The Book Eaters(93)
“Killock does seem to rely on you heavily.”
“I remain useful … for now,” Mani conceded, with an undertone that suggested this might change at any moment. “Like all mind eaters, Killock can write, but he still does not exist in a legal sense, nor does he have experience of the wider world. I, on the other hand, am an actual citizen of this country, able to make bank accounts and so forth, since I have personal documentation, which he lacks. I also help manage the Ravenscar finances, such as they are, and I oversee communications with their drug suppliers.”
“Then you’ll know the components that go into the drugs, and also where the finished drugs are kept,” she said, glancing around; no one was about. This house could easily hold four times the Ravenscars’ number and it was practically empty with only fifteen people in it. “Since Killock makes you do the grunt work and keep the records. Am I right?”
“Is that information of interest to you, Ms. Fairweather?” He slowed down again, coming closer. “Is there any particular reason you ask?”
“My son needs it to live. I’m interested in keeping him alive.” She met his inquisitive gaze with her own hard-edged stare. “If I knew the ingredients going into it, perhaps I’d be able to make my own.”
“That information is only needful if you don’t plan to stay,” Mani said, adjusting his glasses. “Are you perchance thinking of moving on from Traquair?”
“Aren’t you?” she returned levelly. “I saw your face at chapel earlier. I can’t begin to imagine what twenty-two years trapped among mind eaters is like for a human, but I doubt it’s gotten easier or better since Killock’s coup. Crikey, I don’t want to stay here, and I’m practically one of them.”
“It hasn’t gotten easier. You are right on that account.” A note of sourness crept into his voice. “But I am also sixty-five, arthritic, diabetic, and have been given a cruel injury that makes fast movement difficult. One must be realistic about these things.”
Devon hooked her thumbs through her belt loops. “Well, I’m younger, healthy, fast as hell, and have certain resources at my disposal. Maybe we can help each other.”
Mani took another step closer, almost shoulder to shoulder. “How so, Ms. Fairweather?”
“That depends. How much Redemption do you keep in store?”
He smiled. “How much do you need?”
“Enough for Cai to live the rest of his life, ideally, but I’ll take whatever you can give me.”
The ex-journalist folded his hands atop the cane, resting thoughtfully. “Fill a large suitcase and that’s ten years’ worth for a single person, I should think. The pills are only small. I can get even more, if you are able to wait a few weeks.”
She couldn’t. “Ten years’ worth will be fine. I need it by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” His eyes bugged slightly, composure slipping. “Are you leaving so soon?”
“As soon as I’ve got Redemption.” And had another chance to talk to Hester, she thought silently. “I need to be gone by tomorrow night. Can you help?”
“I believe so, yes.” Mani shifted his weight, giving the tired leg a slight rest. “I will arrange to conduct an inventory of Redemption stores tomorrow. That will allow me to procure what you need without arousing suspicion.”
“And any notes you can give me on the ingredients,” she pressed. Ten years of medication would buy her plenty of time to figure out the cure, if she had the ingredients and processes in note form.
Mani was no fool, though. “Remind me what I’m getting out of it, again,” he said. “So far I’ve yet to hear any counter-assurances from you, Ms. Fairweather.”
“A car ride out of here, and an escorted ferry trip to Ireland. Safety and protection the entire way, provided by me.”
“Ah-huh. Ireland … yes, a good choice. And will we be accompanied by anyone else?”
“Friends of mine, who I trust, and who will be picking us up,” Devon said. “Maybe Hester. I’m not sure.”
“Hester, eh? I did wonder if she’d … well.” Mani considered a moment, still leaning on his cane. “Meet me at the brewery tomorrow evening,” he said at last. “Seven P.M. sharp. I will aim to be punctual and expect you to do the same.”
“I’ll be there.” She held out a hand.
Mani shook it briefly. “What a lovely reunion it has been,” he said pleasantly, as if they’d been discussing the weather. “Come along, Ms. Fairweather. Your son is waiting.”
27
THE PRINCESS SEEKS HER PRINCE
EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO
Then the princess bound up her hair, put on her boots, and her coat of a thousand furs, and stepped out into the silent snowy darkness. She walked all night.
—Charlotte Huck, Princess Furball
Eight long months in Camelot, and Devon was finally “free” to leave.
Pitted asphalt rolled past her window, hemmed by pavements flush with pedestrians. A year ago, she’d have been thrilled by the sight. The idea now of living among them, indefinitely, made her want to crawl into the nearest sewer grate and never come out.
“We’ll drop you at the station. You can make your way from there.” Ramsey steered their Volkswagen people-carrier through lazy Oxford traffic; the first time she’d seen him drive anything other than a motorbike. “The amount of cash you’re carrying will easily last years.”