“We have a runaway,” he announces with bold smugness.
The council isn’t here in its entirety. Two of the Supra are absent, leaving only Qequan, Ichlad, and Agga. We’ve interrupted a meal or a meeting. A table set with food has been placed by the chairs. Qequan’s heavy brow takes in the scene. His lips purse together. He’s silent for several seconds.
I feel fear emanate from Grodd. But Qequan waves toward some servants in the shadows, and they collect the table and pull it aside. Qequan, Agga, and Ichlad take their seats.
“Runaway?” Qequan repeats, folding his fingers beneath his chin.
I stand, taking two large steps away from Grodd, and bow. “The Pleb is mistaken, sir. I was merely climbing the city.”
“I’ve been scouting all week,” Grodd says lowly. “I saw her climb out of the canyon and try to run. She scared when she saw me.”
I gape at him. “That is a lie!”
Grodd’s face brightens with a surge of blue blood. “You will watch your tongue with me, human!”
He seizes me again, by the same arm, and throws me back to the carpet. I gasp as pain explodes from my new bruises.
“That is enough,” Agga says.
But Grodd puts a foot on my back, preventing me from getting up. “What’s this?” he asks. I’m not sure what he means until he adds, “There’s a bulge on her thigh.”
My heart stops beating. No. Perg’s knife.
One of the council members gestures, and a guard from the side of the room marches forward and indelicately yanks down the waist of my slacks, revealing my undergarments, the majority of my thigh, and the knife tied there. With a quick yank, the guard pulls it free. Grodd removes his foot. I scramble to dress myself and find my feet. My heart kicks into gear again, blistering within my chest.
I have no defense. It’s illegal for humans to carry weapons. I might have been able to talk myself out of Grodd’s initial claim, but I cannot save myself from this.
Qequan stands and crosses the room. Taking the knife from the guard, he examines it. “This isn’t a slayer’s blade. Where did you get it?”
I bite my tongue.
“I asked you where you got it.” His sharp demand carries all the power of a Supra. But Perg has suffered so much already. I will not give his name.
“I found it.”
Qequan pats the flat of the blade against his palm and walks around the rug, studying me. “I don’t believe you.”
I stare at the fur beneath my feet.
“And where did you find it?”
“On the way to the south dock.” I name the first place that pops into my mind. “Night shift. In the street leading past the food stores.” I dare to lift my gaze. “I know it’s illegal, but I’ve never used it. I was afraid for my life after—”
“Silence.” Qequan doesn’t yell, but the force of his voice echoes between the walls. “I did not ask for your excuses, human. This”—he holds up the knife—“is against the law, and you know that, do you not?”
I swallow and drop to my knees. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t. Guards.”
The guard who found the knife seizes my elbow, and a second one comes to take my other. Natural fear, cold and sticky, rises to my skin.
“A pity.” Qequan strolls back to his chair. “I quite liked you, Lark. But I cannot tolerate untrustworthy humans in my city, now of all times.” He turns and sits, flaring out his robes as he does so. “We will discuss whether it’s exile or the canyon for you.”
The guards haul me backward.
“Qequan, please!” I cry out, my vision blurring with tears. “I’m loyal to the trollis. I wasn’t trying to flee the city!”
The trollis leader meets my eyes, and for a second I think he’s been swayed, that he’ll have pity on me, that my usefulness will outweigh what he sees as betrayal, or possibly even a suspicion that I’m connected to the humans who attacked the trollis band. But any trace of sympathy vanishes, and the guards drag me down a dark, narrow hallway that I recognize from when I first arrived. I know where it leads. The dungeon.
My hope fizzles out like a drowning candle wick, and I’m locked in with the shadows, without a second chance to plead my case.
Chapter 22
After what must be a full night in this stony cell, I know I’ve been denied visitors. Azmar will wonder where I am when I don’t seek him out. When he finds my quarters empty. He’ll worry. I imagine him searching the city, asking around the south dock, maybe even approaching the human enclave. He’ll find Unach, too, and ask her. Will Unach worry? Or will she shrug it off and expect me to show in the morning?