Maren Goldweaver's Arc

Chapter 17 of 42

The big man came back with Maren's coat. He dumped it on the table and cut the lining open in one long stroke. His hand went in and came out empty. He turned the coat inside out and shook it. Nothing fell. Miller lifted his head. His face changed. He looked at Maren for the first time since he had spoken. "I could have taken it," Maren said to him, quiet. "You didn't know enough to really hurt me." His mouth opened. Before he could speak, boots came down the stair. Kazuki ducked through the door. He looked at the empty coat. He looked at the big man. "It's not there," the big man said. Kazuki crossed the room and hit Miller across the jaw with a closed fist. Miller's head snapped sideways. Blood ran from his lip. He blinked at Kazuki, stunned, and Maren made her face go slack the same way, as if she too could not understand. Kazuki watched them both. He did not seem convinced. He walked to the wall of blades and chose a longer knife, wider at the base. He came back and stood between them. "One of you moved it," he said. "Or one of you knew." He laid the edge along Maren's forearm and drew it across. The skin opened. Maren clenched her teeth. He turned and did the same to Miller, a clean line above the wrist. Miller grimaced but did not pull away. "One of you knows," Kazuki said. "Or I bring the other girl in here. The young one. Your sister." Maren's stomach dropped. She saw Gisela the way she had last seen her in the aft passage, wrists bound, mouth set. Gisela would not talk. Gisela would bleed on this table and not talk. Maren looked at the cut on her arm. Blood ran into her palm. She thought of Eir in a cage somewhere below, sedated. She thought of the file, folded small, pushed deep into the seam of her boot two nights ago while Miller slept. She lifted her chin. "It's in my boot," she said. "Left one. Under the insole." Miller's head jerked toward her. Kazuki nodded to the big man, who knelt and pulled the boot off. He dug out the folded page and handed it up. Kazuki opened it, read one line, and smiled without warmth. "Good," he said. "You saved the child a trip." He folded the page into his coat. He looked at Miller, then at Maren, and something in his eyes moved from question to plan. "Bring them up," he told the big man. "All four. On deck." The big man cut Maren's ropes from the post and hauled her upright. Her arm bled onto the boards. Miller stood on his own. As they climbed the stair, Kazuki spoke behind them, calm. "The animal wakes at dusk," he said. "Then we find out what else it does."