Judah and Gavin not go mad, and obviously, I’d rather they not die. From what the chieftain says, the entire process will go more smoothly if they’re willing participants. Which is where you come in.”
Hope fluttered in Nate’s chest. “Where I come in?”
“Judah trusts you. Convince her to consent to the chieftain’s experiments. Once she’s on board, Gavin will follow, weak-willed as he is. You’ll have your work cut out for you. She doesn’t like me at all, and the chieftain predicted that the process will be painful. But she’s strong. She can withstand quite a bit of pain.” He spoke casually, as if discussing Judah’s favorite kind of cake.
“I don’t know how I’d do that.” Nate forced himself to sound reluctant, but the flutter of hope was growing, unfolding. Convince. That sounded like the sort of thing that had to happen inside the Wall, in person.
“Just carry on the way you have. My men are taking the crops and livestock and anything else of value from the House; it’s a bit absurd to leave all the fertile land inside the wall unfarmed, but right now the managers are focused on the city, and they’ll accept house arrest for the Children. That place wasn’t built to be lived in unstaffed, though. Just getting water will be an ordeal, particularly once we strip the pipes from the aquifer. The four of them have lived comfortable lives; after a month or two of hardship, I expect they’ll be very receptive to an alternate arrangement.” He leaned forward. “Ultimately, I’d like to move them all out of the city—which is another reason it would be better if they were willing, so Gavin could give a speech before they left. Leaving for the good of New Highfall, or something. The place I have in mind is very remote, and we could work on the project in earnest, without distractions.”
That was unacceptable. Gavin and Judah had to be in the House. The power could only be unbound in the place where it was bound. Nate realized that everything would have to move faster now. Stalling, he said, “What about Eleanor and Theron?”
“Gavin and Judah are attached to them. I didn’t particularly enjoy Elban’s games, but they did demonstrate the usefulness of love, as either carrot or stick.” He shrugged. “If an opportunity arises to get one or both of them out of the way, cleanly, I wouldn’t refuse. Eleanor has an independent streak, and Theron is impossible to keep locked up. I swear, that boy can pick a lock just by looking at it, addled brains or no.” There was something close to admiration in his voice. “At this point, the guards are just there to keep him from letting the others out.”
“Judah has an independent streak, too.”
“I’m counting on it. That girl has spent her entire life being reminded at every moment how little she matters except as a body with a pulse. It was always the others who were important, not her.”
“She’s important now,” Nate said, which at least felt true; and the Seneschal said, “Magus, as far as you’re concerned, she’s the most important person in the city.”
* * *
On his way home, he felt like he must be glowing with panic and frustration, but none of the passersby seemed to notice. There was no time. He checked the Harteswell gate but found no sign of Derie. Back at the manor in Limley he signaled her again, but she didn’t respond. There was nothing to do but wait.
Two days passed. Charles wept, and moaned and—once—drove his head against the floor, over and over, begging Nate to make it stop. Nate did not want to give him opium and exchange one addiction for another; there was nothing he could do. He barely slept. The coup had been chaos and screaming, but it had fallen on the residents of Highfall—sorry, New Highfall—like an ice storm in summer: something entirely unnatural and out of their control. They were left dazed, unseated. Some of them, like Bindy’s sister, had latched onto their New Lives in New Highfall with ferocious enthusiasm, but most of the people Nate saw in the streets were merely trying to get through their days, to sell their bread or weave their cloth, to brew their beer or drink it. Those patients who came to the front door did so with an almost childish daring, as if racing through a burial yard at midnight. Those who came to the gate wouldn’t discuss the