Chapter 5 — The Truth He Gave Me

I tore a clean corner from a discarded advertisement and copied the accusation.

"What are you doing?" Celia whispered.

"Keeping their first version."

We returned to the printworks by separate streets.

Inside, Tessa had found a small hand press beneath a tarpaulin. Its rollers were cracked, but the screw still turned. By morning, she had coaxed enough pressure from it to make a readable impression.

I watched her set type with fingers that shook only when they were empty.

"You should rest."

"I did enough lying still while other people decided things."

She gave me the ink roller.

We worked together.

The first sheets carried names and registration numbers, copied exactly from the ledger. The next carried the seventy-two-hour restriction. We left space for mistakes to be corrected before making further copies.

Celia sat upstairs with the rescued man, recording what he could remember. When I asked whether she could prove how often he'd been bled, she shook her head.

"I can describe his condition. He can describe what happened. Don't make either of us claim more."

I crossed out a sentence.

By the fifth evening, we had three sets. One stayed with Tessa, one with Celia, and one in my satchel beside the originals.

We still had no safe way to get them heard.

The public petition desk had posted my name. Every inquiry about the missing workers was being referred to Revenue.

I needed Adrian's access. I hated needing it.

I used the caretaker's telephone to call Rook House and left a message for Gideon. An envelope could be left at my old repair stall at six. No one was to follow whoever collected it.

The caretaker returned with a packet bearing Adrian's seal.

Inside was a signed statement.

He described the closure, the report he had accepted, and the inquiry he had failed to pursue. There was no request for privacy, no condition that I clear his name before using it.

At the bottom he had written that I could present it without his permission or presence.

I read that line three times.

Tessa read over my shoulder. When she finished, she checked that the ink on his signature was dry before handing the page back to me.

Then I called again.

"You can come," I told him. "Alone. I'll meet you at the depot."

He arrived in the plain work coat. He moved carefully getting out of the carriage, keeping his left arm close to his side.

I walked him to the printworks.

Tessa stood when he entered.

Adrian stopped beneath the bare bulb and let her look at him.

"Did you ever wonder whether we'd had food?" she asked.

"Not enough to find out."

Her mouth tightened. "That's a terrible answer."

"It's the true one."

She sat down. It wasn't forgiveness. He seemed to understand.

I laid his statement beside our copies.

"If this reaches the Council, I'll use all of it."

"I know."

"Even if you help us."

"Yes."

He took a document from his coat. It appointed me to coordinate a limited harbor relief operation, using his vehicles and warehouses through the Blood Moon night. The authorization covered transport and shelter, with the expenses charged to him.

"This won't stop Revenue calling it theft," he said. "But my drivers will know whose instructions to follow."

I read it before accepting.

Then we spread Tessa's list across the table.

The remaining workers were to be redistributed through a road junction near the lower harbor. The individual loading sites were coded, but every convoy passed that junction before reaching the underground facilities.

Adrian marked it on the map.

"My dispatch office assigns the final approach lanes. Revenue supplies the manifests."

"Can you change the destination?" Tessa asked.

"Not without Revenue approval."

I picked up a pencil.

"Then we'll ask for approval."

I drew a maintenance closure over the normal approach. Our substitute route sent the first convoy through an inspection yard Adrian owned. Beyond it stood an empty grain warehouse with two street exits.

"We'll say the approach needs urgent shoring," I said. "Use the live transfer numbers from my sister's list. If Lenora authorizes the change, she acknowledges that those numbers are still active."

Adrian studied the route. "Revenue retains the passengers' destination on its own sheet. My drivers only need the revised junction card."

"At the yard, we separate the drivers from the escort," I said. "Gideon takes the escort under guard. Celia receives the people."

Celia put down her pencil.

"I'll receive them. I won't put them on display because you need witnesses."

"We ask," I said. "Anyone who wants to testify comes to the meeting. Everyone else gets shelter."

Tessa nodded. "I'll ask them."

The forged maintenance request went out through the ordinary dispatch channel, carrying real batch numbers and Adrian's genuine authority over the road.

We waited for a returned routing order. Tomorrow, if it came, I would replace the junction cards in his dispatch office.

Near midnight, I went downstairs for air.

Adrian followed only as far as the open doorway.

"May I?"

I nodded.

He stood beside me beneath the broken depot clock. Across the street, a late tram threw sparks against the dark.

"Gideon has a carriage ready if your sister wants to leave the city," he said. "No escort unless she asks."

"And if I go with her?"

His jaw moved once.

"Then there are two seats."

I turned toward him.

He wasn't looking at me. His gaze rested on the tram lines, his hand held carefully away from his injured side.

I touched his sleeve.

He looked down.

"I'm still angry," I said.

"You have reason."

"And I don't know what happens after this."

"Neither do I."

I stepped closer. He waited until I reached for his collar before lowering his head.

The first touch of his mouth was tentative enough to hurt.

I kissed him again, with my hand curled in the rough wool of his coat. His fingers settled at my waist, light at first, then steadier when I leaned into him.

For a few breaths, I let myself want something beyond survival.

Then I drew back.

He released me immediately.

"This doesn't change the statement," I said.

"I didn't think it would."

Upstairs, the telephone rang.

We went back together.

Gideon was on the line. The routing order had been returned, bearing Lenora Saye's approval. He read the convoy numbers aloud while I checked them against Tessa's list.

Every one matched.

Then he read the amended departure time.

I looked at the clock.

The Blood Moon meeting began at nine.

Lenora had ordered the convoy through the junction at eight.

We would have one hour to turn her dead workers into living witnesses.