"They were torturing the cat," Jack said.
That explained volumes and nothing at all. "Who else knows you're here?"
"Why are you asking?" George asked.
"So I would know if I could kill you and dispose of the bodies." That ought to shake them up. For all he knew, Declan was scouring the countryside looking for these precious darlings and breathing fire. How the hell was he going to get out of this?
In the rearview mirror, Jack gathered himself. Kaldar was suddenly aware that sitting with his back to the boy left his neck vulnerable.
"You won't kill us," George said from the front seat. His voice trembled slightly.
"Why not? Cerise is mildly fond of you, but I have no emotional attachment to either of you. I could slit your throats and toss you into a ravine. Nobody would know. You can be sure I would be sad and express my condolences to your sister at the first opportunity."
George paled and stared straight ahead. No tears, no hysterics. Some sort of calculation was taking place behind those blue eyes. At least the boy was thinking. That was usually a positive sign.
"We told Lark that we had stowed away on your wyvern. She will wait until Declan and Rose panic, then tell them where we are."
It wasn't enough that Fate had stabbed him with a knife. No, the blade had to be poisoned. Kaldar feverishly sorted through the possible outcomes. How in the world would he explain this? And it would have to be explained and justified. Instead of wondering where his brothers-in-law had disappeared to, Declan would know that some distant, no-good cousin of his best friend's wife had taken them to the Democracy of California, the place that made Convict Island seem like a walk in the park.
He would need Richard, Kaldar decided. His older brother and Declan were cut from the same cloth. The two of them would sit down, sip some wine, share stories of their siblings' regrettable behavior, commiserate with each other's family issues, and in the end the Marshal of the Southern Provinces would see the light and perhaps condescend not to murder him.
The two boys sat completely quiet. Idiots. "I'm waiting for an explanation," Kaldar ground out.
"Jack might be sent to Hawk's," George said. "William promised to intervene on his behalf."
The light dawned. "But he's gone on a mission, and the two of you are trying to buy some time at my expense."
"Yes." George nodded.
Perfect. Just perfect. "I understand why Jack would run away. Why are you here?"
The kid looked at him as if he were stupid. "I'm his brother."
Of course. Why did I even ask? "How much time do we have before your brother-in-law loses his grip on his temper?"
"At least a week," George said. "I informed them that we had a weeklong camp at College. It's an annual tradition, and since I told them about it, they won't have any reason to doubt it."
"And why would that be?" Kaldar made a left turn off the highway onto a country road. Two more miles, and they were in the clear. "Is it because you never lie?"
"No, it's because I only lie when I know I won't get caught."
Good answer. Kaldar considered his options. He could load them on the wyvern and take them back, which would take two days there and two days back. Too long. He had no reason to trust Alex Callahan. For all he knew, the junkie was calling his supposedly hateful sister right now with a warning. If he delayed, he risked losing Audrey. Not to mention that Lady Virai would be less than pleased. In fact, after she was done with him, they wouldn't even be able to harvest his organs.
He could load the kids on the wyvern and send them off with Gaston while he made his own way up the coast to Washington State. Going through the Edge on his own was out of the question - it was a wilderness. Going through the Weird was too dangerous - the Democracy of California consisted of a collection of baronies only loosely organized into a country. Each baron had his own private army at his disposal. They disliked their neighbors, but they hated outsiders. That left him with traveling through the Broken in a stolen car, ready to be pulled over by every highway patrolman with half a brain.
He could also just take the kids with him. It was the only solution that still permitted him to do his job. There would be hell to pay, but he would worry about it when the time came.
Kaldar leveled a heavy stare at George. "Tell me why I shouldn't load you on the wyvern and send you back to the loving arms of your sister?"
"We can be useful," George said.
"How? You think that you're smarter than everyone around you, and he" - Kaldar pointed at the backseat - "he can't control himself and starts breaking legs if someone looks at him for half a second too long. What I do requires perfect timing, resolve, and cold temper, none of which you've demonstrated so far."
George blushed.
"The fact that you're turning pink, like a happy bride, tells me you aren't well suited for my line of work."
The blush died. "We can be useful."
"Nobody pays attention to us because we're kids," Jack said from the backseat. "I can go anywhere. I can climb a wall, listen to the conversation, and tell it back to you word for word. George can animate a mouse, send it to a locked room, and tell you what's inside."
"We can speak three languages fluently," George said. "We're trained in self-defense, we know the protocol, and we're motivated."
"By what, exactly?" Kaldar asked.
"We're Edge Trash," George said. "No matter how perfect we are, we'll never be accepted completely. I can never hold a political post like Declan, and if I could attain it, I wouldn't have the kind of influence he does."
Kaldar glanced at him. Now that was interesting. "What makes you think that?"
George looked back and held his gaze. "Declan's uncle tried to enroll me into Selena University. It's the best school in Adrianglia. I scored in the top one percent of nine hundred applicants. I was denied admission. They know that Declan can pay for my school. They just don't want the likes of me on their admission scrolls."
Welcome to the real world, kid. The Weird ain't all it's cracked up to be. For all of their reforms and talk of equality, pedigree still mattered in the Weird.
"Jack can at least do the military, but he has to get his temper under control. I can't," George said. "I'm fast and strong, and I can fight well; but I don't have the endurance. I've worked on it for two years, and a ten-mile run leaves me nearly dead. I can't put on a fifty-pound backpack and march thirty miles in one day. I will never be good at it. But I could be good at this."