Cade and Jax glanced at one another, then walked down between rows of looms. Mr. Greeling turned on them at their approach.
“Yes? What do you want?”
Cade halted in front of him and removed his cap. Recognition flickered on Mr. Greeling’s face, and he glanced anxiously around to ensure the Inspector was well gone.
“What do you think you are doing here?” he hissed. “How dare you endanger me like this? And who is this—this other man with you?” Mr. Greeling glared at Jax as if he were the dregs of the Dregs, dragged out of some gutter on the street.
“He is one of us,” Cade replied.
“I hardly think so.”
“Told you,” Jax muttered. “He’s just like the rest. Let’s go.”
“Hold on,” Cade said. “Mr. Greeling, we come to you in common purpose. The drilling in the Old City has got to stop. It is time for the empire to see true opposition. We just ask for your help in—”
“What? You want me to help set off little explosives so the Inspectors can arrest everyone in sight?”
Explosions could be useful, Cade thought, but he’d come seeking Mr. Greeling’s cooperation in the releasing of slaves. The mill owner, however, appeared to be too worked up to hear his plan.
Mr. Greeling jabbed his finger at Cade. “Your professor talked like that and see what happened to him? And thanks to him, the Inspectors are investigating everyone who associated with him, even the Preferred. The old idiot got himself killed and has now drawn the attention of the empire on me and the others.”
“He was no idiot,” Cade said quietly, his fingers balling into a fist, which he kept safely at his side. “He envisioned a better life for everyone.”
“Oh, yes. He even brought rubbish off the street and into his home so he could play at being the generous father figure, did he not, Mr. Harlowe?”
Cade’s fist quivered.
“Made him feel good to do it, as if he were defying the empire. That’s why he did it, Harlowe, that’s why he took in rubbish like you off the street. Not to help you, not to care about you. He did it to defy the empire.”
With that, the anger bled out of Cade. He relaxed his fingers, opened his hand. “I know.”
His words seemed to deflate Mr. Greeling.
“I know,” Cade repeated, “and then the fire—the first fire—changed him. But yes, he and his vision are gone. It does not mean his work is done.”
“Well, I’m done,” Mr. Greeling spat. “I’ve had enough trouble thanks to your professor and his damned opposition. In fact, I should just call that Inspector back in here to arrest you.”
Jax looked fearful, but Cade just shook his head. “You won’t do that, of course, since I can tell the Inspectors all about your participation in the opposition and how you supplied the black powder for the little adventure in the Old City. At this point, I have little to lose. But you, Mr. Greeling, have much. What? Four mill complexes, several warehouses, a fine manse, a wife and three children, and of course the mistress you keep down on Calder Avenue.”
Mr. Greeling’s face turned very red. “How—” He stopped himself. Just glared at Cade with a murderous expression.
“So,” Cade said, “I trust you’ll keep your mouth shut, or word will get out about your own anti-empire activities. And probably, your wife will hear about your mistress. If that is not enough to keep you quiet, during the deeps of some night, while you sleep in that tower room of yours, associates of my friend here will find you and cut your throat.”
“Get out!” Mr. Greeling cried. “Get out!”
Cade shrugged, and he and Jax turned back between the rows of looms. Cade did not hurry his stride though he could feel Mr. Greeling’s glare burning into his back.
“Bet that bastard never had anyone talk to him like that before,” Jax said.
Cade shrugged. “I am too tired to waste energy on being civil to someone who cannot conduct a simple, courteous conversation.”
Jax howled with laughter. Cade smiled.
“Those Preferreds deserve to be brought down a peg,” Jax said. “Too complacent, being favored by the empire. And I told you he’d be like the rest. None of them who were part of the professor’s group want anything to do with scum like us. Now that the niceties of parties and concerts are over, they just want to go back to making money and lording over the rest of us.”
“We are not done here yet,” Cade replied, as they started down the stairwell.
He felt very odd, suddenly being the one who decided what was to be done. His dear professor was dead, and now he was wanted by the Inspectors. He was also now, officially, a Weapon. His life had changed dramatically in the last forty-eight hours. No longer could he stand in the professor’s shadow and wait for someone else’s decisions to be handed down. It was as if he’d been set free, freed to do what needed to be done. To do what should have been done a long time ago.
• • •
Cade and Jax crossed the mill complex’s courtyard to mill number five. He had someone to see. They got by the guard at the entrance on the pretense they were there to re-hang a door.
“Foreman’s waiting for ya on the fourth floor,” the guard said.
They climbed up the stair tower, their footfalls drowned out by the clamor of machines in full motion, spinning thread and weaving cloth. Bobbin boys and girls ran past them, up and down the stairs in their bare feet, their arms loaded with either freshly threaded bobbins if they were going up, or empty bobbins if they were going down. They were not chained to machines, but their work was grueling. The children appeared to take no notice of Cade and Jax, their pinched faces expressionless as they hurried to fulfill their tasks and avoid a beating.