“You haven’t been watching the news, have you?”
“Not about Halla. Actually, there haven’t been that many feeds coming out of here, come to think of it.”
“Sounds like Justice’s doing.” He shrugged and pulled the branches and twigs from his clothing. “Since he murdered the conduits and demanded no one burn the dead, uh, things have become sketchy near the cities.”
I nodded and sighed. “And since there are all those bodies available, that makes for a lot of abandoned bones...”
“And a lot of bone knives, hence the violence,” Gram added. “I guess we should be grateful the ghosts can’t kill each other with regular weapons, eh?”
My gut tightened. “This is not the news I had hoped for, Gram.”
“But it had to be expected, right? I mean, Justice wants the people to worship him instead of their ancestors. If all the ancestors are murdered, then he gets everything he wants. Leaving unburnt bodies is just leaving toolkits for the murder of ancestors.”
“Murdering the conduits was only the beginning of his power grab…” I huffed in frustration at the thought. “You got any banwine?”
“That shit’s hard to come by here. But I might have a bottle of the good stuff stashed away for a special occasion. Come on,” he said as he let me into his hovel.
I ducked under the doorframe, and the scent of rot hit me. An open cadaver laid on his table and my stomach rolled. “What are you doing with that?”
“Making bone knives. You want the big glass or the small glass?”
I glared at him. “You’re a part of this?”
He shrugged. “Everyone’s a part of this here, and I have to make a living, Jac. Big or little?”
I looked at him like he was stupid.
He grabbed the big glass from his cabinet and filled it with the clear liquid from the bottle, then handed it over.
I drank half of it down. “Do you ever regret that I sprang you from the royal prison, only for you to come here and make weapons?”
“Hey, I sell to those who want to defend themselves. I’m helping people. And don’t come into my home, acting like you’re so perfect. How much did you charge me to get out of prison?”
“Not enough,” I muttered. “I have mouths to feed, too.”
“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of them, how’s your crew doing, anyway?”
I smirked. “Ode is doing well.”
He chuckled and said, “I didn’t ask about her specifically.”
“Specific or not, you were asking about Ode.” I grinned at the older man. “Anytime we meet, you’re asking about Ode. You could have tried to be less transparent about it, but I would still know.”
He leaned against his sink and changed the topic. “I know you are employed by Deacon Ladrang, but have you ever considered leaving his employment?”
“How, by dying?” I drawled sarcastically.
“You could always fake your death the way you faked mine.”
“No. I am loyal to the Ladrang clan.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Valor Ladrang raised me alongside his own son. Deacon is nothing, if not honorable, just like his father,” I said, taking a drink of the banwine. “They pay well, too. Why would I go back to springing people from the royal prisons to make half as much money?”
“They might be as honorable as you think they are. They might not be. But if they are, then why do they still have contact with the conduits?”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “What are you talking about?”