Page 312

“I’m sorry, but why would I do that?” said the reporter. “Not to be too blunt, but if anything, this visit has confirmed all of my worst suspicions.”

“A moment,” said Karkash. He left the room, then soon returned. With the reporter’s son.

Slowly, the man’s expression became wary.

“You are free to write whatever you like,” Stoker repeated. “But your opinion holds weight with the public. We would appreciate it if your next article spoke fondly of what you have seen here today.”

“This--this is--! You can’t do this!”

Karkash held up the boy’s hand. “Do what?”

The kid looked terrified.

“W-whoa,” said the father. “Just--okay. Please don’t hurt my son. I’ll do as you ask.”

“We ask nothing,” said Karkash. “You do as you like. We do as we like.”

The man nodded shakily. “I understand. Please.”

‘He says he understands,’ said Hoyohté, ‘but that is doubtful. Break the boy’s finger.’

Karkash did so.

The boy shrieked in pain.

“I said I would cooperate!” the man yelled.

‘There was no need for that!’ said Nize.

Karkash ignored her. “I am clumsy.” He released the boy into his father’s arms. “In future, I will be more careful. As should you. Leaving city, for instance. Trying to hide. That would be clumsy.”

The man stood in front of his crying son. “I understand,” he said again. “I do. Believe me.”

A brief silence took hold until Stoker broke it. “We are not keeping you here. You may leave whenever you wish.”

They scurried away. After they were gone, however, the quiet returned, stronger than before while Hoyohté eyed Nize.

‘You are displeased again,’ Hoyohté said in Vaelish. She floated around Karkash. ‘It seems we have a fundamental disagreement. Perhaps it is time we worked it out.’

Stoker looked at Nize. ‘Don’t.’

‘Your methods are needlessly cruel,’ said Nize for all to hear.

Stoker’s posture stiffened.

“I barely hurt the child,” said Karkash, much more fluent now in Vaelish. “And what difference does it make? Why do you think we came to this country?”