The Prize of Dysprosium

Chapter IV: Rooms Without Exits

"You're wrutting me," Garmen says loudly as she pulls the opening wider to get a better look at the gold.

"Get off me," I say and push her away so I can tug it back into my jacket. "Do you want to be robbed on open street?" People are already sending us odd looks, definitely sensing something is up. People in the lower parts have a tendency to develop a skill for smelling wealth. And then there is the question of Pacifiers of course, who will demand to know where the gold comes from if they catch us with it.

I told Barooba that she should consider Alle's money as part of Garmen's weekly fee instead of mine and now we are on our way to old Gunnar's crossbreed cage. The rain has begun falling lightly around us, the humidity making my hair even curlier and Garmen's lie flat against her skull.

"Just, holy wrut," she insists. I told her everything. About how I knew Alle from Middle School, about how there is a rebellion brewing and how they've hired me to distract the nation or, in best case scenario, turn more people against Potentate Thelonious. "And Barooba was okay with you putting yourself out there like that?"

"Imagine two bags like this one," I say and pat my chest pocket, "But twice the size and filled with jewels and pearls."

Garmen nods in understanding. "Still," she says. "Just seems dangerous, that's all."

"I'm going to be fine," I say. "Alle is right. I have this weird twisted sort of protection."

"Yeah, I still don't buy that," Garmen says and kicks an empty tin can off the street and onto the cracked curb. A tree is making its way through the cobbles, its roots uprooting concrete. It's missing a lot of leaves, eaten by rats or hooders, and a part of its trunk has been badly damaged by something either very drunk or very high. God how I wish it was me. Even now my body is tingling in anticipation, my heart is pounding, struggling to get to my next fix. I'm so in my own world of need I don't hear whatever it is Garmen continues with.

"What?" I blurt.

"I'm just saying I don't really like her," she says.

"Who?"
"Alle Bronze you idiot," Garmen says.

"Oh," I say. "Why?"

"Don't be mad," Garmen says and grimaces.

"I'm not gonna get mad," I say. Even then it takes a moment before Garmen finally speaks.

"I think she's kind of cold."

"Cold?" I ask. "Because she's logical? Garmen, the girl is 17 and a national champion at Ars imperatoria."

"National runner-up," Garmen corrects me and I roll my eyes. "And you said you weren't going to get mad!"
"I'm not mad!" I yell and Garmen sends me a look. I take a deep breath to regain control of my breathing before I continue. "I'm not mad. I just disagree."

Garmen snorts. She opens her mouth to say something, but then shakes her head and continues walking.

"What?" I ask. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she answers.

"No, you were going to say something."

"You're going to get mad again."

"Gaah," I groan up into the sky. "Would you just tell me? Please?" Garmen takes a breath.

"Fine. I was just thinking that you remind me of someone."

"That's not bad," I say. Garmen smiles shamelessly at me.

"It's Hannah."

"Hannah?" I blurt out, thinking of the frustrating Polynesian woman whose sole purpose in the world is to bite the hand which feeds her. "The woman you described as a frown on two legs when we first met? That Hannah?"