Tuft proudly showed her gift to any rebel within sight, surprising her. Uncertainty about presenting him with the earrings switched to warm delight that she chose something he liked so much.

Jhor grinned as he made notes about the modifications she wanted to the gauntlets on one of many papers scattered around the drawing room. She had not realized Faelan had given him a three-room suite, but the spacious mini-abode allowed him to work on personal tech projects while he was there. The previous wall décor remained, with peeling blue wallpaper sprinkled with gold print flowers, and shoulder-height, empty ceramic vases sat in the four corners. Darker blue stained the fireplace from hearth to crown, and a merry fire burned within. While a matching couch and two chairs clustered around a knee-high, brown-stained table opposite the fire, a desk and worktables with various metal somethings and too many lights took up most of the room.

He finished his notes with a flourish. “That was a nice thought,” he told her in an undertone as they listened to Ciaran discuss jewelry with Tuft in the hallway.

“He said no one had given him anything but Gedaavik,” Lapis said.

“I don’t think Kez and his followers saw the khentauree as anything but disposable work machines. They couldn’t even let Dreamer go outside, and he begged.”

“Dreamer was big, though. He couldn’t fit through the doors.”

“They could have detached his head and carted him outside.” Jhor raised an eyebrow. “That’s all they needed to do, and they couldn’t be bothered.” He tapped on the sheet. “With Sanna’s help, I can get this done in a day, if the House has the supplies. I’ll finish it before we leave for the workstation.”

“Thank you. You’re doing me a favor.”

“Favor?” Sanna leaned over Jhor’s shoulder to read his notes.

“It’s how the Grey and Stone Streets barter with people they know. Gall taxes everything, so everyone barters for help and services. Someone does a favor and fixes a roof, the person with the fixed roof does a favor in return and makes a new cabinet for the roofer. So I’ll owe Jhor something in the future.”

Sanna cocked her head at her and buzzed in laughter. “Kindness of the heart needs no owing.” She looked to the door. “Tuft showed you his earrings?”

Faelan nodded and smiled as he entered the room. “I’m glad he likes them. Shawe gives discounts, but those can’t have been cheap.” He tapped his ear. “Did you pierce them?”

Sanna nodded and smoothed her lobes. “These are molded to look human, but otherwise, they are decoration. He damaged no circuitry, and they are a material that won’t interfere with his inner workings.”

Lapis had not thought about that, and if she had, she probably would not have purchased them.

“Lanth made him sun-kissed happy,” the khentauree continued. “It is good, for a Shivers khentauree to see a better side of humans. Maphezet Kez and Ree Helvasica and their followers were not a better side.”

“There will still be humans who only see a mechanical being when they look at you,” Lapis said. “They won’t see anything besides a cold metal shell.”

“That is true, but not all. There will be humans who look deeper. They will see our delight and our curiosity in the world. They will feel kinship. Even during the Taangis Empire, there were some humans who thought we stepped beyond machine calculations. They did not understand, but they accepted.” She buzzed, a soft, sad sound. “When they retired, the goodbyes were bitter yet honeyed.”

“As with most things in life,” Jhor sighed.

“True,” Faelan agreed. “Lanth, I hate to drag you away, but I need you to do something for me.”

She glanced at her brother, then rose. If he sent her on a mission, it was one he trusted no other to complete. The difference between his faith in her and Baldur’s lack of respect made her head hurt, and she wallowed in relief her interactions with the ex-headman were now few, and would end once Vivina arrived in Jiy.

“I’ll get these done when you get back,” Jhor said, lifting them. She shook her head.

“I’d like them modified as soon as possible. I have my chaser gauntlets back at the Eaves. Those will do.”

“We will hurry as a storm,” Sanna promised.

“Thank you.”

Faelan held up a small piece of paper, which she accepted. She glanced at it and nodded.

“You’re taking a partner,” he said.

She rubbed at her bottom lip. “Does Rin count?”

“For this, yes.” He handed her a diamond-shaped leather badge with a stained red apple on the front. “Adrastos bought us several Minq tunnel passes—that’s why an apple’s on it.”

She took it, amused. “He really does like his apples, doesn’t he?”

“Orchards are his pride and joy.”

“I will go with you,” Tuft said from the doorway. “It is safer.”

He could ice janks in their boots for a quick escape. Lapis glanced at Faelan, who looked relieved. She might have found offense in the assumption she could not protect herself before current events, but now, the thought of the khentauree taking care of shanks before they caused harm settled some of her anxiety. “Then you’ll need to take the tunnels that go under the river,” he said. “When the Rams drove the Beryl out, they got rid of the toll, so that runway from Blossom to the Kells remains free, as intended. They shouldn’t hassle you, but if they do, show them the badge. Shara made a pact with Double Catch, so the pass will work with them. Tuft, follow the Fourth Line tunnel map until you reach a door with a tree carved into it.”

Good. Between her, Rin and Tuft, any jank they stumbled across should have a bad day.

Lapis stared at a huge red arrow painted on the secret door to Rin’s suite. When had he done that? She followed its point to a string attached to a bell. The sign next to it in his handwriting said to ring, with a handy illustration by Ness to match. Quelling the sudden burst of laughter, she did as asked; she thought she heard a high tinkling, then the door slid open and the rat grinned at her.

“Told Lyet it’d work,” he said with proud aplomb.

“The bell?”

“Aye. Can’t have no rebel slippin’ through any time ‘o night.”

She laughed and patted his arm. “Maybe we can get you screens to divide the room.”

Lyet sat on the bed, her legs crossed, book in her lap, wearing a blue, heavy knit sweater and wrapped in a blanket. The room did not have a fireplace, so any heat rose from the first floor. Even a packed house with the heating devices cranked up would not make the second floor warmer.

The teen waved to both her and Tuft. “The janks are still downstairs,” she said in a hushed tone. “The rats need a warm place, but most of them aren’t happy to sit near the Dentherions. I told them to come on up if they kept badgering them, but I didn’t want to stay down there anymore.”

Lapis rubbed at her eyes. The same helpless fury in which Lyet spoke of her stepfather tinged her voice, despite the attempt to keep it even. Damn janks, for bringing that out in her. “They think Patch took out their buddies at the theater. They found out someone with blond hair accompanied them, and a shank at the cross grates told them Patch was a hunter and had blond hair. Since I’m his partner, they’re waiting for me.”

Both winced. “Does Dachs know?” Rin asked.

“I told him earlier when I stopped by. Gerrit was downstairs, and we pretended to be a couple so they didn’t think us suspicious, and we left together to keep up the act. Have they been upstairs?”

“Nah. Dach’s been jumpin’ down their throats when they’s takin’ an interest in the back stair, and regs have been standin’ in the doorway, chattin’ n’ drinkin’. No way fer them to get passed without bein’ seen—and everyone made it clear we don’t trust ‘m not to steal stuff.”

That would not stop a hardened agent from, say, breaking through her shutters. “I need to get my chaser gauntlets, then we get to go on a special mission Faelan gave me.”

Rin beamed, and Lyet looked at him, her mouth quirked over, resigned. Should they leave her in the room by herself? Not with the janks sitting downstairs. Were any of the older rats at the reading table? Of course, unlike Rin, they did not have a knife or two and a willingness to use them. They usually fled—the prudent choice.

Mulling possibilities, she looked at the khentauree. “Tuft, can you tell me if anyone’s in my room?”

He swiveled his head to the wall. “No one is there. Humans stand in the first floor landing, but your room is clear.”

“Thanks. Be right back.” She slipped out the door and padded down the hallway, listening, but heard nothing but typical light chatter and the clatter of dishes and glasses. She peered down the stairs; three women stood there, laughing and drinking, taking up far more space than they usually did. With a half-smile she crept down the stairs and put a finger to her lips when they noticed her.

“Lady!” Shoose whispered, urgently glancing into the commons before edging to the stairs. “The janks are still here!”

“I know. Shoose, could you tell the rats that Lyet and Rin are coming with me, so they’ll need the key to get in?” No reason to leave them in the hallway after knocking, waiting for an answer that would not come.

She and her buddies nodded. “Take care, Lanth. They’re nasty.” Her serious concern touched Lapis.

“Don’t I know it.” Patting the woman on the arm, she smiled and bowed her head before retreating upstairs. She unlocked, opened, and re-locked her room, her heart beating faster as she imagined janks realizing she returned and racing to bust her door down.

Chastising herself for the terrifying thought, she padded to the closet sitting against the right-hand wall. Enough light came through the edges of the closed shutters, she did not have to crack them open to dig through her chasing supplies for the gauntlets. She straightened with a groan and weighed them; it had been months since she wore them, and considering current affairs, she preferred the pair Patch gifted her or the ones Jhor made for her. She checked the underside pockets for the thin throwing daggers—three each, and sharp as she left them—touched the knife strapped to the inside of her coat, and hoped she did not regret her decision.

She wouldn’t. Tuft would take care of any shanks on this expedition, and then Jhor would give her the revamped tech gauntlets back.

The two rats admired Tuft’s earrings as she rejoined them, impressed with the sparkly, snow-like appearance. She smiled; how nice, the splash they made. She needed to thank Shawe’s apprentice for liking the frosty material enough to make jewelry from it.

All eyes turned to her, and she held up her gauntlets. “Don’t make me regret this,” she said, and handed the right one to Rin, the left one to Lyet.

They stared at her, then at the gift. “Lady,” Rin breathed. His fingers ran across the metal casing for the dagger and smoothed the pocket for the smaller blades before looking at Lyet, whose tears shocked her.

“You really want me to have one?” she asked, clutching it to her chest.

“Yes. And I expect you to train with them. I can show you some introductory things, but Patch is a better trainer. He’ll teach you to survive. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it.”

“To survive.” She nodded before loosening the laces and shoving her arm into the gauntlet. She wiggled her fingers into the glove, flexed, touched the pocket with the knives, and a disbelieving but joyous smile lit her lips.

Rin elbowed her, grinning. “Told you,” he said.

Told her what? Lapis raised an eyebrow, then dug into her inner coat pocket and withdrew the green box that contained his other gift. It shimmered even in the dim lighting, a nice, thoughtful present all on its own. “And Rin.” She passed it to him.

He took it, skeptical, opened the lid, and froze. Lyet’s delight did not penetrate his stunned silence. He shoved the gauntlet under his arm, then slowly hooked the silver chain and lifted it from the box. “You gave Faelan a bracelet,” he said, his voice tight.

“Yes. And so I give another to my little brother.”

Rin gave the gauntlet and box to Lyet, then smoothed the links, attempting to hide his tears behind a soft smile. “Don’t know what’s t’ say,” he breathed.

“Then don’t say anything. The coming months are going to be worse than the Pit. I just wanted you to know I’ll be there for you.”

Lyet giggled. He frowned at her, then laughed softly at the mouse charm she held. With her help, he attached it to the chain, then wrapped it around his wrist and hooked the clasp.

“Really need t’ stop callin’ you Lady, now,” he said.

“You can call me whatever you want. It’s heartfelt, and that’s what counts.”

He hugged her, and she clutched him, trying not to think about what might happen to the rats when the few restrictions the throne still had on Jilvaynan society shattered. She knew he would be on the streets, helping where he could, and she didn’t trust the underground not to take advantage of the situation and scoop up helpless kids for their own vile intents.

“Am I really this special?” he whispered in her ear.

“Of course.” Silly, for him to ask. He even admitted the other urchins saw them as siblings, with a close, warm bond.

“Did ya get anythin’ fer the others?” he asked in his normal voice.

“I’m planning something a bit more tasty, but that will have to wait until the janks leave, and I’ll get gifts for the rest of the reading circle. But no chases means no payouts, and I’m running short.”

“Tell Faelan,” he said with breezy aplomb.

“I’m not a little brother he can dote on,” she reminded him as she pulled away.

“You’s his favorite sib. You can tell from his stories.”

He did like to embarrass her in front of the rats, and the rats lapped it up with glee. “We need to go. And Lyet, if you want to come, you’re welcome to join us. This is a courier mission, nothing more. I can show you how to work the gauntlet on the way.”

Lyet’s eyes widened in shock at the offer, then beamed.

“It’s cold, so bundle up,” Lapis said. “And I already told Shoose, so she’ll let Dachs and the rats know. Once you’re ready, we’ll be off.”

And, hopefully, this outing would remain a courier mission, something she could pass off as a training exercise by instructing both on how the gauntlet worked and a brief overview of appropriate courier work. What she told Shawe was true; she did not want the rats involved in rebel things. Too bad, she knew, deep within, that time had long passed.