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Losing him would kill me, in spirit, if
nothing else. I’d never see the sunlight again.

“Get some rest,” Frey said.

I laid my head on Ayo’s hip, still holding his
hand, letting myself cry, praying silently for him to wake up. I
measured the moments by the rise and fall of his chest.

Eventually, I ran out of tears. I didn’t have
the energy even to grieve. I lay there in that wretched, stinking
room, my throat ragged, my eyes burning and raw from the force of
my tears.

I felt sure he’d be gone by
morning.

***

I woke in darkness.

I lay perfectly still, trying to figure out
what had changed. For half a second, I feared Ayo had stopped
breathing, and tears welled up again in my eyes. I didn’t want to
open them if that was what had roused me.

But no. My head rested halfway on his stomach,
half on the bed, my neck twisted and sore, but once I managed to
calm myself, I felt the slow rise and fall of his chest. I felt his
warmth through the sheets. I felt…

The light touch of his hand. It started on my
shoulder, soft as a feather, then moved to my neck, whispering over
my flesh to the tangled mess of my hair.

“Misha?” he croaked. “Is that you?”

I nearly sobbed with relief. I wanted to pull
him close, but I feared disturbing Frey’s stitches. I settled for
burying my head in his stomach, clutching at his sides, letting my
tears soak the bedspread. “Thank the Goddess, you’re
awake.”

“My head hurts.”

My tears caused me to choke on my laughter.
“I’m not surprised.”

“Where are we?”

I didn’t want to answer that, knowing where it
would lead, but it had to be dealt with eventually. “At Anzhéla and
Frey’s.”

A soft intake of breath. A moment of tense
silence. And then a quiet moan of anguish. “Misha, what have I
done? I attacked her. I killed her!”

“No,” I said, moving up so I could look into
his pale eyes, kissing him into silence in the hushed darkness. “It
wasn’t you.”

“I stabbed her.” He put his hands over his
face, his whole body trembling. “I remember the dishes crashing to
the ground and the knife going in—”

“Aleksey
killed her. You were only his
tool.”

“But I remember—” He choked and put his
fingers against my cheek. “I tried to kill you. I almost
did
kill you.”

“What matters is, you didn’t. You were strong.
You fought it, and you beat it.”

He was silent, and I wished more than anything
I could see him. I disengaged long enough to reach for the lantern
on the bedside table and raise the wick. Davlova’s new government
still hadn’t gotten the electricity working. I was beginning to
wonder if they ever would. Ayo’s pale eyes shone in the
light.

“I beat my program?”

“Don’t you remember?”

He shook his head. “I remember thinking you
needed to kill me, because I couldn’t do it myself. And I
remember…” His eyes went wide. “I remember…” He touched the spot
behind his ear, gently probing the area, wincing in pain. “The
chip,” he mumbled, his eyes shifting as he focused inward. “The
chip!” And then, a slow, sweet smile bloomed on his lips. “It’s
gone.”

“The chip? No, Frey says it’s still there, but
he says—”

“The black spot,” Ayo said, squeezing my
fingers with a surprising amount of strength. “The black spot is
gone!”

“Are you sure?”

He laughed. His throat was obviously parched,
and I suddenly felt like an ass for not having a glass of water
ready for him, but I’d get to that soon enough. “Yes, I’m sure!
It’s gone now. It’s like I can see every corner of my brain for the
first time ever. It’s like somebody reached into my head and pulled
out an enormous bag of sand.” His eyes shifted from side to side as
he examined that space inside his head. “I always wondered if I’d
remember more without it.”

“Do you?”

He shook his head, his gaze still focused
inward. “No.”

“Does that bother you?”

His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure yet. I guess
I always hoped maybe I’d remember having a mother, but there was
also a chance I’d remember bad things too.” Like the response
conditioning that made him respond to pain. I had a feeling that
was best forgotten.

I put my hand on his cheek, drawing his
attention back to the room and his place in it. “How are you
feeling?”

“Sore. And hungry. And thirsty. And…” He
grimaced. “Kind of gross, actually. I think I wet the
bed.”

“You’ve been asleep for almost three days
straight. We cleaned you up, but—”

“Oh, Goddess, stop talking! I’m embarrassed
enough as it is!”

I laughed. I didn’t care about any of it. Not
now that he was awake and talking. “You shouldn’t be.” I brushed a
curl out his eyes. “Let me go get Frey, and then we’ll see about
food and water, all right?”

“And maybe a bath and some clean
clothes?”

“If you like.”

He sighed and squeezed my hand. “All I really
want is to go home.”

“Home? You mean Ceil’s inn?”

“It feels like home to me.”

“I suppose it does.”

“When can we go back?”

“Soon,” I promised. “Very soon.”

***

Two days later, we returned to our room at the
Spotted Goose. Ayo was still weak, and sometimes the outside corner
of his left eye drooped alarmingly, but he was in good spirits.
Nonetheless, on the day of Anzhéla’s funeral, I left him
resting.

The governors had wanted both Anzhéla and
Aleksey buried without much ceremony, but the citizens of Lower
Davlova wouldn’t have it. Nobody much cared about Aleksey, but
Anzhéla was one of us. Somebody had leaked word of when she’d be
buried, and a makeshift procession nearly a mile long had followed
her shrouded body down the Boulevard, through the city to the top
of Priestess Point. They laid her on a raised pyre and doused it
with oils, but Frey and I turned away before it was lit.

That wasn’t how I wanted to remember
her.

We took the Boulevard through the first
quadrant in silence, neither of us wanting to look back at the
tower of smoke that was undoubtedly now rising from the top of the
hill.

“How are things at the theater?” I
asked.

“Good enough, I guess, except nobody knows
what the fuck we should be doing. Nobody wants to pick pockets,
that’s for sure.”

“We used to put on shows.”

He nodded. “Yeah, there’s been talk of that.
Can’t charge anybody for admittance, since not many folks have
money to spare, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Give people
something to think about besides death.” He glanced sideways at me
as we neared the hole in the wall that had once been Fish Gate.
“It’s still yours if you want it, you know.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think
so.”

“I had a feeling. I hope you’re not holding
out for that ambassador position. Anzhéla liked the idea, but I
doubt any of the new governors will come knocking at your
door.”

I almost laughed. “I don’t care. It never
would have worked anyway.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know.”

He stopped, and I followed suit. He might
almost have smiled. He tipped his head back toward the upper city.
“You still need help with that safe?”

I sighed, feeling embarrassed for no reason I
could explain. “I haven’t wanted to ask. After everything else
that’s happened, it feels so selfish.”

“I figured that’s what you were thinking.
That’s why I brought it up.” He ducked his head, scuffing at the
dirt with the toe of his boot. “No time like the present,
right?”

We walked in silence through the ruins of the
upper city. We had to reroute twice, once because I’d taken a wrong
turn and once because the way was blocked by burned rubble. Our
hands were soon black with soot. Oily puddles buzzed with flies.
Upper Davlova felt like a tomb. It was hard to take in, but easier
than looking up at Priestess Point.

“Sometimes I wonder,” I said at last, “how
different it might have been if we hadn’t gone through the wall
that night.”

He pondered that for the space of three slow
steps. “I wouldn’t have found Anzhéla, and you wouldn’t have found
Ayo.”

“Right. But if I hadn’t taken you through, you
wouldn’t have opened the gate. The mob might never have made it to
the upper city. The fire might not have started. Because of us— no,
because of
me
, the whole city burned, and only the Goddess
knows how many people died, and Donato—” I sighed. “It’s a lot to
carry.”

Frey chuckled, but not unkindly. “Don’t give
yourself too much credit, friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean none of that’s your fault.”

“Of course it is. It’s because I brought you
through the wall that you were able to open the gate.”

He put out a hand and brought me to a halt,
turning me to face him. “We had nothing to do with that. We were
still in Benedict’s house when we heard the explosion. By the time
we came out, half the lower city was inside the wall.”

I blinked at him, stunned. “You didn’t open
it?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

He shrugged. “Not a clue. I only know Lorenzo
and I had nothing to do with it.”

“All this time, I’ve assumed—“

“All this time, you’ve been giving yourself
credit for a war that had been brewing for years?” He put a hand on
my shoulder. “The wall would have fallen that night, regardless of
you and me.”

I finally gazed up at the sky, at the bright,
fluffy clouds floating lazily through the blue, and the single line
of black rising from Priestess Point. I hadn’t caused the war.
Going through the wall meant I’d reached Ayo before the mob, and
I’d had a chance to tell Donato goodbye. But the horror that had
followed hadn’t been my doing.

I shook my head, wondering at myself. What
youthful arrogance had led me to believe the entire war had
swiveled on a single action?

“Come on,” I said, feeling lighter than I had
in months. “Let’s go see what’s in that safe.”

The icebox was where I’d left it. Frey helped
me push it aside, revealing the metal door and the round
dial.

“Easy,” he said. “It’s exactly like the safe
my parents had.”

“I tried it, but I couldn’t figure it
out.”

“You have to switch directions between the
numbers, and pass the first number on the first pass, but not the
second.” He squatted and turned the dial. “What’s the
combo?”

“Twelve, thirty-two, fifteen.”

He spun the dial, and less than a minute
later, he flipped the door open to reveal what lay
inside.

“Holy Goddess,” he breathed, falling to his
backside in the charred rubble. “That’s a hell of a lot of
money.”

I sank to the ground, staring numbly into the
safe. “It really is.” It was entirely possible I’d just become the
richest man in Davlova. But what to do with it?

I had an idea. Some days I thought it was
brilliant. Other days, I felt like a fool for even considering it.
What did I know about running a business?

I pulled out the topmost stack of money and
flipped through it, debating. “I have a proposition for you.
Something that might help us both, and help Davlova
too.”

His eyebrows rose a bit. “I’m
listening.”

“I have a boat,” I said slowly. “You have the
theater to work out of, plus Lorenzo and a den full of kids who
need work.”

“Go on.”

“The boat isn’t big, but it’s a start. I’ll
show you how it works.” Although given Frey’s knack with mechanics,
I doubted he’d need me for long. “I’ll give you cash up front to
get started, and I’ll put you in touch with a boss in Deliphine.
She’s a friend, and she can help you find connections.”

“What kind of connections?”

“Business connections.” His eyebrows rose
higher, and I pushed on. “The people of Davlova don’t need more
pickpockets, and they don’t need more politics, and they sure as
hell don’t need an ambassador. What they need is lumber, and nails,
and soap, and tools.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward as
comprehension dawned. “You want me to bring these things
back?”

“Those things, and men too. There aren’t
enough freed slaves to rebuild all of Davlova. We need real
workers. People who can afford to hire them will have help
rebuilding, and in the meantime, those men will need inns for
sleeping and taverns for drinking and whores for bedding.” I wagged
the paper at him. “They’ll bring in cash. And the sooner it starts
flowing through the trenches, the better off this whole city will
be.”

Frey frowned, considering. “We’d be
hard-pressed to make a profit on the first couple of
trips.”