The Liar's Key (The Red Queen's War #2)(128)

I stood up, holding my palm out toward him. The movement came too fast and, ever suspicious, he slammed the gate, turning the key in the lock. A few seconds earlier and Artos’s dead legs would have kept the gate from closing, but the old man had pushed them through just in time. What I would have done then I’m not sure. Certainly pitting my skull against Racso’s baton did not appeal. He looked to have the sullen strength possessed by many fat men with slab-like arms. Not a showy, muscular strength, just the killing kind.

“Easy, emperor! Nothing sudden. Nothing sudden!” He squinted at my hand as he withdrew the key. “Don’t look like much.”

“Take a closer look!” I stepped forward and he stepped back, lantern waving, key jutting at me as if to ward off attack. I’d tried too hard though, unnerved him, let the need show.

“You want to settle yourself, emperor, take it easy. Don’t let this place get to you. A little fasting will calm you down.” He turned away, evidently not taking food orders today.

I punched the bars in frustration. It didn’t help. Another night would see me falling asleep and spilling all my new secrets to Sageous.

“Wait!” Hennan’s high voice. “A silver crown. Crown argent of Red March!” He nudged me in the ribs, hard. Racso swivelled with considerable grace, pirouetting on a heel.

“Silver? I don’t think so. I’d’ve smelled out a silver.” He tapped his nose.

Hennan nudged me again and with great reluctance I drew one of the three silvers from the depths of my pocket, not the promised crown argent but a silver florin from the Central Bank’s own mint. A hungry gasp went up on all sides.

“Shut it!” Racso banged the bars, scowling at the inmates before returning his gaze to the florin. “Silver is it?” A peculiar greed stole over his face as if the coin were a pudding he were about to devour. “And what is it you’d be wanting, yer lordship? Meat? A good joint on the bone? Beef? A jug o’ gravy with it?”

“Just hold your lantern like so.” Hennan mimed the action. “And the door key, like so.” He held the one hand before the other. “And let the shadow fall onto Jalan’s palm.”

Racso frowned, his hands moving to obey even as he considered his objections. “Witchcraft is it? Some heathen thing of yours, boy?” He unclasped the key hoop on his belt and worked the largest of them free.

“He says it will bring us luck.” I shrugged, joining in. “Damned if I’m not tired enough of this place to want a bit of that. The key symbolizes freedom.”

“You following the north gods now, yer lordship?” Racso picked absently at his nose with the hand holding the key. “Don’t hardly seem Christian.”

“Just taking a gamble, Racso, just a gamble. I’ve been praying hard to Jesu and the Father since I got here and it hasn’t done a bit of good. Me the son of a cardinal and all! Thought I’d spread my bets.”

And just like that Racso held out the door-key, his lantern behind it, close enough and still enough for the shadow to fall on the floor. As Hennan surmised, everything’s for sale at the right price, and you won’t find many shadows that will earn you a silver florin.

I reached out with the rune at the middle of my palm and caught the shadow from the air, closing my hand about it. In one moment fingers closed about empty space and in the next they held Loki’s key, as cold, heavy, and solid as a lie.

In the same instant I tossed the florin between the bars and a hundred pairs of eyes followed its ringing progress. Racso scampered after it, dropping the door-key on the floor, beyond arm’s reach though that didn’t stop half a dozen of my cellmates stretching for it.

He tracked the coin down and stamped on it to halt its progress. “Now that weren’t right, debtor.” He called the ones closest to dying debtor, as if it excused everything happening to them. “Ain’t right to send a man running after a coin like he’s a street beggar. Not even for a silver.” He straightened, bit the coin, and crossed back toward us, the florin in his meaty fist. He barked a laugh at the arms withdrawing between the bars. “Take more’n a key to get out of Central Prison. I could open all eight of these gates and wouldn’t none of you maggots get halfway out. You’d need all these here.” He patted the ring at his hip, making the keys hooked upon it jangle. “And a sword-son to get past the guard. There’s close on a dozen standing between you lot and freedom.” He frowned over the arithmetic. “Six or seven anyway.”

Racso looked down at the coin in his palm, his face almost lit with the glow of it. “Easy money.” He laughed and slapped his belly, shadows swinging. “I’ll be back for the debtor.” He toed Artos’s corpse. “Got me some spending to do.” And off he walked, whistling his song of cool breezes and open fields.

I sat in my island of light, the candle flame guttering around its wick, Loki’s key in my hand, and in the thickness of the shadow on all sides desperate men muttered about silver coins.





TWENTY-NINE


We waited for Racso to come back. We didn’t need his key but I needed light for my plan and before the light I’d needed darkness. We had to wait. I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want the boredom or the misery or the sense of uncertainty, but most of all I didn’t want to fall asleep and find Sageous waiting there for me.