"I keep you alive," Vence says. "That costs two rations a day. You don't pay, I don't protect you. See how long you last."
He crouches again. Eye level with Del.
"And if you try to run—if you take the containers and disappear—I'll find you. I'll break every bone in your hands. Then I'll leave you in the Silt Quarters with no way to feed yourself. You'll starve. Slow. Begging."
Vence stands.
"Two rations a day. Every day. Starting when you open for business. Understand?"
Del nods. Barely.
"Good."
Vence looks at the crowd. "Spread the word. In a few days—when he's healed—Del starts a purification service. You want clean water, you bring him contaminated water to purify. You pay him whatever he charges. Rations. Information. Favors. Whatever you negotiate."
He kicks Del lightly. Just: reminder.
"Don't make me regret keeping you alive."
Vence walks away. Several workers follow. They take the containers with them. Carrying them. Guarding them.
The crowd disperses. Slowly. Talking. Arguing. Planning.
Garrett is still there. Standing at the edge. Watching Del.
His face is unreadable now. Not angry. Not satisfied. Just: watching.
His fingers drum against his thigh. Tap tap tap.
Then he turns and walks away.
Del sits there alone. Bleeding. Broken. Everything hurts.
But it worked.
Sort of.
He has days to heal. Then he has to "process" eight containers in front of everyone. Make them believe the ritual works.
And he only has six pure containers to swap with. Not eight.
Needs to figure that out. Soon.
Tam approaches. Sits down nearby. "You okay?"
Del almost laughs. Hurts too much. Just: grimaces.
"I'll help you back to your area," Tam says. "You can't walk."
"Yeah."
Tam helps him up. Del leans on him. They move slowly. Each step is agony.
Reach Del's sleeping area. The rubble still torn apart from the search. Everything scattered.
Del collapses. Can't move anymore. Just: lies there.
Tam sits nearby. "The purification. Is it real?"
Del doesn't answer.
"Because if it's not," Tam continues quietly, "they'll kill you when they figure it out."
"I know."
"So is it real?"
Del looks at him. Through his one working eye. "Does it matter? The water tastes better. That's real enough."
Tam is quiet for a moment. "I helped you. Down there. I stood guard while you went to check deeper. I didn't see what you did."
"No. You didn't."
"But I guessed."
Del's chest tightens. "Yeah?"
"You did something. To the containers. I don't know what. But you did something."
Silence.
"I'm not going to tell anyone," Tam says. "You saved my life down there. Vence would've killed me if we came back with less than six. You made it ten. That saved both of us."
He pauses.
"But when you do the purification in front of everyone... be careful. That old man—the one who tested you—he's smart. He saw something. I could tell. And he's watching you now."
"I know."
"Just... be careful."
Tam stands. "I'll bring you water. Food if I can find any. You need to heal before they make you perform again."
He leaves.
Del lies there alone. Touching the rock in his pocket. Eight marks. Three attempts.
Everything hurts. Ribs broken. Knee destroyed. Face swollen. Bleeding internally probably.
But he has days to heal.
And he has a plan forming. Rough. Incomplete. Desperate.
But he has it.
The service is coming. Forced into existence by Vence. Extorted. Brutal.
But Del has it.
And in a few days, he'll have to prove the purification works. In front of everyone. With the one-armed man watching. Waiting for him to fail.
Eight containers to "purify." Only six pure ones to swap with.
Two will fail. No matter what Del does.
Unless he finds another way.
Del closes his eyes. Doesn't sleep. Can't.
An unceasing, indiscriminate flow of words linger.
Just: thought.
---
Hours later. Evening.
Footsteps.
Del opens his one working eye.
Woman. Brown eyes that catch light. Almost gold in certain angles.
He learned her name two days ago: Mira, Lira?
Lira.
She stops a few feet away. Looks at his face. The damage. The blood dried everywhere. The swelling.
Her fingers are wrapped around a small piece of metal. Thumb rubbing it. Constant nervous movement.
"Vence did that?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"You're lucky to be alive."
Del doesn't answer. Doesn't feel lucky.
She shifts weight. Left to right. Her boots are too big. She's stuffed cloth in them to make them fit. It makes her walk careful. Deliberate.
"Garrett told everyone about your water," she says.
"I know. I was there."
She almost smiles. Doesn't quite. "He thought it would destroy you. Make you desperate. Make you need him."
Del's working eye tracks her. "Did it work?"
"You're running a service now. Vence owns half. You're beaten half to death. But people will come to you. Pay you. Soo..." She pauses. "Sort of?"
Her fingers move faster on the metal piece.
"Garrett's angry," she says.
"Good."
"No. Not good. You don't understand." She glances back toward the junction. "When he gets like this... focused... he doesn't stop. He plans. Waits. Then acts."
"Let him."
"I'm trying to warn you."
"Why?"
She doesn't answer immediately. Just stands there. Fingers moving.
"Because he saved my life three years ago," she says finally. "Bought my contract when I was dying. Fed me. Gave me water. Medicine. I owe him everything."
"And?"
"And I'm tired of owing him."
Silence.
She looks at Del. Really looks. Those gold-brown eyes sharp. Missing nothing.
"The purification," she says quietly. "The ritual you did. The blood. The words."
Del's chest tightens.
"It's not real," she continues. "Is it?"
Del doesn't answer.
"I watched," she says. "Everyone was watching your face. Your injuries. But I watched your hands. And I saw..." She pauses. "I saw something. I don't know what. But something."
"You should tell Vence," Del says. "Get a reward probably. Turn me in."
"I'm not going to."
"Why not?"
She shifts weight again. "Because Garrett wants you destroyed. He wants everyone to see you fail. To prove he was right about you."
She leans forward slightly. "And I'm tired of him getting what he wants."
Her fingers stop moving on the metal piece. She looks at it. Small thing. Worn smooth. She's been carrying it a long time.
"My daughter gave me this," she says. "Before. When I still had a life. Before the Dregs. Before Garrett. Before everything."
She closes her hand around it. Tight.
"She's dead now. Probably. I don't know. Lost her when I was sold here. Three years ago."
She looks at Del. "Garrett saved my life. That's true. And I owe him. That's true too. But I don't owe him everything. Not anymore."
She stands. "So I'm not going to tell anyone about your trick. Whatever it is. But be careful. The old man saw something too. And he's not as tired as I am."
She starts to leave.
Stops. Looks back.
"When you do the purification in front of everyone... you're going to need help. Someone to distract them. Make noise at the right moment. Something."
"Why would you help?"
"Because watching Garrett lose will feel better than any water you could purify."
She walks away.
Del lies there. Processing.
Lira.
Smart. Perceptive. Saw through the trick. And offering to help.
Is she lying?
She says it's because she's tired of owing Garrett.
Because she wants him to lose.
She passes, does it matter?
Del touches the rock in his pocket. Eight marks. Three attempts.
His mind is working. Through the pain. Through the exhaustion.
The service is coming. The purification performance is coming. Vence is watching. The one-armed man is watching. Everyone is watching.
But Lira is offering to help.
And Del is starting to see how to make this work.
Not perfectly. Not cleanly.
But enough.
Enough to survive another day.
He closes his eye.