Page 93 of The Iron Dagger
“I . . .” She would feel stupid going along with some story that they both knew would be a lie. The silence stretched until he spoke.
“It doesn’t really matter,” he said with a dismissive gesture. “I was just curious. What matters is that you know how to make gold.”
Hara snapped out of her racing thoughts and panic threatened to overwhelm her. She hadn’t been careful enough.
“No, I don’t,” she said, trying to make it sound as though the idea was absurd.
He leaned over and picked up the broken lock that rested on the floor. Hara swallowed hard as he turned it in his hands, inspecting it, bending the warped pieces with ease.
Then he got up from his chair and reached out a hand. Hara flinched when he touched the side of her neck. The many heavy rings on his hand were cold.
“Not a blister or even a red mark,” he said. “There’s no need to play games. I already know the truth. I’ve had you followed ever since you arrived here; especially when you began visiting the laboratories.”
A memory of Geremy Flints dashing down a hallway in the Research wing came to her, and Hara felt her blood running cold. He had a perfect memory—he would have heard every one of their conversations and recited them back to Falk. Even if he hadn’t heard specifics, Falk was no fool. He could piece together the details.
How terribly clumsy and arrogant she had been. She had been willing to sacrifice her own safety to help Sarai, but now that she was staring at the consequences, she wanted to go into the past and scream at herself.
“So, what will it be, hedgewitch? Games or no games? Turn this ring to gold right here and now,” he said, removing a ring and holding it before her.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“I thought you might need persuading,” he said, and he snapped his fingers. The two guards entered the room, and before Hara could make a dash for the door, they had seized her arms.
Falk brought his arm back, and then a hot burst of fire exploded and spread from her stomach where his fist made impact. The wind in her lungs burned away with the pain, and she dragged in labored sips of air as they began to escort her out.
Hara knew there was no use screaming, even if she could. They took her down winding halls and through rooms within the Commander’s suite, and then they opened a heavy wooden door and shoved her inside. Hara fell splayed to the ground as the Commander strolled in after her.
“I’ll make this simple. Turn all of these stones to gold by tomorrow morning,” he said, gesturing around them. There were stones and large rocks strewn all about the windowless room, piled waist high in some places. He had been planning this for some time. Hara desperately tried one last attempt to sway him.
“I am helping Sarai Winthrope to finish her experiment. She is trying to find a way to grow gold, and I offered to help her work on the theory. If you let me go, her work will be finished all the sooner. But I swear to you, I am not an alchemist.”
“Who knows if she would ever be successful?” he said as he adjusted the heavy rings on his hand. “In this case, an alchemist in the hand is worth two in the bush. Besides, she would share her discovery with everyone in Perule, the mine owners would grow angry, and it would be a headache to deal with. Far less complicated to have my own private golden goose.”
“I told you, I cannot do it,” she said desperately. She hoped that if she sounded sincere enough he would question his resolve.
Falk turned toward the door. As he opened it, he said, “I grow tired of this. If you do not succeed in producing gold by tomorrow morning, I will have you killed like I should have done with your mother twenty years ago.”
Hara felt her heart plummet.
He gave her that lopsided grin again. “You do look so much alike.”
Gideon
The gangplank sounded hollow and brittle as Gideon stalked along it. He had told his father to meet him at the arms factory to oversee a new product, knowing that the allure of a new investment would draw him far from the palace, but it was past the time he should have arrived.
Gideon descended the winding staircase and stalked into the offices.
“No sign of him?” he asked the factory foreman. The man adjusted his collar nervously and pasted a simpering grin on his face. He was no doubt eager to have Commander Falk himself tour his production line.
“Not yet, my lord.”
Unease crept under Gideon’s skin, and without another word, he dashed from the small room and past the deafening rows of machines. He reached the alley between buildings and pressed the outdoor panel to summon an autocar. He fidgeted as he waited, each second ticking by heightening his anxiety.
Finally a vehicle approached, and he climbed aboard before it had stopped. Gideon did not see the rows of vast factory buildings whizzing past; all he could see was Hara. She would be in his father’s study by now, and his father . . .
Maybe he was simply late, and even now he was stepping through the factory gates. If that was the case, Gideon would apologize, make some excuse, and he and Hara would try again later. He prayed that there was no reason to panic, but as he entered the city, he couldn’t stop the fidgeting of his knee or the sweat from slicking his palms.
He leapt from the vehicle when it stopped and immediately boarded the funicular. Curse the slow contraption. A whirlwind would have been preferable.
