The Book Eaters(84)
“His meal didn’t agree with him. Matley always was a contrary bastard.” Ramsey walked out, shoes leaving a trail of bloody prints on the hallway carpet. “I am already dealing with it. We have time to speak first.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She thought about running for it since no other knights had followed them, but that was futile and stupid. They’d be on her in no time at all.
“That’s where you’re wrong. You are both more useful than you know.” Ramsey led her a couple rooms down. “Potentially, anyway. If you cooperate.” He shot her a cold smile and stepped inside. “Be Devon the Deferential, yes?”
She limped in, still dazed by the quick change of events and compulsively checking on Cai every few seconds. Still no improvement. She looked around reluctantly. They were in someone’s private office. Filing cabinet, bland carpets. A desk. Some chairs.
“Sit.” He gave her a push.
Devon sat, conscious of the dried blood and encrusted vomit that stained her front. Cai arched his back, wailing, and twisted out of her arms.
“Let him go,” Ramsey said. “He’ll be seeking dark corners, lower sensory input, to ease the pain he’s in.”
“What’s wrong with him?” she said again, and gently set the boy down. As Ramsey had predicted, Cai crawled into the farthest corner and curled into a crying ball.
“Eating a book eater is not like eating a human. It can be done, but the sheer quantity of information is a struggle. We are vast repositories, closer to walking libraries than we are to humans. Your son”—he gestured at Cai—“is barely out of babyhood, and consuming Matley has overloaded him. I’ve seen something like this once before.”
“What the hell does that mean!”
“Exactly what it sounds like.” Ramsey took out a large leather wallet from his inside jacket pocket, unfolding it to reveal a set of syringes. “With your permission, I’ll give him a short-lasting sedative while we wait for my colleague to return. In the meantime, you and I should talk.” He cocked his head. “Can’t say knights don’t know how to manage dragons, eh?”
“With my permission,” she echoed hollowly. “Like I have a choice.”
“What can I say, I enjoy the ritual of politeness. Sometimes.” Ramsey stooped over the toddler, needle easing carefully into a tiny arm. Devon could not look away. Part of her feared what was in that syringe, but if her brother wanted them dead, they already would be.
Within moments, Cai settled down. He now drifted in and out of consciousness, no longer screaming or crying but still twitching like a nervy rabbit, huddled into his little tangle of limbs.
“Don’t get up,” Ramsey said, when she tried to rise. “Sit down and stay in your seat. We talk first. Your son will come to no harm sleeping on the floor.”
Slowly, Devon sank into her plastic chair. Cai wheezed, eyelids fluttering.
“Good girl.” Ramsey slid into the opposite seat and gave her that familiar lopsided grin. “Do you know why I’m here?”
“No.” Devon tried to concentrate. “Matley said you were disbanding. The knights are gone. No more space for Cai.”
“There are some in the Families who would love that. But we’re not gone, not quite yet.” The grin widened. “Dev, do you know how my order control the mind eaters we have?”
“Redemption,” she said. Then sat up, sharp with realization. “Wait, if there’s any Redemption around—”
“That won’t help him right now,” he said impatiently, “it only takes away hunger and he’s already in overload. Forget your son for a second, please, or this will take all evening.”
She ground her teeth. “Fine. Everyone knows you control your dragons’ hunger with Redemption.” Just like they would have controlled Cai. “So what?”
“Redemption is produced by one manor—the Ravenscars,” he said. “I’m told the Japanese might have something similar, but they don’t deal with outsiders much. No one else on this continent can make that drug, and the Ravenscars themselves have always kept the process secret.” Ramsey leaned forward, palms pressed to the table. “Which is a problem, because two months ago the entire brood disappeared.”
“Matley already told me that.” Devon forced herself to focus. “I don’t understand how. Manors don’t disappear overnight.”
“They do when people burn them down,” he said. “Some of the patriarch’s adult children have—from what we can tell—staged some kind of rebellion and run off into the night. Ravenscar Manor has been razed.” His gaze was hard and steady. “All Six Families … well, Five Families now … are without Redemption. Including my knights, and our dragons.”
Devon sat silent, wrestling with the enormity of that. Startled into interest despite the awfulness of the night so far, despite her own consuming problems. No wonder Matley had said the knights were disbanding. Their power and influence were bound up in the dragons they controlled. If Ramsey were being truthful, their order was finished. Especially with fertility technology on the horizon, and the end of arranged marriages.
And with them went Cai’s future, she thought. She’d wanted to save her son from life as a dragon. Not if it meant his death, though.