Heart of Iron - Ekaterina Sedia [36]
“So have I,” I whispered back. “Shh, class is starting.”
“Promise you’ll stay after class and talk to me.”
“Very well.”
He didn’t move away when the lecture started, and I found I had trouble concentrating on chained men in the cave and the shadows that they somehow mistook for real people when Jack was sitting next to me.
The lecture was finally over, and I could’ve cursed my friends—Dasha and Olga, and Elena and Larisa all ran ahead, leaving me facing Jack with no excuse to escape the situation. Even our classmates who could be counted on to follow us around and make rude jokes when they were least welcome left the auditorium. I sighed and faced Jack, even though it was the last thing I was interested in doing at the time. He smiled and motioned that we should step outside.
“I know I was harsh the last time we spoke,” he said, and matched his long stride to mine. “I just . . . I wish I knew the right thing to do.”
“Sometimes it is hard to decide,” I said. “But you can start by not lying to me.”
“I’m fond of you,” he said. “Really, quite so.” His voice was steady, and his hat concealed his expression as well as ever. “I don’t want to lie to you, but I see no choice sometimes.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” I said, blushing rather hopelessly. “But if you want me to return your interest, your sincerity would be most effective.”
As much as I resented such manipulation, I had to sternly remind myself that it seemed to be the only way to find out what was going on. I had tried straightforward sincerity before, so I felt I was morally in the clear.
Jack nodded a few times, thoughtful. “You were right about me,” he said. “I am here on orders of my government, and I am gathering information of . . . sensitive nature.”
I held my breath not quite believing he was finally supplying some answers. “And the Crane Club?”
He hung his head. “I cannot talk about that. Please believe me, if it were not for necessity . . . I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” I responded. “You could’ve refused.”
“I face severe punishment should I disobey my orders,” he said. “More severe than most others.”
“What have you got against the Chinese?”
“Nothing,” he said. “There was some interest in the models they were building, but it is secondary, and served mostly as a diversion. That is why I, a criminal, was trusted with it—it is not important in itself, but only as a symbolic gesture.”
Although I did not wish to, I had to lean on his hand. My head spun. I had assumed Chiang Tse and the rest were victims of continuing British hostility. The emperor’s preference for all things and causes English coupled with his brother’s fear of foreigners had made matters worse. I assumed they were arrested and pursued to please the British, and that Jack and his compatriots were here to direct and to supervise. It had not occurred to me that all this was a deliberate setup, a distraction engineered by the English. The unavoidable conclusion stared me in the face, and it had the mean pinprick gaze of Dame Nightingale.
“You’re telling me,” I whispered with numb lips, “that you are not here to spy on the Chinese.”
He shook his head. “No. But please, please, be careful. Don’t tell anyone. I can protect you if need arises, but no more than that.”
I was overcome with the onslaught of information and Jack solicitously led me to a bench by the path. It was still a bit wet from the recent rain, and he laid down his cloak so I could sit comfortably. I stared for a while at the yellow leaves covering the paths and the lawns, at the students walking and laughing, their voices carrying far in the still air. I realized there was knowledge in the universe that had the ability to decisively separate one from the rest of the world—some things you could not know and continue to live like everyone else. Blood roared in my ears, and I helplessly shook my head at Jack and his moving lips—I could not hear a word he was saying. I could only acutely experience the bitter smell of fallen leaves and distant peat smoke.
“If you’re a spy,” I finally