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The girl who killed Crucabena is sitting in the corner of her cell, curled into herself like a dog. She doesn't straighten when he walks up to the bars, which is enough information for Pantalone to know she's in a good deal of pain. House children never let go of their petty pride while they can claw onto it.
"Hello, dear." He says.
"I'm nothing dear to you." The girl spits, folds herself up into her knees to better glare at him.
There's the foolish pride.
"You could be. This doesn't have to be difficult for you."
"I will go to my death easily. This I give. But I tell you as I have told all others: this is all the concession you will get from me."
Pantalone nearly laughs. The girl still believes she's going to die in the morning and she's been plied with violence. He can understand why she has been uncompromising, then. House children are machine-made to die alone and in pain, and he cannot imagine deluding himself into believing they fear it. He lights a cigarette instead, to stop himself from giving this away. He smiles too easily without one, he knows.
"I'm not asking for concessions." He says. "I want a couple questions answered, and I'll pay upfront."
"Then what are you offering?"
Very sharp thing. To be expected of Crucabena's children, honestly. He opens himself up, because he is curious what a child in her position would seem valuable. "What do you want, child?"
She opens her mouth, and he can see the unusual darkness of it, pink lips opening into a black maw as she licks around her teeth in thought.
"Cigarette," she says. "One of yours."
Interesting. "You smoke?"
"Would I ask if I didn't?"
"I can think of few better times to start." He says, and she huffs, a funny little half a laugh. Smiles, very coy.
She stands and draws herself up to the bars of her cell. Rarely has he seen anyone hale enough to walk after imprisonment here for more than a day. She is stiff enough that she has likely taken some lashing, maybe electroshock, which her Majesty will likely be upset about. She will tolerate it. She tolerates similar enough for misbehaving Harbingers, even if those so-called punishments stray towards the personal more often than not.
"I will answer a question, for a cigarette. But I reserve the right to refuse a question and answer an alternative in its place."
"You will not refuse, or answer three."
"I will answer three questions, for a cigarette, and with respect to my ability to refuse any I dislike."
"Which should you dislike, dear?"
"Any which would jeopardize any other remaining children of the House. I do not intend to deal under false pretenses."
She doesn't, but he does. He has no interest in the remaining children of the House. He takes a drag off of his own cigarette to stall, to pretend to consider. "Deal," he says, after time enough has passed.
He lights a cigarette and hands it to her. She's chained together by the wrists so she has to hold one of her hands to her face while she smokes, but she manages to look not too much a fool even so. He can see the way she relaxes, between exhale and inhale.
A softball, first. He knows the answer to this question and has already dealt with it. "What is the status of the structure that was the House?"
She grins- or, he assumes that's what she's doing. It is all bone, a jagged fortress, two missing on her right side. With her teeth bared she looks less a person and more a beast, Crucabena's wayward familiar. "It is ruin and ash. You may be able to sell it for its land, but little more."
True. "Several months ago, Crucabena dispatched two of her children into the Fortress of Meropide for a personal affair of mine. Did they return alive? I don't care about their current whereabouts, I want to know if they survived being in the fortress." None of the operatives he's sent in since Duke Wriothesley took over as warden have managed to get a report back out regarding the staying power of the credit coupon as Meropide's primary currency.
"Yes. Both survived and returned to the House.""
So either his own operatives are particularly indiscreet or the Duke has a soft spot for children. Ideally he would be getting this information from Crucabena herself, but she'd taken to the habit of trying to bargain with it, and she'd wanted more than he cared to lose.
He will gladly part with his cigarettes.
"I understand that you were close with Crucabena. Did she try and leave anything to you? A sword, the House, the children?"
"Nothing. She would not have entrusted anything to me because she would not have trusted me enough to manage it. To do so would be as to leave the care of your possessions to a pet."
Interesting. He'd had the impression that Crucabena had thought more highly of her uncrowned king, what with her being lined up to become a Harbinger- but of course the girl doesn't even know that.
"That's all you get."
"Of course, girl, of course. I wouldn't try and shake more out of you without further payment. I will say- I do have one question, but it's regarding yourself, if you're willing to deal again."
"Offer me that the next great fool they send to try and interrogate me should attempt to ply me with some manner of sustainance. I am starved."
He doesn't doubt it. No one here is meant to live long enough to be worth the cost of feeding, and she doesn't look as though she had much reserve weight to begin with. He can see the bones in her wrists as she smokes, the sinew of her hands.
"I'll see to it that you are fed, dear, but I don't have all day. I want my answer first this time around."
"Fine."
"Fantastic. I want to know why you turned yourself in." Everyone does, he doesn't say. Why would any girl who doubtless suspected death was the only thing waiting for her walk willingly into its arms?
She laughs, smoke pouring out of that dark mouth in curling billows. "I have nothing left I'd like to do in life." She says. "There is nothing here for me that I find of any interest or use. To have my soul join those in the ley lines seems perfectly suitable to me."
"Why have us do it then? Why not kill yourself outright?"
"Another cigarette," she says, and he passes one through the bars without argument.
He is interested, and he would rather have his new colleague think of him as generous and compromising than the alternative. He leans up against the bars of her cell and watches her pocket it. He doesn't bother asking how she intends to light it. Heath children always find their way to flame eventually.
"I want to die in front of people, to have my crime be known." Killing eyes crinkle into the shape of an unshed smile, "I want every common man to know that the Harbingers are just as mortal as the rest of us."
She is wrong. But wrong in an interesting way. He doesn't bother correcting her. "Excellent. Well- I'll have you sent a meal. If you don't get it, just let me know."
She snorts, because she does not know he is being genuine. To her it is a shared joke about her upcoming death. He wonders if she will remember it to realize he was serious tomorrow. One could call it a test, if one was not worried about beginning to sound too much like a friend.
"Good day," She says. "I sincerely hope that you die very shortly."
"You should learn to lie, child."
"Little use at this point. I said, 'good day'. You must have missed it."
"Of course, dear. I'll be seeing you soon."
He hears her stalk back to the corner of her cell as soon as he leaves.
Very interesting girl. He should enjoy working with her.