It sounded so very reasonable. Just give the man a few names and avoid more beating. Maybe Cade could give him false names. He suspected, however, that Starling would know he was lying. Starling would know and punish him for the lie.

“I can see you are thinking it over, Mr. Harlowe. You are an intelligent man. A scholar even. By all accounts you did very well at university. The records show you succeeded at the uppermost levels in your courses and fieldwork.”

They had looked at his school records? Cade despaired of getting any lies past the Inquisitor.

“Perhaps some of your classmates were conspirators,” Starling continued. “Or maybe some of your other professors. You can give me names, and there will be no reason to further—”

He was interrupted by knocking, and a door creaked open somewhere behind Cade. It shed thin illumination across the floor.

“Yes? What is it?” Starling demanded. “Can’t you see I’m with a subject?”

“Sorry, sir,” came a reply from the direction of the light. “Dr. Silk would like a word with you.”

Starling’s surprise was obvious. “Dr. Silk? What does he want?”

“I don’t know, sir, but he’s outside waiting and quite insistent.”

“All right, all right. One moment.” The door closed, and Starling grumbled. “In the name of the empire. No one interrupts one of my sessions. Ever. Not even Dr. Silk. But alas, I must obey.” It was said as if he expected Cade to sympathize with him. “Butler!” he cried as he strode across the floor.

A mechanical apparatus rolled over on a trio of cast iron wheels. Instead of a spherical body like an Enforcer, its mechanisms, the whirring gears, wheels, belts and pulleys, were exposed. Cade had never seen the internal workings of an Enforcer, though he, Jax, and the others had dreamed of capturing one to learn what they could about the devices, but they’d scrapped one plan after another as too dangerous. The Enforcers and Starling’s “butler” were different, but they must be similar in essential ways. There was, however, no steamworks. Here in Gossham, a city brimming with etherea, the mechanicals would not require steam. Etherea engines were enough to power them, unlike mechanicals located in other parts of the empire.

Cade had never seen an etherea engine, so he could only guess that it had to do with what looked like an ordinary jug in the center of all the workings filled with muddy fluid, which was circulated through a snarl of piping, to various parts of the apparatus, with a pump that gasped and wheezed like a sickly old man.

Besides the wheels, the mechanical had a pair of appendages that scissored out toward Starling. Each had a claw on its end. Starling extended his hands and the claws tugged off his gloves. The mechanical butler then rolled away back into the darkness and out of sight.

Starling turned once more to Cade. “You must excuse this interruption, Mr. Harlowe, inconvenient as it is, but perhaps it will give you the opportunity to reflect and consider your options.” Then he turned to the mender. “And you, Marcus, are not to touch him. Understood? I will know if you do anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

Starling grunted, then left them, the door creaking open again and closing. Cade sat back, closed his eyes. The very air ate at the slashed skin of his face. His head still rang from the blows, and this was, Starling had said, only his warm-up.

“Mr. Harlowe?” His name was spoken barely above a whisper. He opened his eyes to see the mender hovering closer. “I am sorry,” he said.

“For what?” Cade’s voice was muffled by swollen lips.

“I—I am not allowed to heal you.”

“Not your fault.”

“It is the reason for my existence,” Marcus replied. “I mean, what all true healers were born for before the empire. We can’t tolerate the torture of others, but we of the palace, we are slaves born into it, made to heal the damage of torture so more pain can be inflicted. It goes against everything we stand for. But the consequences of disobeying . . .”

“I understand,” Cade said. “It is another evil among many.”

Marcus glanced furtively toward the door, then took a hesitant step closer. “Mr. Harlowe, I have seen the lady that came with you. I healed her fractured collar bone—”

Cade started. “Fractured collar bone?” He fought his restraints, but to no avail.

“Please listen. Time is short. I healed her, and she was well when I left her. Please believe me. She is well.”

Cade nodded. He knew personally what Marcus could do.

“I can sometimes see into a person I’m working on,” Marcus continued. “I can learn things about them. I saw she has some minor ability with etherea. I couldn’t discern exactly what, except that it is there. If my masters learn of this, they will use it, as we menders are used. Used and bred to produce more with powers that can be harnessed. The emperor is very keen on his breeding programs, whether it is his horses or his slaves.”

Battered as Cade was, the insinuation was clear. He clenched his hands, nails biting into his palms. He had led Karigan into this. He wanted to howl his frustration, his utter helplessness.

Marcus was not done. “When we produce children, they are taken from us. If they have the ability with etherea, they are raised here at the palace. Some are menders, others have an affinity for working with etherea engines. Those children without abilities are entered into the general slave population or otherwise discarded.”