A Very Expensive Promotion

Aldric came upstairs carrying a length of broken chain.

He dropped it beside the security desk.

The stone beneath it cracked.

Lucien stood so abruptly that Felicity's phone slid from his knee. Neither of them picked it up.

Behind the director, Seth limped through the door with his shield under one arm.

"Stairs," he told me immediately. "Not a bite. I slipped."

"Were you behind Aldric?"

"Very far behind him."

I inspected the ankle. Wrapped. No blood.

"Sit down."

He obeyed before Lucien could tell him to do anything else.

Martha brought him a chair and set my pork beside it. Aldric looked at the plate with visible longing.

I pushed his portion toward him.

"Eat first."

He took one bite standing up.

Then he looked at Lucien.

"Conference room. Everyone who spoke to you about Pip's departure. Bram, bring the accounts."

"Director," Lucien began, "you've just come out of retreat. Perhaps tomorrow would be—"

"The last time I postponed something, you retired my gatekeeper. Now."

I picked up my plate.

Lucien watched me.

"She's attending?"

"You discussed my breathing for twenty minutes," I said. "I can spare some time for your accounts."

Seth laughed into his sleeve.

In the conference room, Rowan put my cushion on a chair beside him.

Aldric placed the broken chain in the middle of the table.

It lay across six seats.

"Before we begin," he said, "does anyone require medical attention?"

Seth raised a hand.

"Already treated."

A duty officer beside him held up a bandaged wrist.

Another shook his head, then grimaced when the movement pulled at a burn on his neck.

Lucien looked down at his untouched sleeves.

Aldric sat.

"Explain your decision."

Lucien had prepared for this during the walk upstairs. I could see the neat order of his papers.

"The entrance role showed no quantifiable intervention over eight centuries. I sought to modernize an outdated position and create a supplementary revenue stream."

"You mean my cushion," I said.

He ignored me.

"No existing record classified Pip as an essential containment measure."

Rowan opened a folder.

"Her contract says the role remains hers for as long as she chooses to hold it. Signed by the director."

"She chose to retire."

Seth leaned forward.

"After you threatened to dismiss anybody who defended her."

"I offered staff a choice about complying with standards."

Martha looked at him.

"You told us to leave if we didn't like how you treated her."

Nobody in the room seemed impressed by the distinction.

Lucien changed pages.

"Even if my assessment was incomplete, I could not have predicted a coordinated series of escapes."

"The first three prisoners asked whether she was gone," Rowan said. "I reported that to you."

"An ambiguous statement."

"The fifth-floor resident asked the same thing," Seth said.

"He was agitated."

"I was agitated," Seth replied. "He was on a tram cable."

I took another bite of pork.

Lucien looked toward Aldric.

"The protective wards were inspected and certified."

Aldric touched the chain.

"They still are. These anchors held longer than expected. The wardens did their jobs. Your mistake was deciding that an absence of incidents meant an absence of work."

Lucien's hand tightened around his papers.

Bram cleared his throat.

He had brought a calculator, three files, and the expression of a creature finally entitled to be as unpleasant as he liked.

"Shall we quantify the intervention now?"

Aldric nodded.

Bram began with the transit damage.

Then the response vehicles. Then the medical expenses, overtime, broken equipment, street repairs, civilian property claims, and the cost of restoring the lower anchors.

After the seventh item, Lucien stopped turning pages.

After the tenth, Felicity lowered her head.

"Provisional total," Bram said, "thirty million dollars. Some claims are still arriving."

Lucien swallowed.

"Insurance—"

"Doesn't make the injuries disappear," Martha said.

Bram tapped another sheet.

"And before you ask, revenue from the live engagement initiative, after platform fees: nineteen thousand, eight hundred and twelve dollars. Forty cents."

Felicity looked up.

"The audience was growing."

"So were the invoices," Bram said.

Rowan covered his mouth.

I didn't bother.

Lucien tried again.

"The initiative could still be valuable under different conditions."

"Possibly," Aldric said. "That does not make you the person who should run it."

For the first time, Lucien looked directly at me without anger or performance.

"Pip. Perhaps this has been allowed to become more personal than necessary."

I set down my food.

"Seth lost part of his hair. Rowan hasn't slept. A girl nearly died while you held my ear. Which part should I take less personally?"

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Aldric slid a single page across the table.

"Your operational authority is suspended. The council will review these accounts and the statements from the school. Until then, you will not assign staff, authorize changes, or enter the restricted wards without supervision."

Lucien didn't touch the page.

"And my position?"

"You are no longer deputy director."

The room stayed quiet.

There was no applause. These were tired people who still had work to finish.

That made the silence worse for him.

Felicity whispered, "What about me?"

"Your entrance assignment ends today," Aldric said. "You'll report to containment observations tomorrow morning. A supervisor will explain your duties."

She looked toward the door.

My old cushion was visible through the corridor.

I knew exactly what she was thinking about.

"Take your ring light," I told her. "I don't need it."

When the meeting ended, Seth carried my plate downstairs.

Bram stayed behind to explain the outstanding invoices. Lucien didn't seem likely to enjoy that discussion.

I returned to Seth's apartment that evening.

The Bureau might have needed a gatekeeper. That didn't mean I had promised to be one again.

Three days later, the council confirmed Lucien's removal. Rowan brought me the decision and a bowl of soup.

"Bram says the forty cents are now in the repair fund."

"Every contribution helps."

Rowan laughed.

Then someone knocked.

The woman from the school stood outside with her daughter and a stack of food containers.

"I'm Wren," she said. "This is Nora. We wanted to thank you."

Nora hurried in to show me her new coat.

Yellow. Blue-hatted ducks. No tooth marks.

Her mother opened container after container: chicken, fish, roast beef.

Then she lifted the lid from a pot of pale broth.

"You don't have to eat the turnips," she said. "I just always put them in."

I tasted one.

Ginger. Pepper. Soft beef.

Two small pieces of star anise floated beside my paws.

I looked up at Wren.

The room went very quiet around me.

Thousands of years had passed since somebody fed me soup like that.

The last time, I had been dying.