"Why now?" he asked. "After two months of silence?"
Camelia answered without the rehearsal. "Because things are changing. Someone is stirring on the other side. Someone we don't know about yet. The exports are changing hands and Guerieo's people are getting nervous. The fox doesn't want to wait until the networks grow roots outside the city. She wants to hit the nidus before the branches spread."
"Now you're saying this is bigger than Guerieo?" Brendon asked. He already knew, but hearing the thing named brought weight to it.
"Not bigger." Camelia said. "It's international. And messy. And mythiven-run — if you can believe this is possible. I was able to hack and I saw things that are confusing and suspicious. I saw marks. I saw the way money moved. It wasn't just campaign cash. It was artifacts, favors, hush-money. Folks eating people and selling the bones as ornaments."
The word, "Mythiven-run" made his stomach drop. He had been a thief; still he always managed to hide his identity. Heck... even comcept of mythiven is quite secretly hidden thing.
It was there ancestors who made sure it is kept in that way. They advised all mythivens to lay low in order to keep the balance in system. But now... why is this happening?
"Okay." he said after a long breath. "Where and when?"
"Midnight," Camelia said. "Drago's lair, under the third pier by the abandoned factory. Use the old side door — there's a latch behind stacked barrels. Don't be loud. Come alone if you can. I can't be seen with you."
"Alone?" He let the notion hang. It was easier to come with a gun and two allies and a plan. It was harder to face someone who might be setting him like a trap without his guard. "What's the possibility of it not being a trap?"
"Brendon, if you want to get involved, you have to trust us... trust me. Drago doesn't want more people at his place after what happened with the media and you, and the fox doesn't want witnesses. This is sensitive. She wants Guerieo out where no one can blame her for the push. She's trying to put the mayor on a rope where he can't cut himself free. It's risky, yes. But it's the only way right now."
He felt the cavern press close as if the brick wanted an answer. Outlaws moved through their circuits, indifferent. Cardsharps rapped a rhythm. Someone laughed quietly at something that was not funny. Camelia's voice seemed to come from far away.
"Still what if it's a trap?" he asked. "What if SHE IS using me. Using you."
"Hey! Don'tbe silly." Camelia said. "She helps all anthros like us, this human, he is just a businessman who is using law by his side to cover his corruption — and probably he is related to something more we don't know about. She's playing a long game. Drago is a mid-game player; he likes to keep things transactional. That's why he agreed to meet. He might be cautious. Be on your toes though."
Brendon let out a humorless breath that made the cavern air taste like smoke. He had been used; he had been betrayed; he had been saved, more than once, by his own speed or someone else's lack of focus. But the city had teeth and there was no point in licking them now.
"Midnight," he repeated. "Third pier. Abandoned factory. I'll be there."
"Hey! Bren..." she said softly, the name like a small thing. "Be careful. And—"
"I will," he lied again, carefully, deliberately. "Bye."
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. The cavern hummed. He lit another cigarette, held the small glow between fingers that had learned to make the world fit in a fist. He watched the smoke rise and figured the world was only beginning to lean toward him. The brand under his skin felt like a pulse now, like a small drum counting down.
When he left, he moved like a shadow who knew the alleys by names the city had forgotten. He did not trust the fox entirely, or Drago, or the promises that came from women who was his partner once. But he had a hunger for truth that tasted dangerous and a debt to the people trapped in burlap who had no voice except the one he forced them to have. He would go to Drago's lair. He would listen. And in the meantime, he would wait for the city to cough up its secrets — or for it to swallow him whole.