Page 101 of The Ragpicker King
“Perhaps for a moment. But much as she may dislike me, I doubt I am high on her list of priorities.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why have you been following me? Do you miss me that badly?”
She smiles coolly. “I’m just wondering what Prosper Beck plans to do with all those weapons you’ve stuffed into that warehouse. You are working for Beck, aren’t you?”
Jerrod leans his back against a stack of crates. “You knew I was Beck’s man when you let me into the Black Mansion.”
“You said he was gone.”
“Well,” Jerrod says. “He came back.”
Ji-An slowly shakes her head. She doesn’t seem angry, which surprises Jerrod. He would have thought she, of all of them, would be the least forgiving. “How long were you in touch with him before you decided to quit on us?” she says. “You were the least surprised about what happened on Tyndaris with the Malgasi woman. Did you know about her because of Beck?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What does he hold over you?” she asks. “You were perfectly happy with us. I know you were.”
“Prosper Beck saved my life.” Clouds are gathering overhead, further graying the sky. “I owe him. Like you owe Morettus.”
Her expression softens. “Should we be worried about what information you plan to share with him?”
“No. Beck’s not your enemy. I don’t know what the weapons are for. Selling, probably—”
Ji-An’s eyes narrow. “Selling to Malgasi?”
“Definitely not.”I wish I could tell you all of it.“Malgasi hate every one of us. They’re the threat. Not Beck.”
“Hmm.” She bites her lip. “What are you not telling me?”
“I’m telling you everything I can,” Jerrod says, and that, at least, is the whole truth. “That’s why I left the mansion. There was too much I couldn’t tell any of you. I don’t mind lying, but not to people I...”
Now she smiles. “Like?”
Jerrod crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“Merren misses you, you know,” she says. “He isn’t even interested in experiments anymore. Just sits around staring at his alembics. Moping.” She examines her nails. “Sighing.”
Jerrod glares at her. “Why are you telling me this?”
She straightens up, giving him a hard look. “I want you to promise on Merren’s life that Beck isn’t stockpiling these weapons to use them against the Ragpicker King or any of us.”
Jerrod nods. “I can promise you that.”
The hard look softens slowly into something else. It certainly isn’t a look of trust, but it isn’t hatred, either. Jerrod supposes he should take what he can get.
“Good enough,” Ji-An says, and—with a flick of shadow—disappears into the darkness, a moment before the sky opens up and pours down rain.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Are you quite sure you’re all right?”
Lin looked anxiously across the table at Merren. They were in the Black Mansion, Merren perched on a stool with a round glass alembic in his hands. The length of the much-abused table was between them, but Lin could still read Merren’s expression clearly.
Merren, unlike the Ragpicker King or Ji-An, had never been good at hiding his emotions. Under his tousled hair, his face was set in lines of clear unhappiness. His blue eyes were rimmed in red. She wondered if she dared mention Jerrod’s name—it had been days since Jerrod had left, and she still didn’t really know how Merren felt about it.
Merren lifted a hand to pat his bandaged shoulder. “Not to worry. I’m healing nicely.”
He’d misunderstood her deliberately, Lin thought. But then, she could hardly blame him. It wasn’t as if she were eager or willing to spill her confused thoughts about Conor, even to Mariam.
“Well, don’t lift anything too heavy,” Lin said. She touched one of the packets of ingredients—some from the physick garden, some fresh from this morning’s market—that lay in a tidy row on thetable. “How long do you think it will take to formulate the altered remedy?”
