M'yu disappeared through the flock of homebound students, then flashed his linkcard at Aevryn's hover. The door opened, and he slid into the empty interior. As the door closed, the hover hummed alive to take him to its pre-programmed destination. M'yu leaned over the console, which displayed the vehicle chugging along a map of the city. He wondered if he could override the instructions and have it take him straight to the Prav'sudja. Would they recognize the hover as Aevryn's and let him pass?
M'yu sighed. He didn't know if the central system was in the Prav'sudja, and even if it was, he'd get caught finding it if he didn't get more information first. You don't go into plans blind. Especially not plans that could end up as your last one.
Shaking his head, M'yu picked up one of his textbooks and started reading. It wasn't long before the hover deposited him at Aevryn's house. At the door, Evriss offered to take his coat at the door, and M'yu juggled his books as he slipped it off.
"Dinner is on the table, sir," Evriss said. M'yu started to turn, but the old man held up a hand. "Sir? Be careful."
M'yu watched the man, but Evriss pressed his lips together, simply slipping M'yu's stack of material from his hands. Drawing a breath, M'yu readied himself for yet another hidden knife fight and walked steadily to the dining hall.
Aevryn sat at the table head, finger tapping against the polished wood. He glared down the table's length, stiff as ice, not even bothering to look at M'yu as he took his seat. The steam of red beet soup wafted up toward M'yu's nose, but he hesitated to reach for his spoon. The Knight's lay untouched beside his bowl.
"Aevryn?" he asked.
The ice of his posture melted some, and he scowled at M'yu, picking up his utensil. M'yu snagged his own, but remembering some tidbit from today's Etiquette class, paused until Aevryn took a bite. Then M'yu dug in and sighed as the sweet-and-sour warmth slid down his throat.
"I should like to congratulate you on your manners," Aevryn said.
M'yu smiled closed-lipped in front of a mouthful of soup and nodded his thanks.
Aevryn's spoon clinked against his own bowl. "Except you eat like a starving cat. For goodness' sake, boy! It's not running away from you."
The metal of the spoon cut into M'yu's tightening fist. "Right, sir," he clipped, blowing carefully over his soup and tipping it slowly into his mouth like Aevryn did. Lukewarm liquid dribbled down his throat.
"Better."
After a minute, Aevryn abandoned his spoon again, finger tapping absently against the table. They were left with the crackle of the hearth and M'yu's spoon scraping and clinking as he ate carefully, gently, slowly. He could have been done minutes ago, up in his room already, working on the mountain of studies he had to conquer, and instead he pretended to be proper while the only person that cared how he acted stared fixedly at the wall.
M'yu's stomach grumbled, but he pushed his now cold soup away and stood.
"I didn't dismiss you, boy."
"I've loved playing house, but I have actual work to do now, so—"
He turned, but Aevryn caught his wrist. "Your actual work is with me. Everything else is a tool. Do you understand me?"
"I'm sorry, was there a lesson I missed in your brooding silence?"
"Watch your tone, boy." Aevryn released him.
M'yu's tongue ran over his teeth. Slowly, evenly, he said, "If I watch my tone, may I go conquer my mountain of homework? Or would you prefer me to flunk out?"
Aevryn's eyes cut to him, and M'yu swallowed. With slow, heavy words, he said, "I would prefer you not to treat me with contempt." Muttering, he added, "I've had enough of that today already."
M'yu's brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean? I haven't stepped out of line, didn't even punch that rat-nosed—"
"This has nothing to do with you!" Aevryn drug a hand down his face. "This has nothing to do with you," he murmured again. "You may be dismissed."
M'yu's eyes widened. "Your trial."
Aevryn's gaze pierced through a break in his fingers. "What did you just say?"
"You mentioned earlier, this morning—or I mean, Dymtrus mentioned—" M'yu scratched the back of his head. "Never mind. I'll go."
"Boy," Aevryn called after him, and M'yu paused. Aevryn sighed. "Come back and sit down. You'll need your energy." Slipping his linkcard out of his pocket, he tapped out a sequence, and a servant appeared. "Heat up our bowls again, please, Mauda."
M'yu slowly sank back into his seat as the woman bustled back out of the room.
"Did the athletics teacher show you the LMS yet?" Aevryn asked.
"I don't have athletics until tomorrow."
"Then I'll show you tonight."
Aevryn's tapping picked back up as they waited for their soup.
M'yu rolled a salt shaker between his fingers. "What happened with your trial?"
"Have you even had a law class yet?" Aevryn sighed.
"I had ethics today."
"Alright, then. Let's put Drakswit's lectures to the test." Aevryn said the man's name the same way streetkids wrinkled their nose at ritzy kids saying they could 'rough it.' He rolled his glass between his hands. "Imagine that you had embezzled a large sum of money, sunk it into high value purchases so it couldn't be traced, and then sent the profits upstream to your criminal employer. Should you turn over your patron so that you receive a lower jail time?"
"You don't rat on your gang."
Aevryn tilted his head. "I'm not asking for your feelings. Think with reason."
M'yu pressed his lips together as Aevryn watched with raised brow. He called back the lecture from that morning, the dropped pen and the persnickety man's rebuke. "No," he said, more measuredly this time. "Ratting would be 'compromise.' The only morally acceptable thing to do is to admit what you've done and blame no one else."
Aevryn's tongue slid between his lips like a restless snake. "Which is exactly the principle this coward, and the last three, have been clinging to in order to claim the need to keep their peace. Then after the trial, they miraculously all get pardoned by the Tsaright for their 'honor in court.'"
"He's paying them off?"
Mauda came back with the soup, and Aevryn met M'yu's eye with a warning. "Eat up."
M'yu tucked in—not sloppy fast, but he had no intention of letting it get cold again either. Aevryn's nose wrinkled, but this time, he didn't say anything.
"You know," M'yu said in between bites once Mauda was gone, "they're going to have to sell that stuff back off again for it to be worth it."
Aevryn shook his head. "We have people planted at markets and in Houses throughout the city, all looking for the goods. None of it ever turns up."
M'yu snorted, and the beet soup burned his nose. Somewhere between laughing and coughing, he managed to wipe his face.
Aevryn looked down his nose at him. "Stop that now."
M'yu swallowed another laugh, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips. "Sorry, sir."
"If it's so laughably simple, boy, then out with it. What do you think you know?"
"I don't think I know nothing, sir—anything," he corrected. "I just mean—" He lost the battle with his smile, and his hands spread helplessly. "Why would you ever sell dirty goods in the Daymarkets?"
"The what?"
"The... Daymarkets?" M'yu's nose scrunched, sure Aevryn was messing with him. "I mean, I assume you don't have folks stalking the Nightsale. Can't hang around down there." M'yu shivered, then gulped down a hot bite of his soup.
Aevryn leaned forward across the table. "You're going to tell me everything you know about this Nightsale, now."
M'yu bit down on his sore, hard. "You, um. You're not supposed to have your elbow on the table."
Deliberately, scarily slow, Aevryn pushed M'yu's bowl out of reach, eyes locked on the boy. "I'm not playing right now."
M'yu's toes tingled, itching to get up and run. "I don't, um. I don't know a lot."
"Really?" Aevryn growled. "It seemed so obvious to you a moment ago."
"Look, I haven't done nothing wrong." M'yu shot to his feet. "And I have a mountain of homework I gotta do if you don't want me flunking your fancy school." He started backing away. "Dinner was great, especially while it was hot, and um. I've got to go. Good night." He turned and hurried toward the door.
The handle refused to turn. M'y turned back to where Aevryn held up a linkcard between two fingers. "So long as you're in my house, you won't be going anywhere I don't want you to."
"That kinda sounds like something you'd say to a prisoner."
Aevryn scoffed. "You're not a prisoner, boy."
M'yu stiffened, cheeks burning. "That what you're gonna tell all the Nightsale folks when your guards round them up and beat them over the head? 'Oh, no worries, you're not a prisoner." He swallowed, Lania's wide innocent eyes flashing in his mind. "You're not a prisoner, you're just dead.'"
Aevryn rose slowly. "What happened to your friend was not my fault."
M'yu rocked back on his feet, door solid against his back. "Don't matter much whose fault it is if she isn't coming back."
"M'yu, listen." His voice had softened.
M'yu stared at the shine on his too-clean shoes. There should be stains on the leather, stains he couldn't get out. They had no right to be so nice.
"M'yu." Steps tapped across the gold-veined marble floor, another set of perfectly clean, perfectly shiny shoes. "What happened to that girl never should have. And I want to make it to where it never does again. But I can't do it alone."
M'yu looked up at him, blinking. "What?"
"I want the soldiers held accountable. Do you understand me? I want everyone held accountable. Rich, poor, powerful, I don't care. Everyone."
M'yu scoffed, shaking his head. "You think you have my number."
Aevryn set his hands on M'yu's shoulders. His crystal sharp gaze cut into M'yu, and for a moment, he was sure his clothes and skin had been reduced to ribbons. He rubbed a sweating hand down his pant leg.
"Do I lie to you?" Aevryn asked. "Do I look like I'm lying to you?"
M'yu swallowed. All Caps were liars. But this man who had saved him from that jail, from slavery, who was so nitpicky about things being done right—
Aevryn's gaze searched him, scraping over his skin and flaking off all the lies M'yu tried to tell himself. M'yu sucked on his sore once, then harder, trying to convert the pain to hate but the only thing it did was sharpen his mind.
M'yu shrugged his shoulders, but Aevryn held his grip. "Am I lying to you?" he demanded.
Hands exploding out, M'yu pushed the man back. "No, alright? No, you're not lying." M'yu pushed a hand back through his mop of hair. "Can I go now?"
Aevryn held his hands out, the way you might to calm a startled dog. "I need your help first."
"How is me ratting out Nightsale to you gonna do anything but hurt my folks?"
"I don't have any interest in adding more harm to those who have already been harmed enough, M'yu. You should know I'm not out to get the Gloamers. You're here, after all." He eyed him.
M'yu rubbed his arm, gaze dropping. "I can't."
"Then I'll never be able to get any evidence tying the Tsaright to these crimes."
M'yu froze. "You're going after the Tsaright?"
Aevryn nodded slowly.
"Like, the Tsaright himself? The pig who runs this whole rot show?"
"Yes." The word reverberated off the walls like a song, the kind his gang would sing in the dark of the night, hoping, wishing. "If we can convict him of something, he will lose his Washfall-given right to rule. Only then do we have a chance."
M'yu's eyes flashed to Aevryn's. "A chance for what?"
Aevryn held a hand out to him, voice warm with sincerity. "A chance to finally change things."