It would be so easy.

All she has to do is put it to tape and disseminate it across the city. Simpler than breathing, especially once Set gets here. And then just sit back and watch it all burn. She can picture it so clearly: the panicking of the elites. They'll bluster harder than ever and insist things are as normal as could be, all the while drawing closer to their inner sanctums and pulling their security closer in fear of "Ma-ri-Ann". They'll invent new festivals, just drag them out of the calendar and pretend they were always there, just to put their own minds at ease and lose themselves in revelry. But everywhere she goes, she'll hear them whispering the name, watching the shadows, and shaking because they will not understand how it happened. The extra space she'd buy for the next job would be worth it if she had to repeat this a hundred times tonight. 

But sweeter by far would be the satisfaction of watching their great and terrible wheel turn on itself. She'd burn most of her extra planning time just to be able to see it happen in person. The look on her face! The mewling cries for mercy! They'd ignore Jerry just like they'd ignore every human, then they would discipline her, and then they would [i]break[/i] her! And when she was vapid and harmless and of no use to anybody, Marianne would get to watch them kick her all the way back down to the bottom of their ladder. And she would laugh!

Her third eye blazes furiously on her forehead. Marianne's hands curl into fists. She cracks her neck; a slow, deliberate motion that produces a thick and horrifying crunching sound. She glares down at Jerioth, full of fury and resentment and shadow and fire. Say the words, set the blaze, say them say them say them say them!

"...You will [i]not[/i] free your slaves. You will do no such thing, Jerry."

A derisive snort. Marianne wads up the sodden packing and tosses it to the floor. She bends down on one knee to put her face inches away from Jerry's. Her breath is hot, and smells like rust.

"You've let your brain shrink to a shiny little marble. Your gaze is no wider than a puppy's; yapping without understanding just to please your mistress. My eyes see farther, yes! I understand your society better than you do, yes yes! You are not the source of the rot, [i]chérie[/i]. You are a symptom. Declare your slaves free, and your friends will come and scoop them all up to parcel them out to crueler owners than you had dreamed of being on your most decadent day. Worry not! I will burn your whole society clean, in time. But tonight your silly promises will do nothing to keep my brothers and sisters safe."

She pauses and sighs. Let it go, Marianne. Let it go. Dim your flames, if just a little. She pats Jerioth on the head, a motion that snatches away two more ornaments as reparation and funding for the Resistance. 

"Here is what you will promise me, instead. You will keep your slaves. You will protect them with your entire being. Do not punish them, not ever. Learn their names, properly. See that they are safe and treated with the kind of respect you would afford your own house. Keep being my good girl, Jerry, or I will find you, and I will be furious. My reach is longer than your walls, Jerry. My eyes are everywhere. I will be watching. But I can trust my good girl to behave, can't I?"

She stands up again, and makes no effort to undo the chains still binding her prisoner.