“What’s Witz’s connection?”
“His brother is on the surface. He’s the one who gave me a contact here.”
“He’s one of the criminals dumped there?”
Zendar’s features grew rigid. He crossed his arms and tilted back in his chair. “Yes, he’s one of the criminals. Along with thousands of us born there. Like my mother and father. And my sister, who was quite ill when I left and could very well be dead now.”
Unable to maintain eye contact, Bassan dropped his chin. The prospect of death hit home. A thief of all that mattered.
I hate death. It took great-uncle Orellan. It almost took Drent. I couldn’t help him, but I can help Zendar’s people. Maybe this is my chance for redemption? Or my chance to do something else worthwhile?
He raised his gaze to Zendar. What if I can’t find the cure? I worked
