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The first time I saw Orlan Stiletto and Argate Axe, they were chasing a girl across a bridge not far from here. She opened a borehole and escaped. They thought I could see them and debated whether or not to kill me. I managed to convince them that I was unaware of their presence and they let me live. But it looks like they’ve returned to finish the job.
“Wh... wh... what do you want?” I wheeze, back pressed against the face in the pillar, feeling the nose jab into my flesh.
Orlan points at me with his knife, and I fear the worst, but then he lowers the blade. “You made quite an impression at the vote,” he says, referring to the last time we met, when I helped Inez sneak Princess Ghita into the palace in Cornan.
“Pitina shouldn’t have stopped us from killing you,” Argate growls.
“We didn’t stop because of the queen,” Orlan reminds his partner. “We stopped because Duke Edward told us to.”
“But she forced him to call us off,” Argate sulks, then smiles begrudgingly. “You have to admire her, don’t you? A formidable woman.”
“A worthy queen,” Orlan nods. “She saved you, boy. Without her interference, I would have slit your throat.”
“Not if I’d chopped his head off first,” Argate laughs.
I gulp, picturing my head rolling across the floor of the throne room. I look for help, but nobody’s aware of the killers. Orlan and Argate are invisible to the Born, the same way I am at the moment. But if I hit a few people, I could break the spell of the Merge and make them aware of us...
“We’ll kill the Born if you drag them into this,” Orlan says, reading my mind.
“The more the merrier,” Argate grunts, nostrils flaring.
“Please,” I moan. “What’s this about? Are you angry because I helped Inez?”
Argate frowns. “Why would we care about that?”
“We respect good work,” Orlan says.
“That chapter of our story is closed,” Argate says. “You triumphed, and for that we salute you.”
“There aren’t many who get the better of us,” Orlan says. “If circumstances were different, we’d share a drink and toast your success.”
“But our story’s forever evolving,” Argate says. “We’ve started a new chapter, and unluckily for you, you’re part of it.”
“We’ve been hired to take you to Ruby,” Orlan says, and whatever blood was left in my face drains away. Ruby’s the home of the SubMerged.
“What for?” I gasp.
Argate shrugs. “You’ll find out when we get there.”
“Who wants me?” I ask.
“That will be revealed too,” Orlan says.
The killers could have taken me while my back was turned, but they seem very relaxed about this, and still haven’t closed the gap on me. I get the impression they’re in no rush, either because they don’t see me as a threat, or because they want to toy with me. I’ve got to try and make that work to my advantage. First, keep them talking. Then make a break for freedom.
“How did you find me?” I ask, willing strength into my legs, flexing my fingers behind my back to get the blood flowing, trying to formulate a plan.
“Our employer told us to search the streets of London around the area where we’d seen you before,” Orlan says.
“He had a feeling you’d return to the city,” Argate says. “He’s good at predicting the movements of his enemies.”
“We’ve been looking for you for months,” Orlan says, “circling the streets, day after day, in the hope that our paths would eventually cross.”
“They often do in a situation like this,” Argate says. “As the Born like to say, it’s a small world.”
“That’s why I like to hunt here,” Orlan says.
Argate sniffs. “I prefer the challenge of hunting in the Merge. But it matters not. We’ve found you and it’s time to take you to our master. So, if you’re finished with whatever you were doing...”
Argate hangs his axe from a clip on his belt and steps towards me.
“You don’t know what it is?” I ask, seeing my chance to distract them.
“We neither know nor care,” Orlan says, stepping up beside his partner.
“But this is what the hunt’s all about,” I lie, moving aside.
The killers pause, eyebrows furrowing as they stare uncertainly at the face-shaped lock in the pillar.
“A lock?” Argate says.
“What of it?” Orlan asks.
“This isn’t an ordinary lock,” I whisper (and that much at least is true). “Lean in close and listen.”
“It talks?” Argate asks, instinctively leaning forward. Orlan leans in too.
“Oh yes,” I breathe, taking a slow step aside and reaching into a pocket as I lower my voice even further. “And what it says is... boom!” I scream, tearing out the pick and hurling it at the stone face.
It’s a crude, childish trick, but the killers weren’t expecting such a clumsy move. They jerk away, covering their faces with their hands as the pick bounces harmlessly off the pillar and pings to the floor. I buy myself a few seconds and race down one of the seven connected streets, weaving in and out of the crowd.
Behind me, I hear Orlan and Argate chuckling.
“This is what we hoped for,” Orlan says.
“We love it when they run,” Argate says.
“Sometimes they get away,” Orlan says with a self-admonishing tut.
“But more often they don’t,” Argate says, his voice vibrating menacingly.
Then the killers give chase.