9

NINE: Shattered Hope

By the time we reached the depot I was almost out of breath, but still had enough to speak as we passed under the shadow of the great roof. “Why are you helping me? Of all people, why you? Couldn’t live with your guilty conscience?”

“Three reasons,” Kale said, chest heaving, but he showed me a little smile as he held up a finger. “One: Ribov is an ass, so getting to watch her ride away with her tail tucked between her legs was a pleasure to watch all on its own.”

Kale led me through a wooden gate and down to a central platform that surrounded the tracks running up to Svolyn Station. A couple of empty storefronts were already shut down for the evening. Up ahead was a long black beast of riveted iron and steel. I’d never seen such a thing before, or imagined that such a machine could’ve ever existed. I wanted to marvel at it, to know how it worked, what powered it, to understand how such an immense and heavy thing was able to move at all, but I simply had no time to do anything of the sort. The train gave one last deep, mournful howl of a noise before a huge cloud billowed from the train’s head, followed by a deep hissing sound that increased its rhythm as it started to move.

“Come on!” Kale shouted. A deep chugging noise began, making the platform hum under my feet and vibrate in my bones. We ran again for the closest car of the train, the very last one. Kale reached it and jumped onto the step, grabbing hold before he offered a hand for me to take. Once I reached the step next to him, we climbed inside, shut the door. Both of us stood there, catching our breath. I rested my head against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment.

Svolyn was behind me. Whitehold was up ahead. Somehow, I was one step closer to my destination.

So why was I dreading the thought of getting there?

The passenger car we entered had rows of wooden benches on either side, and was more than half-full. I could feel the eyes of other passengers on me as we walked to an empty pair of seats near the back of the car, which offered some small illusion of privacy. I sat down and watched him take the seat across from me. I didn’t want to look him in the eye again—I had enough on my mind without fighting back more reminders of Pyotr. I sat stiffly on the hard bench, making sure my knife was loose in its sheath.

“The second reason I’m helping you,” he said, speaking more quietly now that he’d caught his breath, “is wanting to know how the hell you’re even here to begin with, especially after…” His voice faded for a moment; I could tell he was stumbling over what to say. “After all of…what happened.”

I shook my head. “We’re a long way from me trusting you enough to talk about that.”

Something in my tone gave him pause. “Okay,” he finally said, “that’s fair—I’ll grant you that one. Either way, you looked like you needed help. Whatever Alek had planned for you probably wasn’t particularly pleasant.”

“I might argue that they were defending you.”

“That would’ve been their excuse, but…” His voice faded away. “That hardly seems to matter now. I want to help make things right for what happened to you. It’s the least I can do.” He straightened, pulling his coat down with a firm tug, settling any wrinkles made by the long run, the brass buttons twinkling. His arm injury didn’t seem to be troubling him much, which I supposed was a good thing.

“Some women might say that makes you a chauvinist,” I answered.

“Some women might say a lot of things,” Kale said, not backing down.

I looked out the window. The trees had turned black in the dark of the evening, far away from the lights and lanterns of Svolyn. That black became a blur as the train picked up speed, which made the night sky seem almost brighter by comparison. The moon shone down, turning to silver streamers through the tops of the trees, while the stars were pinpoints of brilliance in the night sky.

“And the third reason?” I said more softly, mindful of being overheard.

Kale turned and looked out the window himself for a moment. The pale glow of Svolyn was fading into the distance behind us. There was a flicker inside the car itself before bright-steel lamps blossomed and came to life. They burned away the darkness, banishing it beyond the shade of the trees.

“Your interest in the First Daughter might or might not be the third reason,” he said, even more softly, still not looking at me. “If helping you will hurt her or whatever insane scheme she’s involved in, so much the better.”

If Kale didn’t like Yenda Avard either, maybe I could use that to my advantage. I wanted to probe more deeply, to ask him just what he knew about Yenda’s plans or her intentions for Deathbringer, but I didn’t dare risk being overheard. “Even after what I said I’m going to do to her?” I answered, still watching him.

He didn’t respond, not right away. “Yes. Even after that. So make of that what you want to,” he said, looking back at me. “Assuming you can tolerate my presence without needing that knife in your hand, anyway.”

I forced a small smile. “Rest assured: if I ever need to have a knife in my hand again around you, my time of tolerating your presence will be at an end.” I thought about not saying anything else, but decided against it. Sighing, I tried for a softer tone. “But you saved me from that woman, back in Svolyn. You tried to help stop those men at the Twin Moons, too. You didn’t have to do that—I’m not sure I would have done that for you. So…thank you.”

My thanks seemed to take him by surprise. “I just did what seemed right at the time.”

“I guess we’ll see if you were right or not. How’s your arm?”

“Oh, this?” He raised the arm in question. “I’ve had worse. Don’t worry about it.”

I considered whether to ask more questions, but the sound of a door opening cut me off. I saw a pair of silver-coated Avardi appear, stepping in through a door at the far end of the carriage. They hardly paid us any mind at all, save for both nodding at Kale—he returned the gesture, not speaking. I sank my fingernails of one hand into the arm of my seat and didn’t say a word as I watched them scan the faces of everyone seated in the train car, then exit by the same door they’d come in at.

“You people are everywhere,” I said, my voice only a murmur.

He leaned closer. “I told you: Commander Golova sent out orders about you. She’s the ranking officer this sector, and in charge of the East-West Corridor train line between Svolyn and the capital.” He checked over his shoulder, then moved in even closer, lowering his voice to barely a whisper. “Yenda Avard is paying good money to anyone who finds you. That sort of money gets the attention of people around here.” He sat back again, perhaps not wanting to look suspicious.

“So what about you?” I asked, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. It was easier to block out unwanted memories if I stayed focused on my current predicament.

He frowned. “What about me?”

“What makes you so special? Her money’s as good to you as to anybody else.”

Something darkened in his eyes and he looked out the window again. “Nothing about her is good to me,” he said. I detected that I’d touched a nerve, but wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a bad thing. He seemed to go quiet after that, which suited me just fine, but I’d just rested my head back against the wall behind me and closed my eyes when I heard him speak again. “We should reach Nukorovo by morning. We’ll disembark there, pay the rest of our fare, and make it to Whitehold by tomorrow night. With any luck, Golova won’t even know we were here.”

I opened one eye, finding him still staring out the window. “You really are intent on helping me, aren’t you? A total stranger…someone who attacked you, who attacked your fr—”

“I told you: they weren’t my friends,” he interjected, venomous in spite of his low tone.

I held up both hands, hoping to soothe him. “Your comrades, then. You’re insisting on this, then? Are you really helping me?”

He turned his head, smirking at me through his reflection. “You’re asking me? I thought you ‘owned me,’ remember?”

I twisted up my mouth and nodded. “Fine. In that case, you’ll keep watch.” I lay my head back again, shifting in my seat for a moment: the bench was piss-poor in terms of comfort, but it was late and I was tired. “Wake me up if something changes.” If the man was going to be stubborn and insist on this path he’d laid out for himself, who was I to argue with him?

I closed my eyes—

—and when I opened them again, I was standing in a field of sun-ripened wheat, soft golden in color. The sky was the clearest, deepest blue I’d ever seen, the sun just peeking out from behind a cloud bank. Out in the distance, I could see the main house, the largest structure on Mistress Pol’s farm, where most of the other workers on the farmstead lived. It looked so real, so large and beautiful, that I felt a sudden energy in my legs and I started running.

“Pyotr! Mistress Pol! Mother!” The wheat whipped at my legs and curled around my ankles as I ran. I ran so fast that I barely felt the ground under my feet. In the distance, I could see figures moving and walking together, so small they were the size of dolls. They were waving and calling to one another, shouting and laughing while they worked. Several of the men were up on the roof, repairing thatch. I saw some of the women all seated under a shady tree, scrubbing at dirty clothes or letting linens hang out in the sweet sunlight to dry. I spotted children tossing a leather ball to one another—the smaller ones laughed and leapt into the air with every throw, trying to catch, failing, but picking themselves up off of the grass to try again.

When I saw Pyotr come around the corner, I stopped running. I stopped moving, was hardly able to breathe. He was too far away to see his face clearly, but I knew him—knew his tall, slender figure; the way his brown hair shone like molten gold when it caught the sunlight just right; the muscles of his arms stretched and tight as he carried a full basket of cut wheat stalks to the threshing floor in the barn.

I knew that man better than I knew myself. I could’ve spotted him from the surface of the moon if I tried.

As I watched him walk, I called his name: “Pyotr!” Louder and louder I shouted at him, called only to him, until my throat burned from the force of it. I ran forward, jumping and waving my arms, trying to catch his attention, but it never made any difference. My heart sank as he walked into the shadow of the barn and was out of sight.

“He can’t hear you,” a familiar voice said.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak past the burning ache in my throat. “This…this is another dream, isn’t it?”

“Correct.” Deathbringer hung suspended in the air to my left, shining yellow and black, just like I remembered. “This is the Veil, the same as the last time we spoke. I’m impressed at your mastery of it already.”

“I didn’t master anything.” I looked at my hands, turned them over slowly. I reached out on both sides, clenching my fists: the wheat stalks I pulled at felt very real. “I just closed my eyes, and woke up here.”

“The Veil is emptiness, Inga Alenir—formless and shapeless, but obedient to those that can control it. You made it into this place. The Veil responds to those with a power to command it.”

“I made this?” I looked down at myself, frowning. I hadn’t noticed that I was naked again, and that annoyed me more than anything else. Seizing on that, I concentrated for a moment. One second I was bare as a fresh born babe; the next, I had on a pale blue sundress with small white flowers, one I remembered Pyotr telling me that he liked. I gave a small gasp, grabbing the fabric, rubbing it between my fingers. “This is more magic, isn’t it? Real magic, just like my mother showed me.”

“Of a kind,” the Sword said. “Another one of the boons that comes from being a Swordbearer.”

“What other boons are there?”

“Those of physical prowess and fast healing, for starters. Your mind is no longer just your own, Inga Alenir—I may help to serve and guide you, if you wish it. There will be more time to speak on such things at our reunion.”

It was another reminder of my journey ahead. I nodded. “I understand.”

“But take care,” Deathbringer said. “The more time spent in the Veil, the more it costs you upon your return to consciousness.”

“What kind of cost?”

The sword’s light flashed and flickered for a moment. “The Veil is the world between—both of reality and non-reality. Consider this: if you were to fight against the urge to sleep, you would remain in the real world some time longer, but eventually your body would succumb and need rest. By coming to the Veil, as opposed to resting—”

“—I’m costing myself needed sleep, so I’m going to be more tired when I wake up than if I’d simply gone to sleep like normal.”

“Correct.”

“I have awhile before the train stops, so I’ll pay the price this time. I’ll just be more careful in the future.” I stared at the idyllic farm scene for a few more moments, not speaking. I wanted Pyotr to appear again, but he didn’t.

“Time presses, Swordbearer,” Deathbringer said. “Speak.”

“I…” Suddenly, I wasn’t quite sure of what to ask. “The Avard family still has you? Are you…I don’t know, alright? Have they hurt you in any way?”

The Spellsword was silent for a moment. “Are you inquiring as to my general well-being, Inga Alenir?”

“It seemed worth asking about, given the circumstances.”

I had the feeling that the Sword wasn’t sure of what to say. “I am…unharmed, for now. Yenda Avard—the Younger one—is attempting to deduce some sort of method to bind me to her will. She has, thus far, been unsuccessful.”

“Because I’m still alive—that’s why she can’t become your new Bearer.”

“Correct. I suspect that her patience will run out before much longer—since I cannot be bound to another while you live, she will bend all her resources to finding and eliminating you as a threat.”

One of the dogs came running out of the house, barking happily, a tiny figure squealing with delight as they rode the beast like a miniature horse.

“A man and his friend…they were going to attack me. I killed them—both of them.” I explained what transpired at the Twin Moons, from the moment I’d spotted Kale drinking in the common room, all the way to getting onto the train. I wasn’t sure why I brought up the two Avardi men, or why the Sword would even care. I just knew that it felt safe to speak about it to him—Deathbringer wasn’t human; he wouldn’t judge me for what I did. Probably. “I made a dead man get up and kill his own friend. I felt them die, both of them.” I looked over at the Sword. “How?”

“I already explained this to you, Swordbearer: my power resides within you. It was a necessary sacrifice to save your life. My power sustains you, but you are the Bearer—my power is yours to command.”

“What about the yellow light I keep seeing? I knew how to command that man. How could I have possibly known how to do that?”

“That is what I am, Inga Alenir.” I had the sense that the Sword was becoming impatient with me. “I am the blade of ruin. The slayer of men. All those who fall before me are slaves from beyond the grave. Or did the name Deathbringer not explain my purpose to you well enough?”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. Feeling properly chided, I continued: “But how is…how is any of this even possible? I’m a Swordbearer with no Sword! This… This…” I was flustered, sputtering, waving my hands about. “This is impossible!”

“And yet, it transpired,” he said with simple, inarguable logic. “Until the moon is full or Yenda Avard deduces some other method to bend me to her will, my power is yours to command. That is what it means to bear the Deathbringer, Inga Alenir. Besides: what happened seems like a fitting end for men who would attempt such a thing.”

I considered that, then changed the subject. “My great-grandmatron—Katarina.”

“What of her?”

“What did she do? Tell me.”

“That is a tale far too long to be told here, Inga Alenir.”

“I need you to try,” I said. A thought occurred to me. “Actually…” I concentrated again, deftly dipping my fingers into that black, yawning well of terrible memories, summoning back the image of the locket Yenda was carrying. A moment later, the image of that yellow-haired Swordbearer, my supposed ancestress, rose up out of the wheat field we were standing in. Her face was distinct, the strongest part of my memory, and from close-up the resemblance really was uncanny. “Do I really look that much like her?”

“Truly,” the Sword said. “She was taller than you, with broader shoulders and fists strong enough to dent a man’s shield.” The image wavered and transformed, becoming more distinct. The illusion even took on some of its own life: I saw the face shift and move as Katarina turned her head about, eyes looking on at our surroundings. “Even before she inherited me, Katarina could mount a horse without a saddle and ride it all night without tiring. She was an only daughter and married late in life, so she only had one daughter of her own.”

“Gramma Tasia,” I said. Katarina’s image was decidedly lifelike, but with just enough ethereal qualities: even though she was looking at me, I could see through her to the waving wheat stalks on the other side. “I need to know something about what happened to Katarina—what she did, why the war started. I need all of this to be worth something. I…” My voice faded away in frustration. “When I was twelve, a bear broke in past the fences and killed almost a half-dozen sheep. It took most of the farmers to kill it. Two of the men were almost killed—one of them almost didn’t survive.”

“Why does that matter?” Deathbringer said.

“I actually did kill two men today. I needed to kill them, even wanted to. I was so ready to be afraid or to hesitate at killing someone, and now…” I gestured with both hands, grasping for words, failing to find any. “What matters is why me—why did Yenda Avard come all that way to kill me? Why does what Katarina did matter? That’s why I need to know about her, so at least I understand why someone like Yenda wants me put down.”

Deathbringer’s light moved and shifted, changing across its jet-black surface for a moment. “Katarina was a Bearer like I’ve never had before or since: someone with ambition, determination, and a genius beyond any of my expectations. She believed your family deserved more than their lot in life at that time, and she devised uses for my power beyond those of her predecessors.”

“What about the war? Why did that have to happen?”

“I told you already, Inga Alenir, I don’t know what Katarina’s end-goal was: she kept her own counsel on that matter to the bitter end, even from myself. To my knowledge, she never told anyone what her true intentions were, apart from conquest and victory. Clan Alenir and their capital at Denadal went from a cultural back-water to a center of power unrivaled in its day. The war she started was one that humankind hadn’t seen or known for generations—for its entire existence, perhaps.”

I eyed the image of Katarina before me, who looked back at me with what seemed like a sort of dry amusement. It made me wonder if she might open her mouth and start talking. “Was she evil?” I asked, looking the woman in the eyes.

“She was driven, Swordbearer,” Deathbringer said with a tone of disapproval. “Had history been kinder, you would’ve grown up in opulence beyond measure, the great-granddaughter of an Empress never seen before or since in all of Agareth. It would’ve been you living in a city like Whitehold, one ten times greater even, rather than Yenda Avard.”

“I can’t even start to imagine a life like that. I don’t think I even want to.”

“Do you not?” Given his tone of voice, the Sword actually sounded surprised. I thought I detected surprise on Katarina’s face as well, but when I blinked, it was gone.

“Why would I?” I said. “I was happy. I was getting married. I had a future, a life to look forward to, one that I wanted to have…and now it’s gone.” I looked again for my man to appear from out of the shadows of the barn, but he didn’t. I didn’t feel like I was mistress of anything—not even my own dreams. “I don’t know what will happen when I reach Whitehold,” I said. I whispered: “I’m…afraid, I think.”

“Of dying?”

“Of failing. I’m practically dead already. Pyotr’s waiting for me. I’m not afraid of death. But, I want his death to mean something. I don’t want him, and everyone else, to have died just to fail them all over again.” I looked over at the Sword like it was a real person, imagining myself looking him in the eyes. “That matters more to me than anything.”

“The road ahead of you is still long,” Deathbringer said. “Foretelling is not the power I possess, but if you commit to the path, my advice is to pour every bit of effort you have on reaching its end as soon as possible. The closer we are in proximity to one another, the more assistance I can offer you.”

“What kind of assistance?”

“I am not completely without some faculty of my own, Swordbearer—I know where within the White Fortress I can be found, for instance. Once you get closer to Whitehold, we needn’t limit ourselves to the Veil to communicate.”

“You mean I’ll be able to talk to you in the waking world?”

“Correct.”

“But won’t…” I twisted up my mouth again. “I can’t believe I’m asking this: won’t Yenda or anyone else hear you talking to me?”

“Our bond is more than a physical one, Inga Alenir, and your earlier questions notwithstanding, I am not a living thing—I have no mouth with which to speak.” To my hearing, I detected the faintest hint of amusement in the Sword’s voice. “Rest easy: no one will hear my voice but you.”

“That’s good to know, at least.”

We both went silent. If felt different from the silences between Kale and I. Deathbringer might have had a mind of his own, but it didn’t feel awkward or forced when I spoke to him.

“The sun is nearly risen, Swordbearer,” Deathbringer said.

“Already?”

“If you have any other questions, speak them now.”

“I don’t think I have any more, at the moment. Just…” I looked at the farm one last time, my head tipping to one side. “If this is the Veil, and I made it this way…will it stop being like this when I wake up?” My voice was quiet. “Will they all disappear?”

“The realm of dreams is not mine to command,” Deathbringer said. Then, after a moment, he added: “But, this creation belongs to you and you alone. It will remain as thus for as long as you wish it to remain.”

“Really?” I could hear the excitement in my voice, tinged with a hint of desperation and hope.

“Correct.”

I sighed with relief, not really knowing why, and smiled. “Good. That helps a lot. Thank you.”

The Sword didn’t speak again, and Katarina’s image vanished. I was alone. My heart ached, hurting in my chest while I watched my dead loved ones carry on for a few more moments. I soaked up the presence of them, etching all of them into my memory—

—and then someone was jostling me awake. “Inga!” I heard Kale’s voice hissing at me, giving my shoulder a shake as he roused me. “Wake up.”

I felt my eyes pop open, as though I’d only just closed them. “What, what is it?” I said, jerking my head from one side to the other. “Are we there?”

“We’re in Nukorovo,” he said. I heard the train howling again in the distance ahead of me, but could also feel the enormous thing already moving slower than before, gradually slowing down more with each passing moment. “We’ll disembark here and pay the rest of our fare.”

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The bright, vibrant dream world was gone, and now the real world I’d returned to seemed bleak and leeched of life by comparison: the trees outside of the windows were painted in dull shades of grey and green, while a hint of pale sunshine was sliding through the thick clouds overhead. My head felt like it was stuffed with sawdust. My lovely blue sundress was gone, replaced by the borrowed brown rancher’s clothes. It was a depressing change, one that I couldn’t do anything about: this was my life now, whether I wanted it or not.

The other seats in our car were empty by that point, which suited me just fine. I didn’t feel refreshed or recovered in any way that I knew how to measure, which seemed to lend credence to what Deathbringer had told me. What I wanted was to sleep longer, to see if I could make it back to the Veil and spot Pyotr again. If I could just talk to him again—

“You were dreaming,” Kale said, interrupting my vagaries as the train finally came to a complete stop. “I tried to rouse you earlier, but short of shouting, it didn’t seem to do any good.”

“Guess I needed the rest,” I said, almost losing the last word as a long, jaw-aching yawn made me cover my mouth and squint both eyes shut.

I heard him chuckle. “From the looks if it, I’m not sure that it—”

The doors to our train car slammed open, each as loud as a pistol shot, cutting him off mid-sentence and making me jump in my seat. A sea of silver and blue flowed in, Avardi soldiers appearing in force, all of them armed with guns drawn. I lost count of all the commands they shouted at me: that I should hold my hands up, keep them in sight, while also simultaneously not moving a muscle and somehow getting down on the floor, all at the same time.

I glared at the redhead. “Snow-blasted bastard,” I said, hissing the word through my teeth. Then one of the soldiers shouted at me again, pressing the barrel of his gun to my temple. I heard the ‘click’ of the hammer being pulled back and felt my blood go cold.

Kale looked like he wanted to object or defend himself, but as he opened his mouth to speak, I heard a woman’s voice bellow through the car: “Make way, you maggots, make way! Swords take you all—get out of my way!” Her voice was loud enough to make my ears ring, but it got results: a path was made down the center aisle, causing the other Avardi to press and jostle each other—I was more nervous that some idiot was going to squeeze his trigger unintentionally, and then the rest of them would fill me up with bullet holes. It struck me as an ungracious sort of end, one that I wasn’t really looking forward to.

A short woman who I presumed to be Commander Golova came stomping up the aisle towards my seat. She walked right up to where we sat. “You’re giving me another headache, Private Isrodel,” Golova said, ignoring me for the moment.

He shook his head. “No ma’am, that’s not—”

“Stow it,” she answered, cutting him off with a snort. Then, as if dismissing him entirely from any further thought, Golova looked at me. She had a strap covering one eye and almost half of her face with it. She seemed surprisingly small for someone with so much authority, barely coming up to the shoulder of any of her subordinates. But her demeanor reminded me of how Deathbringer had described my grandmatron: tough, maybe even brutal, like she might try to crush my skull in her bare hands without a hair falling out of place.

“So you’re the thorn in the First Daughter’s side I’ve been ordered to pluck out.” She eyed me up and down, pursing her lips. “Interesting.”

KALE

Kale stood in front of the Commander’s desk for nearly five minutes, according to the antique clock ticking away on her office wall. She never said a word the entire time, but the moment she looked up, he was struck by two things: she carried what seemed like a grievous wound for someone so young…and yet, her face didn’t strike him as young at all. In spite of a thick leather strap that covered her from scalp to cheekbone, something in her good eye made him want to stare back at it—this was a woman who’d seen things he couldn’t even imagine or put a name to.

It finally struck him that she was waiting for him to speak first. “Reporting for duty,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest in salute.

Golova laced both hands under her chin. “So you’re the runaway rich boy I’ve been tasked with care-taking.”

Kale shook his head. “No ma’am. Just a—”

“Save it, Private.” She sighed, as though very tired. “If you wanted anonymity, you should’ve been smarter—run away to Ordradelon, join the Regulars there instead. The name ‘Isrodel’ might not be as well known as ‘Avard’ in the Territories, but anyone who can find a half-decent library or bribe a half-drunk grandfather in these parts can find out what the Isrodels did during the War.” Her smile was mirthless. “That’s all farm-folk ever have time for: watching crops grow, making babies, and telling old stories.”

Kale nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“Let me tell you what I want out of you, Private Isrodel.” Golova pushed up from her chair. She was a short woman, barely coming to his collarbone, but the hard look on her face assured Kale that she’d broken men even stronger and more imposing than he’d ever be. “I want obedience, alacrity, and above all, serenity. The worst crisis I’ve had since I started my tenure was a stolen dairy cow two years ago; I’m told the locals are still talking about the time the Avardi paid them a visit.” She leaned over her desk, pinning him down with her one-eyed stare. “The less drama I have to handle because of you and your romantic entanglement with the Matriarch’s daughter, the better. Some of my superiors might think of these parts as being a backwater, but my opinion is that if I don’t have anything to report on, the busybodies up the chain of command will leave me the hell alone. Do we understand one another?”

The way she looked at him was hostile, and yet, Kale sensed something lurking under the surface. It reminded him of his sister Jaska, the way that she would look at him as though she had him completely figured out at a glance: if he argued, she knew exactly what to say to shut him down; if he stayed silent, she always had the perfect plan in mind and was just waiting for him to trip up.

“Just tell me where you want me,” he answered.