Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [86]
“How did you learn this?” Abalone says suspiciously. “When we saw you last, you were running as fast as you could.”
“Sí, I was running—or flying—but the money I made selling the bike gave me the means to clear my name”—she grins—“or at least to get the ears of the right people. I have a new employer who has set me to watch the old.”
“And while you were watching,” Professor Isabella prompts, “what did you learn?”
“Sarah probably couldn’t tell you, but the Institute was being funded by an…economic concern called Ailanthus. They were using Sarah’s talents, and those of her brother before that, to steal information that couldn’t be had any other way.”
“Yeah, we had some idea from Jersey’s letter,” Abalone says, “but clearly we didn’t understand just how things were.”
“The Ailanthus company is run by dangerous people, who like getting their own way, but that don’t mean that they’re stupid.”
Margarita perches on a rubble heap. “They’ve had people checking to see if anyone was showing too much interest in Jersey’s research. Kinda a long shot, but they figured that the people who took Sarah might also be interested in talking with her.”
“And then from that they were able to trace back to her,” Professor Isabella says. “They won’t stop, will they?”
“No. What she can do is worth too much money.”
I listen, my illusion of safety shattered again. Yet, I am a different person than the woman who was sent away from the Home, a different person even from the one who surrendered to let her friends escape. I may be insane, but I value my freedom, and, Jersey was right, I do value being in control of myself.
“We’ll have to hide her again,” Abalone says, “maybe even fake her death. I can give up my research for now and pick it up once the heat is off. Wouldn’t make much sense to push it if Sarah isn’t around to share.”
“We could go to the countryside,” Professor Isabella says, “or perhaps back to the apartment near the park.”
I put my hand on her arm, shaking my head in blunt refusal.
“Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.”
“Sarah, what are you saying?” Abalone says. “We aren’t running ’cause we’re chicken. We’re running to save you.”
Again, I shake my head.
“Why should there be such turmoil and such strife, to spin in length this feeble line of life?”
“Sarah! You can’t mean to kill yourself.” Abalone turns pale beneath her paint. “That’s craziness.”
Weary with hunting for words, again I shake my head. Hearing my dragons sigh with relief, I lower my hand to scratch their heads as I search for a way to make my meaning clear.
“When the blandishments of life are gone, the coward sneaks to death,” I reply at last.
“And you’re not a coward,” Abalone says. “Right, Sarah?”
I smile and Athena comes back to my shoulder. She bites my knuckle affectionately and reassures me that, for now, the night still belongs to us. The wind through the park ruffles my too-short hair, forcibly reminding me of my captivity.
“I have not yet begun to fight,” I state firmly, my jaw set against any further protest.
“Fight!” Margarita says, her brown eyes wide with shock.
“What else can she mean?” Professor Isabella says. “She refuses to run and she certainly won’t volunteer to return to those horrendous people.”
I nod vehement agreement.
“What good will going after their mercenaries do?” Margarita asks. “That’s all they’ll send after her and there are always more to be bought. Your wolfy people won’t last against them, even with the choice of battlefield.”
“Into the jaws of Death, into the mouth of hell, rode the six hundred,” I say.
“Six hundred? We’re not six hundred.” Then understanding awakens on Abalone’s face. “Oh, you mean that we should take the fight to them.”
I nod. “But be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ’em.”
“Oh, my,” Professor Isabella says. “Yet, this may be the way to end this madness, a strike into their black hearts.”
“Black?” Margarita