happy to oblige. Very simple stuff. Quid pro quo.”

Sevro pulls out his knives and glares at his Howlers. “Not so simple.”

Thistle doesn’t move.

“Worth a try,” the Jackal sighs. “I confess, I am a politico, not a fighter. So if we’re to converse, you must say something, Reaper. You look like a statue. I don’t speak statue.” His charisma is cold. Calculating.

“Did you really eat your own Housemembers?”

“After months in darkness, you eat whatever your mouth finds. Even if it’s still moving. It isn’t very impressive, really. Less human than I would have liked, very much like animals. And anyone would have done it. But dredging up my foul memories is no way to negotiate.”

“We aren’t negotiating.”

“Humans are always negotiating. That’s what conversation is. Someone has something, knows something. Someone wants something.” His smile is pleasant, but his eyes … There is something wrong with him. A different soul seems to have filled his body since the time he was Lucian. I have seen actors … but this is different. It is as though he is reasonable to the point of being inhuman.

“Reaper, I will have my father give you whatever you like. A fleet. An army of Pinks to screw, Crows to conquer with, whatever. You’ll have prime placement if I win this little year of schooling. If you win, there’s still more schooling. Still more tests. More hardship. I hear your family is in debt and Shamed—it will be difficult for you to rise on your own.”

Almost forgot I had a fake family.

“I will make my own laurels.”

“Reaper. Reaper. Reaper. You think this is the end of the line?” He makes a clicking sound of disgust with his tongue. “Negative. Negative, goodman. But if you let me go, then hardship …” He makes a brushing motion with his free hand. “Gone. My father will become your patron. Hello, command. Hello, fame. Hello, power. Just say goodbye to this”—he gestures to the knife—“and let your future begin. We were enemies as children. Now let us be allies as men. You’re the sword, I’m the pen.”

Dancer would want me to accept the offer. It would guarantee my survival. Guarantee my meteoric rise. I would be inside the halls of the ArchGovernor’s mansion. I would be near the man who killed Eo. Oh, I want to accept. But then I would have to let the Proctors beat me. I’d have to let this little whorefart win and let his father smile and feel pride. I’d have to watch that smug smile spread across his bloodydamn face. Slag that. They’ll feel pain.

The door opens and Pax ducks into the room. A smile splits his face.

“Goryfine night, Reaper!” he laughs. “Caught the little turds in the well. Fifty. Seems they had long tunnels down there. Must be how they took the castle.” He slams the door and sits on the edge of the table to gnaw on a piece of leftover meat. “It was wet work! Ha! Ha! We let them come up and it was dandy fine carnage, I tell you. Dandy fine. Helga would have loved it. They are all slaves now. Mustang is making them as we speak. But ohhh, she’s in an odd mood.” He spits out a bone. “Ha! This him then? The Jackal? He looks pale as a Red’s ass.” He peers closer. “Shit. You nailed him down!”

“I think you’ve taken bigger shits than him, Pax,” Sevro adds.

“Prime have. More colorful ones too. He’s drab as a Brown.”

“Guard your tongue, fool,” the Jackal tells Pax. “It may not always be there.”

“Neither will your prick if you keep sassin’! Ha! Is it as small as you?” Pax booms.

The Jackal does not like being mocked. He stares silently at Pax before flicking his eyes back to me as a serpent might flick its tongue.

“Did you know the Proctors are helping you?” I ask. “That they’ve tried to kill me?”

“Of course,” he says with a shrug. “My bounties are … above average.”

“And you don’t mind cheating?” I ask.

“Cheat or be cheated, no?”