The Toll (Arc of a Scythe) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,87
guards, silence was achieved the old-fashioned way. Rowan was gagged. However, when Ayn came to check on Rowan that afternoon, he had managed to work the gag off. He was all smiles in spite of being practically hog-tied.
“Hi, Ayn,” he said brightly. “Having a good day?”
“Haven’t you heard?” she quipped back. “Every day’s a good day since Goddard became Overblade.”
“We’re sorry, Your Honor,” said one of the guards. “Since we were ordered to keep our distance, we couldn’t replace the gag. Perhaps you can do it.”
“What’s he been saying?”
“Nothing,” said the other guard. “He’s been singing a song that was popular a few years ago. He tried to get us to sing along, but we didn’t.”
“Good,” said Ayn. “I applaud your restraint.”
Through all this, Rowan’s smile didn’t fade. “You know, Ayn, I could have told Goddard that you were the one who set me free back on Endura.”
Just like that. He just laid it out there for the two guards to hear.
“Lying will get you nowhere,” she said for the sake of the guards, then ordered them both to wait outside the room – which, in a place where so many of the internal walls were still clear glass, didn’t hide anything from view, but at least the room was soundproof once the door closed.
“You’re right,” said Ayn. “Which means I’ll have to glean them now. Their deaths are on your hands.”
“Your blade, not mine,” he said.
She took a moment to glance at the two guards, oblivious on the other side of the glass wall. The problem wasn’t gleaning them but hiding the fact that it was her doing. She’d have to order some low-level scythe to do it, and then persuade the scythe to self-glean – and all in such a way that it wouldn’t seem suspicious. What a mess.
“Setting you free was the worst decision I ever made.”
“Not the worst,” Rowan said. “Not even close.”
“Why didn’t you tell Goddard? What possible reason could you have?”
Rowan shrugged. “You did me a favor, and I returned it. Now we’re even. And besides,” he added. “You undermined him once. Maybe you’ll do it again.”
“Things have changed.”
“Have they? I still don’t see him treating you the way he should. Has he ever told you what he told me today? That you’d be the heir to the world scythedom? No? Seems to me that he treats you the way he treats everyone else. Like a servant.”
Ayn took a deep breath, suddenly feeling very much alone. In most things, she enjoyed being a party of one, but this was different. What she really felt was a complete lack of allies. Like everyone in the world was an enemy. And maybe they were. She hated the fact that this smug boy could make her feel that way. “You’re much more dangerous than he gives you credit for,” she told him.
“But you’re still here listening to me. Why?”
She didn’t want to consider the question. Instead she ran through her mind all the ways she could glean him right then and there, and damn the consequences. But if she gleaned him, she knew it wouldn’t take. There was no way to render him unrevivable there in the penthouse, which meant Goddard would just bring him back to face the very specific judgment he had planned. And then, when he was revived, maybe Rowan would tell Goddard everything. She was bound just as completely as Rowan was.
“Not that it matters, but I just want to know,” Rowan said. “Do you agree with everything he does? Do you think he’s taking the world in the right direction?”
“There is no right direction. There’s only a direction that makes things better for our kind, and directions that don’t.”
“By ‘our kind,’ do you mean scythes?”
“What else would I mean?”
“The scythes were meant to make the world better for everyone. Not the other way around.”
If he thought she cared, he was barking up the wrong tree. Ethics and morality were the hobgoblins of the old guard. Her conscience was clear, because she had none, and had always taken pride in that.
“He means to publicly end you,” she told Rowan. “And by publicly, I mean in a way that will leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that Scythe Lucifer is gone forever. Vanquished and extinguished for all time.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I will not mourn you,” Rand told him, “and when you’re gone, I’ll be relieved.”