ã€ŠPale Lightsã€‹


 Maps

    Maps

    <strong>World of Vesper</strong>

    The general world map will expand from book to book, as the readers learn about the world. Thetest map will be that of whichever is the current book.

    Vesper (Lost Things)

    Vesper (Good Treasons)

    <strong>Local</strong>

    Maps of specific locales will be added as required over the span of the series.

 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1

    None of the skeleton keys were working. Thendlord must have sprung for good locks, which was admittedly rather sensible of the man considering that Tristan was currently trying to rob one of his patrons.

    ¡°You should have started with the lockpicks,¡± Fortuna said. ¡°Told you, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    She was leaning against a dingy wall in the weak light of the solentern in the hallway, long red dress sweeping to the ground and her tone openly bored. She¡¯d not lowered her voice in the slightest, which would have risked waking up their friend on the other side of the door if anyone but Tristan could hear her. They couldn¡¯t, anymore than they could see or touch her ¨C Fortuna herself still had the senses, but she had grown far too weak to touch the material world. As far as he knew Tristan Abrascal was the sole contractor to the Lady of Long Odds in all of Vesper, and he knew much. Fortuna was not the kind of goddess that disliked the sound of her own voice.

    ¡°And to think I was once mistress of queens and emperors. Entire festivals were thrown to earn even a single approving nce from me, Tristan,¡± Fortuna mourned. ¡°Now all I may call on is a single orphan, one with terribly middling thieving skills.¡±

    He rolled his eyes. All the old gods like to im they had once been the greatest deity to ever crawl out of the ether to make pacts with men ¨C or even rule over them, back in the times of the Old Night ¨C but in his experience most of them were no more glorious than the dusty thieves and beggars of the Murk they made contracts with.

    ¡°Love you too,¡± Tristan murmured back as he reached for the lockpicks.

    Mere possession of that neat leather sheath would be enough to earn him a whipping before he was thrown into a cell, should the Guardia catch him with it. Not that they ever had. He opened it to reveal a well-oiled set of tools, one which he knew to be starkly expensive when crafted with such quality. They¡¯d been a gift of from Abu, though like all her gifts he¡¯d had to earn it on his own. He slowly inserted the tension wrench into the lock, as not to make enough noise to wake the man on the other side of the door, and then began to work the pick. Quickly he raised an eyebrow.

    Thendlord of the Azulejo was a wealthy man, for the hostel was thergest in all of Estebra District and Estebra was by far the wealthiest of the half-dozen districts known as the Murk. It seemed, however, that in this instance the size of the establishment had worked against thendlord. Almost a hundred rooms meant that it would have cost a king¡¯s ransom to have good locks on every door unless they were bought in bulk from one of the great workshops. Those mass models were identical: even the good ones all had the same weaknesses. Fortuna, resting a hand on the wall, leaned over his shoulder to have a closer look. He could feel her breath against his cheek, warm and soft.

    An illusion, he thought, but one so convincing as to outstrip even the truth.

    ¡°A Gongmin lock?¡± the goddess asked. ¡°You know those. What¡¯s taking you so-¡±

    With a muted sound ¨C thank the gods for whichever servant was being dutiful about keeping these well-oiled ¨C the lock popped open. He offered Fortuna an angelic smile, to which she rolled her eyes. The goddess could be considered a great beauty, he knew, with those vivid green eyes and that hair of gold, yet even as a young boy he¡¯d not been spellbound by her appearance. The Lady of Long Odds was essentially a collection of terrible habits made into a deity, after all, and she was not particrly good at hiding this. Not that Tristan minded. His was not the kind of life that some ancient and glorious Mane would have ever deigned to grace with a pact, much less one as close and intimate as the one he shared with Fortuna. Besides, the mere thought of being bound to one of those pristine old monsters was enough to sicken him. Let the infanzones keep the <em>privilege</em>, may they choke on it and each other.

    The tools went back into the sheath and Tristan folded it closed before stashing it away in the stitched inner pocket of his coat. He made sure that the skeleton keys he¡¯d but away in another pocket were still wedged among feathers, so that they would not make noise as he moved, and thenid a finger on handle of the ckjack at his hip. He did not like killing, not strangers anyway, which was why he preferred it to the daggers most in his trade used. The small weapon of leather and lead was a good fit for his hand, and he¡¯d had practice with it, though if Tristan had his way there would be no violence tonight. In and out with the chest he¡¯de to steal, the man in the room none the wiser until tomorrow. Ideally. Tonight, however, was a test of Abu¡¯s.

    Those did not tend to be painless, for all that they inevitably ended up teaching him valuable lessons.

    Tristan slowly cracked the door open, a sliver of dim light from thentern in the hall slinking through into the dark. He¡¯d looked into other rooms over thest few days so that he would know where the beds and tables were positioned, and from what he could see through the crack there had been no change in arrangement. The table was in the corner to the right, with a single chair, which meant the bed ought to be just outside his angle of sight: left corner, close to but not outright propped against the wall. From the corner of his eye he saw Fortuna wink at him and he smiled back. She¡¯d earlier agreed to keep watch outside the room, after some wheedling.

    Tristan opened the door a little wider, crept through and then softly closed it behind him. The young thief waited silently until his eyes got used to the darkness, pricking his ears. The steady breath of a sleeping man was all he heard, along with a body moving around under covers. The room itself was fairly bare. On the right there was the table and chair he had glimpsed earlier, with what looked to be a few papers and a writing kit. On the left there was the bed, a wooden frame with a straw mattress. At its foot was a trunk provided for the guests to stash their personal affairs. Tristan saw a pistol and arming sword ced atop it, over a half-folded ck cloak. Thest detail had him going still as a stone. The sleeping man was one of the Watch?

    If so, this was turning out to be a blunder. Stealing from a ckcloak was a bad idea even at the best of times, for they were talented killers one and all, but if it turned out that Tristan was obstructing a contract then it wouldn¡¯t be the man alone that came for him: the entire freepany he belonged to would be involved. Even worse, it was said that the Watch was bound by ancient treaty never to take contracts within Sacromonte save at the invitation of the infanzon so he must have stumb- his thoughts halted, and the young thief turned a considering eye to the sleeping man. It was Abu that had sent him on this test, he had forgot in his surprise, and Tristan had long suspected that Abu herself was one of the Watch.

    There must be more to this than met the eye. And if the man was here on a contract, why was he alone? The infanzon, the<em> nobles</em> that ruled Sacromonte, they had their favouritepanies to contract with when they needed work done in the City. None of thosepanies were small, each storied and famous and near an army in its own right. <em>And none of them would put up one of their men in a ce like the Azulejo</em>, Tristan thought. So was the man here on private business? No, the thief decided, else he would not have dared to bring with him the ck cloak that was as a badge of office for the Watch. Tristan¡¯s eyes narrowed. He had only suppositions, but too many details were not adding up.

    His gut was saying deserter and Tristan Abrascal trusted his gut.

    Which meant he was now free to steal from the stranger once more, if a great deal more warily. A deserter¡¯s knife would kill him just as dead if it slipped through his ribs. From the corner of his eye he saw that Fortuna had gotten bored of keeping an eye out for him and followed him into the room. He swallowed a sigh at the sight of her curiously peering at the papers on the table: it¡¯d only been a matter of time until she wandered off, though he¡¯d hoped for a little longer. The goddess nced his way, crooking a finger to summon him, but he shook his head. He¡¯de for the chest Abu had sent him after, nothing else. No good woulde of getting involved in Watch business any more than he already was.

    He wasn¡¯t seeing said chest, unfortunately, but then he¡¯d not moved much. He crept a little deeper into the room, eyes seeking, and found what he was looking for but a few momentster: bare as the rented room was, there were no real hiding ces to speak of. The chest had simply been nestled by the side of the trunk, half-covered by the cloak. It was easy to recognize from the description he¡¯d been given, slick dark wood with leather stripes to make it easy to carry on one¡¯s back and burnished copper hinges. Inside were pieces of ss and metal, Abu had said, so he would need to be careful when moving it let it make a ruckus. Fortuna was looking his way still, insistently gesturing for him toe at her side, but he shook his head at her with growing irritation.

    He crept closer to the foot of the bed, angling so that the trunk would hide him as he began to grasp the wooden chest. A tentative nudge established it was not all that heavy, intriguingly enough, so Tristan quieted his breath and slid aside the edge of the cloak so that he could begin moving the chest without dragging the ck wool with it.

    ¡°Tristan, you need to read this,¡± Fortuna quietly said. ¡°The man is on a contract.¡±

    The young thief turned in startlement, finding the goddess¡¯ face grown grave in the dark. He noticed, a heartbeat toote, that her eyes were going wide. The cold muzzle of a pistol touched the back of his neck.

    ¡°A thief, are you?¡±

    The voice was calm but anger lurked close to the surface. The Azn ent was faint but noticeable, mostly in the way that the words clicked against the tongue. Tristan swallowed, then painted a winning smile on his face. He was not yet dead, which meant there was still time to dig himself out of the grave he¡¯d dug himself into.

    ¡°All men are thieves, arguably,¡± he replied. ¡°It is only that the rich name it rent or tax instead, so that we might forget what it is.¡±

    A snort of reluctant amusement.

    ¡°So you¡¯re a Republican thief.¡±

    Presumably the man meant in political philosophy rather than race, as even in the dark it would be difficult for Tristan to pass as Tianxi.

    ¡°Nothing so grand,¡± Tristan denied. ¡°I am a loyal son of Sacromonte, sir. My faith goes to the Law of Rats.¡±

    <em>The cornered fight, the hungry bite, the beggared snatch. </em>So went the Law of Rats, as written in the famous poetess ria¡¯s verse. There was not a soul in the city that had not heard the poem and to many of the Murk it was as much the writ of the world as any decree of the infanzon. Tristan made to turn, to have a better look at the man holding a pistol to his neck, but the stranger clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

    ¡°None of that,¡± the watchman said. ¡°Not unless you want the trigger pulled.¡±

    Tristan went still. In front of him Fortuna stood, eyeing the man and shaking her head. The stranger was not bluffing, the pistol was fully cocked.

    ¡°It may be that you are of the City,¡± the man said, ¡°but this is not petty theft. The room has a good lock and I do not have the looks of an easy or wealthy mark. What are you here after, boy?¡±

    Tristan hesitated.

    ¡°So you were sent,¡± the man stated, tone confident.

    Too confident, really, the young thief frowned. He nced at Fortuna, who had no answer to give save a grimace. Did the other man possess a contract with a god as well? If so, this conversation was even more dangerous than he¡¯d thought and it had begun<em></em>with a pistol being pressed against his neck.

    ¡°Who was it that did the sending?¡± the man asked. ¡°Give me a name and you won¡¯t need to die tonight. It¡¯s your master that is my foe, not you.¡±

    Maybe if he¡¯d been looking at the face, it would have made a difference. Tristan would have been able to see the Azn features, the darker skin and broad chin. It wouldn¡¯t have been the voice alone, speaking words he¡¯d heard before. Maybe not the same, not exactly, but didn¡¯t they all mean the same thing? Landlords and bosses and infanzones, all looking down from across the table with that merciful smile. <em>Just give us names</em>, they asked. <em>You will be spared, forgiven, absolved. But give us the names. Give us your cousins and your neighbours and your friends. Give us names so that we might feed on all who defy us, and you will be eaten thest.</em> Tristan knew better than to believe in the promise. His father had died teaching him that lesson.

    ¡°Careful now,¡± the man said, tone cold. ¡°Know when you¡¯re beaten, boy.¡±

    Tristan Abrascal smiled. Fortuna smiled back, a goddess adorned in gold and blood, her teeth pale as ivory and sharp as knives.

    ¡°I do,¡± he replied, and borrowed luck.

    The ticking in the back of his head began, like the moving gears of a clock, but the noise was drowned out by that of a trigger being pulled. The flint came down, but instead of striking the pan and igniting the powder it snapped clean off. Tristan¡¯s luck had been the very finest, for the flintlock to misfire so catastrophically. He¡¯d have to pay for itter. The man cursed and the young thief turned as he rose, ckjack already in hand. The ckcloak took the strike on his chin well, turning with the blow and it was Tristan¡¯s turn to curse. He wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d win a real fight, he¡¯d been hoping to end it quick. Instead, the ticking in his head still trotting forward at that same steady pace, he was dragged by the man onto the bed.

    Entangled in the sheets like a farce of hateful lovers, the two of them wrestled as they tried to keep away the other¡¯s weapon and strike clean ¨C Tristan with his jack, the man with the butt of his pistol. Hended a blow, and a solid one, on the side of the man¡¯s head. The Azn was stunned, but not so stunned that he did not smash the pistol into Tristan¡¯s stomach. Gasping, the thief drew back and was unceremoniously kicked in the chest with bruising strength. He tumbled out of the bed even as the man rose, half-getting up from his sprawl only to have the broken pistol thrown in his face. He bit down on shout. And fuck, he could see the man reaching for the pistol still on top of the trunk. Thinking fast, Tristan tossed back the pistol that¡¯d just bruised his chin.

    The man¡¯s arm rose to protect his own head, but it hadn¡¯t been the ckcloak Tristan was aiming at: the pistol atop the trunk went tumbling down to the ground, powder and shot spilling all over the floor. Snarling, the Azn instead reached for the sheathed sword. The thief panicked, for a moment, because what was a ckjack going to help against a de?

    ¡°The sheets,¡± Fortuna hissed.

    Body moving without hesitation, Tristan snatched the sheets off the bed and threw them at the watchman even as he drew the sword. The stranger hacked blindly at the cotton, ripping into it, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Forcing himself to go forward instead of back as his instincts screamed he should, Tristan¡¯s fingers tightened around his ckjack and he raised his arm. He darted in quick, smashing into the side of the man¡¯s head once more. The ckcloak stumbled, still hacking away with the de, and Tristan wasn¡¯t quick enough to avoid getting his left arm nicked. Gritting his teeth, he hit again. The man toppled over the trunk, falling back and over it as the thief followed. He hit again and again, the jack impacting the sheet-covered face until it came back red and the man was no longer moving.

    Tristan stayed there, kneeling and panting.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± he rasped out.

    Ripping away the sheet, he winced at the bruised and bloody mess he¡¯d made of the Azn. Had he killed him? A finger under the nose showed the watchman was still breathing, but he¡¯d taken bad hits. There was no telling, and Tristan had read two books on medicine but he was far from a cutter ¨C much less a real doctor. His fingers closed around the handle of his ckjack. Should he?

    ¡°You aren¡¯t getting up,¡± Fortuna noted.

    ¡°He saw my face,¡± Tristan quietly said. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have a name, but he saw my face. If he¡¯s part of the Watch they coulde for me.¡±

    He¡¯d never killed someone who couldn¡¯t fight back before. He hesitated. In the back of his mind, the ticking continued. He would have to even those scales soon, he knew, or the price would get worse.

    ¡°Mercy is always a gamble,¡± Fortuna said, tone sympathetic.

    Tristan breathed out slowly. The decision was made.

    ¡°There¡¯s already been enough of those tonight,¡± he said, and set down the ckjack on the floor.

    Arms tightening, he snapped the man¡¯s neck the way Abu had taught him it should be done. The death was swift and hopefully painless. Mercy any greater than that should not be asked of rats. Tristan rose, taking back his ckjack, and steadied himself. He avoided looking at the dead man, instead reaching for the chest he¡¯de for. It was as light as he¡¯d felt, and clearly filled at least in part with some vials by the noise it made when moved. The leather straps were easy to slide over his shoulder, so he did and found the weight further eased. Now was not the time to look at what was inside, curious as he was.

    Tristan suddenly winced: the ticking in the back of his mind that had never ceased suddenly quickened. Shit, he¡¯d dallied for too long.

    Fingers clenched, Tristan warily released the luck he had borrowed. Like bowstring, the power of his pact with Fortuna snapped the opposite way it had been dragged. He had gained luck, and so now he must suffer misfortune. Cautiously the thief cast a look around, trying to gauge where the blow woulde from, but for a few heartbeats nothing happened. Then there was a faint clicking sound, as the well-oiled lock that he had picked to enter the room opened again: the door swung open half a foot, just enough for the woman passing by it to nce curiously. She froze, dak eyes going wide as she saw the shape of the corpse on the floor and Tristan standing with his ill-gotten goods.

    Well, Tristan faintly thought, that was going to be somewhat difficult to exin. He opened his mouth to speak, but already the woman was running down the hall and shouting. Fuck. It was more than time to get out of here.

    ¡°Take the papers too,¡± Fortuna said.

    He goggled at her. How would that help anything?

    ¡°It will make things wo-¡±

    ¡°Trust me,¡± the goddess urged. ¡°Take the papers.¡±

    Cursing under his breath, he brushed aside a quill to snatch up the sheath of papers and crammed them into the pocket of his coat. It would be difficult to run without wrecking whatevery inside the chest, he thought, but with any luck he wouldn¡¯t need to. Back in the hall he heard shouting downstairs, where the woman was naming him a murderer ¨C not undeservedly ¨C and patrons were shouting in dismay. There were roughs in thendlord¡¯s employ down there and going through would see him caught or killed even if it was the quickest path to a door out of the Azulejo. Thankfully, Tristan had note by the front door and had no intention of leaving that way either.

    Hurrying to thest door down the hallway he pushed it open with no resistance, shutting it behind him. It was empty save for the furnishings, identical to the room where he¡¯d killed a man save for one salient difference: the same open window above the table that he¡¯de in through. He¡¯d had to cut through the hinges of the shutters earlier, but now the way was clear straight to the rope he¡¯d left dangling. He climbed up without hesitation, wood groaning under his weight, and began by pushing through the chest. Once it was through, grunting with effort he slid one of the leather straps onto the curved hooks bound to the rope. It dangled a bit outside, he saw, but held.

    Tristan could hear people running up the stairs, even through the door, and he hastened through the window himself. Feet first, he wiggled through the opening and felt nothing at all under him for a delicious heartbeat before tightening his grip on the rope and pulling himself close to the wall. It was not so long a fall that he would not survive it, should he drop down into the alley below, but he might just break a leg. That sort of thing tended to make running away harder, he¡¯d heard. He slid the chest back onto his back and climbed down, quirking an eyebrow when a nce above found Fortuna leaning through the window with a smile.

    ¡°They¡¯ve found the body,¡± the goddess told him. ¡°And they¡¯re opening all the doors.¡±

    He sighed. If they found the rope, and they likely would, they¡¯d know to pursue in the streets. It was a descent of about twenty feet, far from hard even after being nicked by a de, and he was done with it before they¡¯d opened the door. He left the rope there ¨C it had not been cheap, but he didn¡¯t have the time to bring it down¨C and began to make his way through his escape path. The way out was always the first part to n out, when thieving. There was no point in stealing anything if you got caught with the goods in hand. He moved out at a brisk pace and kept to the alleys, even though the main streets would have been quicker, moving in a vague diagonal towards the east.

    Estebra District was the nicest part of the Murk as well as the wealthiest, so here themplights were kept glowing on the main streets through the night instead of dimmed or snuffed as they would be in the rest of the Murk. Best to stay out of that, too much risk of someone seeing his face even if the roughs didn¡¯t catch up. It seemed like they would not, after all. At first Tristan heard shouts out in the street, but a quarter hourter there were only the noises of Sacromonte at night reaching his ear: the burn of themplights, the quiet talk of the offal men clearing the streets and the asional sounds of revelry drifting out of some bawdy house.

    No one respectable was out at this hour, which had always amused him. Was the firmament any less dark during day than night? It was only themps that made a difference,mps and the notions of men. The thief did not slow his footsteps until he¡¯d reached the eastern border of the Estebra District, near one of the gates that would lead him into Araturo. There a lone man carrying a nice chest might find himself preyed upon, should he not be careful, so Tristan found an empty alley whose mouth was near amplight and settled in the shadows to have a look at what he¡¯d taken. It had better be worth it, he thought, for Abu¡¯s test had seen him kill a man.

    He would not me her for a deed done by his hand, but she had hidden things from him. If he¡¯d known there was a watchman involved¡­ Toote for regrets now, he reminded himself. Fortuna was seated atop what looked like a pile of iron scraps, her red dress somehow artfully draped as if it were a throne, and it was with eagerness she looked at the chest when he set it down.

    ¡°Treasures, do you think?¡± the goddess asked.

    ¡°I heard vials within,¡± Tristan murmured back.

    ¡°There are elixirs worth as much as diamonds,¡± Fortuna insisted.

    That was true enough, but Tristan doubted any of them were to be found in hostels of the Estebra Districts guarded by a single man. The chest of slick dark wood was kept closed by coppertches that popped open after he exerted some strength, revealing an borate interior. There were twenty-three small drawers, each marked with a carved symbol, that filled the four sides of the box. The middle of it was hollow, pincers of brass holding small vials containing liquids in shades of grey and green.

    ¡°A medicine box?¡± Fortuna said, sounding skeptical.

    The symbols were familiar, Tristan thought. He opened the drawer at the top left and his brow rose when he found within a neatly wrapped bundle of small dark leaves. Perfectly oval, nonerger than the tip of a finger. <em>ck verity</em>, he realized, and very carefully wrapped it back without his fingers touching any of the leaves.

    ¡°A poison box,¡± Tristan replied, frown deepening. ¡°And one I know how to use. It looks much like the one drawn in Alvareno¡¯s Dosages.¡±

    Were he a gambling man, and he was, he would wager that the drawers and vials would perfectly match the diagram the book had disyed, including the various herbs and substances suggested by the author. Which went some way in exining why Abu had insisted he read andmit the work to memory a few months back, well before she had ever brought up this test, but still left him confused. What use did he have for a poisoner¡¯s kit? He was a thief by trade, not a killer. Tristan¡¯s hands were far from clean but he did not go out of his way to stain them.

    ¡°A little more exciting,¡± Fortuna conceded.

    Still frowning, Tristan reached for the papers he¡¯d taken. Perhaps they would shed some light on this. He brought them closer to the light of the street, breathing in sharply when he saw that the very first seemed to be a contract. Had he really killed a watchman out on a job? He kept reading, going through the cramped lines of lettering, and then softly cursed.

    ¡°Told you leaving them would be worse, didn¡¯t I?¡± Fortuna drawled.

    ¡°He was employed by the Ornna brothers,¡± Tristan hissed. ¡°Everyone knows they¡¯re a front for the Hoja Roja. This is going to get me <em>killed</em>.¡±

    The Hoja Roja were either an association of upstandingndlords and merchants or one of the most sessful guild of crooks in the Murk, depending on who you asked. They were also notoriously touchy about honour, and prone to answering slights with grisly executions.

    ¡°At least it wasn¡¯t a Watch contract,¡± Fortuna noted. ¡°So look on the bright side, there¡¯s only the one band of brutal killers after you for this.¡±

    The Azn, whose name had been Yaotl Cuatzo, had apparently been bought to kill a god gone mad that¡¯d made air in some property near the eastern border of Estebra District. If Yaotl had still been one of the Watch that would have been very illegal, and the Ornna brothers did not have the reputation of men foolish enough to put their names on illegal contracts. Most likely the man had been a deserter or a washout and the brothers had bought his services intending to pretend they¡¯d not known should troublee of it. Tristan wouldn¡¯t get the Watch for him after this, which was weight off his back, but that was coldfort when the Roja was a death sentence on its own.

    ¡°I can¡¯t pawn this,¡± Tristan sighed, looking at the box. ¡°They¡¯ll know it went missing and ask around with the fences.¡±

    The thief liked some of the men and women who bought the goods he stole, but he would have been a fool to trust any of them.

    ¡°You could keep it,¡± Fortuna said.

    She liked to hoard things, that goddess of his, regardless of the wisdom of keeping them. It was said to bemon in destitute gods like her.

    ¡°Sooner orter it would be found,¡± Tristan murmured.

    He had no home, only hiding ces, and those were only his so long as no one cared to take them from him. Hardly safe. Was abandoning the box the only path left to him? He balked at that, considering he¡¯d killed a man for it. Besides, it might not even be enough. The Roja would ask around the Murk for who had been nning jobs in Estebra, he thought, and he¡¯d not thought to hide that much from the people he bought his supplies through. Perhaps if he stole again tonight to cover it up? He grimaced. Tristan was tired, needed to get that nick looked at and he had not cased anywhere properly. It would be risky. And there was a chance they would find him anyway. When they did¡­ He bit his lip. Something was wrong. Abu¡¯s tests could be harsh, but they were never pointless or cruel.

    There must be more to this than he had seen. He kept looking through the papers, finding only some personal correspondence and an order lodged with a local butcher for arge quantity of meat. The veryst page, though, was in a different handwriting. One he recognized.

    <em>Tristan, my dear child,</em>

    <em>They will hunt you. I sent you knowing this and knowing you would see my actions as a betrayal. </em>

    <em>There is a ship named the Bluebell, at the Fishmonger¡¯s Quay, and before it will stand a man holding a list of names. Yours is one of them.</em>

    <em>That is your only way out. Cross the Dominion of Lost Things, survive the trials, and you will be beyond the reach of any in the City.</em>

    <em>I will await you at the end of the isle,</em>

    <em>Abu</em>

    His fingers clenched. His breath shuddered. None of it had been an ident. If he¡¯d not killed the Azn then Tristan would have made an enemy instead, and the threat would perhaps have been even worse. There had been no ending, when he entered that room, that led him back home. Fortuna stood at his shoulder, though he had never heard her rise. She¡¯d not bothered with the pretence.

    ¡°The Dominion of Lost Things,¡± the goddess read. ¡°What is that?¡±

    ¡°An ind,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°Proving grounds for the arrogant and the desperate.¡±

    The Lady of Long Odds watched him with an excited grin, leaning against his side.

    ¡°So we¡¯re going?¡±

    In a burning house, a burning life, the only way out was through.

    ¡°One more gamble,¡± Tristan Abrascal quietly agreed.

 Chapter 2

    Chapter 2

    Angharad dropped to the ground as the shot sounded.

    The stranger who¡¯d stood in front of her was not so quick and his face exploded in a shower of gore ¨C <em>Sleeping God</em>, she thought, sickened ¨C as she reached for the long saber at her hip. There were a few screams at the grisly sight, but already the people of the street market were scurrying away into alleys. Angharad grit her teeth. This ce was not like her home, like Peredur: there was no honour in Sacromonte, this horrid city of filth and rats. No one would help.

    Slowly, so that the sound would not give her away, Angharad unsheathed her saber as she crawled towards the edge of the stall that was her sole cover. She should look now, before her would-be assassin could reload their musket, but Angharad instead kept staring at the corpse of the man she hade here to meet. She found herself avoiding the sight of the gaping red wound made by the ball, gaze shying away, and lingering on the dark skin so much like her own.

    The stranger had been Mni, by his ent, not Pereduri like her. Not that the rest of Vesper ever thought of the Duchy of Peredur as anything but a petty province of the Kingdom of Mn ¨C her thoughts were straying, she chided herself. Fear had a way of doing that to her. Angharad mastered herself, breathing in and out slowly the way she had been taught. This was no disy duel, no tournament of skill where the violence would end when blood or surrender ensued, but she had learned to kill her fear there and she would kill it today as well.

    Her breathing calmed, her hand steady around the grip of her saber, Angharad popped her head out to look and-

    (The musket ball went through her skull.)

    -and she kept rolling, a shot whizzing above her as a lightning-quick bite of pain tore at her shoulder through the dyed cloth of her jacket. She was bleeding, but she rolled all the way behind another stall even as she heard a man curse in Antigua. Angharad¡¯s lips tightened as she felt disapproval waft out of that deep ce within her. The Fisher had drawn on their pact when she had failed to, granting her that glimpse of whaty ahead, but the old spirit approved of neither fear nor recklessness. He would not twice extend his hand this way.

    ¡°Come out,¡± a man¡¯s voice called out from her right. ¡°If you do, I¡¯ll make it quick. Won¡¯t be that kind if you make it hard, girl.¡±

    Angharad ground her teeth. She was a peer of Peredur, even her title had been struck down, and thest of the House of Tredegar. Did the man expect she would simply roll over and die when he asked? She drew on her pact, feeling as if she has touched cold water with the bottom of her feet. In her mind¡¯s eye she saw herself rise, but to her surprise the shot that took her in the chest did note from the right but the left. There were two assassins, not one, she realized as she released the pact. Both of them with muskets. She hesitated. The odds were ufortably steep against her. <em>Attack</em>, her mother had taught her. <em>Defence is dy.</em>

    Angharad¡¯s fingers stumbled across metal goblet, a cheaply made thing of iron, as she groped along the ground. It must have fallen when the peddler owning this stall fled. Closing her eyes, she tossed it to her right. Before it could hit the floor, she drew on her pact again and glimpsed the muzzle of the muskets following the sound. Without hesitation she rose, glimpsing two silhouettes in the dimmplight aiming their guns at her bait. Shadows filtered through the banners and poles of the street market, hiding her for most of a heartbeat as she began to run. A click, a snap, a shot: a ball went whizzing past her as she ducked under another stall. She drew on the pact again, eyes turning unseeing as she moved, and coldly smiled. It was the nearest assassin that had shot, as she had hoped.

    Angharad released the power, leaping over a clutter of pottery and keeping the killer now reloading her long musket between her and the assassin still ready to fire. The man of the pair shouted for his aplice to move, but he was toote. Angharad kicked a stall of colourful ribbons into the woman¡¯s knees and she rocked back with a shout of pain, dropping the ramrod she¡¯d been using to reload. Angharad met her eyes, grey to brown, and saw the fear there. She did not relish it, did not allow herself to, and swung her saber in a clean stroke.

    It ripped through the assassin¡¯s throat.

    Angharad drew on her pact, the Fisher¡¯s quiet approval easing theing of the glimpse. Smoothly the noblewoman caught the shoulder of the dying assassin before she could fall, keeping her body in the path of the panicked shot that followed from the other assassin. It didn¡¯t pierce through, having hit the middle of the back, and Angharad let the body drop as she leapt over the stall before her. The man was a tall and thin Lierganen and his fear spread across his face like ink soiling water. He did not lose his wits, though and kicked thest stall between them towards her. It toppled piles of dyed cloth, but Angharad had been quicker and she was already leaping over it.

    Hernding was off and she wasted a moment steadying her footing, long enough for the man to strike at her with the butt of the musket. Right into her shoulder, she swallowed a groan. That would bruise. She struck his chin in return, the guard of her saber crunching bone satisfyingly as the side of her de bit into flesh, and with a hiss of pain the assassin dropped his musket. In his eyes Angharad saw the knowledge of his own death as the gun ttered on the floor, but she did not strike. Could not. The edge of her de rested against the side of his neck.

    ¡°Pick up your weapon,¡± Angharad ordered, her Antigua crisp.

    The man went still, eyes flicking to the de and then back to her. The fear drained, reced with a smirk.

    ¡°It¡¯s true, then, about you Mni nobles,¡± he said. ¡°All about honour. Won¡¯t strike an unarmed man.¡±

    Angharad did not answer, simply withdrawing her de and taking half a step back.

    ¡°Fucking fools you are,¡± the man mocked. ¡°Worse than an infanzon. I¡¯ll just leave, and what are you going to-¡±

    The point went through his eye and into his skull, Angharad snapping her wrist to withdraw the de cleanly. There was some debate among schrs whether a ¡®fair chance¡¯ to take up one¡¯s weapon should be considered three or five breaths, so she had waited a full five. She did not like to walk too close to the line in matters of honour.

    ¡°I am not Mni,¡± she coldly informed the corpse as it toppled.

    She was of Peredur, and the people of the High Isle had their own ways. She knelt to wipe the de on his tunic before sheathing it, idly going through his pockets. A few copper coins, powder and shot. She took the coin, as she would need them for the corpse price and it had been won cleanly by de. The other assassin bore even less coin and a small dagger. The noblewoman returned to the cooling body of the man who had died trying to pass a message to her, the forever nameless Mni, and set the copper coins above his heart in a circle. It was an old custom: the coin was for anyone to take who would be willing to see the body properly burned or buried.

    Feeling dirtied for putting her fingers to a corpse she had not made, Angharad forced herself to look through the dead man¡¯s pockets for a message. To her relief, a pocket within his blood-sttered coat contained a folded letter. It was from Uncle Osian, there was no mistaking it: the small red seal keeping the letter closed disyed the two-tailed snaked of House Tredegar. Osian, her mother¡¯s youngest brother, had been allowed by her to keep using the family arms even though he had gone into exile to join the Watch. Though they were estranged, Mother had always said it was more by reason of distance than bitterness.

    That distance was also why her uncle was the sole surviving member of Angharad¡¯s family, for the Sleeping God moved in mysterious ways. She took the letter, not yet breaking the seal, and tucked it away beneath her coat. She looked around warily, still alone for now. The city guard might be hopelessly ¨C and infamously - corrupt, but even they would not simply ignore killing in the streets of Sacromonte. Best be gone by the time they arrived.

    Angharad took to the streets, going back the way she hade. Cortolo District was a maze of slender canals and curved bridges, its stone facades painted in shades of red and yellow that looked vivid in the warm light of the great pirs of palestone. Those relics had beenid down every few blocks back in the days of the Second Empire and she had found them a wondrous sight at first, for her homnd had nothing like them. Only the Lierganen at their height had been able to afford the luxury of letting stone pirs soak in the re for decades. She had since shed the wonder: the warm glow of the pirs had weakened over the centuries, and now there were always shadows between their reach.

    The glories of the Second Empire were long gone, broken by great wars with the devils of Pandemonium and the even more brutal wars between the powers that had emerged to im primacy after the fall of Liergan. Another century, Angharad thought as she passed through a grove of orange trees, and the re in those pirs would fade entirely. Sacromonte was far fallen from the peerless jewel of the Trebian Sea it had once imed to be, and it fell a little further every year. The young noblewoman ignored the few street merchants who called out to her as she found the street she had been looking for, recognizing the painted eyes in red and blue on the side of a baker¡¯s shop.

    It made her ufortable that people ¨Cmoners ¨C would call out to her in such a way. And there were so many of them¡­ Angharad had visited many cities in Mn, when she duelled still, but not even the capital of the kingdom was so thick with people as Sacromonte. It made her feel cramped, somehow. The inn she was staying at was one her uncle had directed her to by letter, a small but clean establishment where she was assured of the hostess¡¯ discretion. The middle-aged matron, a stout woman by the name of Luna, weed her with a smile as she passed the green-painted threshold.

    ¡°Lady Maraire,¡± the hostess said. ¡°You¡¯ve returned early. Will you be in want of a meal, then?¡±

    Angharad¡¯s answering smile was stiff. It was not a lie, the name she had given. No peer of Peredur could be recognized in the rolls of the kingdom¡¯s nobility without first taking a Mni name, her own being Anwar Maraire. It had been thepromise honour allowed her between the secrecy Uncle Osian had urged her to and the dishonour inherent in deceiving one whose roof you stayed under. It sat ill with Angharad, for all that she knew it was necessary, and Luna¡¯s graceful manners in referring to her by the name and title were as a little twist of the knife every time.

    ¡°I do not yet know,¡± Angharad replied. ¡°I have correspondence to attend to before I can give you answer. Is the sr vacant?¡±

    ¡°It is, mydy,¡± Luna nodded. ¡°And I tidied it up this morning too. Enter as you please.¡±

    Angharad thanked her hostess and went up the stairs. She slipped into her room, long enough to shed her jacket and grimace at the red staining her pale shirt. The ball had nicked the back of her shoulder, deep enough to bleed her if not to touch muscle. Mother had shown her how to dress a wound when she¡¯d been a girl and still dreamed of her following in her footsteps as a sea captain, so she clumsily cleaned the wound and wrapped a bandage from her trunk around her shoulder. The dark-skinned noblewoman still had two clean shirts and she wasted no time putting one on, but that¡¯d been herst jacket. There was nothing left now but a formal dress and an overcoat, thetter of which she decided on.

    The trunk was half-empty, she saw with a pang. She¡¯d been able to bring precious little with her when she had fled Mn, only what friends of the family had been able to salvage from the townhouse in Indawen before it too was seized. Clothes, coin, a few of her father¡¯s jewels and a handful of books. There were fewer of thest than she¡¯d begun with, as she¡¯d had to sell a few for local coinage after docking in the Sanguine Port. Angharad was not so callow as to be unaware that showing she had gold or jewels in a port could get her robbed or worse. She still had all three of Yibanathi¡¯s books of poems, at least, her very favourites in all the world.

    The first of them had been a gift from her very first love. Arianwen had been as exacting an opponent on the duelling field as she had been apanion off it, something that had first drawn but ultimately chased away Angharad. Still, the hard words of their parting had since lost their sting and it was now with mostly fondness that the young noblewoman ran a finger across the spine of the book. It would have been easy to lose herself in reminiscence, Angharad knew. Easy and dangerous. If she lived in the past, she would be buried with it. She closed the trunk, her haste making the sound harsh, and crisply took her letter before leaving the room.

    Down the hall, past the three other closed bedroom doors of the inn, she found the small sr¡¯s door empty and the shutters on its window open. She closed the door behind her, though there was sadly no lock. The chair and writing desk by the window were worn butfortable and well-tended to, much like the rest of the inn, and Angharad unsped the sheath at her belt before seating herself. She sighed, leaning back as the scent of lemons and oranges drifted through the window on a subtle breeze. After a long moment, readied, she broke the seal on the letter and opened it.

    The looping and elegant calligraphy of her Uncle Osian filled a few paragraphs. Like on every other instance, the older man failed to properly greet her as the Lady of nw Hall. Angharad¡¯s fingers tightened, her teeth grit as for a moment she smelled ash on the wind and heard screams in the distance. It took a long moment for her to calm, for her breathing to even out. Her home was gone, her family was gone, everything and everyone she had ever known. And now even here, in this<em> shitheap</em> of a city halfway across Vesper, assassins still hunted her. The rage was familiar by now, aforting burn, and she embraced it.

    Angharad Tredegar would have revenge on the man who had destroyed her family one day. She had sworn it, on that cmitous night where she had lost everything, and the Fisher had heard her oath. The old spirit would see it through at her side, their contract a bond only death could sunder.

    Calmed anew, Angharad resumed reading. It was not long before she winced. She had hoped her uncle mighte to her here in Sacromonte, but it was not to be: Osian wrote that he had not been allowed to take leave from his work, as it had reached a critical juncture and he was the head of the endeavour. As always, her uncle remained vague on what exactly it <em>was</em> he did for the Watch. He was captain in rank, but Angharad knew that he was not part of one of the many freepanies out in the field on contracts.

    Her uncle was not much of a fighting man, her mother had always said, but he¡¯d always been clever with his mind and his hands. He¡¯d written of spending much time in the Rookery once, one of the great fortress-inds of the Watch, so Angharad hade to suspect he might be a member of one of the seven Circles ¨C one of the schrly societies, probably. That meant influence among their ranks, from what little she knew of the workings of the Watch, as though all watchmen were counted as members of the order less than a tenth of them were ever inducted into one of the Circles.

    Uncle Osian tersely apologized for being unable toe himself but wrote he had meanwhile made arrangements on her behalf and learned of her enemy.

    <em>You were followed from Mn, niece</em>, he wrote. <em>Your ship was asked for by name at the Sanguine Port and silver flowed freely for men who had answers about where you had gone. I fear that the enemy pursuing you is no mere peer or izinduna but instead a high noble, perhaps even a member of the High Queen¡¯s court. I am told by my acquaintances that the Guardia was not simply bought; its officers were ordered by one of the great families of Sacromonte to kill you. Avoid the redcloaks at all costs.</em>

    Angharad¡¯s lips thinned. It was worse than she had thought, then, and she had not thought it good in the slightest. She had her own suspicions as to the rank of the man who had ordered the end of the House of Tredegar, and though they were still only suspicions to hear it confirmed that her enemy was wealthy and powerful only served to strengthen them. If the city guard itself was hunting her, she thought, then she must leave Sacromonte before long. It would be her death otherwise. Hopefully, then, her uncle had not simply written to tell her he was leaving her to her fate.

    She carefully read the rest, eyes narrowing when he cautioned her that he could not intervene too tantly as her situation was a ¡®Mni matter¡¯ and the Watch was not meant to intervene in the affairs of nations without invitation. That might be true in principle, she thought, but hardly in practice. Yet her uncle might not have the influence to force such a matter, and if her foe was influential enough Osian¡¯s allies and superiors might not be willing to intervene on his behalf. It was dire news, but she took it as calmly as she could. Angharad had known it would be a possibility. Yet her uncle, it seemed, was not to abandon her.

    <em>After trading favours I have secured an opportunity that could ce you beyond the reach of your enemy, no matter how powerful,</em> Uncle Osian wrote. <em>Your name has been added to the list of candidates that are to undertake the yearly crucible on the ind of Vieja Perdida. It would be a perilous undertaking, I will not pretend otherwise. Fewer than one in five survive. Yet to seed would make you a fully-fledged member of the Watch immediately, robbing your foe of the ability to frustrate attempts at more traditional enrolment. </em>

    <em>It would protect you, Angharad. Even great lords do not dare offend the Watch and your oath need not be a lifelong one. I urge you to take shelter among our order until you are fully grown and ready to face your enemy. There is little more I can do, for I have traded what I have to trade and now find myself short on debts owed. The man who handed you this letter is trustworthy and knows how to have coin made avable to you should you need it. If you would send me a letter in answer, he can handle the matter for you. </em>

    <em>May many gods be with you, and those who are not miss.</em>

    <em>Captain Osian Tredegar</em>

    Below there were scribbled directions to the ship that would take her to the crucible should she wish to attempt it, as well as a note that the two days to embark were the seventh and the eighth of the Fourth. Today and tomorrow, Angharad realized with a start. She must have been too slow in finding her uncle¡¯s agent. It was a troubling notion that she might have had a part in the man¡¯s death, and not the sole one that Uncle Osian had brought at her door. He wanted her to join the Watch and she could understand why well enough.

    He was right that it would afford her a great deal of protection, and that the oath would not take all of her life: watchmen swore in sevens, and after seven years Angharad expected she would be either dead or ready for revenge. It also meant, however, that she would formally be leaving her title as Lady of nw Hall behind. ckcloaks could not hold titles while they served, and often not even after. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth.

    ¡°It is already behind you, fool girl,¡± she harshly whispered.

    The high courts of Mn had struck her title down before she even fled the kingdom. Her mother had been used of high treason and her father of corruption ¨C something or other about taxes ¨C so the High Queen of Mn had given her assent to the removal of her family from the rolls of nobility. In the eyes of thew, Angharad was no longer a peer of Peredur. The title she imed was a meaningless one. And yet the thought of surrendering it felt like hot coals in her belly. She thought of ash and screams again, shivering. It felt like a betrayal to abandon the title when she was the sole survivor of that horror.

    Could she really spit on the memory of her parents in this way?

    No, she decided. Her situation was not yet so dire that she could not attempt to write her uncle again for another solution. She still had coin enough tost a few months and even if Osian¡¯s agent was dead her uncle could still be contacted through the offices of the Watch in Sacromonte. Folding the letter and tucking it away in her coat, Angharad opened the drawer on the side of the desk and took both paper and ink. She had a quill of her own, in her trunk, and she rose to fetch it. The door opened and Angharad froze: at the top of the stairs, a man in a red cloak was standing with a pistol in hand.

    Another wasing up the stairs behind him, and a moment of perfect stillness followed as Angharad met the guardsman¡¯s eyes. The pact came easy, telling her she was but a moment away from a shot being fired at her.

    ¡°Shit,¡± the red-cloaked man swore, raising his pistol and his voice. ¡°<em>It¡¯s her</em>.¡±

    Angharad shut the door just in time, the ball tearing into it with a spray of wooden shards. Keeping a foot on the door, she hastily snatched up her sheathed saber as another shot thundered against the wood. She could hear men shouting about breaking down the door. They must have thought it was locked instead of simply being held. Going through the corridor would be suicide, she thought, even if there were only two of them. Which she doubted. That left¡­ Angharad nced at the window, dipping into her pact. She grimaced. She¡¯d get shot. The timing was slightly off. She released the pact and pulled at it again, trying to find the right moment.

    The door was about to be knocked down by two men using a bench, she saw. It was now or never.

    Angharad, holding her sheathed saber in hand, hurriedly crawled atop the table and pushed her way through the shutters even as the door was smashed down behind her. She fell through and down into the street even as the guard in the street below hastily snapped a shot at her and missed by a wide margin, ball ricocheting inside the sr. Shended on her feet, crouching down with a shout of pain but gritting her teeth as she forced herself to move. She dipped into the pact and coldly smiled at what she saw.

    The red-cloaked woman in front of her had a long cudgel in hand, but she dropped it to unsheathe a short sword. It was a mistake. Darting forward before the cudgel hit the pavement, Angharad smashed the pommel of her saber in the woman¡¯s throat and, as she began choking, slipped behind her. The shot that came from the sr window took the guardswoman in the belly. There were screams and shouts inside the inn, red-cloaked guards forcing their way back out to pursue, but Angharad took off at a run. She might not know the city, but a head start was a head start.

    She ran until she was out of breath, across bridges and markets, until she was sure she had lost the men and women of the Guardia. Only then did she allowed herself to hide in a shady nook, near a palestone pir, and belt her sheath properly again. Gritting her teeth, she found herself leaning her forehead against a brightly painted wall. She¡¯d been found. By now the redcloaks would have confiscated thest of her worldly possessions, leaving her with a wealth of three silver <em>arboles </em>in her pockets and the clothes on her back. That, and her saber, was now the sum of what Angharad Tredegar owned.

    She would have wept, were she not so angry at them for the unfairness of it all.

    But there was, she remembered, onest thing on her. The same letter she had tucked away, the salvation Uncle Osian had offered. With trembling fingers, Angharad took it out and unfolded it. At the bottom of the letter, scribbled, was the name of the ship awaiting at Fishmonger¡¯s Quay. The Bluebell. The young noblewoman breathed out, found her center, and tucked away the letter once more.

    ¡°Bury the past,¡± Angharad murmured, ¡°or be buried with it.¡±

    It was as simple as that. There was no refuge left to her save for audacity, and she would not meet whatever fate awaited her cowed or trembling.

    Angharad straightened her back and strode back into the light.

 Chapter 3

    Chapter 3

    The Bluebell was a sturdy old cog, its sail painted the ck of the Watch.

    Tristan was the first to arrive, which went against him. The sailors on watch were asleep at their posts, napping on crates yet to be loaded, and they¡¯d not been pleased to be woken up. Even less pleased had been their officer, a one-armed crone named Celipa who¡¯d had to be fetched from her bed since she was the one with the roster.

    ¡°You look like you¡¯re fresh off the street, rat,¡± she red.

    ¡°You have the eyes of an eagle, <em>tia</em>,¡± Tristan ttered. ¡°A rat is what I am, and like one I will disappear quietly into your hold should you let me.¡±

    Her mood was not improved, sadly, and neither was his since Fortuna was now snickering behind him.

    ¡°If his name isn¡¯t on the roster, throw him into the sea,¡± Celipa ordered her men. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you beat him first. Or take his cab.¡±

    By the unpleasant smiles on the face of those two well-built sailors, he would be beaten bloody given half a chance. Charming. It was still better than to stay out in the Murk and risk the Hoja Roja catching his tail. They wouldn¡¯t stop at bruises.

    ¡°Who are you supposed to be, rat?¡± the crone asked.

    ¡°Tristan Abrascal,¡± he charmingly smiled.

    She was, again, visibly unimpressed. Her lips quirked into a nasty little number as she trailed her finger down the roster, sneaking an expectant nce at him, but then she froze.

    ¡°On there, yes?¡± Tristan pressed.

    The old woman looked him up and down, disbelieving.

    ¡°Whose brat are you?¡± Celipa asked. ¡°You must have blood in the ck.¡±

    ¡°My blood is buried shallow, <em>tia</em>,¡± Tristan replied, smiled turned sharp. ¡°May Ie aboard or not?¡±

    The crone snorted, but he knew put-on when he saw it. Something had spooked her.

    ¡°Go on, then,¡± Celipa said. ¡°Down in the hold, you can im a cot if it¡¯s on the ground.¡±

    ¡°Much obliged,¡± the thief smiled.

    She turned to spit into the waters of the Shoal.

    ¡°If I see you try to get into a crate, rat, you¡¯ll get that beating you just ducked,¡± the crone warned.

    It was not the warmest wee Tristan had ever received, but it was far from the worst. The cog was mostly empty, its crew out in the city, but an armed man pointed him down the two sets of stairs to the hold after eyeing him suspiciously. There were a few sailors sleeping on cots down there, but otherwise it was only a few crates and empty room. Cogs were trading vessels, but this one looked made to ferry men instead. Tristan stepped about quietly, looking for an empty cot with a wall at its back. Fortuna had been pleased with the amusement of watching him get browbeaten earlier, but now that it had passed the goddess was remembering to be offended on his behalf.

    ¡°At her age,¡± Fortuna mused, ¡°it would take only a slip to break her hip.¡±

    ¡°So I can sprain an ankle before taking the trials?¡± Tristan murmured, careful not to wake a sailor as he shrugged off his cab¡¯s leather straps and set it down. ¡°I think not.¡±

    The luck always went hardest after him when it was used to hurt another.

    ¡°Every slight should be avenged, no matter how small,¡± Fortuna said, tone disapproving.

    He rolled his eyes at her. Even destitute gods breathed arrogance, never learning the beggar¡¯s virtues. It was in their nature, Tristan hade to suspect, and the nature of gods did not change. Fortuna was the same now as when he¡¯d first met her, nothing more than a terrified boy on the run. The years they¡¯d shared had changed her not a whit.

    ¡°I¡¯ll think on it,¡± he lied.

    She huffed.

    ¡°Sometimes I think your blood is cold as a lizard¡¯s,¡± sheined. ¡°Does nothing move you to revenge?¡±

    Tristan smiled without joy, thinking of the five names carved into the marrow of his bones. His List.

    ¡°Only the one thing,¡± he answered. ¡°And it is very far from this boat.¡±

    He cast a look around after, wary of having spoken so long into what others would see thin air. The few sailors down here were still asleep, to his relief. Talking at the unseen was a good way to out yourself as a contractor ¨C or a lunatic, though admittedly some days that line was razor thin. Fortuna sighed, then gestured for him to settle down in the cot. She would, as she¡¯d had for years, keep watch over his sleep. He smiled again, meaning it this time, and slipped under the bedding. Back to the wall and a goddess watching over him, the thief fell straight into slumber.

    --

    Tristan woke to the sound of a man coughing.

    ¡°Company,¡± Fortuna whispered into his ear.

    It could not have been more than a few hours since he fell asleep, early in the morning. Yet the light of antern ¨C the cold glow a sure sign the oil was mixed with palestone powder to lend an echo of the re¡¯s pale light ¨C was licking at the sides of the hold, held up by a bearded sailor ushering in a ragged band. The one who¡¯d coughed was the first to limp into sight, a toothless old man still clutching his mouth. He was jostled aside by a scowling mass of a man whose leather vest left the arms exposed, revealing intricate patterns of ink. <em>Menor Mano,</em> Tristan recognized, eyeing the tattoos. This one had been a legbreaker.

    ¡°Careful,¡± the sailor warned the big man in a low voice. ¡°Any fighting on the Bluebell will get you shot and thrown overboard. No warnings, no second chances.¡±

    The legbreaker¡¯s scowl deepened and he red at the sailor.

    ¡°Keep walking, ckcloak,¡± he said.

    The sailor snorted, reaching for the pistol at his side.

    ¡°You¡¯re one of the paid seats, not the rmended,¡± he replied. ¡°Mouth off to me again and I¡¯ll put a shot between your eyes.¡±

    The big man¡¯s face contorted in anger,ying bare his broken nose and the t Azn look of his face, but with a snarl he turned away and stalked off.

    ¡°Thought so,¡± the sailor muttered, then turned a cool gaze on the rest. ¡°The same rules apply to you lot. Don¡¯t make me say it again.¡±

    None of those remaining seemed inclined to challenged him. A pair that must be a couple, given how closely they held each other, shied away from the sailor¡¯s gaze as if afraid of being hit while a girl around Tristan¡¯s age looked like she might start crying. It made the two who seemed unconcerned with argument stand out all the more. A bespectacled old woman looking half asleep and past paying attention to much of anything, then to her left a Tianxi of middle age who looked unimpressed. Tristan studied the cast of the man¡¯s shoulders and the way he stood ramrod straight, lips thinning. <em>Soldier</em>.

    ¡°Go on, then,¡± the sailor grunted. ¡°Find somewhere to sleep. The rest will arrive in a few hours."

    They shuffled in tiredly, revealing thest three who¡¯d stood behind. A blond youth with the City¡¯s look about him, looking at his surroundings with polite curiosity, and a pair of short Tianxi twins in their forties. Women both, their dark hair kept in low ponytails with the side of their heads shaved. The cut would have outed them as Meng girls even if their smiles had not revealed blue-tinted teeth. It was a custom of Meng-Xiaofan members to chew strands of dewroot, a sweet-smelling herb said to soothe pains and sharpen wits ¨C at the price of dyeing teeth and sometimes even tongues blue.

    As the neers settled across the hold, some of them waking disgruntled sailors, one of the twins caught him looking and shot back a quick once-over that led into a snort. She leaned close to her sister for a whisper, the two of them then turning to offer him that Meng grin of porcin in white and blue. Tristan straightened, muscles tensing as they moved towards him and the blue open robes in Tianxi style they wore over practical City tunic and trousers trailed.

    ¡°Pinch me, Ju, I must be dreaming,¡± the closest twin grinned. ¡°Look at what we¡¯ve got here.¡±

    The other twin looked him up and down, making a show of it.

    ¡°Back to the wall, dirty fingernails and a crow¡¯s nest for hair - oh my, Lan,¡± she snickered. ¡°Smells like rat in here, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not wrong,¡± Fortuna conceded, ever the traitor.

    Yet Tristan¡¯s shoulders loosened, for all that the words were close to insult. It was to be <em>that</em> kind of a conversation; he was back on familiar grounds. Putting on a wicked look, he snorted back. Sniffing the air theatrically, he the gasped in surprise.

    ¡°And here I thought it smelled like dust and floating corpses,¡± he told them. ¡°But I suppose it might just be that foul herb you¡¯ve been chewing.¡±

    There was no need for either side to make the Sign of the Rat, not when the two had the Meng look good as a branded and they¡¯d sized him up in a breath, but it was worth establishing neither were mere mud from the Murk: they were proper gutter, from the wrong side of men¡¯sws. The tacit admission on his part he knew the main trades of the Meng - drugs and paid deaths ¨C visibly put the sisters in a good mood. Only a fool would talk of trust between rats, but the gutter was a shared tongue. The thief invited them to sit, smile still on his face, and noted the elegant fold of their legs as they did. Sellers, he decided, or someone facing the front. That kind of presentation was learned.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± he introduced himself.

    ¡°You have our names,¡± Ju said.

    Not likely the real ones, but he was hardly offended. It was only good sense on their part and he might have tried the same if he¡¯d not had his own written true on the Watch¡¯s passenger list.

    ¡°So I do,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And the pleasure of yourpany, at an unexpected hour no less.¡±

    He got twin inscrutable looks at the implied question there.

    ¡°More interesting is that you were already here, Tristan,¡± Lan replied. ¡°We were given a precise hour to arrive, see, after coin talked.¡±

    An implied question of her own, with an offered trade tacked on. Given how little he knew of this whole business, the thief had no qualms in trading: it could only be to his advantage. As was only proper between rats, he paid up front.

    ¡°A teacher had my name ced on the list,¡± he told them. ¡°I am uncertain if it is reward or punishment.¡±

    One of the twins ¨C Ju ¨C had a small nick in the skin near her left ear, he noticed. Looked a little deep for a shaving miss, which was interesting, but mostly it would let him tell them apart in a pinch. Both sisters grimaced.

    ¡°A hard teacher, if they might think the Dominion of Lost Things a reward,¡± Ju said. ¡°But also not just anyone, if they could get you on this ship with only their word. We paid for it, see. We need the prize.¡±

    He chewed the inside of his cheek. The ¡®prize¡¯ to passing the trials, aside from not dying a horrible death, was to be inducted straight into the ranks of the Watch. They must have had death dogging their shadow, to believe being part of the Meng-Xiaofan would not be enough to assure their safety.

    ¡°I have left a burning bridge behind myself,¡± he carefully admitted. ¡°Unknowingly, I earned the Roja¡¯s ire.¡±

    Lan leaned in, suddenly grinning again.

    ¡°Well now, that makes you a friend to these poor sisters,¡± she said. ¡°No admirers of ours, the Hoja Roja. Not since we were sent to open a shop in the Murk.¡±

    Tristan cocked his head to the side, curious, and lightly traced a finger across his throat. Ju shook her head.

    ¡°Merchandise,¡± she told him. ¡°Dust, whalechew and pipe poppy.¡±

    He let out a low whistle.

    ¡°The Roja runs the parlours for those in the Murk,¡± he said. ¡°I thought the Meng stuck to the docks?¡±

    ¡°Noise was made back in the Republics that we should cut out the middlemen,¡± Lan said, tone bitter. ¡°We warned against it, told them it was a mistake, but why listen to us? We just <em>live </em>here.¡±

    ¡°Then when the Roja went blood-mad, they cut their losses,¡± Ju cursed. ¡°The lizard sheds the tail in the tiger¡¯s jaws, they told us.¡±

    It was Tristan¡¯s turn to grimace. Reading between the lines, the Meng-Xiaofan had cut loose the people they¡¯d sent into the Murk as an ill-fated attempt to cut into the Hoja Roja¡¯s trade. Tossed in their heads as appeasement so knives could be sheathed and business return to usual.

    ¡°There can¡¯t be many of you left,¡± he said.

    ¡°Two,¡± Lan replied, tone curt.

    And he was looking at them. No wonder they were desperate enough to take the trials as a way out. It was grim talk and he was at a loss as to where to go from there. With grace that only further convinced him they¡¯d had front-facing roles, the twins guided the conversation away from the pit.

    ¡°You¡¯d think that for the ramas we paid the amodations would be nicer, at least,¡± Ju sighed, looking around.

    Tristan hid his surprise. A gold rama was worth three silver arboles, each of which were worth thirty-four copper radizes: he¡¯d only rarely had truck with arboles, much less their golden sisters. And so he sniffed a detail of interest, for though he could believe sisters that¡¯d been in the Meng could scrape together ramas the twins were not the only one who¡¯de tonight. The thief¡¯s gaze moved to the remainder of the ten that¡¯d been guided in, skimming over the legbreaker and the woman with spectacles, lingering instead on the toothless old man, the shivering girl and the couple. Thetter¡¯s clothing was threadbare, shabby. All were thin. Tristan doubted they could scrape a silver together between the lot of them.

    ¡°There are other ways to get in,¡± he deduced.

    Lan followed his gaze to the old man and she chuckled.

    ¡°That one you have wrong,¡± she said. ¡°We saw him settle with our own eyes, though he paid in books instead of coin. You¡¯re not wrong about most the rest.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re paid for,¡± Ju smiled, mirthless. ¡°It¡¯s for bets, you see. How far they¡¯ll get, how well they¡¯ll do. Large sums byrge men.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s hands clenched. An old and familiar anger red in his belly.

    ¡°Pce side?¡± he asked.

    Lan shook her head.

    ¡°Gutter,¡± she said. ¡°The Menor Mano went heavy this year, I hear, but there¡¯s others.¡±

    The anger simmered down. It was not infanzones making sport of gutter lives, only monsters doing as monsters did. The thief hummed, considering the arrivals with fresh eyes.

    ¡°So who was I wrong about?¡± he asked.

    Ju cocked a plucked eyebrow.

    ¡°Burned a bridge, you said,¡± she invited.

    <em>Fair</em>, Tristan thought. He¡¯d gotten more from them than the other way around.

    ¡°Robbed someone out on a contract for the Ornna brothers,¡± he said. ¡°It ended in a corpse.¡±

    He saw the shift in the way they sat, the rise in wariness but also the birth of a degree of respect. He¡¯d been a resource, before. Now he was a potential asset.

    ¡°That¡¯ll get a man killed, sure enough,¡± Lan amiably said.

    Ju cleared her throat.

    ¡°The pretty blond, he¡¯s the other one that paid his way onboard,¡± she said. ¡°His name¡¯s Brun.¡±

    It took a moment for Tristan¡¯s eye to find the youth in question, as he was tucked away between crates. Back to the wall, with an angle on most the room that let him look in without being seen in return. Not exactly shopkeeper¡¯s habits, these. Brun caught his look, offering a smile in reply. The thief looked away first.

    ¡°That one¡¯s dangerous,¡± Fortuna murmured, leaning against the wall. ¡°And he¡¯s got someone with him. They¡¯re loud.¡±

    Tristan stiffened. Someone, to the Lady of Long Odds, would mean someone like <em>her</em>. Another god. He¡¯d known there would be others with contract on the ship, but it was not a pleasant surprise.

    ¡°Someone to be careful of,¡± the thief warned the twins.

    They traded a look, then Ju nodded thanks for the warning. They did not ask why he would give such warning. Asking about someone¡¯s contract was the cat-killing sort of curiosity.

    ¡°They let in the desperate at night,¡± Lan said, ¡°but the rest will being soon. The real contenders.¡±

    ¡°The infanzones,¡± Tristan evenly said. ¡°They have seats promised to them under old ords.¡±

    Even a rat like him knew that, mostly because the infanzones themselves trumpeted it about. The yearly trials on the ind were a way for young aristocrats to prove themselves skillful and daring, to jostle with each other for pre-eminence. The names of those who had gone and how far they¡¯d made it were made public, spread around by criers at the Vermilion Festival every year. Rumour had it that making it as far as the third trial could get you bumped up in the line of session.

    ¡°Fifteen,¡± Ju agreed. ¡°Mind you, noble asses won¡¯t even fill half of those. They bring guards and servants.¡±

    He wrinkled his nose. Another pack to steer clear of.

    ¡°They aren¡¯t worth a worry,¡± Lan dismissed. ¡°Nobles will y it safe, make it to the beginning of the third and then take the way out.¡±

    There were two of those. The trials on the Dominion of Lost Things were meant to forge recruits for the Watch, but your average infanzon had no intention of renouncing titles and wealth to join the ckcloaks. So instead they took the paths of retreat the Watch had arranged on the ind, safe ces where a participant could desist from going any further.

    ¡°It¡¯s the rmended candidates that¡¯ll be dangerous,¡± Lan continued. ¡°They¡¯re here for the prize and they won¡¯t be afraid to kill to make it.¡±

    Tristan thinly smiled and the older woman looked somewhat abashed. He was, after all, almost certainly one of these rmended candidates.

    ¡°I hear most are foreigners, usually,¡± the thief said, returning the earlier grace.

    ¡°Heard that too,¡± Ju hastily agreed. ¡°Though I¡¯m not sure how many there will be.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s at most a hundred seats open every year,¡± Lan noted, ¡°and we heard seventy-three were filled this time. There are two ships, though, and one sailed off yesterday.¡±

    The other twin cocked a brow at him.

    ¡°Did you get a look at the passenger list?¡±

    Tristan shook his head.

    ¡°But I saw it being read,¡± he told her, ¡°and it can¡¯t have been too long. Around thirty names.¡±

    The twins hummed. Like him they were curious as to how numerous their batch would be. The conversation drifted after that, staying friendly but of light nature. Neither side had more they were interested in trading, and it was too early in the venture to begin talking of the kind of alliances that would mean life or death when bodies began dropping. The twins took their leave before long, going around the hold to dhand the others ¨C the couple in particr, he noted. He ought to do the same, feel out the others for enmities and alliances. Therge bruiser was asleep and not the kind of man he¡¯d want to work with besides, so he had a frank look at the others.

    The two greyhairs were out of the running for now. The toothless old man was still coughing, looking half a step into the grave, and though the old woman seemed spry she bore spectacles. Should those be broken, she might well be half blind. Disinclined to work the couple when the twins were already at it, Tristan considered thest three. ¡®Brun¡¯ was to be avoided, Fortuna¡¯s warning heeded, which left the girl shivering in a corner and the Tianxi with a soldier¡¯s bearing. The girl first, he decided. Her curly brown hair trembled with the rest of her when he sat down close, offering a smile that she visibly forced herself to return. She flinched when he rested his back against the wall. With that pointed chin and those wet eyes, she looked like a terrified bird.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± he introduced himself.

    ¡°Marz,¡± she replied.

    The thief had held little truck with sympathy ¨C either given or received ¨C since burying his mother, but he knew how to feign the appearance of it well enough.

    ¡°Rough night?¡± he gently asked.

    The girl had a full-body shiver, swallowing loudly.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be here,¡± she burst out, unable to help herself. ¡°It¡¯s not even my debt, but they said¡­¡±

    ¡°You were forced toe,¡± Tristan said.

    Marz nodded, eyes shining with tears.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen either of my parents in years, but the moneylenders said it didn¡¯t matter,¡± she whispered. ¡°Thew says it¡¯s my debt too.¡±

    ¡°Did you try to flee?¡± he asked, eyes studying her closely.

    Now that he was closer to the girl, he could tell there was something¡­ off. More than just fear. She kept flinching without obvious reasons for it, like she could hear or see something he could not.

    ¡°They had pistols,¡± Marz replied.

    <em>You¡¯d have had a better chance with bullets than the trials</em>, Tristan thought. <em>You should have run.</em> Her hands were trembling still, one rubbing her forearm as if to calm herself, and that was what let him put it together. She wasn¡¯t just rubbing but tracing a pattern with a finger. Somethingplex, a symbol of some kind with intricate lines. Again and again she traced it, never noticing even as she told him that she¡¯d been promised the debt would be written off if she survived the first trial. Tristan smiled and nodded at all the right ces, mind spinning. Marz had apulsion, a tic. One of the most obvious signs someone had juste into a contract and their god had strong hold on them.

    The thief ought to know, it''d taken years for him to unlearn the habit of flipping a coin that did not exist.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be all right,¡± Tristanfortingly lied. ¡°We will be many on the ind. With arms and numbers there will be some safety.¡±

    Marz twitched again, beginning to look at the ceiling before she stopped herself. A contract that enhanced her senses, perhaps? Whatever it was, she seemed to be drawing on it at all times and that was dangerous. First to herself, but in time perhaps to others as well. The thief suggested she try to sleep before rising back to his feet, but neither of them much believed in her promise to try. Tristan then moved towards the soldier, who¡¯d settled against a crate and was pulling at a copper sk. The smell of liquor ¨C cheap and strong ¨C wafted up as soon as he approached, the Tianxi offering up a sardonic smile.

    ¡°My turn, is it?¡± the man said. ¡°At least you¡¯re not quite as obvious about it as the twins.¡±

    Tristan sat down slowly, as to be sure he would not be provoking a man he now saw was armed. The sword sheath across the Tianxi¡¯sp was empty, but there was the bulge of a pistol tucked under his coat. <em>And my life for a sparrow¡¯s that he¡¯s got more knives than I do tucked away.</em>

    ¡°We¡¯ll be sailing out soon,¡± Tristan replied, caught out but unrepentant. ¡°Before we do I would know they of thend.¡±

    ¡°Practical of you,¡± the man said, not offended in the slightest. ¡°What¡¯s your name, boy?¡±

    ¡°Tristan.¡±

    ¡°Yong,¡± the other said, offering a nod of a greeting.

    Tristan returned it, wary of this stranger who was putting away rotgut like water but whose eyes were still sharp.

    ¡°You¡¯ve nothing to worry of me, Tristan,¡± Yong inly said. ¡°I was not sent here to y red games.¡±

    The thief¡¯s eyes narrowed. A lie, at least in part, for the twins had told him of those who¡¯d paid their way onto the ship and Yong had not been one of them. Deciding that the man¡¯s easy temperament allowed for a gamble, he decided to press.

    ¡°Yet someone sent you,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Your seat was bought by another.¡±

    The Tianxi grimaced.

    ¡°Those two tell you that, did they?¡± he said, jerking his chin towards the twins. ¡°You¡¯d best be careful not to trust them too much.¡±

    Tristan trusted no one at all, save perhaps Fortuna, but saw no need to tell the man as much.

    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡±

    Yong lowered his voice.

    ¡°Do you know why they¡¯re talking to the couple so much?¡± he asked.

    Tristan shook his head.

    ¡°The husband, Felis, he¡¯s got scales on the arm and he¡¯s been¡­¡±

    Yong trailed off, mimicking scratching his arm, and the thief could not entirely hide his revulsion. Skin kes that looked like scales and incessant scratching were symptoms he was familiar with, as would be any child of the Murk¡¯s: the man was a dust addict. The twins would not have missed that, not with dust being one of the merchandises the Meng-Xiaofan pushed. <em>If he goes into withdrawal and they have dust on them, they good as own him</em>, Tristan thought.

    ¡°There¡¯s no clean shoes in the Murk,¡± the thief finally said, quoting half an old saying.

    <em>Shit clings to all our soles</em>, the other half went. It was not absolution or forgiveness, but me was like misery: one of those rare things there always seemed to be enough of to go around. Best to be careful with it, and with the Tianxi as well. It was why he¡¯d phrased his answer to have a hanging question.

    ¡°All I need is to get to the third trial,¡± Yong bluntly said. ¡°I¡¯ve no interest in anything else.¡±

    ¡°Not even a ck cloak?¡± Tristan casually asked.

    Too casually, he realized with a silent curse as Yong¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Might put one on if it¡¯s offered,¡± the man said. ¡°You?¡±

    Honesty or vagueness? Honesty, he finally decided. Their interests were not at odds and it was always best to stay on the good side of men with pistols and knowledge of how to use them.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice,¡± the thief admitted. ¡°I¡¯m in it to the end.¡±

    ¡°Seems like we might have a thing or two inmon,¡± Yong casually said.

    The offer hung in the air. It was too early tomit to alliances, Tristan knew, and yet did not decline. What were the odds he¡¯d get a better offer? He was a rat, not the kind of sought-after soul that would be able to pick out theirpanions when the real rmended arrived. <em>He wants something</em>, the younger man decided. <em>I¡¯m fit and I look like I might be able to handle myself in a fight, but he might get better if he holds out until the others begin to arrive.</em> Which meant Yong wanted something that a rat was in the best position to give. Far from unsettling him, Tristan found the thought a reassuring one. An ally without a use was just fodder. The suspicion that he wouldn¡¯t just be a body to throw in harm¡¯s way settled his doubts.

    ¡°It seems like we do,¡± the thief agreed.

    The Tianxi smiled.

    ¡°Good,¡± he said. ¡°Then I have a suggestion to make.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s brow cocked. So now came the price.

    ¡°I obtained the name of a sailor on this ship who likes gifts,¡± Yong said.

    Someone that could bribed. Always useful.

    ¡°And what would be gotten, for that gift?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°To sit in a corner as the rest of the travellers board,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°Being given names and stories by our friend.¡±

    For a heartbeat, Tristan wondered how he was being had. He was being sent to learn information that might well save his life, so why would Yong ever allow someone else to learn it in his stead? It made no sense, unless¡­ <em>He¡¯s a bought seat</em>, Tristan realized. <em>They won¡¯t let him out of the hold even for a bribe. But I¡¯ve got a rmendation, so they just might.</em> It wasn¡¯t a rat that Yong had been after but someone who the ckcloaks wouldn¡¯t confine to the bottom of the boat.

    ¡°I like him,¡± Fortuna decided. ¡°He¡¯s clever.¡±

    Yong pulled at his copper sk again, the stench of liquor spreading. <em>He¡¯s also likely a drunk</em>, Tristan thought, not that the goddess would consider that a ck mark on anyone¡¯s record. But a drunk was something he could work with, so he would.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get our friend that gift, then,¡± the thief smiled, and the soldier smiled back.

    --

    Lucia looked rather straightced, for a woman taking bribes. Her face was stern in that way that people became stern when they were ufortable and looking to take it out on someone else.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to be peeling potatoes,¡± the sailor told him. ¡°So sit on the bench and shut up.¡±

    As Lucia easily had a stone on him in muscles and belly fat while Tristan had a fondness for avoiding arguments with people who¡¯d be able to snap his neck, he dutifully sat on the bench and shut up. The sailor passed him a peeling knife and dropped a misshapen potato onto hisp, grunting in satisfaction when he began to deftly peel away. He was three in ¨C a pittance,pared to the barrel of hundreds they were working through ¨C when she finally deigned to address him.

    ¡°They¡¯ll being in two batches,¡± Lucia said. ¡°The foreigners first, most at once, and then the noble brats.¡±

    Though she was still ring at him like he¡¯d emptied her pockets instead of the very opposite, Tristan¡¯s fondness for the sailor could not help but mount. Anyone who held the infanzones in such open contempt could not be entirely bad. He¡¯d caught her wording, though, and a question made it to the tip of his tongue. There it lingered, long enough the woman noticed.

    ¡°Out with it,¡± she grunted.

    ¡°You said foreigners,¡± he said. ¡°Not rmended.¡±

    She nodded, looking approving for the first time since they¡¯d met.

    ¡°Most years we only take in foreigners that got rmended,¡± Lucia agreed, ¡°but this one¡¯s different. Some seats were handed out forpanies to sell.¡±

    Tristan brow furrowed.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°The better question, boy,¡± the sailor replied, whittling away at the potato skin, ¡°is why you¡¯re on <em>this</em> ship whenst month one full of rmended from Sacromonte sailed straight for the Rookery.¡±

    His brow furrowed even deeper. The Rookery was themon name for the great ind-fortress that was the seat of the Watch, said to be as a city of ckcloaks. Watchmen were trained there in a great war camp.

    ¡°I¡¯m the only one from the city to take the trials,¡± Tristan slowly said.

    ¡°That¡¯s got a rmendation, anyway,¡± Lucia shrugged.

    He rocked back in surprise. What was Abu up to? The more he learned the more obscure her motives became. Hispanion lost interest in the conversation, and with a curt gesture told him to start peeling again. They stayed on the deck for an hour, working away until the others began to arrive. The bulk of the first wave arrived as a group, escorted by a pair of ckcloaks. Tristan watched them carefully from his corner of the deck. Lucia, for all that she seemed to enjoy none of this, delivered on her promises without qualms.

    ¡°See the Azns?¡±

    Tristan nodded, eyes moving to the only two among the pack whose skin was the light brownmon to those from the Kingdom of Izcalli. A woman in her twenties and a boy that couldn¡¯t be older than Tristan himself, eighteen. The boy had pale eyes, but what drew attention to him was how eerily perfect he looked. Every part of his body symmetrical and proportioned, like he¡¯d been sculpted instead of born. It made his skin crawl to look at.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know much about the girl, but the boy¡¯s called Tupoc Xical,¡± Lucia said. ¡°Rmended, he¡¯s some sort of prodigy trained by the Leopard Society. He¡¯s got a contract too.¡±

    Not a likely ally then. Izcalli¡¯s societies were bloodthirsty bastards one and all, always waging their famous flower wars.

    ¡°The two Ramayans got rmended because they have family in the ck,¡± the sailor continued, pointing at pair of youths.

    Of the many peoples of the Imperial Someshwar, the Ramayans were those Tristan knew best: they held the great cities on the empire¡¯s south eastern coast, so their trading ships sometimes came as far as Sacromonte. He¡¯d never seen any dressed so colourful as these two, though. The girl of the pair had no less than three pistols at her hips, making her a rather more impressive sight than the chubby-cheeked boy looking like he was about to keel over.

    ¡°Then you¡¯ve got the three from our corner of the Trebian Sea,¡± Lucia grunted.

    A girl with unfortunate e wore the jacket and cravat typical of the Asphodel Rectorate, one of Sacromonte¡¯s closest neighbours, and a Raseni veiled from head to toe in grey was carefully staying away from her. Not unexpected, given that Rasen and Asphodel were said to war with each other incessantly. Thest was a tall and thin man with heavy circles around his eyes.

    ¡°The man¡¯s from Asphodel too,¡± Lucia quietly said. ¡°Leander Gtas, a former sailor. Be careful of him.¡±

    Tristan cocked his head to the side, eyes questioning.

    ¡°His rmendation came from the Navigator¡¯s Guild,¡± she said. ¡°Odds are he knows some Signs.¡±

    The thief¡¯s belly clenched. Learned men insisted that the Signs were not truly magic, merely a way for the initiated to manipte the Gloam, but Tristan had heard stories. Winds called from nowhere, men set alight with but a word. And of those who used the stranger arts going mad, hollowing from the inside as the Gloam devoured them. He silently nodded. The first arrivals disappeared into the belly of the ship but Tristan stayed, waiting as thest four of the foreigners trickled in over the following hour. First a pack of three dark-skinned Mni, a younger pair whose air and clothes screamed ¡®money¡¯ with a scarred older woman behind them that had a fighter¡¯s look. A guard, he figured.

    ¡°The younger two were rmended,¡± Lucia said. ¡°I heard there¡¯s a Mni swordmistressing, but it shouldn¡¯t be one of them.¡±

    Thest to arrive was Tianxi, a girl his age with a sword at her hip and a musket slung over her back. Her eyes were a startling silver shade.

    ¡°She was rmended by the Rookery,¡± the sailor provided. ¡°And she¡¯s got a contract for sure.¡±

    The stranger¡¯s eyes swept over the deck, neither hurried nor slow, and for a moment Tristan would have sworn they lingered above his head. Then she walked on, disappearing below deck. Lucia frowned.

    ¡°There¡¯s supposed to be one more,¡± she said, ¡°but at this rate the infanzones will be getting here first.¡±

    Her prediction came true. But half an hourter, Sacromonte¡¯s noble sons and daughters arrived in a colourful procession. There must have been half a hundred people crowding the docks, some mounted but most brought by carriages that servants in livery promptly began to unload. The two carriages at the front did not bear colours he recognized.

    ¡°Vizur and Ruesta,¡± Lucia told him.

    Tristan hummed. He knew of the Ruesta, a family sworn to one of the great houses of Sacromonte ¨C though he could not recall which one. Their wealth was famous. He¡¯d never heard of the Vizur.

    ¡°The Ruesta girl¡¯s a bloody idiot,¡± the sailor growled. ¡°Brought three people with her, and would you believe that two of them are <em>maids</em>.¡±

    ¡°The Vizur?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Better,¡± Lucia conceded. ¡°Got some Mni huntsman, I hear.¡±

    He was about to ask about the rest when the Vizur servants moved aside, revealing a sight that snatched away his breath. Painted on the sides of thest two carriages was a red tree on blue.

    ¡°<em>Cerdan</em>,¡± Tristan hissed.

    Lucia slowly nodded.

    ¡°Brothers,¡± she said, ¡°with a valet and-¡±

    He didn¡¯t hear the rest of the sentence because blood was rushing to his ears. Helping down some noble waste from his carriage was a man that Tristan Abrascal would recognize even if his eyes were plucked out of his head. It¡¯d been years, so the hair was longer and the beard touched with grey, but the burn scar near the ear looked the same. Tristan could still hear the casual drawl, smell gunpowder and blood. Hear his father weep. <em>Cozme Aflor</em>. So that was why Abu had put him on this ship, sent him into these trials. She was giving him two of the Cerdan and the man whose name was at the bottom of his List.

    Fortuna¡¯s hand on his shoulder brought him back to himself.

    ¡°-id. <em>Kid</em>.¡± Lucia said, sounding impatient. ¡°What¡¯s with you?¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Tristan lied. ¡°Our bargain is done. My thanks.¡±

    The sailor blinked in surprise. He slid the peeling knife into his half-done potato, fingers clenching, and dropped it back into the barrel.

    ¡°There¡¯s still one missing,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll be waiting for her until midday at least.¡±

    ¡°This is enough. One won¡¯t make a difference.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± she grunted. ¡°But you best noteiningter.¡±

    He shook his head and briskly took his leave, wanting to be in the hold before the nobles arrived. Fortuna walked by his side, red dress trailing on the floor behind her like a river of blood, and Tristan forced his jaw to unclench.

    ¡°I was wrong,¡± he spoke under his breath as he reached the top of the stairs.

    ¡°What about?¡± Fortuna lightly asked.

    ¡°There is only one thing that moves me to revenge,¡± Tristan Abrascal murmured, ¡°but it appears it is not far from this boat after all.¡±

 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4

    They were waiting for her at Fishmonger¡¯s Quay.

    Every street had a pair of redcloaks watching passers-by, forcing any hooded or veiled to show their faces before they were let through. Angharad, keeping to the alleys, saw how theypared the faces to small pieces of parchment. She was only able to get close enough to see it was a drawing, but that told her enough: her hunters knew what she looked like and where she was headed. Worried, Angharad decided on patience. She spent one of herst three silver arboles on a ratty room and a meal at an inn two blocks off the edge of the Quay, figuring she would have a better shote night.

    After the streetlights dimmed and the guardsmen tired she would make a run for the Bluebell. She got directions to the ship at the cost of breaking a second arbol to buy sailors ale with coppers, then settled in to wait. The naps she took on the straw mattress were intermittent, somehow leaving her more tired than when she¡¯d begun, all the more so when she was jolted out of thest by angry shouts. Awake in an instant, she drew her saber and made for the door. Cracking it open just enough to peer through, she saw a gaggle of redcloaks whose officer was loudly arguing with the innkeeper and his pair of toughs.

    ¡°-paid up for the month, you don¡¯t get toe in here and hassle my patrons,¡± the innkeeper was snarling.

    Angharad did not hold out hope: one side had swords and muskets, the other clubs. The argument wouldst only so long as the Guardia officer let it. She stole a glimpse ahead, saw they would be taken utterly by surprise and steadied her breath before bursting out. <em>Defence is dy</em>. The redcloaks had swords out but not before she got a head start, only two at the back going for their muskets instead. Angharad kicked a table in the closest man¡¯s leg, tripping him as he shouted curse, then ducked low as a shot whizzed past her head. A stolen glimpse told her there was no ambush ahead so she ran out into the night, boots thumping against the pavestones.

    The redcloaks followed.

    In a city sorge as Sacromonte it should have been the easiest thing in the world to lose them, but for all that she could steal away for slices of an hour the enemy always caught up to her. They never seemed to know exactly where she was, but neither were they far off. <em>Contractor</em>, Angharad shivered in realization. They had hired someone whose spirit-given gift could find her. Knowing of it was little help, the hours stretching into a torment of constant running and hiding. She was exhausted, as much from the flight as the constant drawing on her own contract to avoid ambushes.

    The Fisher was not as some other spirits, whose prices were constant: she had sworn a single oath in return for his gift. Yet that did not mean taking glimpses was not tiring, slowly turning her thoughts feverous. It felt as if her brain was swimming in warm water, pressure slowly building behind her eyes. How long could shest? She did not know, but salvation came without warning at morning¡¯s cast. Just as the streetlights returned to their full re the redcloaks fell behind. No longer was their hunt aimed, instead stumbling about as if she were no longer tracked.

    Relief brought tears to her eyes and she crawled into dark alley smelling of trash and human filth to copse behind a pile of broken nks. What felt like a heartbeat after she woke to the sound of movement, drawing her saber, but before her was no man. It was a red-eyed rat,rge as a cat and watching her unblinkingly. Behind it, scrawled on the wall, she saw a bloody mark she had missed in her earlier exhaustion: seven rats whose tails were tied in a knot, itself swallowing up a skull. It was raw work, little more than outlines, but somehow she knew exactly what she was looking at the moment she saw it. Swallowing loudly, Angharad dropped her de. It ttered loudly against the ground.

    ¡°Manifold apologies, honoured elder,¡± the noble hurriedly said. ¡°I did not mean to disturb your shrine.¡±

    The red-eyed rat watched her still, unmoving. An apology would not be enough. Grimacing, Angharad slowly reached for her abandoned saber and pressed her palm against the edge. It cut shallowly but drew blood, enough she was able to hold out her hand and drip red on the stone before her. After the third thick droplet fell the great rat finally moved, darting forward to lick at the red while Angharad let out a relieved breath. Her offering had been epted; rare were the spirits that would turn on you immediately after epting a gift.

    In the moment that followed the noble felt her blood cool, as if a cold tide were washing through her veins. The Fisher¡¯s presence filled her. He felt neither angry nor worried, only¡­ expectant. The spirit was watching, and the red-eyed rat stilled for a moment before licking up thest of her blood.

    ¡°Good manners,¡± it praised in a voice that was like a like a thousand chitters threaded into a single, desperate scream.

    Angharad struggled to keep her horror off her face, a struggle that she lost when the massive rat suddenly began to retch. It convulsed, as if dying, and spewed out what she thought to be red bile. Only the bile was in the shape of a rat. The Fisher¡¯s approval rose at the sight and his presence withdrew, shivers strumming down her spine in his wake. That moment of distraction was enough for the red-eyed rat to be gone from her sight, leaving only the scrawled mark on the wall and the bloody little abomination at her feet. Sheathing her sword, Angharad rose tiredly and pressed the cut on her palm closed. She would have taken the time to dress it if not for the blood rat beginning to scurry away.

    Gritting her teeth, the dark-skinned noble cast aside her hesitation and followed the boon the spirit had granted her.

    It stayed always in the corner of her eye, moving so quick that she could not spare so much as a nce at her surroundings as she followed. Weaving through a maze of dirty alleys she ran, slowlying to realize that she was being led in the direction of Fishmonger¡¯s Quay. The little creature kept away from the glow ofmplights and palestone pirs, its pathbyrinthine, but through shadow after shadow Angharad was led to an end. The stink of sewage filled her nostrils, making her gag, and as she had a dry retch she saw the little blood rat ncing at her once before scurrying to the edge of a sewer gate.

    There it broke apart, turning into drops of blood that slid into the cloying vileness.

    Minding her manners, Angharad offered the sewer gate a shaky bow of thanks before covering her mouth. She carefully stepped to the edge of the alley, eyes squinting at themplight¡¯s glow she had somehow grown unused to. Dealing with spirits was never simple as you might wish. For the first few nces she was lost, until she peered further out and saw a pair of bored redcloaks inspecting everyone passing through the street. Only, Angharad saw, she was already past them. Heart beating in relief and excitement, the noble turned to the sewer gate and bowed again.

    ¡°I will remember this favour, honoured elder,¡± she promised.

    In the heartbeat that followed a gun was cocked behind her and Angharad Tredegar was duly reminded that dealing with spirits was never simple as you might wish.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± a woman¡¯s voice harshly ordered in Antigua. ¡°Turn around and show me your-¡±

    If she ran for it-

    (The ball tore through her back, a line of burning pain.)

    -Angharad threw herself to the side, the shot catching the edge of her coat. In a single smooth spin she unsheathed her saber and faced the redcloak, who judged she would not be able to reload in time and was dropped her musket in favour of the straight sword at her hip. The noble timed her breaths with her steps, her body moving with the fluid grace of years of practice. There was no need to steal a glimpse of the future when she could see it writ in they of her enemy¡¯s movements. The redcloak¡¯s de came free, striking out, and Angharad calmly twisted her wrist to deny the des contact before snapping it back into ce. Her back foot pushed her forward in a clean, textbook strike that opened the redcloak¡¯s throat.

    The other woman fell down with a wet gurgle, the sound drowned out by the Guardia killers alreadying this way. Angharad ran for it, the directions she¡¯d boughtst night just enough for her to avoid charging off in the wrong direction. This cursed hovel of a city had no signs, as if Sacromontans expected all to know their way around. The docks were close, only a few blocks away, but the ruckus had seen people empty the streets so Angharad could see the redcloaks running after her. Only a dozen, at first, but more wereing from seemingly every street. She hurried, sweat pouring down her back as she struggled to stay out of musket range ¨C shots kept sounding, keeping the pulse of fear in her belly alive ¨C and finally reached the long stone dock she¡¯d had described to her.

    An old cog was waiting at the end of it, its sails painted ck like all the Watch¡¯s ships, and Angharad felt her spirit rally. Close, so close now and¡­ The shot came from closer, the window of some warehouse behind, and though she threw herself down in time it was straight into a pile of crates. Mercifully empty, she thought even as her aching shoulder toppled two into the water, but she got tangled in the keeping them together. Ripping her way free cost her precious time, the pack of baying hounds nipping at her heels reaching the dock.

    ¡°<em>Stop her</em>,¡± a man shouted. ¡°Manes be my witness, if you keep fucking missing her-¡±

    The Bluebell was a mere thirty feet away but the Guardia were so close she could almost feel them breathing down her neck. Half-turning, she saw a man reaching for her arm and twisted away but then there was a shot and¡­. and the redcloaks stopped cold. It¡¯de from the front of her, Angharad realized btedly, and there she found a grizzled old woman holding a smoking pistol in her only hand. She¡¯d unloaded in front of the redcloaks, a warning shot.

    ¡°Angharad Tredegar?¡± the old woman called out.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the noble replied, the word half a sob of relief.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been waiting for you, girl,¡± the ckcloak grunted. ¡°Get on the bloody ship, we¡¯re going to miss the tide.¡±

    Angharad took a hesitant step towards the Bluebell, then saw her hesitation reflected on the face of the redcloaks looking at her and was emboldened to take a second. Before she could take a third a Guardia officer pushed his way to the front of the pack, a moustachioed young man whose shoulders were dripping with ornate braids and medals.

    ¡°What are you idiots doing?¡± the man shouted. ¡°Take aim, she¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s under the protection of the Watch, boy,¡± the old woman interrupted from above. ¡°Turn around before this gets unpleasant.¡±

    Angharad slowly took another step back, trying not to draw anyone¡¯s attention as she was ufortably aware that there was no cover at all on the dock: it was all bare stone. There were at least a dozen muskets in the crowd and with that many people aiming at her a glimpse would not be able to save her life.

    ¡°<em>Boy</em>?¡± the young man repeated, turning red. ¡°It¡¯s<em> captain</em> to you, you old bitch, and you best disappear back into your ship before I-¡±

    Angharad took another step back but this time she was noticed and half a dozen muskets were turned on her. Yet in the time that¡¯d passed the ckcloaks had not been idle and now sailors leaned over the side of the ship to aim their own muskets down at the redcloaks. She counted nine, a number that had her stomach clenching. Were there not more sailors on the ship?

    ¡°Before you what?¡± the old woman sneered. ¡°You so much as take a shot at us, boy captain, and it¡¯s a war you¡¯ll have on your hands.¡±

    ¡°A war I¡¯ll win,¡± the mustachioed man retorted. ¡°I have the numbers to storm your ship if you do not desist.¡±

    He seemed confident, and as Angharad nced as the still-swelling numbers of redcloaks ¨C more were stilling from the backstreet ¨C she had to admit he was right. Not all of them had firearms, but all were armed and there had to be forty by now. The ckcloakughed scornfully at the threat.

    ¡°And what do you think¡¯ll happen, after?¡± she asked. ¡°Once word gets to the Rookery that Sacromonte has broken the Iscariot ords, that you attacked a Watch ship in the discharge of its duties?¡±

    A ripple of unease went through the guardsmen.

    ¡°Our orders are absolute,¡± the officer tly replied.

    ¡°They¡¯ll recall everypany from Broken Gates to the Weeping Light, boy,¡± the one-armed ckcloak said, ¡°to burn this fucking city to the ground. To make an <em>example</em> of Sacromonte.¡±

    She scoffed.

    ¡°Only whoever owns you won¡¯t want that war on their head,¡± the ckcloak said. ¡°So instead what¡¯ll happen is that they¡¯ll send all your heads to the Rookery in a basket as an apology before denting their treasury for reparations.¡±

    Unease turned to dismay, a few guardsmen even taking a step back. The officer¡¯s face was bright red with anger but he had no answer.

    ¡°I wonder how the infanzones will like paying up for your mistake,¡± the old woman added with a nasty little smile. ¡°Surely they¡¯re forgiving souls? They wouldn¡¯t take it out on your families after you die.¡±

    And that was the shot that sounded the rout. Another officer, older but with only half as many gaudy medals, took the captain aside and spoke in a hushed voice. It was a done deal anyhow, the rank and file already putting away their weapons. Whatever loyalty they had it did not stand stronger than the prospect of having their heads cut off. For all that was she was grateful, Angharad could not help but feel a thread of contempt. True soldiers would not have balked in the face of threats. It was the weakness of Sacromonte that it did not have proper ruling nobles, a weakness that trickled all the way down.

    ¡°I¡¯ll remember this,¡± the captain snarled, tearing away from the other redcloak.

    ¡°And we¡¯ll remember you, boy captain,¡± the ckcloak called back. ¡°You ought to be a lot more worried about <em>that</em>.¡±

    The Guardia cleared out in haste, as if ashamed of being seen driven away, and Angharad atst let out her breath. She¡¯d made it. The old woman called out for her to hurry and she raced up the ramp, seeing that hidden behind side of the ship there¡¯d been another dozen sailors. They were putting away muskets and orbs of metal bearing fuses that Angharad recognized as<em> zhentianlei</em>, those dreaded Tianxi grenades. No wonder the one-armed woman had not feared the redcloaks: packed tight as they had been on the docks, without cover, it would have been a ughter. The noble offered said ckcloak a short bow of gratitude.

    ¡°My thanks for your protection, mydy,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I will not forget it.¡±

    ¡°The name¡¯s Celipa, and I¡¯m nody of any kind,¡± the old woman snorted. ¡°You owe me nothing, girl. You¡¯ve got blood in the ck and you¡¯re kin of Osian¡¯s besides.¡±

    She blinked.

    ¡°You know my uncle?¡±

    ¡°We were both part of the hunt for the Hull-Eater,¡± Celipa told her, then tapped the stump of her missing arm. ¡°After a thrall took a bite he helped set me up on the Bluebell.¡±

    Angharad choked. The Hull-Eater, as in the great spirit whose ws rent ships apart and whose army of crazed thralls had famously turned some ancient fortress into a den of horrors? Its death a few years ago had been widely celebrated back home, but Uncle Osian had never so much as hinted he¡¯d been involved. She could hardly imagine a man her mother had always considered ¨C however fondly ¨C to be useless in a fight anywhere near such a monster. At loss about anything to say, the noble got out something about how her uncle was a dutiful man while Celipa herded her across the deck towards broad stairs descending into the belly of the cog.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be two days before we get to the Dominion,¡± Celipa quietly said. ¡°Use the time to find allies, Tredegar. Loners always die early in the second trial.¡±

    It would have been ungrateful of her to demand that a woman who¡¯d saved her life address her properly as Lady Angharad, so the noble bit down on the sentence before it could leave her lips. Instead she nodded her gratitude at the advice before traversing the lower deck ¨C the kitchen, dormitories for the crew and the arsenal ¨C to make her way to the hold at the bottom. There she found the travellers she would share a journey with, having haphazardly imed corners and cots. All eyes were on her from the moment she entered, the cost of being thest to arrive, but she kept her back straight. It would not do to show weakness.

    A sweeping look at the hold told her there had to be more than twenty people in there, but what drew and kept her eye was the well-dressed quartet being attended to at the back of the hold. Two men and two women. The men¡¯s close looks and identical red and blue cloaks outed them as kin, but the other two were dissimr: one tall and lean, her short blond hair pulled in a bun while the other was a sultry dark-haired beauty with beautiful green eyes. Nobles, she instantly knew. <em>Infanzones</em>, as Sacromontans called them. The beauty met Angharad¡¯s eyes, smiling sweetly, and then addressed an older girl at her side in servant¡¯s livery.

    A few stepster the handmaiden was offering Angharad an elegant curtsy, bowing her head.

    ¡°Lady Isabel invites you to introduce yourself, mydy,¡± the girl said.

    Angharad acknowledged her with a polite nod, gathering herself for a moment before approaching her fellow nobles. The men looked bored at her approach, one of them even seeming irritated, but Lady Isabel¡¯s smile was yet sweet and her leanerpanion looked curious. As the invited party, Angharad introduced herself first.

    ¡°Lady Angharad Tredegar of nw Hall,¡± she said, lightly bowing. ¡°At your service.¡±

    ¡°How genteel,¡± the green-eyed beauty eximed, putting a hand to her heart. ¡°I am Lady Isabel Ruesta, Lady Angharad, but you <em>must</em> call me Isabel.¡±

    ¡°It would be my very great pleasure,¡± Angharad replied, struggling to keep her gaze off the ttering cut of Lady Isabel¡¯s dress.

    Most her lovers had been cut more from the cloth of the other nobledy here than lovely Isabel¡¯s, but Angharad could appreciate beauty in all its forms. Including form-fitting dresses of yellow brocade. As a willful distraction, she turned to the woman by Lady Isabel¡¯s side.

    ¡°Lady Ferranda Vizur,¡± the lean woman introduced herself, tone cool. ¡°A pleasure.¡±

    Angharad returned the courtesy, though she was barely done speaking when one of the men cut in.

    ¡°You have the Mni look but the name does not fit,¡± the noble drawled. ¡°Strange.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s expression grew stiff and the implied usation of being an impostor.

    ¡°That is, Remund, because she is not Mni,¡± the other man scoffed. ¡°These are Pereduri names.¡±

    He then offered her a bow and a practiced smile. At second look he looked older than the rude one, his face sharper and more refined.

    ¡°I am Lord Augusto Cerdan,¡± he said. ¡°Please forgive my brother¡¯s rudeness, Lady Angharad. He never did learn his courtesies.¡±

    ¡°It is nothing, Lord Augusto,¡± Angharad briskly replied, her mood soured.

    It was soured even further by Lord Remund¡¯s appraising gaze on her.

    ¡°Ah, Peredur,¡± the infanzon said. ¡°I had quite forgot about it. You¡¯re not much paler than the other Mni, though. I expected more of a difference.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s jaw clenched. Peredur was not like the other isles of the Kingdom of Mn. It was nearly impossible to conquer without a great fleet so Angharad¡¯s ancestors, unlike the Mni, had not swept across the ind in a storm of iron and me. They had instead settled thend and allied with the ancient dwellers of Peredur, twined the blood and slowly grown into a single people. And the ancient Pereduri had been men of pale skin, so to this day some ignorant souls expected Angharad¡¯s people to be much paler than the Mni. The polite ones, anyway.

    The less polite liked to imply that the ancient Pereduri had been hollows, darklings. Utter madness. The isles were drenched in the light of the re, no hollow could have lived there without burning! Besides some savage tribes encountered in the colonies had proved that some peoples of light skin were not soulless, turned pale not by the embrace of the Gloam but simply born with such flesh. Yet it suited some to imply the people of Peredur were descended from ves and savages, the same hordes that allied with devils to bring about the Old Night.

    ¡°s,¡± Angharad frigidly replied, ¡°it seems I must disappoint.¡±

    ¡°Remund,¡± Lady Isabel chided, gently pping his arm. ¡°Be nice.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I suppose,¡± Lord Remund groused. ¡°The pleasure is all mine, Lady Angharad.¡±

    Isabel seemed more amused than anything, which brought a glimmer of satisfaction to the younger Cerdan¡¯s eye that Angharad recognized. <em>Ah</em>, she thought. Perhaps her appreciative gaze had not been as subtle as she thought. From the corner of her eye she saw Lord Augusto eyeing the Lady Isabel and his brother with evident displeasure before brushing it away with a forced smile. He made a chidingment about immaturity, injecting himself between the two. Angharad almost winced.

    ¡°It appears your coat was scuffed,¡± Lady Ferranda said, drawing back her attention. ¡°A traveling misfortune?¡±

    The other woman¡¯s steady gazey where the stray shot had caught her overcoat earlier. Angharad had no intention of mentioning her troubles to these strangers, fellow nobles or not, but then she suspected that Ferranda Vizur was well aware she was not looking at a simple scuff.

    ¡°There was a mishap with my trunk,¡± Angharad replied, carefully avoiding a lie. ¡°I will be travelling light.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Lady Isabel gently said as she drew away from the brothers, ¡°that simply won¡¯t do. Lady Angharad ¨C or may I call you Angharad?¡±

    Charmed, she returned the Sacromontan¡¯s smile.

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Then call me Isabel, Angharad,¡± the beauty firmly offered again. ¡°My maids can take care of mending your coat, they are very clever with their hands.¡±

    She hesitated for a moment, but the bandage she had put over her wound on yesterday should not show under her shirt. Besides, it would be suspicious to refuse.

    ¡°I would be much obliged,¡± she said, shrugging off her coat.

    ¡°Beatris,¡± Isabel called out, summoning another handmaid. ¡°Do mend Lady Angharad¡¯s coat for her, would you?¡±

    ¡°Of course, mydy,¡± the dark-haired maid replied, curtsying before she approached.

    She took the coat when Angharad offered it. Isabel slid a look a Lady Ferranda.

    ¡°You really should have brought a maid, Ferra,¡± she said. ¡°Your man does not look like he knows how to use a needle.¡±

    ¡°Sanale serves a different purpose,¡± Lady Ferranda replied. ¡°I can take care of my own affairs, Isabel.¡±

    ¡°There is no need for that hired sword, I assure you,¡± Lord Remund smiled. ¡°I will be seeing to our safety, as will our good Cozme. One of the finest soldiers in Cerdan service, second only to my own finer de.¡±

    ¡°If only your rapier were half as swift as your boasts,¡± Lord Augusto mildly said. ¡°Though he speaks true, Lady Ferranda, that it is our duty as sons of Cerdan to see to your safety through this trial. We must never abandon woman in need.¡±

    ¡°How kind,¡± Lady Ferranda replied, her tone savagely even.

    She did not seem impressed, Angharad thought, but then it was not on her that Augusto¡¯s eyes had lingered. Lady Isabel smiled back at the older Cerdan, but in the following moment let out a little noise of surprise before flowing forward. Warm fingers grasped Angharad¡¯s left arm, pushing up the sleeve of her shirt and baring the ten silver lines tattooed there over dark skin.

    ¡°A tattoo,¡± Isabel said, her touch soft. ¡°What might it mean, Angharad?¡±

    The looks the Cerdan brothers sent her were distinctly unfriendly. Lady Ferranda cut in before she could gather her wits enough to answer.

    ¡°Swordmistress,¡± the tall woman said, breathing out in surprise. ¡°Those are the marks of a Mni swordmistress.¡±

    They would have been, were they ck and on Angharad¡¯s right arm instead, but after that early buffoonery from Remund she was disinclined to exin the nuance.

    ¡°It is a simr tradition,¡± Angharad simply said.

    Suddenly the Cerdans looked rather more wary of her. Wary enough to try to send her away, she figured, but whatever intention there might have been it immediately came to naught. Lady Ferranda¡¯s eyes lit up at her admission, leading into the first smile Angharad had seen out of the other woman.

    ¡°You must stay with us, then,¡± Ferranda Vizur firmly said. ¡°I happen to have a great many questions about such practices.¡±

    --

    Much as Angharad was used to thepany of other nobles, she was also used to her family¡¯s title being among the lesser in the room. Though Mother had been wealthy and of some renown as a captain, nw Hall was no great estate. Compared to the great izinduna families some of her tournamentpetitors hade from, the House of Tredegar had been ants. It had therefore been a skill worth cultivating to be able to tell who the powerful people in a room were. ying court with the four infanzones let her fall back into the habit and it was, if notfortable, then at least a little nostalgic.

    The House of Cerdan, she learned, was by far the greatest of the noble lines involved here. Though it was not one of the founding families of Sacromonte, who traced their descent back the heyday of the Second Empire and good as ran the city, it was not far below them. While Augusto and Remund were not of the main line, they were great-nephews to the lord of the house and therefore not men to discount.

    They also despised each other.

    Watching them descend into thinly veiled snapping for the third time in an hour, Angharad cocked an eyebrow at Lady Ferranda. The tall noblewoman sighed, waiting until Isabel leaned forward to y peacemaker between the brothers before she answered.

    ¡°There is an inheritance involved,¡± she murmured. ¡°Remund is younger but has obtained a contract. Marrying well would settle the victor.¡±

    And Lady Isabel Ruesta would be, Angharad deduced, a very good marriage indeed. Not only was she a great beauty but she was the sole daughter of the Ruesta, a house of undistinguished descent but which happened to be very wealthy. No wonder the brothers went at each other like rabid dogs whenever one drew her attention over the other.

    ¡°Poor Isabel,¡± Angharad sympathized.

    Lady Ferranda shrugged. She was a woman of few words and tread with care around the others. Unsurprising, given that the Vizur were the least of the three houses by a fair throw. She had been quite frank about her intent to use a strong performance in the trials to gild her family¡¯s name and bring it back into the eyes of her fellow infanzones, perhaps even securing an advantageous husband. She had been preparing for this venture for years, going as far as to obtain the services of a man called Sanale which she imed to be a Mni huntsman.

    ¡°Where from?¡± Angharad idly asked.

    Given the reputation of Mni marksmen, it was not an umon im even among those who¡¯d never so much as seen the Isles.

    ¡°Does it matter what particr ind tossed him out?¡± Remund chuckled, rolling his eyes.

    ¡°Uthukile,¡± Lady Ferranda replied, ignoring him.

    Angharad leaned back in the seat she had been offered, taking a look at the borate beadwork hanging off this Sanale¡¯s cloak where he sat among the servants. She could not see his face, but the colours of the beads <em>were</em> distinctive to the Low Isle. It seemed a credible im.

    ¡°I was taught they are the finest shooters and trackers in Mn,¡± the noble acknowledged.

    And therefore all of Vesper, though it would be impolite so say as much. Terrible seafarers, however. Mother had always mourned so few took to ships given how good they were with muskets. Lady Ferranda straightened, visibly pleased, and Isabel pouted.

    ¡°You take it all too seriously, Ferra,¡± the dark-haired woman imed, then daintily rose to her feet. ¡°And I must admit I grow weary of this dreary hold. Shall we go for a walk?¡±

    Augusto, the older Cerdan, wasted no time in mimicking her and offering his hand.

    ¡°Too right,¡± he said, ¡°you and I can-¡±

    ¡°No need, brother,¡± Lord Remund cut in. ¡°You stay and rest, I will escort our fairdy.¡±

    Lady Ferranda looked as if she had a dawning headache, but she stayed out of it and Angharad decided it might be best for her as well. The Cerdans argued, growing more irritated and worse at hiding it. Isabel then cut through the backbiting by offering Angharad a sweet smile.

    ¡°Would you do me the honour, Angharad?¡± she asked. ¡°I never did get you to tell me of Peredur.¡±

    The res that earned her felt like they would burn through her clothes, which irritated her enough she epted out of spite.

    ¡°I am at your disposal, of course,¡± she said, smoothly rising to her feet.

    The brothers¡¯ faced darkened, but they were not so impolite as to insist when an invitation had been clearly given and epted. Angharad offered her arm for Isabel to take and they headed for the stairs, though her eyes strayed to the side as they moved. She¡¯d heard Lord Remund mentioning other Mni earlier but now she was finally seeing them. Seated between crates, talking in low voices, a young pair of youths were tucked away. Behind them a scarred older woman was napping. The man of the pair, narrow-faced but built like a fighter, kept ncing around. As if looking for something.

    <em>Or someone</em>, Angharad realized with a trickle of cold dread. Her pursuers had known she was headed for the Bluebell, for these trials, and tried to stop her getting on the ship. But would they truly stop there when assassins had dogged her steps all the way from Peredur? It had not urred to her until now that there might be a hired knife for waiting for her on the ship. Uncle Osian¡¯s letter had implied that there were few rules during the trials, that much was allowed. Perhaps even murder. The thought had her tensing enough that Isabel noticed. Thankfully, she misinterpreted the reason.

    ¡°They can be a little much,¡± the dark-haired beauty admitted. ¡°It will do me some good to have some fresh air in goodpany.¡±

    ¡°Have they always been like this?¡± Angharad asked, grateful for the change of subject.

    They rose up the stairs, drawing the attention of the sailors on the lower deck as they passed. No one tried to stop them, as a few hours past an officer hade to tell them it would be allowed for a few travellers at a time toe up for air so long as they stayed out of the way.

    ¡°They were sweeter, once,¡± Isabel wistfully said. ¡°But we all have duties now. Itplicates matters.¡±

    Angharad inclined her head. She had never held any interest in men, but the contrary had not always been true. Her status as the heiress to nw Hall had sometimes made it a difficult affair to decline without giving offence as ady. The lives of nobles did not belong to them alone.

    ¡°Sometimes I wish I could be free of all this,¡± Isabel confessed as they went up thest of the stairs. ¡°That I might find love where I please instead.¡±

    As if by fate¡¯s whim, she finished the sentence just as the two of them took to the deck and the sight of it caught in Angharad¡¯s throat. Lovely Isabel in her yellow brocade, with eyes like emeralds and her delicate face framed by dark hair like raven¡¯s wings ¨C all of it with the Trebian Sea spread out behind her as far as the eye could see, waters touched with golden lucent streaks as the great mirrors and devices in firmament above spread shards of the re¡¯s light across an entire sea. It was an unearthly sight, one that dried Angharad¡¯s mouth and left her half a babbling fool. She swallowed. Isabel smiled.

    ¡°But I must be boring you,¡± she said.

    ¡°Never,¡± Angharad insisted, cursing herself for the unseemly haste of the reply.

    Isabel, if she had noticed, was kind enough not toment as she led them to the edge of the ship. There they leaned against the side, letting the wind ruffle their hair as the Bluebell sailed across the tranquil waters of the Trebian Sea. It was a strange sightpared to the dark waters around the Isles, where the darkness of the Gloam ran deep. Unlike her own people, the powers that bordered the Trebian Sea had never had to fear a ship disappearing into the dark and returning yearster - if at all. The lightsing down from firmament were only thinly of the re but they were enough to prevent most storms from forming and, more importantly, prevent sailors from catching Gloam sickness.

    Rare were the seamen of this sea who were severed from the Circle byck of exposure to the re, turning into pale hollows without an immortal soul to reincarnate.

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s so far already!¡± Isabel enthused, pointing in the distance.

    Angharad followed the finger to the sight of two beams of re falling from firmament onto a cluster of distant, lesser lights like swords cutting through the dark. Sacromonte, unlike most great cities of Vesper, had not been raised under some blessed machinery of the Antediluvians that doled out light in patterns. It stood under simple pit of re. The light that touched the city¡¯s noble districts came from a hole ripped into firmament,ing raw from the unblinking sun that had turned the Old World to ash and dust.

    ¡°You should see the Isles, one day,¡± Angharad chuckled, shaking her head. ¡°They are all under one great pit whose light covers all but the furthest edges of Peredur and Uthukile. It can be seen from weeks away if there is no Gloam storm hiding it.¡±

    ¡°I would much like to travel, one day,¡± Isabel smiled, ¡°but surely our corner of Vesper does have <em>some</em> charms?¡±

    Angharad bit down on a very smitten answer by forcing herself to look away. A shape on the horizon delivered her beleaguered spirit a reply that would not make a fool of her. She nodded, pointing at a crooked and half-submerged tower jutting out of the sea in the distance. It glittered with great broken mirrors and aether machinery.

    ¡°Certainly, there is nowhere else where so many ancient wonders remain,¡± Angharad said.

    Though many were now broken as the tower must be, their purpose lost to centuries or their intricate mechanisms beyond even the finest craftsmen of Tianxia. The Antediluvians had built their miracles in the ancient times of the First Empire, untold centuries ago, and Vesper had gone through many a ruin since.

    ¡°I would have thought fresher delights able to be found,¡± Isabel told her, tone gone a little tart.

    Angharad coughed, embarrassed, as she tried to read the other woman¡¯s face to no avail. The dark-haired beauty sighed, idlyying a hand on Angharad¡¯s arm. The noble cursed the knots in her tongue that were stubbornly refusing to undo. And to think she¡¯d beenplimented on an artful seduction by herst lover!

    ¡°Tell me of Peredur,¡± Isabel asked, perhaps taking pity.

    Angharad gratefully did, speaking of the stony and barren shores where forests of ships nestled in secret inlets, of the green rolling hills and deep forests that grew as one travelled east. Isabel seemed fascinated, always asking more, and though it all felt like it had only been a moment the ache of her arms against the side of the ship told it had been much longer than that. It was time to take their leave, but Angharad begged off going back down with herpanion. She spoke of wanting to have ast look around the deck, though the truth was that she wanted to put herself together.

    It was a sweet parting and Angharad closed her eyes, letting out a long breath. She had been much too obvious and was ashamed of herself. It had been improper behaviour for ady of her breeding and a poor idea besides, given how Isabel Ruesta had some rather insistent suitors after her. Regaining her calm, she opened her eyes to see the ship approaching the ruined tower she¡¯d sighted earlier. In the waters around it, tucked under dark ripples, ghostly shapes were swimming. She squinted, leaning further over the side, and made out a stripe going down a spine that bore the ghostly light and some spindly arms. From the fresh angle she could even see that some of the creatures were swimming besides the ship.

    ¡°Mantics.¡±

    Angharad nearly leapt out of her skin, drawing back and reaching for her de as she turned towards the woman who¡¯d addressed her. Tianxi, she saw, and wearing her dark hair in a braid down her back. A fair girl no older than Angharad herself but whose silver eyes were unsettling. The more she saw them, the more she grew convinced they were not of a natural shade. The Pereduri noble¡¯s hand stayed close to her sabre¡¯s hilt for the other woman had a weapon of her own: a straight sword in the Tianxi style, a jian.

    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re called mantics, the creatures you¡¯re looking at,¡± the stranger borated. ¡°Lierganen im they feed on the corpses of sailors who died too young. They are scavengers, however,res and not lemures.¡±

    Most nations did not speak of the world as Mni and Pereduri did, all spirits under the Sleeping God, but instead used the old Lierganen terms. ¡®Lares¡¯, for beasts that partook of aether but were not necessarily hostile to men, and ¡®lemures¡¯ for those that hunted mankind out of hatred regardless of need.

    ¡°Thank you for the lesson,¡± Angharad slowly replied.

    She even half meant it.

    ¡°The interesting thing,¡± the stranger mused, ¡°is that they are said to avoid ships.¡±

    Angharad frowned.

    ¡°Some are following us,¡± she pointed out.

    ¡°And have been for several hours now,¡± the stranger agreed. ¡°It is the third time I havee up to look.¡±

    The noble took a wary step back. This no longer felt to her as a meeting of happenstance, idle talk between shipmates.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked. ¡°Why are you approaching me?¡±

    ¡°I simply wanted to have a look at the woman shots were fired over,¡± the Tianxi calmly replied. ¡°As for my name, you may call me Song.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s fingers closed around the hilt of her de.

    ¡°You¡¯ve had your look,¡± she said.

    ¡°So I have,¡± Song agreed. ¡°And you are as interesting as I thought you might be, so I leave you with a warning.¡±

    The Tianxi made to leave, pausing only before she passed Angharad.

    ¡°Do not let yourself think this ship is safe. At this rate, there will be trouble long before we reach the ind.¡±

    And on that ominous note, the dark-haired stranger walked away. The noble watched her go, the grip on her sabre loosening only when this ¡®Song¡¯ disappeared below deck.

    The wind brushed against her face, and Angharad was left wondering if it had always been so cold.

 Chapter 5

    Chapter 5

    Tristan needed a way in.

    The infanzones had imed a corner of the hold and were entertaining the sole foreigner they¡¯d decided was worth their time, mere feet away but far beyond his reach. The thief did have to admit the Mni they¡¯d picked was a fearsome specimen, with two inches of height on him and a build hinting she could handle that saber she was dragging around. Unlike the noblewoman he was unlikely to get invited for refreshments, however, so he¡¯d have to find another angle. Fortunately one was there for the taking: the infanzones had brought attendants with them. Six people in all, and one would be his key.

    The soldiers, as soldiers did, went to dice the moment their masters ceased paying attention. Even the grim-faced Mni huntsman in Vizur service went, joining a tall man in Ruesta colours and the man Tristan would kill before this was all over: Cozme Aflor, thrice ursed and may the fucking devils of Pandemonium eat him whole. There had already been a game going near the mass of crates in the back of the hold, so after the soldiers joined Tristan simply did the same. The wee was lukewarm until he shed some coppers, which were in short supply. Most were ying for buttons or trinkets.

    ¡°We¡¯re ying Augur,¡± a dark-haired woman enthusiastically told him. ¡°No matches, Sacromonte rules.¡±

    ¡°Which are nonsense,¡± a scarred Mniined. ¡°Why would the Lovers¡¯ Stars make you lose?¡±

    Considering most the circle was Sacromontans, she won herself a few unfriendly stares with that.

    ¡°We call them the Rat King¡¯s eyes,¡± Cozme smiled, stroking his beard. ¡°He is not a god whose attentions are kind.¡±

    Tristan smirked. It was an old legend that the Rat King had been but a pack of rats, once, but that they had devoured one of the Manes ¨C those great pristine gods so beloved of the infanzones ¨C and be a deity even those old things feared. There were a thousand gods worshipped and bargained with in the mud of the Murk, but few as beloved as the Rat King. He was as a patron to the lost and beggared, those who dwelled in shadow and filth. Not the kind of god that would look well upon the likes of Cozme Aflor.

    ¡°It¡¯s the usual way,¡± the same dark-haired woman insisted. ¡°y or leave.¡±

    The grizzled Mni sighed but picked up the dice, dropping them in a wooden cup before shaking it. Tristan had yed Augur before, it was the simplest of dicing games, and so he was not afraid of losing too badly. He was not here to win anyhow. Betting low, he made sure to stay in the game as the dicers began to chat. The pushy dark-haired one who¡¯d lit up at the sight of his coppers was called Aines, and now he recognized her from earlier. She was the woman married to the dust addict. Said man was napping, which spared him the sight of his wife losing badly at Augur.

    Gods but Tristan had never seen someone so genuinely terrible at a game of chance.

    He was grateful for it, as her emptying pile of buttons loosened tongues. Winning always put folk in a fine mood. Information slowly trickled in. The huntsmane with the Vizur was named Sanale, though he spoke little save when the other Mni addressed him in some foreign tongue. Tristan knew a little Umoya, but whatever they spoke only seemed to have so much inmon with the best known tongue out of the Isles. Inyoni, the older woman with the scars who¡¯dined about the rules earlier, was a great deal chattier in everyone¡¯s shared Antigua. The thief asked casually about the other two Mni she¡¯de with earlier in the day, soon surprised at easily getting an answer he¡¯d figured he would have to finesse out.

    ¡°The boy¡¯s my nephew,¡± Inyoni said. ¡°I¡¯ming along to keep an eye on him.¡±

    ¡°Family is the most important thing,¡± Aines agreed.

    The man in Ruesta colours rolled his eyes at them. This one was called Recardo, and though he was not asrge as the Azn legbreaker it was a close thing. Closely shaved, he had the kind of well-proportioned face that Tristan knew was considered handsome. He was also, to put it in a single word, a shit.

    ¡°Women¡¯s talk,¡± Recardo mocked before pushing a copper on a bet below four.

    Aines bet two buttons on above nine, solid odds she had somehow already lost thrice on.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need for rudeness,¡± Cozme drawled, pushing his own bet on eight precise.

    He liked to look like a good man, Cozme Aflor. Tristan had been young but he remembered that much. The others on the List had been demanding, often rude, but Cozme had always been kind with his father. Told him with a smile that it would be over soon, that he just needed to get through it. He¡¯d still had that same smile on his face when pulling the trigger. The thief¡¯s gaze must have lingered, for the bearded man nced at him curiously. There was not a speck of recognition on the Cozme¡¯s face, not that he had expected one. He¡¯d been but a child when theyst met. Tristan smiled, burying his hatred deep.

    ¡°What is it like, working for infanzones?¡± the thief asked, feigning fascination.

    Cozme did not hide his smugness.

    ¡°Exhausting, but rewarding in its own way,¡± he imed. ¡°Though in truth I serve not the brothers but one of their uncles, so they must listen to me in all things.¡±

    Tristan doubted that very much but nodded as if admiring. Recardo, who¡¯d been listening to them,ughed.

    ¡°The perks are shit when working for the Cerdan,¡± the big man said. ¡°Now me? I get to look over Lady Isabel and her pretty little maids, there¡¯s a real prize.¡±

    It was not the first time tonight he mentioned the maids, which he seemed to beying im on to an entirely disinterested audience. The huntsman Sanale eyed the other man, then muttered something to the other Mni. Tristan smothered a smile when he recognized the words in Umoya, which tranted to something like ¡®crow-meat¡¯. A grinning Inyoni rolled the dice, a three and five. Aines cursed disbelievingly, Cozme smirking as he imed the pot. Recardo looked none to pleased at having lost, his coppers thinning.

    ¡°We ought to get the valet in there,¡± the big man said. ¡°Go get him, Cozme.¡±

    ¡°Gascon attending to the brothers is why I can sit here in peace,¡± the bearded man replied, shaking his head. ¡°Besides, he¡¯s not as bad with money as you think.¡±

    And like that Tristan had what he wanted: names and faces for all six attendants. Recardo seemed like the kind of man that would be easy to get talking when plied with liquor and ttery, but entirely too unreliable to be used. Neither Sanale nor Cozme could be his key either. The Mni was quiet and distant while Tristan was not sure how well he¡¯d be able to hide his hatred if he spent too long around the other man. That left the personal servants. Since the Cerdan valet was even now polishing the boots of the brothers, Tristan¡¯s gaze moved to the Ruesta handmaids. It¡¯d have to be one of them.

    Now he just needed to get rid of onest problem.

    ¡°Four radizes on below five,¡± Fortuna demanded in his ear, draped over his shoulder. ¡°This one¡¯s a win, I can feel it in my bones.¡±

    Tristan grimaced. He could not risk even a whisper, not so close to so many people. Irksome when he was itching to point that she did not, in fact, <em>have </em>bones.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Fortuna insisted. ¡°When have I ever steered you wrong?¡±

    Every single time he¡¯d gambled, he silently replied. He put two coppers on six exact instead.

    ¡°Wait, no, you¡¯re right,¡± she muttered. ¡°This is better. All in, Tristan. Bet everything.¡±

    Fortuna, as befitting of the Lady of Long Odds, only had two stratagems in games of chance: doubling down or going all in. He ignored her, which proved warranted when a momentter two fives were rolled and he lost his coppers. He then used the loss as a pretext for retreat, forcing himself to ignore Fortuna¡¯s indignant howling.

    ¡°We had them, Tristan,¡± the goddess bellowed. ¡°Our luck was turning around, I¡¯m sure of it. We just needed to keep at it a little longer.¡±

    Abu had taught him that gods always craved something. It was in their nature: they were aether given face through mankind¡¯s touch, leaving them with hungers that they could only satisfy through men. It was what gods got from contracts, a way to sate those hungers, and the same reason that if he listened to Fortuna he would bet on bad dice until he was destitute. It was that one in a hundred thousand victory she craved, the Long Oddse true. To her losing a thousand times for that single unlikely win would be nothing more than suffering through overcooked greens to get at a juicy side of pork.

    ¡°We¡¯ll try againter,¡± Tristan murmured, pretending to be brushing his knee so he could hide his mouth.

    ¡°You always say that,¡± Fortuna pouted, ¡°but then we never do.¡±

    She was pouting, so the storm had passed. She¡¯d stay snippy about it for a bit then before the turn of the hour entirely forget. With that seen to, he turned his attention back to the handmaids. Both were near their mistress, who was ying at court with the other nobles and ignoring them so long as she did not need anything fetched. One, a short dark-haired woman whose name he had learned was Beatris, was finishing up mending a coat with needle and thread. The other, a redhead whose name was Briceida ¨C information obtained through Recardo¡¯s boasting he would get her in bed ¨C was paging through a book with a bored look. Tristan got closer but not enough to earn more than an indifferent nce from either, waiting for an opportunity.

    It came when Beatris began to put away her needle in a neat box, a sight he answered by immediately borrowing luck.

    The ticking began in the back of his mind, a clock¡¯s moving gears, and a heartbeatter the box slipped through the maid¡¯s hands. Needles and threads spilled all over the floor, the woman letting out a horrified gasp, and even as he rose to help her Tristan released the luck he¡¯d borrowed. Fortune snapped back, lightly so for the lightness of what he¡¯d taken, but it returned with unerring aim. A wooden bobbin rolled under his foot and he slipped with a started yelp, falling forward. Tristannded on his knees, only a hand keeping his face off the bottom of the hold, and did his best to ignore Fortuna¡¯s hystericalughter.

    ¡°Sweet Manes, are you alright?¡±

    Sighing, the thief looked up at Beatris¡¯ face ¨C she was trying to hide her amusement but failing ¨C and dragged himself back up.

    ¡°Nothing was wounded save my pride,¡± he wryly replied. ¡°Would you like a hand?¡±

    ¡°That is kind of you to offer,¡± the maid said, sounding surprised. ¡°It would be appreciated.¡±

    The threads had rolled away in every direction and needles were hard to pick out in the gloom of the hold, so it was genuine work to get them back. The other maid ignored them as they scuttled about, at first, until finally she closed her book with a loud sigh and got up. Brushing back red curls, she bent and picked up a single bobbin of blue thread as Beatris was reaching out for it. It was dropped into the box almost contemptuously before Briceida turned a sneer on the both of them.

    ¡°Careful the vagrant doesn¡¯t pocket some of Lady Isabel¡¯s things, Beatris,¡± the redhead said, then her lips quirked cruelly. ¡°Though maybe he¡¯ll cut you in so you can finally afford a decent dress.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take responsibility if there is a mishap, Briceida,¡± Beatris curtly replied.

    ¡°Drop things less, then,¡± Briceida advised. ¡°Your breeding is showing.¡±

    And on that parting shot she flounced away, leaving dark-haired Beatris struggling not look furious. It passed after a moment and the maid turned an apologetic look on the thief.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said.

    ¡°What for?¡± Tristan snorted. ¡°She seems a horrid bitch.¡±

    A gamble, but he liked his odds. Beatris¡¯ mouth closed but she was not quite able to silence theugh startling its way out of her throat. Under Tristan¡¯s smiling gaze the maid convulsed a few times, then erupted into giggles.

    ¡°She really is,¡± Beatris admitted. ¡°You¡¯d think she were a king¡¯s daughter instead of a drapier¡¯s.¡±

    <em>Ah</em>, Tristan thought. So it was like that. Drapiers were wealthy men and the pressing reason one¡¯s daughter would be serving as handmaid to ady was so she might use that foothold in noble circles to marry up. Meaning Briceida was a maid only until she found better, while Beatris would be a servant for life. Their status ¨C and treatment ¨C would be starkly different. Good for him, though. An enemy, especially amon one, would make it easier to forge ties.

    ¡°My sympathies,¡± the thief told her, finding he meant it.

    The dark-eyed maid looked up at him for a moment, then hummed. Bringing her hand to the side of her dress as if to straighten it, she discreetly curled her fore and middle fingers. The thief hid his surprise at the sight of the Mark of the Rat being made, pretending to scratch at his sideburns while returning it. Beatris smiled.

    ¡°Had a feeling you might be,¡± she said.

    ¡°Born in Feria,¡± he told her.

    Feria District was of the nicer parts of the Murk. He¡¯d not stayed there ¨C without his father, there had been no affording the rent set by the Cerdan ¨C but telling Beatris he¡¯d cut his teeth in rougher ces like Araturo and Cayerar would do him no favours. The dark-haired maid¡¯s smiled grew more genuine.

    ¡°I am as well,¡± she told him. ¡°The north end, near Araturo.¡±

    ¡°East for me, around Weeper¡¯s avenue,¡± he shared.

    She looked impressed, though she should not have been.

    ¡°Before they prettied it up,¡± he rified.

    Thesest few years the <em>noble</em> House of Cerdan had cleaned up some of the many streets they owned in Feria. Mostly so they could raise the rents, throwing out the old tenants and recing them with wealthier migrants that couldn¡¯t find rooms in the ever-overcrowded Quays. A lucrative racket, by all reports.

    ¡°Figures,¡± Beatris drily said, eyeing him up and down.

    He grinned back. Tristan was cleaner than most, for a dirty thief would not be allowed into anywhere worth robbing, but he still had filth under his fingernails. He¡¯d not bathed in a few days even if his clothes were clean. Not so for the maid, who even smelled faintly of lc. Before he could tease her about that, an interruption bowled them over. Lady Isabel Ruesta was barely taller than Beatris and just as dark-haired, but she was hard to mistake for the other. The infanzon had an indolence about her particr to those that¡¯d never done a day¡¯s work in their life.

    ¡°It was lovely of you to help Beatris,¡± the Ruesta told him, smiling andying a hand on his wrist. ¡°May I have your name, sir?¡±

    It was an effort not to allow distaste to show on his face.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± the thief smiled back. ¡°It is my honour to meet you, Lady Ruesta.¡±

    The infanzon tittered.

    ¡°Call me Lady Isabel,¡± she insisted. ¡°It is the least I can do for someone who so gantly helped my maid.¡±

    She shot Beatris a look of condescending fondness.

    ¡°She is not usually so clumsy, I swear to you.¡±

    Beatris bent her head before her mistress, murmuring apologies that were airily dismissed. Practice kept Tristan¡¯s smile from growing visibly stiff.

    ¡°It must be the ship,¡± the thief said. ¡°Journeys have their difficulties.¡±

    The noble brat nodded.

    ¡°Too true,¡± she said, smile brightening. ¡°Yet they are so very exciting!¡±

    She patted his arm again.

    ¡°I do hope to see more of you, Tristan,¡± the Ruesta said. ¡°We shall talk again.¡±

    She flounced off as suddenly as she had flounced in, returning to her nest of nobles. The grey-eyed thief waited until she was settled to turn to Beatris and roll his eyes.

    ¡°Would it be rude,¡± he said, ¡°to offer my sympathies twice?¡±

    The dark-haired maid blinked, then turned an intense gaze on him.

    ¡°No,¡± she slowly said. ¡°But you mean-¡±

    Beatris hesitated.

    ¡°Did you not find her charming?¡±

    ¡°The opposite,¡± Tristan frankly replied.

    Beatris¡¯ face twisted in surprise, to his own. She bit her lip.

    ¡°Forgive me for the indiscretion,¡± the maid said. ¡°But are you perhaps¡­¡±

    She gestured vaguely, but the meaning itself was clear enough. It was not particrly polite to ask strangers if they were homosexual, however, so he cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Why would that matter?¡±

    Beatris bit her lip again, then leaned closer.

    ¡°She has a contract,¡± the dark-eyed maid whispered. ¡°I don¡¯t know the terms, but it seems to charm people ¨C only those that are attracted to her, though, at least I think.¡±

    The thief felt sick at the realization that the fucking infanzon had been turning a contract on him the entire time she was pretending to y nice, jaw clenching. It couldn¡¯t give her too much control over others, he knew, else she would be in breach of the Iscariot ords and the Watch would have purged the entire Ruesta family. Yet the thought that she had been seeking to influence his mind was still nauseating. He hid his anger, lest someone notice it, but there had been no avoiding the maid¡¯s eyes. It¡¯d be safer to concede an answer to keep her on side, he decided.

    ¡°I do not deal in attraction,¡± Tristan told her. ¡°Not physical, at least.¡±

    ¡°Asexual?¡± Beatris asked.

    He shrugged. The thief had never much cared to put a name to his inclinations ¨C orck thereof ¨C but he supposed it fit well enough. He¡¯d caught feelings once or twice over the years, but it had not changed his distaste for sex. For all that he¡¯d remained vague, Beatris significantly warmed to him after. Was she truly so desperate forpany that would not be charmed by her despicable mistress? It must be so, for as the two of them sat near the nobles¡¯ travelling trunks the dark-haired woman gossiped away at him with great eagerness. Tristan swallowed a smile of triumph when the talk turned to the infanzones.

    ¡°She¡¯s been stringing along the Cerdan brothers for about a year now,¡± Beatris noted. ¡°Making them fight for her attention, knowing they want her hand in marriage to settle their inheritance dispute.¡±

    ¡°The brothers are at odds?¡± Tristan casually asked.

    ¡°Hate each other, more like,¡± Beatris snorted. ¡°The only reason they¡¯re taking the trials is to chase Lady Isabel. If it weren¡¯t for Cozme Afloring along to keep them in line, I¡¯d be worried about them trying to bump each other off.¡±

    ¡°He was boasting about them having to listen to him earlier,¡± the thief shared.

    ¡°He¡¯s full of shit,¡± the maid replied. ¡°I talked with the maids of a Cerdan cousin when Lady Isabelst called on Lord Augusto and they told me word in the house is that he¡¯s being sent as punishment. He used to be in high favour but botched some kind of affair with House Ragoza.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s here to make sure they bothe back,¡± Tristan surmised.

    ¡°The poor bastard,¡± Beatris agreed. ¡°It¡¯s cruel to y with them so, but I can understand why thedy doesn¡¯t want to marry them. Remund was a real bastard even before he got his contract, but the talk since he got it is worse.¡±

    He cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°Apparently he trains using it on servants,¡± she murmured. ¡°Some sort of light he can make shackles with, but it burns the skin. One showed me marks.¡±

    How was it, Tristan wondered, that even knowing they were monstrous he was still angered at hearing of the petty cruelty of Cerdans?

    ¡°And the elder brother¡¯s as bad?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I still have family in Feria,¡± Beatris said, ¡°and they passed on rumours. He was ced in charge of the Cerdan properties there a few years back, rents and such, and he¡¯s got a¡­ reputation.¡±

    The implication there was an ugly one. Tristan wished it was the first time he had heard it spoken, or that it had even the slightest chance of being thest.

    ¡°How bad?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s said he doesn¡¯t force the girls into bed,¡± the maid admitted. ¡°But he¡¯ll hold off on collecting a debt or a rent if he¡¯s keptpany.¡±

    Keptpany. What a gentle way to put it. They were both children of the Murk, so they knew well that in life some choices were not really choices at all.

    ¡°Pieces of work,¡± Tristan said, the hatred is in voice old and lovingly tended to. ¡°I¡¯m almost rooting for Ruesta to make them bare knives.¡±

    ¡°She won¡¯t,¡± Beatris said, shaking her head. ¡°For the same reason I know she won¡¯t marry either: she¡¯s keeping her reputation pristine so she can get the husband she does wants. An older cousin on her mother¡¯s side, from a branch of the Livares.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s brow rose. The House of Livares was one of the founding families of Sacramonte. Isabel Ruesta did notck for ambition, to seek marriage into even one of the lesser branches.

    ¡°She¡¯ll need more than contract to win that,¡± he opined.

    Beatris nodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s why she decided to take the trials,¡± the maid said. ¡°The cousin is taking them as well, gone over on the first ship. She¡¯ll be pursuing him throughout the whole mess.¡±

    ¡°While ying with the Cerdans the whole time,¡± Tristan muttered. ¡°<em>Infanzones</em>. Like it won¡¯t be dangerous enough already.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll pick up a few others to toy with,¡± Beatris predicted. ¡°Already she¡¯s sunk her hooks into that poor Mni girl.¡±

    ¡°The one with the saber?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the one. Some kind of fallen noble from the Isles, I think,¡± the maid shrugged. ¡°Already smitten and getting used to prick the brothers.¡±

    ¡°At least she looks like she can handle a de,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Another sword arm can¡¯t hurt on the Dominion of Lost Things.¡±

    ¡°I suppose,¡± she doubtfully replied.

    ¡°Though I expect you¡¯d be safer than most without,¡± the thief said, tone carefully idle. ¡°I¡¯d be surprised if the infanzones hadn¡¯t made a pact to share their soldiers.¡±

    He hoped not, for it wouldplicate getting at Cozme and the Cerdans, but that was not the way of the world. Nobles always closed rank, hid each other¡¯s vileness.

    ¡°All but Lady Vizur,¡± Beatris absent-mindedly confirmed. ¡°She¡¯s been putting off answering. But safety is a¡­ rtive thing.¡±

    The dark-haired maid turned an anxious but hopeful look on him. Tristan had been asked enough favours by the more desperate than he to recognize when someone was about to do it.

    ¡°I saw you dicing earlier,¡± Beatris said. ¡°Did you perhaps chat with a man named Recardo?¡±

    Therge Ruesta soldier, Tristan thought. The same who¡¯d been warning everyone off Lady Isabel¡¯s two maids, since he had a ¡®im¡¯ on them.

    ¡°You came up,¡± the thief said, not beating around the bush. ¡°He seemed very certain his advances would be epted.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m worried,¡± the dark-eyed maid quietly said, ¡°that he¡¯s certain because he won¡¯t care if I am epting.¡±

    Tristan stilled.

    ¡°You are ady¡¯s handmaid,¡± he slowly said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a drapier¡¯s daughter, Tristan,¡± Beatris tiredly replied. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t dare on Ruesta grounds, but out here? I¡¯m just some girl plucked out of the Murk because I resembled Lady Isabel when we were children. So long as he does it out of sight¡­¡±

    She must have been body double as well as a handmaid, he thought. Only now Beatris was shorter and broader than Isabel Ruesta, so her value had taken a sharp dive: the two resembled each other no more than any other pair of dark-haired women close in age.

    ¡°So you¡¯re looking to make friends,¡± he said.

    ¡°I can be useful to you too,¡± Beatris firmly retorted. ¡°I already proved it with all the things I¡¯ve been telling you, haven¡¯t I? Besides, I¡¯m a way for you to get in with their group and that¡¯s exactly why you¡¯ve been sniffing around.¡±

    He eyed the maid, a smile tugging at his lips unbidden.

    ¡°A proper rat you are,¡± Tristan praised. ¡°Name your terms.¡±

    She straightened her back.

    ¡°Keep an eye out for me when he¡¯s prowling,¡± the maid said. ¡°If I¡¯m sent out alone, make an excuse to follow. I don¡¯t expect you to win a fight against a soldier, but if you just dy him long enough I can run¡­¡±

    Then she could get back to the others and make a ruckus. Lady Isabel would have to act if confronted with such a situation, else she would lose all honour and her reputation would be ruined. Who would serve a noble that did not protect her own handmaids? Still, more likely Beatris was betting on Recardo not being willing to take the risk of trying anything if there was a witness given the consequences of getting caught. A practical solution. Only he needed a little more from her.

    ¡°I¡¯ve made another friend,¡± Tristan said. ¡°A former soldier. I want him to be invited as well.¡±

    The maid hesitated.

    ¡°It¡¯s to your advantage as well,¡± he pressed. ¡°Two of us watching out for you, one more pair of hands if Recardo tries his luck - and a pair trained in fighting at that.¡±

    The promise of someone that might be able to handle therge Ruesta soldier in a fight was what tipped the decision, Tristan decided as he watched her. The dark-haired maid nodded, first with hesitation but then briskly the second time.

    ¡°They¡¯ll start looking around for people to grow their numbers tomorrow,¡± Beatris said. ¡°I attended to Lady Isabel this morning while they discussed it. I¡¯ll make sure you and your friend get in.¡±

    ¡°Then we have a bargain,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°On my oath, may a hundred gods bite me should I break it.¡±

    Beatris returned the promise in kind. It was said that in ancient times the great sages of Liergan had known how to make such oaths binding, but even if the tale was true the words had long outlived the learning. Now it was simple ceremony. Before they parted ways, Tristan lightlyid a hand on her arm to stop her.

    ¡°I have a wonder,¡± he said.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°If a great misfortune was to strike Recardo,¡± Tristan asked with the softness of a feather, ¡°would you then also consider our bargain upheld?¡±

    Beatris breathed in sharply, dark eyes searching his face. She hesitated for a long moment, only for her back to straighten again.

    ¡°The hungry bite, the beggared snatch,¡± she softly quoted back.

    <em>The cornered fight</em>, Tristan finished. So went the Law of Rats, and though they might have left the Murk the Murk had not left them. She did not need to speak the word for him to hear the agreement. Nodding his understanding, he bade her a silent farewell. Closing his eyes as he listened to her footsteps moving away, Tristan made himself go over the conversation again. He had made no obvious mistakes or betrayed his interest in seeing half the infanzones aboard dead, he decided. A victory then, however uneasy it made him. He would have to ponder a way to get rid of Recardo if the opportunity came.

    The pact between the nobles to share their soldiers meant killing the man would be useful anyhow.

    Now he only needed to sell the bargain he¡¯d struck to Yong, on whose behalf he had also bargained, but he did not anticipate conflict there. The soldier had inly told him he sought only to get to the third trial, nothing else mattering to him. Using the infanzones for safety, at least for a time, would be a boon. The Tianxi wasying slumped in a corner and reeking of booze when Tristan found him, but his eyes were open and he was studying they of the hold.

    ¡°Alliances are forming,¡± Yong said, tone slurring. ¡°Look.¡±

    The thief sat before following the pointed finger, wrinkling his nose as the smell of liquor. His ally, however drunk, was correct. Groups were forming. The first around that disturbingly perfect-looking Azn that came rmended. Therge legbreaker from the Menor Mano was sitting with him, as was the pair from Asphodel: both the young noble with e and the gaunt exhausted man Tristan had been warned about. Leander Gtas, here on rmendation by the Navigator¡¯s Guild and might hold knowledge of Signs. The twins were eyeing them up as well, visibly considering tying themselves to that crew even as they spoke with the Azn woman he knew nothing about.

    On the opposite end of the hold another alliance wasing together, looking a lot more convivial. The two younger Mni that Inyoni was keeping an eye one were chatting with the pair of Ramayans that¡¯d alsoe together, the lot of them all close in age and well-dressed. Inyoni¡¯s nephew looked nervous, always looking around as if expecting to be jumped, but all four were armed and even the chubby-cheeked Ramayan boy looked like he knew how to handle his pistol. With a veteran like Inyoni behind them, they would be a crew to reckon with. <em>Three forces</em>, Tristan mused. The infanzones and their attendants, Tupoc Xical with his recruits and this band of five.

    The rest, he suspected, would be leftovers. The oldest two on the boat were seated close but not talking and no one had approached them. Meanwhile the married couple was arguing in a low voice and Marz¡­ where was Marz? Probably hiding in some corner. Looking for Brun, Tristan was unsurprised to see the man Fortuna had warned him aboutnding on his feet. He was chatting with a ttered-looking Briceida, not a trace of sneer on the redhead maid¡¯s face. That left only the Raseni whose name he had never learned and the well-armed Tianxi rmended by the Rookery, the two of them talking when he nced their way.

    A conversation soon ended, though, and they went different ways.

    ¡°Did you get anything out of the maid?¡± Yong asked.

    ¡°A bargain,¡± Tristan murmured. ¡°We watch her back against the Ruesta guard and she gets us in with the infanzones.¡±

    The Tianxi solider let out a whistle that was a little too loud, drawing eyes to them. Tristan pushed down a squirm of difort.

    ¡°Good work,¡± Yong praised. ¡°I was thinking we¡¯d have to work our way in with Tupoc¡¯s crew but the nobles are a better horse to ride.¡±

    ¡°He approached you?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°Came around,¡± the drunk said. ¡°But he¡¯s gathering killers and I don¡¯t want to be one of them unless I know why.¡±

    The thief grunted in agreement.

    ¡°He¡¯s not the only one that got curious,¡± Yong continued. ¡°The Raseni¡¯s been keeping an eye on you all afternoon.¡±

    Tristan forced himself not to look at her and give the game away.

    ¡°She speak to anyone so far?¡±

    ¡°That Tianxi girl that walks like she¡¯s done Republic drills,¡± the soldier began to list. ¡°Brun, that terrified girl you rubbed elbows with. Oh, and the Ramayan gunslinger - but only before the pair started cozying up with the Mni.¡±

    Looking for allies? If so, she was not doing well. The thief nced her way and found she was standing alone. It was hard to tell anything about her, given the way Raseni dressed whenever the left their city-state. The woman wore a grey dress that went down to knee-high boots, embroidered leather gloves andyered grey veils that reached halfway down her torso and were kept in ce by a painted wooden circle atop her head. The only opening was for the eyes, a dull copper mask carefully worn there to keep everything covered except the eyeholes.

    It was said the folk of Rasen thought their ind the only untaintednd in all of Vesper, hiding their bodies outside it so they would not lead evil back to their home. All Tristan could tell about the Raseni was that she was about of height with him, tall for a woman, and that those gloves and boots were worn from use. The boots in particr were ¨C the thief stilled.

    ¡°Yong,¡± he murmured. ¡°Look at the Raseni¡¯s boots.¡±

    ¡°They do lookfortable,¡± the Tianxi agreeably replied

    ¡°What colour would you say the stitches are?¡±

    The soldier shot him a strange look.

    ¡°Dark blue?¡± he finally said, shrugging.

    So they were. Tristan had not met many Raseni, but back when he¡¯d run messages for a Roja frontman near the docks he¡¯d learned a few things about them. Like the way they never wore anything blue below the belt, since it drew the attention of evil gods. There was no way a Raseni religious enough to observe full veiling would not know that. <em>Which means I¡¯m not looking at a Raseni</em>. Hitching himself up, the thief brushed his trousers clean before walking away from a baffled Yong. Unhurried, Tristan crossed the hold until he reached the false Raseni and leaned against the wall to her left.

    ¡°I do not believe,¡± the stranger said, ¡°that we have been introduced.¡±

    No ent. Her Antigua had that cadence to itmon to those who¡¯d learned thenguagete, but nothing about the way she spoke hinted about where she was from. It was, he mused, an aggressively unented way of speaking and so almost certainly practiced. He didn¡¯t immediately reply, instead leaning his head back against the wall. When he finally spoke, his tone was barely above a whisper.

    ¡°I am trying to think,¡± the thief said, ¡°of a reason for why you¡¯d pick Rasen of all ces as way to hide your identity. I can¡¯t seem to find one.¡±

    He looked up at the ceiling, the y of shadows lined by thentern lights.

    ¡°In Old Saraya masks are worn by certain trades,¡± he said, ¡°and surely hair dye would have been easier than going around in a full Raseni veiling if you only sought to hide your identity.¡±

    ¡°Are you using me of something?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wearing blue under the belt,¡± Tristan inly said. ¡°Raseni do not.¡±

    ¡°Not unless we have been exiled,¡± she replied.

    A tense moment passed.

    ¡°Did you think I¡¯d buy that?¡± he curiously asked.

    A sigh, then she shuffled on her feet.

    ¡°I should have sprung for the boots without stitches,¡± she muttered.

    He hummed. Her eyes were blue, he glimpsed through the slits of the copper mask.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to introduce yourself?¡± she asked.

    ¡°You¡¯ve kept an eye on me all day,¡± the thief said. ¡°You already know my name.¡±

    A guess, but one he liked his odds on. She did not deny it.

    ¡°So the Tianxi¡¯s your ally,¡± the stranger said. ¡°Thought as much.¡±

    ¡°You had to be looking close to notice that,¡± he said. ¡°What is it you¡¯ve been looking at us for?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t decided yet,¡± she lightly replied. ¡°Besides, that¡¯s ahead of us. Here and now I would like to offer you a deal.¡±

    He cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°Your silence,¡± the veiled woman offered, ¡°for knowledge that might save your life.¡±

    Tristan eyed her searchingly but there was no face to read, only dull copper and cloth. It might end up useful leverage to out her as an impostor, he considered, but it was not certain. Most here did not have a reason to care. Better to get something certain than hold on to something he might never use. And if she told him something useless? Then he would still have learned something, only about her.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± he replied.

    ¡°The noblewoman picked up by the infanzones,¡± the stranger said, ¡°has ten silver lines tattooed on her left arm.¡±

    ¡°So she¡¯s a Mni swordmistress,¡± Tristan frowned.

    They were dangerous folk, he¡¯d heard, feared even by the bloodthirsty champions of Azn warrior societies.

    ¡°No,¡± the woman said. ¡°It¡¯s on the wrong arm, in the wrong colour. She¡¯s a Pereduri mirror-dancer.¡±

    Wasn¡¯t Peredur part of the Kingdom of Mn? One of the inds.

    ¡°There¡¯s a difference, I take it,¡± the thief said.

    ¡°Swordmasters gain their lines in honour duels. Bloody fights, but deaths aren¡¯tmon. On the High Isle, to win a line you¡¯re taken to the shore on a specific day of the year.¡±

    ¡°To duel?¡±

    ¡°In a manner of speaking,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s a kind of lemur there called grey mirrors. They prey on lone travellers and fishermen, taking their form and then eating the body to gain some of its memories.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s disbelieving gaze, against his will, went to the noblewoman they were talking about. Blissfully unaware of the attention, she was telling a story to the Vizur.

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    ¡°They wait until the mirror takes the form of the one trying for the line,¡± the stranger evenly said, ¡°then toss it a sword of its own, for fairness. They win or die, facing themselves year after year.¡±

    If the M- the Pereduri could only take such a trial once a year and she had ten stripes, she must have begun when she was still a child. Ten, eleven? Young.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ever face that woman sword in hand,¡± the stranger warned, ¡°unless you are looking to die.¡±

    That was knowledge well worth a secret kept, and Tristan did not hide his appreciation. He¡¯de out ahead in this bargain, perhaps even a little too much. Best to even the scales, lest he be in the stranger¡¯s debt.

    ¡°The Ruesta girl has a contract that charms others,¡± he murmured. ¡°Though there are restrictions.¡±

    The veiled woman stayed a silent for a moment.

    ¡°That,¡± she finally said, ¡°could be trouble.¡±

    It was obvious enough he did not bother to voice agreement. Besides, he¡¯d got what he came here for and more. It was time to take his leave.

    ¡°Since you have my name,¡± Tristan said, ¡°it would only be fair for me to receive yours.¡±

    She shot him a considering look, as if debating what she would use.

    ¡°Sarai.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been worthwhile, Sarai,¡± he said, inclining his head.

    ¡°So it has,¡± she agreed. ¡°We¡¯ll speak again on the ind.¡±

    Surprisingly, he found himself looking forward to it. He¡¯d barely taken a step away from the veiled woman when he heard a gunshot, body tensing as he went for his knife. He realized a momentter that it hade from the decks above, though he¡¯d not been the only one rmed: there were several others on their feet and just as wary. A secondter another shot sounded, then what had to be a dozen more. They did not stop.

    ¡°We¡¯re under attack,¡± Cozme Aflor shouted. ¡°Arm yourselves!¡±

    Pirates? Surely not, for what kind of a fool would attack a Watch ship when they carried few goods and were certain to be full of soldiers? Even as the travellers of the hold went for their weapons, Tristan¡¯s gaze swept through them again as instinct had him counting the heads. <em>Shit</em>, the thief thought. Marz was still missing. The same terrified girl he was certain had been drawing on her contractpulsively sinceing onboard. A sinking feeling in his stomach, Tristan brushed past the pair of Ramayans and climbed atop one of the crates in the back. He heard a man¡¯s voiceughing, asking if he was going to hide, but he ignored it as he crawled forward.

    The back of the hold was a tightly packed mass of crates, but over one¡¯s edge Tristan saw some sort of cloth peeking out. Cursing again he crawled closer, seeing then it was not cloth at all. It was some sort of webbing, like a spider¡¯s. And behind that crate, nesting among threads of webbing, was horror. What had been Marz barely clung on to human shape, milky blind eyes having grown all over her head while spindly legs ending in ws had ripped their way out of her sides and torso. She held herself in her own arms, the skin webbed together, and when a noise of terrified disgust ripped its way out of Tristan¡¯s throat she suddenly twitched. <em>She¡¯s waking up.</em> Milky eyes swam into focus and the thief threw himself back.

    ¡°SAINT,¡± he shouted. ¡°SAINT IN THE HOLD!¡±

    He didn¡¯t even see what hit him, a keening sound filling his ears as pain exploded across his back and he tumbled through a broken crate. Fuck, his shoulder. Tristan rose out of a spill of seeds just in time to see the Saint scuttling through the hold while half a dozen people fired at it, carelessly pping down the Azn legbreaker when it stood in her way. The god wearing Marz let out a moaning sound when shots tore at its flesh, but it would take more than musket balls to put it down. Not that it seemed inclined to stay at the bottom of the ship: bleeding ck ichor, the monster climbed up the wall to the ceiling and ripped its way clean through the wood.

    ¡°Oh spirits,¡± someone moaned.

    Even as it climbed through the hole, the Saint let out another keening moan before disappearing. A momentter Tristan got a glimpse of what the ckcloaks had been shooting at all this time. Mantics. Of all the bloody things, it was <em>mantics</em>. Leering creatures barely two feet long, dragging themselves on long wed hands as their disturbingly humans faces bared fangs. Only the scavengers were gone wild, spilling down into the hold by the dozens and savagely going for those closest to them. Tristan backed away from the mess, watching as Tupoc Xical calmly finished putting together a spear and harpooned the closestres without batting an eye.

    Violence broke the spell of surprise, the rest of the hold exploding into action. Keeping an eye on the infanzones, Tristan saw that they were already moving towards the upper deck. Looking to the ckcloacks to save their necks, no doubt. But they were leaving fighters behind, only Cozme heading up with them, and the cold ce in the back of his mind saw the opening. The mirror-dancer was sticking close to Isabel Ruesta, and since the infanzones were sharing soldiers that meant¡­ The thief moved towards his medicine cab. While mantics kept slithering down and fighting sounded above, he discreetly grabbed a small vial from the upper rightpartment and felt out the lining of the door.

    There were long needles, just like he¡¯d learned in Alvareno¡¯s Dosages, and he palmed one.

    A look told him that Beatris was on her way up with her mistress and that Yong was fine ¨C though visibly drunk, he was reloading his pistol without fumbling ¨C so there was no need to stick his neck out. Better to wait for his moment, and until then take the opportunity he¡¯d been handed. That crone Celipa had promised to see him beaten if he got into the crates, but now one was open and no one likely to be paying attention if he had a look at what was inside the others. Even as he uncorked the vial he¡¯d taken and dipped the needle in the brown, viscous Spinster¡¯s Milk within he snuck into the back of the hold. The vial was tucked away carefully, as was the needle, and he turned his attention to the mystery.

    He''d been thrown into seeds earlier, but prying open other crates showed him the rest of the goods. At least two full of muskets, powder and swords, another of trinkets, but there was a lot of food. Some was military rations but also dried meats and arge amount of those cheap seeds, the kind that didn¡¯te from re-crops and so ended up used only to feed poor men and darklings. <em>What does the Watch garrison on the ind need with so much food?</em> Something to keep in mind, though he best end this before he was caught. Leaving the cover of the crates, Tristan returned to find the tail end of a fight. Most the travellers had gone up like the infanzones, leaving only a handful behind to hold the stairs as mantics kept slithering in through the hole in the ceiling.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± Inyoni called out. ¡°Hurry, we¡¯re closing the door.¡±

    Clutching his knife tightly, the thief tiptoed around the pack of scavengers being kept at bay by swords and a musket fixed with a bay. The noise caught their attention, and unlike the others he¡¯d not earned their fear by piling up a few corpses: they came at him hard. Waddling forward with deceptive quickness the mantics moved to cut him off as he broke into a run, and though he leapt over the first that tried to bite his leg he was caught after hended. ws ripped into his trousers and he hissed in pain, shing at the creature¡¯s eyes. It howled in pain as he ripped through flesh, releasing him just fast enough he was able to run to the bottom of the stairs before the rest could do more than nip at his heels.

    ¡°See, I told you he was too slippery to die,¡± Inyoni drawled, idly shing away at the mantics.

    It held them back, Tristan saw. It wouldn¡¯t have earlier, when the Saint had been there and they were gone entirely rabid. Now they were capable of fear again.

    ¡°Too slippery to fight, too,¡± Recardo grunted.

    That got him contemptuous look from the remaining two, Inyoni¡¯s nephew and the e-ridden noblewoman from Asphodel. Best to nip that in the bud, he still had a use for a decent reputation.

    ¡°I was looking to see if the Saint left anything behind,¡± he lied. ¡°She looks like a spider, so I was concerned of eggs.¡±

    Ah, and away went the contempt.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Inyoni¡¯s nephew quietly said. ¡°Were there any?¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t find some, but I can¡¯t be sure. I didn¡¯t want to risk touching the webbing,¡± Tristan said, feigning reluctance at the ¡®confession¡¯.

    ¡°That was wise of you,¡± the Asphodel noble reassured him. ¡°Nothinge of a Saint is harmless.¡±

    ¡°We can all pat ourselves on the backter,¡± Recardo cut in. ¡°Let¡¯s close this damn door and bar it shut, we¡¯ve wasted long enough.¡±

    Tristan smoothed away his smile. He¡¯d known the Ruesta soldier would be there. See, every other infanzon would have a sword hand already with them. Cozme for the Cerdan brothers, Sanale for the Vizur and finally the Pereduri for Isabel Ruesta. Recardo was bound to be the one they left behind, and they <em>had </em>to leave someone behind so it wasn¡¯t too obvious they¡¯d abandoned everyone the moment danger arrived. Reputation and honour, yes? So now he only needed to y his part. How fortunate that Recardo was such a prick he hadn¡¯t even had to bait out an insult.

    ¡°They¡¯ll attack when there¡¯s fewer of us,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Like scavengers always do. Thest of us will have a fight on their hands.¡±

    Inyoni nodded, about to speak up when Tristan sniffed. He painted offended pride on his face.

    ¡°Recardo and I can take the role, if he so doubts I can handle a knife,¡± the thief said.

    There was no argument. None of the others would mour for the ce of danger, and Recardo couldn¡¯t even begin to try wiggling out of this without withdrawing his careless insult from earlier. Which the man would not, because he was a prick. And so as the others began to withdraw up the stairs, Tristan palmed the long needle he had put away earlier. To be safe, he waited until the third time the mantics came after them. He half-slipped on the stairs, drawing the scavengers after him eagerly, and even as he scampered back up the stairs in the chaos he pricked therge man in the fat of the leg. Recardo yelped and red down, but Tristan withdrew quick enough it looked like a mantic had been at fault.

    The thief scampered up, the two of them keeping the creatures away as the others disappeared up the stairs one by one. Tristan waited. Spinster¡¯s Milk was an extract from a breed of lemuresmonly known as Caotl¡¯s Spinsters, horse-sized scorpions that¡¯d earned the sobriquet because their venom was not mortal. As if needy spinsters, the beasts instead paralyzed their prey so they could eat them alive bite by bite. So Recardo did not die, as that would have been much too suspicious. Instead he slowed, limbs growing numb, and then made a mistake. When time came to avoid a snap of teeth therge soldier misjudged the length of steps and down Recardo went.

    Tumbling down the stairs and into the pack of hungry mantics, who would conveniently eat the evidence.

    ¡°Hurry,¡± Inyoni hissed into his ear, dragging him by the shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s dead, kid, there¡¯s no helping him.¡±

    The thief made sure to protest once that he could still save his belovedrade Recardo before allowing himself to be talked into abandoning him. He was not an amateur, so he did not smile as the door closed behind him.

    <em>One</em>, Tristan Abrascal counted.

 Chapter 6

    Chapter 6

    Teeth shattered most satisfyingly under her boot, the mantic whimpering as it fled. Angharad added a flourish to her wrist purely for effect, spearing the spirit from behind and nailing it to the deck before setting a fang-strewn boot on its head and ripping her saber clear. She flicked the ichor off the de, eyes scanning the lower deck for enemies. Herrade-in-arms did the same from her left, his own sword slick with ck blood.

    ¡°We¡¯re past the worst of it,¡± Cozme Aflor decided. ¡°The gun ports are closed.¡±

    How the scavengers had managed to get the cannon holes open in the first ce was a mystery, though not one it was her duty to solve. She would settle for dness at the mantics no longer crawling through them like a tide of vermin. Though the fighting was still hard above, where the Saint had fled, it seemed that the lower deck was near swept clean. Thest stragglers from the hold had barricaded the door and now the same ckcloaks that¡¯d stormed the deck to close the ports were gathering around the hole in the floor to take shots with their muskets.

    It wouldn¡¯t be enough to clear the numbers that¡¯d gathered down there, but it would thin the herd.

    ¡°And with few dead,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I must admit to having underestimated watchmen.¡±

    Even seasoned Mni crews would have panicked at the sheer number of spirits that¡¯d climbed the ship, but the men and women of the Watch had responded with calm discipline. They¡¯d formed into squads, put their back to a wall and swept forward with powder and steel.

    ¡°You¡¯re not so bad yourself, Tredegar,¡± the older man grinned.

    With his salt and pepper beard and roguish smile the Cerdan soldier might have set another woman¡¯s heart aflutter but here he was very much barking up the wrong tree. He was a loyal retainer and skilled at arms, however, so Angharad refrained from rolling her eyes. He¡¯d proved a good man by standing in the defence of others and that earned him consideration.

    ¡°My skills have not rusted,¡± she simply replied. ¡°And yours are worthy of praise: we did not let a single one through.¡±

    Through to where was made in by her nce back, where the ship¡¯s arsenal had been turned into a cutter¡¯s room. The Bluebell¡¯s surgeon ¨C Angharad hoped she was no Liergan doctor, for those were known to be deadlier than the gue ¨C was seeing to the wounded, her door guarded by only a pair of ckcloaks. More were unneeded, given the veritable phnx of passengers that¡¯d gathered to take up the duty as well. Near a dozen in all, protecting not only the wounded but also the cowardly: of the infanzones only Lady Ferranda had stayed out the surgeon¡¯s workroom to fight.

    Lady Isabel was to be forgiven, given that she was no trained fighter and capable enough to serve as the surgeon¡¯s assistant besides, but the Cerdan brothers had shamed themselves by hiding. By the asional looks of contempt thrown their way by their shipmates, it had done their reputation no favours. <em>There are no true nobles in Sacramonte</em>, Angharad reminded herself, trying to temper her own scorn. Long gone were the days of the Second Empire, with only the dust of greatness remaining. Besides, she would not let her growing interest in Lady Isabel unfairly sour her opinion of those courting her.

    She was no longer a girl, to think that her every rival must be a sot or a devil.

    ¡°Good work all around,¡± Cozme affably agreed. ¡°Now we just need to settle in and wait for the Watch to clear the upper deck.¡±

    Shouts above punctuated the sentence, followed by musket shots. The fight there had been raging before the first mantic ever set foot in the hold and by the sound of it had yet to abate. Angharad paused at the man¡¯s words, weighing the demands of honour. She was a guest and so owed protection by her hosts, which did not demand she fight on behalf of the Watch. Yet she also owed them a personal debt for the way they had defended her at the docks when the Guardia came to take her, and it would be the height of ingratitude to stay her hand when she could return the courtesy.

    <em>The words exact are a sword, Anga</em>, her father had once told her, <em>so when wielding them you must hold on tight to the spirit of honour lest it slip your grasp.</em> She had never loved her father¡¯s lessons, for they were of men¡¯s things ¨Cndholding and intrigue, squabbles about estate boundaries and cattle drinking rights ¨C but he had been wise in his own way. Softer than Mother, who¡¯d been born harsh and whittled sharp by a life out at sea, but in matters of honour she thought him wisest. Vesper would be a fairer ce if more acted like him and Angharad would not dishonour the grave she¡¯d dug him by betraying his teachings now.

    ¡°If there is a fight to be had, my de will not shy from it,¡± she said, squaring her shoulders. ¡°It has been a pleasure, Master Aflor.¡±

    The older man¡¯s face betrayed nothing of his thoughts as he nodded back politely. He did not offer to apany her, nor had she expected him to. It would have been improper of him, as his life was not his own to risk: he hade here as the retainer of the Cerdan brothers, to put his flesh between peril and their own. Parting ways without further ado, Angharad tightened her grip around her sword and made for the stairs. Half a squad of ckcloaks was already there, the noblewoman¡¯s earlier benefactor ¨C Celipa, the one-armed sailor ¨C leading them. The grizzled officer was in talks with a blond young man and Angharad caught the tail end of it without meaning to.

    ¡°-rave of you, but that thing¡¯ll chew you up,¡± Celipa said. ¡°Best you just stay out of the way. The captain will make his move soon.¡±

    ¡°I am not entirely helpless, tia,¡± the young man replied. ¡°Besides, aid appears in great need.¡±

    ¡°Having a contract doesn¡¯t make you a fucking god, boy,¡± Celipa retorted. ¡°It makes you meat with a fancy trick.¡±

    ¡°Then let hime with me,¡± Angharad cut in as she approached. ¡°I assure you, mydy, I am far helpless.¡±

    The grizzled woman turned on her a gimlet eye.

    ¡°I already told you I¡¯m not a godfuckingdy, girl,¡± Celipa grunted, then sighed. ¡°But I know that stubborn look on your face. Bloody Tredegars.¡±

    She muttered something about ckpowder and ramming under her breath, then red at them half-heartedly before stomping up the stairs. Angharad smoothed away a smile, having been reminded of the old sea dogs her mother liked to keep around. However loud the bark, they were never quite as dour as they liked to pretend. Turning to the man, she looked him up for a weapon ¨C a short hatchet, touched by ichor in a way betraying use ¨C even as she offered her hand.

    ¡°Lady Angharad Tredegar,¡± she introduced herself.

    Introductions were in order if they were to fight side by side.

    ¡°Brun of Sacromonte,¡± the man replied, shaking it.

    He had amon look about him, Angharad thought, but there was a steadiness to his bearing that was calming. His grip was firm, a sign of good character.

    ¡°Hurry up, you two,¡± Celipa called out.

    The man¡¯s lips twitched, a sentiment she fully returned, and they passed the rest of the watchmen to join Celipa and another where they were kneeling near the top of the stairs. It was not, however, a ckcloak that waited there. A long musketid along the line of the floor, the mysterious stranger that¡¯d approached Angharad earlier keeping her silver eyes on the ruckus above. From where she stood Angharad could see little more than the dark sky and the shing lights ofnterns but the woman, Song, was positioned to see it all.

    ¡°She¡¯s taken another two shots and whatever the captain¡¯s doing to the sea seems to be working,¡± Song announced without ever looking away. ¡°She¡¯ll scuttle back up the mast soon so we should run out on my mark.¡±

    ¡°The two of you best listen to her,¡± Celipa turned to say. ¡°It¡¯ll do wonders for your lifespan.¡±

    ¡°You will be joining the fray as well, then?¡± Angharad asked, looking past her.

    Song nodded.

    ¡°We need to put the Saint down as quickly as possible,¡± she said. ¡°The longer she¡¯s about the higher the chances she tears up sails.¡±

    For the daughter of a famous explorer Angharad admittedly knew shamefully little about seafaring, but she knew enough to predict what might happen to a sailing ship bereft of sails.

    ¡°Get ready,¡± Song murmured.

    Angharad tensed, legs coiling.

    ¡°<em>Now</em>.¡±

    The three of them ran out onto the deck, right into Hell¡¯s bastard cousin. A sweep of twenty ckcloaks had holed up in the Bluebell¡¯s forecastle, muskets out and scything through anything that approached, but the remainder of the deck was bloody chaos. Strands of some sort of oily webbing were crisscrossing the length of the floor, some even hanging from the masts, while mantics threw themselves at a squad of ckcloaks with blind fury. They must have been chased out of the aftercastle, which had been ripped apart, and now the corpses of scavengers and sailors were messily strewn across the deck. ckpowder clouds billowed thick as w and de shed half-blind in the shiveringntern light, spirits and men furiously shing at each other.

    ¡°SAINT UP THE MAST!¡±

    Angharad saw no trace of the rampaging spirit they were being warned about, or indeed of much of anything at all. It was like stepping into an angry beehive.

    ¡°Don¡¯t walk on the webbing,¡± Song shouted into the din. ¡°It attracts them.¡±

    ¡°To the forecastle,¡± Angharad shouted back. ¡°We can n from there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the front,¡± Brun volunteered.

    The noblewoman blinked at the courageous offer ¨C there was no telling whaty on the other side of the powder smoke ¨C and before she could answer the man was moving. They could do little but follow, hurrying as much as they could without stepping onto webbing. There were snarls from the side of she ship, a pair of mantic leaping over the railing. Brun¡¯s hatchet split one¡¯s head open before it could even bring up its ws, the butt of Song¡¯s musket catching the other in the nk and smashing it down onto the deck. The Tianxi reached for the sword at her side but Angharad move quicker. A calm thrust through the dazed spirit¡¯s soft skull finished it.

    ¡°We need to keep moving,¡± Song said, but not before offering a nod of thanks.

    They¡¯d caught the attention of the musketmen on the forecastle, enough that when they emerged from a choking cloud of powder a few shots were sent their way to clear their path. Angharad cursed as ws ripped at the back of her boots and scratched her heel, kicking at the spirit¡¯s face until its eyes popped wetly. A pair of ckcloaks even came their way swords in hand, a gaunt man she recalled having seen in the hold apanying them, and the three cleared their way through a pack of snapping mantics to join them.

    ¡°<em>No</em>,¡± Song suddenly shouted. ¡°Gtas, your-¡±

    There was an unearthly screech from above as Angharad¡¯s eyes went to the gaunt man, seeing a moment toote what Song had noticed: the edge of his left foot was touching webbing. Half a hundred mantics turned their way in the moment that followed, though it was the whip-fast shape thatnded on the deck that made Angharad¡¯s breath catch in her throat. She¡¯d not had a good look at the Saint before, when it fled up, but now she beheld the full horror in tremblingntern light. A girl¡¯s body with nine burst-out spindly legs, the torso a nightmare of melded flesh and a once-human head now marred by huge wet eyes. Ribs peeked out of her flesh, webbing leaking out of them, and Angharad almost retched at the sight.

    There was a reason the Sleeping God¡¯s diviners taught that spirits and men should never share a single flesh.

    ¡°<em>Run</em>,¡± Song hissed.

    Shots sounded, but too slowly. Before the powder blew the Saint had already impaled one of the ckcloaks and thrown aside the other like a sack of radishes, the fool who¡¯d touched the webbing tripping as he tried to hurry backwards. Two musket shots tore through the Saint¡¯s torso, tearing bloody holes, but she just shook off the ckcloak she¡¯d impaled and casually ripped through the other one¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Salt munitions,¡± a voice called out from the forecastle.

    The re-drenched salt, Angharad knew, was as poison to most spirits. But the spirit was already moving, ready to scuttle back into the smoke and dark to ready for the snatching of more lives, and so she made her decision. Honour had its demands. She grabbed Song¡¯s shoulder before the other woman could run.

    ¡°Get the wounded to the forecastle,¡± she ordered. ¡°Have Brun help.¡±

    ¡°What are you-¡±

    Angharad did not look back, striding out saber in hand. The Saint looked about to finish the ckcloak with the stomach wound, so the Pereduri calmly stepped on the strand of webbing before her. The Saint paused, neck twisting sharply to look back, and Angharad felt her stomach drop. Death, she had courted death, and now it wasing on blood-drenched legs to take her. Her body moved by rote, back straightening as the t of her saber lightly tapped her left shoulder in a duellist¡¯s salute. She glimpsed-

    (The legs tore through her belly, turning to open her up)

    -and stepped lightly to the right, pivoting even as the spirit screeched and shing at its back. Leathery flesh parted under good Pereduri steel, sshing ichor even as the Saintshed out blindly. <em>Left leg</em>, Angharad thought, catching the twitch early. A step back, leaning away, and the pointed tip passed half an inch below her chin. She threw her weight forward, pushing with the back leg, and struck with the strength of her entire body. The saber carved through the leg she¡¯d aimed at, one of the four the Saint was standing on, and the maddened spirit tipped back. A glimpse-

    (Over the shoulder, the tips of the legs going through Angharad¡¯s eyes)

    -and she slid down under the Saint as front legs twisted over the spirit¡¯s shoulders, nailing the deck where she¡¯d just stood. Landing in a crouch, she left a shallow cut on the spirit¡¯s chest as she rose. From the corner of her eye she caught the twitch a moment before the Saint moved, pivoting to sweep from the right with three legs. Angharad simply stepped out of the swing, air whipping about her face, and she felt the dread drip out of her heartbeat by heartbeat. Eight legs left, the Sainting at her relentlessly, and yet there was nothing to fear. She was back home, doing the Reprimand in the fighting yard.

    It was a mad spiriting at her from all angles instead of swinging stones, yet it was just the same. <em>Watch, listen and move. Be as the wave, unhurried yet inexorable.</em> A shot clipped the Saint¡¯s shoulder and the spirit pivoted, but Angharad clicked her tongue and thrust shallowly into the creature¡¯s side. For pain, for attention.

    ¡°Eyes on me,¡± she chided, and the spirit turned back with a skittering shriek.

    A glimpse told her a mantic was toe upon her from behind, but also what would follow. Angharad moved to the side of a puncturing leg, pivoting and shing at the Saint¡¯s back even as the head of the scavengere for her burst into gore: the ckcloaks on the forecastle were covering her back. The Saint bent back, wildly scrabbling forward with half a dozen legs, but the Pereduri took to the left and ducked under ateral blow that would have shattered her ribcage. It was not just aiming poorly, she realized as the spirit struggled to turn while she shed at her back legs, but not aiming <em>at all</em>. Like the stones swinging at the end of ropes that she had trained with back home, the trajectory of the Saint¡¯s blows did not change after they began. <em>She¡¯s faster than her own senses can follow.</em>

    That made her predictable, Angharad thought with a wolfish smile, and she knew how to punish predictable.

    Left, blindingly and blinded quick, the point ripping into the wood as Angharad stepped back. Right, as the twitch had told her, but a spirit that could not even control its own strength could hardly control the distance: the Pereduri dove forward, letting the Saint¡¯s swing offer up two of the legs jutting out of her chest cleanly. With a heave and grunt, Angharad cut through the base of both as the spirit let out a deafening screech. She went wild, legs hacking at the front of her, but Angharad had already slipped to the left. Musket fire lit up the night, tearing smoking holes into the Saint¡¯s back, and the spirit shuddered in pain. <em>Salt shots</em>, Angharad thought.

    The Saint turned towards the forecastle, legs convulsing, and <em>leapt</em>. Only the gaunt man from earlier was there, elbowing watchmen aside as he traced something in the air and the billowing darkness of the Gloam formed into a Sign that merely ncing at had Angharad nauseous. At the apex of her leap, the Saint hit thin air as if it were a solid wall and let out a shrieking moan of surprise as she tumbled back down in a sprawl.

    ¡°FINISH IT!¡± a ckcloak shouted.

    Musket fire bloomed and Angharad sprang towards the downed Saint, ck-slicked de raised high. Others came too, watchmen with pikes and swords as well Brun and a graceful Azn man wielding a spear. They hacked at the spirit¡¯s legs while she iled in pain from the musket fire pouring down from above, Angharad only joining the fray reluctantly. For all that she knew this was no true honour duel, the disparity in numbers still made the business feel disreputable. She thrust into the spirit¡¯s back, dipping away from a iling blow, and as she did noticed that webbing was trailing across the deck in thick rivulets.

    Frowning, Angharad took another step back and realized that the oily trails were connecting with the earlier ones, spreading somehow, and that mantics were flocking to the web.

    ¡°Something¡¯s wrong,¡± the noblewoman called out, ¡°the Saint is-¡±

    Her words were good as drowned out by the musket fire, but even that racket was chased out when the Saint¡¯s death throes bloomed into a sky-piercing shriek. She staggered away from the sound, ears ringing, and watched in horror as the Saint¡¯s wounds began to close and fresh legs burst out from the stumps. All over the ship mantics were melting into the webbing, flesh dissolving. The Saint rose, crushing a pair of ckcloaks with a casual swing as Angharad kicked a scavenger that¡¯d snuck up to her side, but the gaunt man from earlier was back. Cheeks flush with colour he traced that same foul Sign between the spirit and the ckcloaks, only this when the Saint struck there was a <em>crack</em>.

    A scream, then the Sign shattered and Angharad saw the man¡¯s forearm turn into ckened pulp.

    ¡°No,¡± the Pereduri shouted, seeing their victory turn to ash.

    She glimpsed-

    (Sweeping her legs)

    -and leapt above a swing, just in time for the edge of a blow to catch her shoulder and smash her back down in a spinning crash. She saw iting then, too quick for a glimpse to help at all, the two legsing down to nail her belly to the deck. Only there was a musket shot and the very tip of a leg blew as it came down, the stump smacking into the other and nudging it just to the side of Angharad¡¯s ribs. It tore through her freshly mended coat instead, the Pereduri catching sight of a pleased smile under silver eyes before she hurried to rip her way free. Song had saved her life, somehownding that preposterous shot.

    She would not waste the chance she¡¯d been given, the noblewoman swore, and was gritting her teeth to throw herself back into the melee when suddenly a door burst open. The room under the forecastle, Angharad saw, which had been locked and barred all this time. The captain¡¯s quarters. Now it was wide open and a fat, dark-skinned man in a Watch cloak strode out, strands of Gloam following him like eager pups. The Saint struck at the captain but found the same Sign it had twice faced waiting. Only this time it was the spirit¡¯s leg that was pulped when it hit thin air, and the captain calmly began to circle the Saint as he traced the same symbol anew.

    Once, twice, thrice more the Saint broke herself on seemingly nothing until she was caught in a four-sided box.

    ¡°Grenades,¡± the captain ordered.

    Angharad watched as half a dozen watchmen on the forecastle took out, lit and threw the Tianxi metal orbs over the lid of the invisible box the captain ¨C a member of the Guild of Navigators, he <em>had </em>to be ¨C had formed. Secondster, before the Saint could think of trying to climb out, there was a blinding thunder and ichor sprayed all over transparent panes of nothing. The fat captain frowned, then spat to the side as the smoke dispersed and revealed nothing more than twitching shreds of meat.

    ¡°Salt her and box the remains,¡± he called out. ¡°Peiling Society still has that bounty up on iplete Saints.¡±

    Angharad swallowed. Iplete. That spirit had been <em>iplete</em>? Sleeping God, putting down Saints wasn¡¯t even considered the most perilous duty of the Watch. The ckcloaks fanned out from the forecastle in good order, a squad tending to the broken spirit¡¯s remains, and as the noblewoman scanned the deck for dangers she saw that the fight was done. What mantics had not been devoured by the Saint were fleeing hastily, scuttling back into the dark waters. Few of the watchmen bothered to strike at them, and none with muskets. They were saving their powder, Angharad thought. And just like that, with nary a cheer from the victors, the battle was over.

    Most looked punch-drunk at the suddenness of the end, though it did not prevent a few of the younger sailors from crowding her. The dark-skinned noble blinked, taken aback by the excited chatter. She had, it seemed, impressed through her duel with the Saint.

    ¡°It was like nothing I¡¯ve seen before,¡± a boy that could not be older than fourteen said. ¡°They¡¯d be mad not to want you in the Skiritai!¡±

    Angharad was only passingly familiar with the Circles, the seven societies within the Watch where only the most elite watchmen were inducted, but she had heard of the Skiritai Guild. ¡®Militants¡¯, its members were called, or even more bluntly ¡®Swords¡¯. They were the finest warriors of the Watch, which made the boy¡¯s words a weightypliment.

    ¡°I have had fine training, but I im little experience with the horrors of the Old Night,¡± Angharad demurred.

    ¡°You must have a damned impressive contract,¡± a fair-haired woman her age said. ¡°It was like you moved to dodge it before it even struck!¡±

    Angharad¡¯s lip thinned. Inquiring of contracts was impolite, and to the watchwoman¡¯s honour she coughed in embarrassment. There might be a time where the Pereduri would be forced to speak of her contract with the Fisher, but even then she intended to hold back the truth and im her gift was one of quickened reflexes. Lying sat ill with her but she had little choice. Foretelling contracts were strictly forbidden in the Kingdom of Mn, the High Queen¡¯s decree punishing them by death, and one day Angharad must return home to take vengeance. The secret must keep, however dishonourable the keeping of it.

    She was saved from the need to answer by the arrival ofrades-in-arms, the young ckcloaks retreating to give them privacy. Brun of Sacromonte, steady soul that he had proved to be, came to her while wiping his hatchet clean of fresh ichor. He¡¯d not shied from fighting. Song, her long dark hair held in a ited braid, had slung her musket on her back. She was pristine, save for a smudge of grease on her chin. Angharad wasted no time in acknowledging the truth, offering the Tianxi a deep bow.

    ¡°I owe you my life,¡± the Pereduri said. ¡°I am in your debt.¡±

    ¡°And we are all in yours,¡± Song replied, shaking her head. ¡°If you had not held on against the Saint until Captain Sfiso arrived there would be a great many more corpses on the floor.¡±

    Angharad disagreed, for her life had been saved in the specific while she had only helped in the general sense, but she would not make an argument of it. One¡¯s honoury in one¡¯s hands, not the eyes of others. She would remember the debt and repay it regardless of what Song might say.

    ¡°You have my gratitude nheless,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I am only grieved the captain could note sooner.¡±

    She let an unspoken question hang there, which Brun caught easily enough. The Sacromontan smiled.

    ¡°I asked the same,¡± he admitted. ¡°They tell me Captain Sfiso came sote because he was seeing to the rest of the mantics.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°He wove Signs around the ship, a ring of wind that kept more of them from climbing aboard,¡± Song said. ¡°An impressive disy. He must be a member in good standing of the Akrre Guild.¡±

    Though most called that Circle the Navigator¡¯s Guild, its true name was the one Song had used. But its members, known as Navigators, were in some ways the most famous of the Watch so the pance had stuck.

    ¡°He turned the tide as soon as he appeared,¡± Angharad acknowledged. ¡°Watchmen are not to be trifled with.¡±

    Though it would have been proper to continue with some casual talk, the noblewoman made her excuses not long after. She felt exhausted to the bone and her coat was half a ruin. Making her way below she offered Celipa a nod ¨C returned - before heading to the arsenal, where the ship¡¯s cutter was seeing to the worst of the wounded. Near the door Isabel was catching her breath, the leather apron she wore stained with blood from her time assisting the surgeon. The infanzona saw hering and a pleased smile tugged at her lips.

    ¡°I hear you made something of a stir upstairs,¡± Isabel said. ¡°Congrattions are in order.¡±

    ¡°I only did my duty,¡± Angharad said, debating whether or not to y up humility a bit.

    Perhaps not. The dark-haired beauty seemed more taken by boldness than the opposite. A gentle touch on her arm, warm through her sweat-stained shirt, jolted Angharad straight out of her exhaustion.

    ¡°You¡¯ve ruined your coat again,¡± Isabelughed.

    ¡°A casualty of war,¡± she solemnly replied.

    ¡°I will have my maids mend it,¡± Isabel told her, a teasing glint lighting up those lovely green eyes. ¡°Though if you keep making a habit of that, I¡¯ll start wondering if it is all a way to keep me close.¡±

    ¡°Entirely for your protection, of course,¡± Angharad smirked.

    ¡°Protection, hmm?¡± Isabel mused. ¡°Is that what they call it in Peredur?¡±

    Angharad heartbeat quickened. This was the closest either hade to acknowledging her attraction, and that Isabel did not seem put off in the slightest ¨C she¡¯d even brought it up! ¨C seemed promising indeed. She cleared her throat.

    ¡°It is my duty as a peer to teach our customs to all interested,¡± she smoothly replied. ¡°It would be my very great pleasure to offer¡­ lessons.¡±

    Isabel¡¯s lips twitched.

    ¡°I¡¯ll consider it,¡± she airily replied.

    Their moment was interrupted by hoarse scream from the arsenal, Isabel flinching at the loudness.

    ¡°I must return to Doctor Balbir¡¯s side,¡± she said,ying her hand on Angharad¡¯s arm again. ¡°Be well.¡±

    It was an effort not to lean into to the touch, but the noblewoman mastered herself and offered a dignified nod back instead. She watched Isabel disappear past the threshold, feeling giddy as a girl. How long had it been since she¡¯dst been so taken with another? Too long. The unrelenting pursuit of assassins had drained the joy out of her life and it could only be a victory to w some small piece of it back. In too great a vigour for her original intention of finding a corner to sleep in, Angharad instead strode the length of the lower deck. The Cerdan brothers were seated in a corner, pointedly alone save for their valet, but Lady Ferranda was speaking with a pair of Someshwari.

    Angharad joined them for a short chat, exchanging introductions andpliments. The man of the pair, rather rounded in shape andcking in muscle, was called Ishaan and of noble birth. The other, short and shapely, was named Shalini. They hade together.

    ¡°We¡¯ve known each other since were kids,¡± Shalini said, smiling like one to whom smiles came easy and often. ¡°I couldn¡¯t let him wander off into adventure alone.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a much better shot,¡± Ishaan admitted. ¡°There were plenty who had an eye on her talents back home.¡±

    He looked, Angharad thought, a little guilty at that.

    ¡°Serving some dusty old raj as a showpiece champion or going into the Watch with you,¡± Shalini said, rolling her eyes. ¡°What a <em>difficult</em> choice that was, Isha.¡±

    Angharad shared a nce with Lady Ferranda, the two amused by the obvious affection between the pair. Making gentle sport of them would have been a pleasant way to pass the time, but the Pereduri caught sight of two men towering over another across the deck and frowned. Two Azn, one a bear of a man with a broken nose and the other the graceful spear-wielder she¡¯d glimpsed above, were nking a dark-haired man standing by some sort of cab. Were they taking advantage of the Watch¡¯s distraction to break hospitality? Making her excuses with the others, Angharad strode over briskly. All three turned to her.

    ¡°Good evening,¡± the noblewoman tly said. ¡°Does there happen to be some trouble?¡±

    The big man scowled at her.

    ¡°Fuck off, Mni,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re just-¡±

    ¡°Be polite to our friend here, Ocon,¡± the other Azn interrupted. ¡°Good evening, Lady Tredegar.¡±

    ¡°And to you,¡± Angharad reluctantly replied.

    The big man had not liked being interrupted but he did not argue. He stood, Angharad thought, as if he were wary of his youngerpanion.

    ¡°Tupoc Xical,¡± the pale eyed Azn introduced himself, offering a hand. ¡°Formerly of the Leopard Society.¡±

    The noblewoman shook it, manners demanding as much, but her eyes sought out the dark-haired loner. He had the Sacromontan look about him, his scruffy dark hair and tan skin paired with deep grey eyes. He was also rather disheveled and very obviously ofmon birth. He met her gaze with mild curiosity and little else.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± he introduced himself. ¡°A pleasure, mydy.¡±

    ¡°Shared,¡± Angharad replied, more politely than truthfully. ¡°Am I to understand there is no argument between you gentlemen?¡±

    ¡°None at all,¡± Tupoc smiled. ¡°I was only discussing a book with Tristan here. We seem to share an appreciation for Alvareno¡¯s Dosages.¡±

    ¡°Indeed?¡± Angharad pressed, suspicious.

    There was something familiar about the Azn¡¯s polite manner.

    ¡°Master Tupoc was requesting medicine for a friend,¡± Tristan added. ¡°It is my pleasure to help the brave souls that fought above.¡±

    Suspicion lingered but the Sacromontan looked to be speaking honestly. The dark-haired man knelt to open his cab, revealing some sort of intricate medicine box within. Taking out two small vials, one half-full and the other empty, he palmed a fat syringe and began to extract from the full.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need to dilute it with water,¡± he informed Tupoc, ¡°else your friend Leander will fall into stupor. Two measures, preferably.¡±

    The Azn nodded.

    ¡°Leander fought with us earlier,¡± the pale-eyed man told Angharad. ¡°His arm was wounded when his Sign was broken by the Saint.¡±

    Gtas, Angharad deduced, must have been the gaunt man¡¯s surname.

    ¡°Is he not in the doctor¡¯s care?¡± she asked, surprise.

    ¡°The doctor won¡¯t be following us on the ind, Mni,¡± the big man grunted. ¡°Do you think the arm¡¯s going to grow back?¡±

    The Azn was leering at her most unpleasantly but she must admit he had a point.

    ¡°The stump will be tended to and cleaned, but something will be needed for the pain when we journey across the ind,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°You have my thanks, Tristan.¡±

    The grey-eyed man smiled widely and happily. What a kind soul, Angharad thought. He must be a physician¡¯s apprentice to take such joy in helping others. He did have a meticulous air to the way he moved, as if measuring every gesture.

    ¡°The honour is mine, Master Tupoc,¡± the Sacromontan replied, then rose to his feet.

    His clothes, though clean, were shabby. The edge of his shirt was touched with ichor, a sigh he¡¯d not been helpless in the fight.

    ¡°I should go see if the surgeon¡¯s stocks are running low with anything,¡± Tristan said. ¡°With so many wounded it is a distinct possibility.¡±

    ¡°Praiseworthy,¡± Angharad replied, impressed.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Tupoc smilingly agreed.

    The grey-eyed man took his leave, taking his medicine cab with him, and Angharad¡¯s eyes turned to the lingering pair of Azns. As she had suspected, they still had business with her. One of them, anyway. Therge man with the broken nose and the garish tattoos she dismissed, for all the muscle in the world would not change that he held himself with fear of Tupoc Xical. Said man, she realized after taking a longer look, seemed somehow¡­ unnatural. His skin was without a single blemish, his face and limbs perfectly proportioned. It was as if some Tianxi artist had drawn a man rather than anything born of a woman¡¯s womb. Yet it was the eyes that unsettled her most, pale things that they were.

    ¡°I am impressed,¡± Tupoc inly said, ¡°by the way you handled the Saint.¡±

    ¡°I could not have in her without aid,¡± Angharad replied.

    ¡°Neither could most on this ship, ckcloaks or not,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°It does not matter. The fight let me take the measure of you, Lady Tredegar, and I am pleased with what I saw.¡±

    The noblewoman did not smile, did not thank him or answer at all. She recalled, now, why Tupoc¡¯s pleasant demeanor felt familiar. She had known a girl, once, whose father had been a lord of the court at the feet of the High Queen. He had been smiling and polite and the soul of courtesy, the sole instance Angharad met him, yet somehow she had known that his smile would not waver even if he had to order the death of everyone in the room. Tupoc was the same, measuring those around him for usefulness and dismissing those that were not. <em>Cold eyes, cold blood</em>, Angharad thought. She knew a snake when she saw one and Tupoc Xical was only biding his time until the bite.

    ¡°I have been gatheringrades for the trials,¡± the Azn borated, impatient of her silence. ¡°Leander fought in part to prove worthy of thispany, which I intend to be without dead weight. I would be pleased to have you join our number, Lady Tredegar.¡±

    ¡°I thank you,¡± Angharad said, ¡°but I have already foundpanions.¡±

    ¡°The infanzones have already lost one of their sworn swords,¡± Tupoc told her, ¡°and they will find the trials more perilous than they think. I urge you to reconsider.¡±

    Angharad met the man¡¯s pale eyes, face a nk mask. She thought of the sound her de had made, near the docks, when it had opened the redcloak¡¯s throat. Of the wet, dying gurgle that¡¯d hissed out. She held the death close in her mind and then smiled.

    ¡°I thank you,¡± Angharad evenly repeated, ¡°but I have already foundpanions.¡±

    Tupoc drew back half an inch before stopping himself. Pleasantness fell from his face in patches, like cheap cosmetics in sweat, and he gave her a long look.

    ¡°Unfortunate,¡± Tupoc Xical finally said. ¡°I will not make this offer again.¡±

    He inclined his head politely.

    ¡°We will meet again, Lady Tredegar.¡±

    ¡°Of that,¡± Angharad softly replied, ¡°I have no doubt.¡±

    She watched the pair leave, and when exhaustion began to creep back decided that she would have to find somewhere with her back to the wall to sleep. She had a feeling a knife might just sprout there otherwise.

    --

    Thest leg of the trip to the ind of Vieja Perdida, also known as the Dominion of Lost Things, was not restful.

    The Watch crew cleared out thest of the mantics hiding in the hold before summary repairs were made and sails raised again. The Bluebell was limping where it had once run but they were assured by the captain that it would only make a difference of hours and they would not be greatly hampered in their taking of the trials. Angharad shared her misgivings about Tupoc Xical with her fellow nobles and found them taken seriously even by the Cerdan brothers, who had somewhat warmed to her since the fighting. They were not unaware that their reputation had sunk in the aftermath and were taking pains to be polite, though sometimes their unpleasantness still slipped out.

    The infanzones sought out helpers of their own, among which Angharad was pleased to count Tristan. A physician, even a middling one, would be of great help on the ind. She herself did not have much time of her own, as her actions against the Saint had lent her a degree of fame and herpany was in high demand ¨C which seemed to please Isabel, who often sat with her as she entertained other passengers and took a long walk with her on the deck. A watchman approached them at the end of thest, the sailor informing them that they were soon to be in sight of the Dominion.

    ¡°I must see to my affairs, then,¡± Isabel mused. ¡°Angharad?¡±

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± she replied. ¡°I want a look at this ind before we touch the shore.¡±

    ¡°How quickly you leave me,¡± Isabel pouted, but it was nothing but teasing.

    The Pereduri leaned against the railing, her mended coat making the cool wind nothing but pleasant as she settled in to wait. Her solitude was not tost, however, as she was approached by another passenger. Another woman, Azn and no older than twenty. Pretty, Angharad thought, with full lips and dark eyes.

    ¡°You must be the woman of the hour,¡± she smiled, offering her hand. ¡°I am Yaretzi.¡±

    ¡°Lady Angharad Tredegar,¡± she replied, taking it.

    The other woman¡¯s grip was firm and lingering.

    ¡°I could not resist introducing myself, after hearing so much of your valour against the Saint,¡± Yaretzi said.

    The talk that followed was light and pleasant. Angharad had never been one to disdain the admiration of a beautiful woman, especially one whose eyes were appraising her so frankly, but she knew she must cut this short. Setting her cap at another taking the trials was already somewhat foolish, but indulging in a flirtation with a second? That was courting trouble. Besides, what if Isabel saw and misunderstood? No, best cut this short indeed. Angharad was fairly sure, from the way Yaretzi was staying so close and batting her eyes so coquettishly, that she was not misreading friendliness as interest.

    ¡°I am told we are soon to arrive at the Dominion,¡± Angharad slid into a lull of the conversation. ¡°We should see to our affairs before then, I think.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Yaretiz agreed. ¡°We shall talkter, I think.¡±

    The Azn woman smiled rather flirtatiously, offering a slight bow.

    ¡°Should circumstances allow,¡± Angharad mildly replied.

    Her solitude was returned to her just in time, for it was momentster that she first caught sight of the Dominion of Lost Things. The ind was startlingrge, and though its hulking dark shape was touched with but little light ¨C specks that must be the Watch fortress and the docks ¨C she could make out its silhouette. Londs leading up to a handful of slender mountains, thick woods peeking out on the sides. How long would it take to cross from one end to the other? At least a week, she thought. More intriguing were the hard angles she glimpsed jutting out of the ins and peaks, manmade structures. There must have been old ruins. Angharad stayed on the deck, eyes peeled on the ind, until the Bluebell was close enough to signal the docks withntern lights. Her fate awaited her on those shores and she would not fail to meet it.

    --

    The stench was heavy on the wind.

    Before they even docked, before ropes were thrown and the cog secured in that ragged harbour, Angharad knew what it was she was smelling. But she fought it all the way, trying to wrestle the knowledge down so it would disappear in some dark corner and never be seen again. The first thing she saw as she followed the others out onto the docks was the fires. A dozen of them,rge as could be and burning bright. The smoke was thick and cloying, rising in tall columns as ckcloaks fed the mes with logs and charcoal. No one came to greet them as they crept out, the group hesitating for the absence, and the Bluebell¡¯s crew were of no help: they were busy unloading crates and had no time to spare for this sort of business.

    ¡°There should be others here,¡± Augusto Cerdan frowned. ¡°We are the second ship and the smaller one. Has the first wave already gone ahead and begun the trial?¡±

    <em>They have</em>, Angharad thought. <em>Sleeping God, they have.</em> She knew the smell, the memory enough for sweat to trickle down her back as she remembered the screams. The bright bonfire of everything and everyone she loved disappearing into smoke.

    ¡°We must ask,¡± Isabel firmly said.

    Before anyone could protest she peeled ahead, maids trailing in her wake, and approached a bearded old man in a ck cloak who was shovelling coal into a fire. She smiled sweetly at the watchman, curtsying as she gave her greetings. Amused, the ckcloak paused in his work.

    ¡°The captain¡¯ll be here to speak to you in a bit,¡± he said. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry your pretty little heads.¡±

    ¡°That is good to know,¡± Isabel said. ¡°But may I ask where those who came with the first ship have gone?¡±

    The old ckcloakughed, then pointed his shovel at the sprawl of fires.

    ¡°You¡¯re looking at them, girl.¡±

    And Angharad finally looked horror in the eye. Allowed her gaze to stray among the mes where she made out limbs, the twisted shapes of broken and mutted bodies. Faintly she heard the echo of screams long gone silent as the ghost of nw Hall burned on the wind.

    ¡°It¡¯s a bad year,¡± the ckcloak shrugged. ¡°All forty died on the first day.¡±

 Chapter 7

    Chapter 7

    People could be funny about death, Tristan thought.

    Dozens died in Sacromonte¡¯s gutters every day and no one batted an eye, but if you tossed forty bodies on pyres and made people look at them suddenly it was the greatest tragedy in the world. Watching Isabel Ruesta bawling her eyes out the thief held back from rolling his own. Her admirers were already flocking to offer her sweet words of constion, though he noticed they looked shaken too. That was the thing with nobles: they¡¯d lived such pretty lives it never really sunk in that they were always just one mistake away from dying. They thought they were important, that the world should somehow care, but Tristan knew better. Your life only ever really mattered to yourself.

    ¡°I think she might truly be grieving,¡± Fortuna said, peering over his shoulder.

    He snorted.

    ¡°Sure she is,¡± he murmured. ¡°Her chance to marry her rich cousin just went up in smoke.¡±

    Literally. Maybe one of the ckcloaks would be nice enough to help her pick out the right column. Keeping the amusement off his face, he flicked a nce backwards when footsteps creaked on ash-strewn mud. Yong¡¯s ck hair, tousled by warm breeze, was absent-mindedly pressed aside as the older man approached with a grimace.

    ¡°Thought I was done smelling this after leaving Tianxia,¡± Yong said, then spat to the side.

    It was a hellish sight, the thief thought, the burning red glow and thick smoke swirling around them. It was what he thought Pandemonium might look like, that great monstrous city of devils in the far east. All the evils in the world, kept sealed inside Hell¡¯s capital by the arms of the Watch. It had all felt very far away, once, but not so now that he¡¯d left Sacromonte for this strange shore. Shivering despite the heat, the thief spoke to fill the silence.

    ¡°So you¡¯ve been in wars,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°It¡¯s Tianxia, boy,¡± Yong snorted. ¡°There¡¯s always a fucking war on.¡±

    So the word went. The republics making up Tianxia were famous for their squabbles, be they mercantile or military. Only the rough business of driving out the Imperial Someshwar had ever seeded at getting them to set aside their enmities for more than a season.

    ¡°Killed some folk, didn¡¯t get killed back,¡± the Tianxi continued. ¡°As good as career as a soldier gets.¡±

    His hand, Tristan saw, was inching towards the sk of drink in his coat pocket. It stopped when he noticed the thief¡¯s stare.

    ¡°Anyhow,¡± Yong brusquely said, ¡°they¡¯re burning the bodies naked. Means the equipment is still around here somewhere.¡±

    Tristan inclined his head.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±

    He didn¡¯t make promises and the former soldier didn¡¯t ask for any. Neither was fool enough to think getting caught stealing from the Watch would end in anything but summary execution. The show of sorrow wasing to an end, besides, Isabel Ruesta sniffling as her admirers swore she would be safe and her maids wiped her cheeks with soft handkerchiefs. Tristan saw most of the others were still milling about uncertainly, waiting among the ashes of the dead for a wee that had yet to arrive. There were only a few ckcloaks tending to the pyres and they cared little for talk, while no one had quite dared approach those standing near a set of storehouses further up the beach.

    A few enterprising souls shook the surprise before the rest, though. Ju and Lan, who¡¯d failed to secure a ce in Tupoc Xical¡¯s crew despite heavy courting, were looking around for something. Either the rest of the ckcloaks ¨C Tristan counted only a dozen, way too few for an outpost thisrge - or the same potential loot Yong had sniffed out. They earned unfriendly looks from the watchmen standing guard when they tried to casually approach the storehouses, almost making the thief smile. They might have been rats of a finer coat than he, but to the Watch they were rats still. Counting that situation as in hand, he moved out through the smoke.

    In passing he found Tupoc Xical and his little band standing unusually close to a pyre, hiding one of them from sight with their bodies. The Asphodel noble with the e, Acanthe something or other. Tristan watched them carefully, trying to make out what they were doing, but did not dare linger when he was seen. The Azn had shaken him down for painkillers on the boat, having recognized the box Tristan had stolen from Alvareno¡¯s Dosages. The implied threat of having it revealed that he was going around carrying a poisoner¡¯s kit had been enough for Tristan to pay up, but the matter was not finished. People who twisted your arm for payment always came calling again.

    That crew was too dangerous to tangle with for now, but who knew how the trials would go? Patience was the key to many a lock.

    The thief edged around the fires, taking a longer look around as the rest of the people began spreading out in their impatience. The Watch¡¯s foothold on the ind was no great fortress, only a couple of long stone storehouses that must have served as both storage and dormitories. Oldmplights cast a dim glow all around, the dirtynterns hanging off them burning cheap oil. There was a sloping watchtower past the storehouses that overlooked the bay, the muzzle of three cannons peeking out from its top, but aside from these there was little here but docks, pyres and a muddy beach.

    The docks weren¡¯t even much to talk about, just a stretch of half-rotten wood jutting out into the water. Only two ships the size of the Bluebell would have been able to dock at the same time and only one to unload. Sailors were now bringing out crates from the cog¡¯s belly, moving them towards the storehouses, and it was in there would not have been room for a second crew to do the same. Instinct nagging away at him, the thief drifted closer to have a look at the crates being moved - though not close enough to earn suspicion.

    ¡°We¡¯ve seen that crate before,¡± Fortuna suddenly pointed out.

    He knew exactly which one she meant. The same crate the poor girl who¡¯d turned into a Saint had tossed him into when she came out swinging, spilling seeds everywhere. It¡¯d only been roughly fixed, tarp nailed onto wood to prevent further spills, and so had a distinctive look. As far as he could tell most of the crates being taken out were from the same part of the hold, and that had him curious. The Watch was bringing out cheap seeds, the kind from nts not grown in re light and so carrying none of that light within them. None but darklings and the poor ate anything made of that unless they had a choice.

    ¡°It can¡¯t be meant for the ckcloaks,¡± he muttered. ¡°There¡¯s no natural re on the ind, only the lights they brought. They should be eating only proper food to stave off Gloam sickness, not this shit.¡±

    ¡°They took out those boxes full of trinkets too,¡± Fortuna noted.

    And yet, as far as he could tell, none of the crates that¡¯d held muskets, ckpowder or military rations. This ce was not, he deduced, truly the seat of the Watch garrison on the ind. Only an outpost used to herd those who took the yearly trials. That and one more thing. His thoughts were interrupted by another¡¯s approach, and there was no mistaking whose: Sarai, d in the grey dress and veils that hid her from head to toe, was unlike anyone elsee out of the Bluebell. Tristan did not move away when she came to stand by his side, as theirst trade had been profitable to both. He was not averse to continuing the rtion.

    ¡°I believe you¡¯re the only other to havee looking at the crates,¡± Sarai said. ¡°Those smiling twins came close, but only looking for grave goods.¡±

    The thief snorted.

    ¡°No point in that,¡± he told her. ¡°Either the ckcloaks will let us help ourselves openly or now¡¯s the worst time to be trying.¡±

    If there was anything he and Yong decided they absolutely needed, he¡¯d wait until there were fewer people around to steal it.

    ¡°Practical,¡± Sarai approved. ¡°But what has you looking at the crates?¡±

    He hummed, not turning to meet the copper mask around her eyes. It would give him nothing.

    ¡°What has you doing the same?¡± Tristan retorted.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been told that Captain Crestina¡¯s only a few minutes out,¡± Sarai easily said. ¡°I came to warn you.¡±

    Half a lie. She was counting the crates too, the thief had noticed. But it¡¯d been useful what she said, so he gave a little too.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t where the real Watch garrison is posted,¡± he said. ¡°Crates full of arms and rations are still in the cog. They must have a fort elsewhere on the coast the Bluebell will be sailing for.¡±

    It was hard to tell, with the veils, but he thought she might have smiled.

    ¡°The sailors chattered about a town called Three Pines back on the ship,¡± the othered shared. ¡°This can¡¯t be it, so we are in agreement.¡±

    He nodded. The two of them stood there, counting the crates, for a long stretch of silence. Only when it became clear the sailors would take nothing else out of the cog was Sarai stirred to speak again.

    ¡°You must have figured out what this ce is really about,¡± she finally said.

    Tristan weighed his options. If she was counting, then so had she. There was not much to lose by speaking his mind.

    ¡°It¡¯s a trade post,¡± the thief said. ¡°Or something like it. Crates of ck seeds and trinkets? There¡¯s darklings here on the ind and the Watch trades with them.¡±

    ¡°Trinkets,¡± Sarai slowly said, as if trying out the word. ¡°Yes, that is a good way to call them. ss and mirrors and kettles.¡±

    He nced her way, but there was no reading the woman beneath the veils.

    ¡°The Mni love to use trinkets up north,¡± she said. ¡°They bribe lond kings with them to win rights to ves and copper. They¡¯ll trade the kings everything out of Mn, really, save for the one thing the ckcloaks aren¡¯t trading here either.¡±

    ¡°Muskets,¡± Tristan quietly said.

    ¡°That is so,¡± Sarai agreed, the faintest touch of a strange ent touching her voice, then turned his way. ¡°I counted fourteen crates. You?¡±

    ¡°The same.¡±

    ¡°Then we know there are hundreds. Likely more than a thousand.¡±

    Tristan grimly nodded. Seeds didn¡¯t keep forever and, if fourteen crates of them were to be sown soon, then there must be enough darklings on the ind to sow them. That was troubling, even though Tristan was no sneering Redeemer to believe all darklings at best a step removed from beasts. He¡¯d rubbed elbows with their kind in the worst of the city¡¯s slums, near the old mines where many dwelled. Tristan had found them a strange folk, but not so different from other men. Yet here the Watch was taking great care to keep muskets out of their hands and that was a telling thing.

    ¡°Has to be cults,¡± the thief said. ¡°The old stories say that the ind¡¯s called the Dominion of Lost Things because the Watch throws away all sorts of old evils on these shores to be lost forever.¡±

    ¡°Cults would be a greater concern than simple lemures,¡± Sarai replied. ¡°They¡¯ll go out of their way to hunt us.¡±

    Darklings who worshipped the bloody-handed gods of the Old Night were rightly feared by all civilized peoples of Vesper, as their cults sought a great many things but blood was always one of them.

    ¡°There¡¯s a reason only fools and the desperate take these trials,¡± Tristan said.

    She turned to shoot him a look which, even under the veil, he could tell was amused.

    ¡°And which are you, Tristan?¡±

    He offered her a winning smile.

    ¡°You underestimate me, Sarai,¡± he drawled. ¡°I mighty im to both.¡±

    She cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°That act you put on is surprisingly charming,¡± Sarai said. ¡°It must have taken you years to polish.¡±

    Surprise stole the words out of his mouth. His belly clenched in difort as Fortuna guffawed, leaning against his shoulder.

    ¡°Oh, we should keep that one,¡± the goddess decided. ¡°Make it happen, Tristan.¡±

    He was saved from answering by a ruckus in the distance: as he¡¯d been forewarned, Captain Crestina was returning. They parted without another word, Sarai¡¯sst still hanging in the air between them, and he drifted through the columns of smoke. Yong joined him halfway, the two of them following the press of trial-takers gathering as the ckcloaks rode in. The watchmen numbered a dozen, all riding sure-footed Abrian ponies and armed to the teeth. Wrapped in the heavy back cloaks that¡¯d earned the Watch its oldest sobriquet they carried muskets, sabers and paired pistols with powder gourds hanging off their saddles.

    ¡°They look ready to fight a war,¡± Yong muttered, and Tristan could only agree.

    A rider guided her mount away from the rest, barking out an order that saw half thepany heading towards the storehouses while she pulled down a ck scarf to reveal the tanned features and curly hair of a born Sacromontan. Reining in her panting horse, she cast a look that was halfway to a re at the crowd before spitting to the side. The infanzones wrinkled their noses as the sight almost as one. The thief, on the other hand, grew wary. He could almost smell the anger boiling under that still-calm fa?ade.

    ¡°Wee to the Dominion of Lost Things,¡± the ckcloak announced. ¡°I am Captain Crestina Elvir, the officer appointed tomand of this outpost by grace of the Conve. You may refer to me as either captain or ma¡¯am.¡±

    Tristan knew little of the Watch¡¯s workings, for the order delighted in secrecy, but the difference between the Conve and the freepanies wasmon knowledge. If thepanies were the branches of the tree,rgely independent armies and fleets roaming Vesper to take contracts as they would, then the Conve was the trunk. It ruled the Watch¡¯s fortresses, ran its tribunals and conducted its diplomacy. Captain Crestina, if she had been appointed by it, was not answerable to anyone else. It was a veiled warning to any noble who might think to make demands of her, Tristan figured. By the silence that followed her words it had duly been heard.

    ¡°You will have heard by now that the first wave of trial-takers met misfortune,¡± Captain Crestina said. ¡°I can confirm that all forty of them are dead.¡±

    No sobs followed, not even out of Ruesta, but a great deal of unease spread. Tristan shared in it.

    ¡°May I ask what happened to them, captain?¡± one of the infanzones called out.

    Lady Vizur, he noted. Of the Sacromontan nobles, she most seemed to be taking the dangers seriously.

    ¡°They decided to set out early and were ambushed by cultists of the Red Eye about half a day from here,¡± the watchwoman inly said. ¡°Some would have made it, if the fighting hadn¡¯t woken up an <em>airavatan</em>.¡±

    That didn¡¯t get much a reaction out of anyone except the Ramayans, who faces betrayed fear and surprise. Noticing the confusion of most the crowd, the captain borated.

    ¡°A heliodoran beast,¡± she said, and that got gasps.

    Abu had made him read several books onres lemures, most of them about the creatures native to the shores of the Trebian Sea, but ¡®heliodoran beasts¡¯ hade up in one of the more fantastical works. Moremon in the Imperial Someshwar, Tristan recalled, they could growrge as houses if they were old enough. He¡¯d never seen a drawing, but they were said to be horned creatures possessed of many eyes and great strength.

    ¡°It killed most everyone and wandered off after chewing on a few corpses,¡± Captain Crestina said. ¡°The good news for you lot is that with a full belly it won¡¯t be on the prowl for more. It might even have gone back to sleep by.¡±

    ¡°And the bad news?¡± Tupoc Xical asked.

    ¡°The Red Eye cult is all riled up, boy,¡± she replied. ¡°They lost near a full warband and brought back no sacrifices to show for it. They¡¯ll be out in force looking to make up for that. My men and I just cleared their scouts all the way to the High Road, but from here on out you¡¯re on you own.¡±

    Then she looked viciously amused.

    ¡°Of course, there¡¯s now a graveyard¡¯s worth of blood spilled on the road north,¡± Captain Crestina added. ¡°So if I were you I¡¯d first worry about the scavengers that will draw out.¡±

    The brutal mixture of honesty and disregard hit the most fearful among them hard. Aines, the terrible gambler he¡¯d met in passing, looked about to break down weeping and her husband was little better. The old woman with the spectacles, Vanesa, had a resigned look about her. Like she¡¯d not expected to live through this in the first ce and had just got that fate confirmed. Even a few of the rmended foreigners looked wary. Whatever good cheer had been won by the victory on the ship was returned to the aether. The Asphodel noble with e cleared her throat loudly.

    ¡°We were told-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you were told,¡± Captain Crestina sharply interrupted. ¡°I¡¯ve lost half mymand cleaning up the mess the first pack of idiots made and I¡¯m not going to bleed the rest holding your hands. You have from me all you¡¯ll get, <em>inutil</em>.¡±

    She spat to the side again, eyes glittering with anger.

    ¡°You get the rules, you get to take from the supplies and then you¡¯ll all be getting the fuck out of my outpost before the hour¡¯s out.¡±

    The ckcloak mastered her temper, lowering the voice that¡¯d begun to rise with the end of her sentence.

    ¡°Lieutenant Sihle, take them through the rest,¡± she called out. ¡°I have letters to write to the families of men who deserved better.¡±

    A rider from the handful that had been standing behind her came forward, taking off a wide-brimmed hat to reveal a dark Mni face. The man smiled,mplight glittering on a silver tooth as he did.

    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he agreed.

    Captain Crestina rode away, face twisted in anger, and her lieutenant turned to the crowd with brisk mannerisms.

    ¡°There are three trials,¡± Lieutenant Sihle announced. ¡°The first is Trial of Lines, which you are soon to begin. To find the others is simple: there is a road beginning half a mile ahead, and you simply need to follow it across the ind.¡±

    Through thick woods that could be seen in the distance, Tristan noted, and then tall mountains much further ahead. No doubt through cultist ambushes and hungry lemures as well.

    ¡°At the end of every trial, before the next, you will find sanctuaries marked by yellowmps and entering them means you have seeded,¡± the lieutenant continued, sounding almost bored. ¡°Neither beasts nor cultists will do you harm within these sanctuaries, and there officers will offer you the opportunity to end your candidature.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°Should you choose this, you will enter the protection of the Watch and be escorted to our garrison, where you will await the end of the trials before sailing back to Sacromonte.¡±

    This was not news, not exactly, though Tristan had not known the practical details. Infanzones always quit after the second trial, lest they win the ¡®reward¡¯ of being inducted into an order that required one to renounce their titles. This was a proving ground for them, not a vocation¡¯s choosing.

    ¡°Apologies, sir,¡± Angharad Tredegar spoke up, ¡°but you have forgot to mention the rules.¡±

    The lieutenant frowned at her.

    ¡°What rules?¡±

    She blinked.

    ¡°Surely there must be rules of conduct between us,¡± the Pereduri said. ¡°Lest the trial descend into squabbles and backbiting.¡±

    Tristan swallowed his smile. Gods. She hadn¡¯t quite got what this first trial was about, had she? It wasn¡¯t called the Trial of the Lines because the road ahead was straight. It was about the lines you were willing to cross to survive. The thief couldn¡¯t muster up resentment for it, though, or even much mockery. Tredegar seemed torgely mean well, much as when she hade to ¡®save¡¯ him from Tupoc Xical. She was of that particr breed of noble who thought they benevolent saviours, never mind that they usually had no idea what the people they were trying to help wanted or needed.

    Still, she was cut of better cloth than the like of the Cerdans so he took no joy from Lieutenant Sihleughing in her face.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t that kind of a ce, girl,¡± the watchman said. ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to kill each other here or inside the sanctuaries, but beyond that?¡±

    The lieutenant shrugged.

    ¡°Survival is the rule. The rest isn¡¯t the Watch¡¯s concern.¡±

    Tredegar took it better than he¡¯d expected, shutting her mouth and slowly nodding. <em>Maybe not as soft as I thought</em>, Tristan considered. He supposed that bing a ¡®mirror-dancer¡¯ must beat some squeamishness out of you, if it was actually anything like what Sarai had described. Considering that the sailors ¨C many of them veteran watchmen - had sounded awestruck when describing her scrap with the Saint, Tristan was inclined to believe it. Someone asked about the supplies Captain Crestina had mentioned and the lieutenant agreed to lead them to the goods without much prodding. What they found when led there was better than he''d expected, finally an upside.

    There were three crates of miner¡¯s rations, dried meat and sourdough bread with nuts and berries, all neatly wrapped in packs. Besides them were crates of cheap waterskins, bedrolls,nterns and fire-starters. All were invited to help themselves, courtesy of the Watch, though many refrained as they had better equipment already. Tristan did not, but because others did he feltfortable going straight to the three sprawling piles besides the crates with no fear of being left without supplies. There the watchmen had dumped the equipment of the deceased, separating them into three broad categories: weapons, clothes and the rest.

    Lieutenant Sihle left them to it after ast reminder they were to be gone by the end of the hour.

    A semnce of order formed around the crates, begun by Angharad Tredegar lining up behind a surprised Vanesa. Those that would have elbowed the old woman aside without a second thought did not dare to pick a fight with the Pereduri, ensuring temporary civility as others lined up, but Tristan spared the affair no more than a nce. His fellow rats wereing for the grave goods and there would be no courtesy to be had there. Ju and Lan were already sniffing around the weapons, Ocon the legbreaker elbowing one of the twins aside to grab a long-hafted axe no one else would have been able to use anyhow.

    Tristan grabbed a leather tricorn in the Mni style out of the clothes pile and set it on his head before joining the fray, just as Brun and the married pair ¨C Aines and Felis ¨C began looking too. Most of it was useless to him, swords he did not know how to use or hunting spears, but he grabbed a hunting knife to serve should his own de break. The dozen muskets lined up were useless to him as well, but the pistols warranted a second look. The thief had little training with the weapons, for Abu considered them loud and imprecise, but he knew basics. And from close enough a pistol was hard to miss with.

    Best to have it and not need it than the other way around, he decided.

    He grabbed a wooden powder sk from the pile and began rifling through the pile of pistols, stilling when he came across a familiar sight. As far as arms went it straddled the line between decorative and practical, engraved with wolves chasing each other¡¯s tails while a tassel hung off the bottom bearing an incrusted red gem. The cold metal of the barrel, though, was functional and without frills. Tristan¡¯s mother had owned a pistol much like this, once, though her own Raseni relic had preferred foxes to wolves. Breaking out of his stupor, he - Ju¡¯s fingers closed around the pistol and she shot him a sly blue grin.

    ¡°Too slow, rat,¡± she chided, and flicked a finger against the gem.

    It rang prettily.

    ¡°Not too pure a ruby, but still worth a tidy sum,¡± Ju decided.

    She had no idea what the relic was really worth, then. Tristan could have told her he¡¯d seen it first, but the im would have meant nothing to either of them so he didn¡¯t bother.

    ¡°Give it here,¡± he said instead.

    The Meng girl frowned, reading his face and then taking half a step back.

    ¡°Help yourself to another,¡± Ju said. ¡°Plenty left.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s hand slid towards the ckjack at his side, not quite subtly enough for her to fail noticing it.

    ¡°Last warning,¡± the thief said.

    From the corner of his eye he saw they¡¯d drawn some attention, so it was toote for either of them to back out. Whoever did would be marked as easy meat for anyone that felt like throwing their weight around. Ju flicked a nce behind him, seeing something that strengthened her resolve, and sneered.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dar-¡±

    He aimed the blow for the side of her mouth, hard enough it¡¯d hurt but not knock teeth out. Ju yelped in pain as she stumbled onto the ground, cradling her cheek, and Tristan pivoted out of the way. He moved out of the path of the swing he¡¯d expected, seeing his attacker¡¯s face: Lan had grabbed a musket and tried to smash it into his back like a mace, but she was no trained scrapper and it¡¯d gone well wide. The thief took a quick step forward, resting the side of the ckjack¡¯s leather strap against her neck before she could recover. Lan went still.

    ¡°From here on out I go for crippling blows,¡± Tristan evenly said. ¡°Ju, give me the pistol.¡±

    The spectacle drew scavengers. Broken-nosed Ocon, interest caught by the violence, approached with an expectant air. He was looking at the relic pistol as well, likely wondering what was worth a scrap there and whether he should try his hand at taking it. Tristan schooled his face not to reveal he¡¯d seen Yong silently moved behind the big man, a hand on the hilt of his sword. Brun stepped close as well, eyes watching them all closely with that perennial calm smile. That one worried him more than the big Azn, if only because he was much harder to read.

    ¡°They won¡¯t let you get away with it,¡± Lan said, but her voice was shaking.

    Tristan¡¯s jaw clenched. He¡¯d already given as many warnings as he cared to: offer too many of those and people stopped taking you seriously. His arm tensed as he drew back for another blow, but the sisters gave first. Ju threw the pistol at his ankles, just strong enough for it to sting.

    ¡°There,¡± she spat. ¡°Choke on it.¡±

    He gave Lan a warning look and the other sister took a step back, grimacing, as he bent to pick up the relic. His eyes were already moving on to Ocon, who looked like he¡¯de to a decision. That nasty grin heralded nothing good but the big man was toote. Angharad Tredegar, wearing that coat ever in need of mending, strode boldly onto the scene and Tristan almost smiled because it¡¯d been about time. Now that the scavengers had wed at each other, their benevolent saviour would naturallye to restore order.

    ¡°What is going on here?¡± the dark-skinned noble demanded.

    And there went Ocon¡¯s smile. He would be under orders by Tupoc to avoid tangling with the mirror-dancer, Tristan figured. A practical sort of bastard, Tupoc Xical. Unfortunately not the kind of man who could be counted on to get himself killed on his own.

    ¡°An argument over goods,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It has ended.¡±

    Tredegar nced at the ckjack still in his hand with surprise and some distaste. Ju had, of course, elected to remain on the ground and was now cradling her cheek like he¡¯d struck her twice as hard as he actually had. Betting on the Pereduri getting the relic back for her, was she? Unfortunately for her, Tristan knew exactly how to deal with the likes of Angharad Tredegar. Having given his answer, he turned and walked away. Not in another direction, for that would have smacked of retreat, but instead past the noblewoman. She was half expecting a confrontation, it was writ in her stance, but the thief instead said nothing and continued past her before she could recover from the surprise and try to interrogate him again.

    Even if the twins went whining to her now, what would Tredegar do ¨C shake him down for the pistol in front of everyone? That wasn¡¯t the kind of person she thought she was. She¡¯d stepped in to save someone, not serve as legbreaker for a pair of sisters who were more than a little bit suspicious. The Pereduri wouldn¡¯t like it, but the matter was good as finished. The thief was aware he¡¯d soured the first impression he had made on a dangerous woman and crossed another two, but he was still smiling as he moved towards the back of the line for the rations. Yong came to stand behind him to wait, as if by coincidence.

    ¡°So what was worth the mess?¡± the soldier asked, voice slightly slurred.

    Drinking again. It hadn¡¯t taken long. Tristan ripped the string keeping the tassel tied to the bottom of the relic, shoving it into his pocket after. Angling the pistol so that only he and Yong would see, he then pressed his thumb against one of the wolves. There was a slight click and panel popped open, revealing a small stone norger than thumbnail. It gave a soft, pale glow that the thief allowed to be glimpsed for only a heartbeat before sliding the wolf panel closed again.

    ¡°Rhadamanthine quartz,¡± Yong whispered, startlement sobering him up in an instant.

    Found only within the city-state of Rasen¡¯s famous quarries, the precious stone was worth a fortune. Rhadamanthine quartz held the re as few other materials did, almost day to day: a year soaking in the light meant bout a year holding it. The piece in the relic pistol Mother had owned had gone inert, lessening its value ¨C once it lost the first light for good, the stone was said to begin holding it less and less ¨C but it had still been pawned for enough the two of them to live on it for years.

    ¡°No Gloam disease for us,¡± Tristan said, not hiding his satisfaction. ¡°Even if the lights go out.¡±

    Keeping it against their skin for a few hours a day would keep the sickness froming upon them until the stone died. Raseni families considered the relics to be heirlooms, passing down from parents to children and treasuring them greatly. The rarity of their sale only made them more precious.

    ¡°Worth the enemies,¡± Yong agreed.

    There was no more excitement as the trial-takers imed their supplies, the mood somber now that Tristan¡¯s actions hadid bare an ugly truth: survival was more important to everyone here than civility. That did not mean all were eager to go off on their own, though. If anything the corpses still burning on the pyres were a stark warning as to the risks of that approach. When a handful came together in conversation away from the rest, Tristan immediately saw the writing on the wall. Who they were spoke loud as to what would follow: Ferranda Vizur and Augusto Cerdan for the infanzones, Tupoc Xical for his own band and grizzled Inyoni for the two pairs of youngsters with her. Every group with clout had a voice there, to an evident purpose.

    They all wanted to stick together for the early part of the Trial of Lines.

    That it would happen was good as a foregone conclusion. Everyone wanted numbers until they were certain there was no Red Eye ambush waiting along the road orrge roving packs of lemures. Once everyone was further in people would begin turning on each other again, but for now all would prefer safety over seeking an edge. Tristan dismissed the talks from his mind, seeking instead thepany of the other ally he¡¯d struck a bargain with. Both of Isabel Ruesta¡¯s handmaidens had changed out of their dresses into more practical trousers and jackets for the walk ahead, Beatris¡¯ were visibly shoddier than Briceida¡¯s.

    Tristan figured that, unlike the drapier¡¯s daughter, his fellow rat had not had the coin to put on getting clothes she might never wear again tailored. She was also the one checking on the bags onest time before departure, Briceida instead attending to their mistress, but the thief was d of that much. It was easier to approach her than if she were close to the infanzona, who Tredegar and the younger Cerdan were circling like bees would a flower. Andrgely for the same reasons, as far as Tristan could tell. He made no effort to hide his approach, and though he stopped well short of being in reaching distance of the bags Beatris still turned to nce at him. Brushing back dark hair, she scowled.

    ¡°That show tarred your reputation good,¡± Beatris informed him. ¡°If not for your medicine cab, they might have thought twice about bringing you along.¡±

    ¡°But they haven¡¯t changed their minds,¡± Tristan pressed.

    She shook her head. Good. That had been his worry, that a miffed Tredegar would try to oust him. His bet had been that the Cerdans would oppose her out of pure dislike and it was good to see it had paid off.

    ¡°I have work,¡± Beatris told him. ¡°I must get back to it.¡±

    He pushed down a frown. She had never asked if he¡¯d gotten Recardo killed and he¡¯d not offered up the truth of it, but since that day she had kept a distance. She¡¯d not turned on him, remaining friendly, but she knew he was dangerous now. Capable of killing and keeping it quiet. And so Beatris, sensibly enough, seemed to have decided he was someone best kept at arm¡¯s length. Tristan would have preferred to keep on better terms, but if their rtions were take a cooler tone he would adapt. Casting a quick look around to ensure no one was watching, he reached in his pocket for the jewel-incrusted tassel and tossed it at her.

    Beatris fumbled the catch but picked it up from the floor quickly enough, surprise painted on her face. She turned a questioning look on him.

    ¡°I have no use for it where I¡¯m headed,¡± Tristan shrugged.

    Whether that be the grave or the Watch, a small ruby would do him no good. For her, however, it might just represent a turning point in her life. With the coin pawning this would earn her, it was no longer certain she must stay in the service of House Ruesta for the rest of her life. Beatris bit her lip before nodding, putting away the gem before anyone could see her taking it.

    ¡°This is a trade,¡± the thief reminded her. ¡°I scratch your back¡­¡±

    The dark-haired woman shook her head.

    ¡°I know how this goes,¡± she replied. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an ear out for anything of interest to you.¡±

    The grey-eyed man dipped his head in thanks, troubling her no further. She still had work to do and it wasn¡¯t like the nobles would deign to carry their own supplies. It took another quarter hour for the informal council to finish, but his prediction proved urate. A pact was struck and protection offered for those who would obey some simple rules. All were to pitch in for the group¡¯s protection as they marched, a roster would be made for keeping watch when camp was made and so long as one joined thepany there would be no violence against each other. Only a fool would have refused the terms, so no one did.

    They hurried after that, Captain Crestina¡¯s demand they be gone by the hour¡¯s turn not something anyone cared to test. Under the stares of the ckcloaks the thirty-one of them settled into a thick marching column, bristling withmps, and a lumbering march forward began.

    Behind them thenterns of the Watch grew distant, darkness hemming them in from all sides, and the Trial of Lines began.

 Chapter 8

    Chapter 8

    Lieutenant Sihle had said the road began half a mile ahead and that was where they found it.

    Tristan was no tracker, not so far from dirty alleyways, but though the ancient paving stones were half-covered by dirt and dead leaves they were toorge to be missed by anyone with eyes. The woods were light on either side but grew thicker swiftly, leaving the impression of a path cleared thoroughly long ago and since left for the forest to reim year by year. Most fighters banded at the front and the back of the column while those there were low expectations for ¨C the two greyhairs, the twins, Ruesta and her maids ¨C stood safely stashed in between as thepany marched on.

    Yong had been called to the front by virtue of having a musket and knowing how to use it while Tristan was ordered to the back by the Cerdan brothers¡¯ unpleasant valet, Gascon. The richly mustachioed man had been open in his contempt, having a look about him the thief was not unfamiliar with. It cropped up sometimes in the personal servants of infanzones, those few who¡¯d gotten so used to the taste of boot on their tongue they¡¯d begun to think they were part of the sole. Contempt the thief cared nothing for, but his choice ofpany at the back of the column was unfortunate: he shared the guard with Tupoc Xical and his two Asphodelpanions.

    Leander Gtas was still nursing his wound from the Bluebell, the arm turned to pulp now a thoroughly bandaged stump, and kept to a sullen silence. The Asphodel Rectorate noble, whose full name Tristan learned to be Acanthe Phos, was a rather chattier fellow. She asked of his origins, which he remained vague about, and shared of hers freely. House Phos was, she told him, one whose fortunes had not done well as merchants began their rise. Theck of opportunities afforded to a seventh child from an impoverished house ¨C one whose unfortunate e made unlikely to marry rich - had seen her seek a career with the Watch.

    ¡°It¡¯s all Tianxia¡¯s fault, of course,¡± Acanthe told him, patting his arm in her enthusiasm. ¡°Their traders rile up themons, starting all this talk of turning Asphodel into a republic allied to the Ten. Absurd.¡±

    He tended to agree. It would hardly be the first time the Tianxi helped overthrow the nobles of a city-state in the Trebian Sea, but one so close to Sacromonte? He had his doubts. Tianxia already had troubles enough at home without borrowing some from the City¡¯s backyard. Still, he suspected that his own Republican sympathies would win him no friend here so Tristan steered the conversation into safer waters. Talk of Sarai, who yet feigned to be from the hated rival city-state of Rasen, was fertile ground.

    ¡°You can¡¯t trust Raseni, Tristan,¡± Acanthe lectured him. ¡°It is well known that they wear their veils to better hide the devils among their numbers. They frolic with their like in debauched rituals, hoping to gain dark powers.¡±

    Having been just as reliably informed by a Raseni trader that Asphodelites were half-devils themselves, keeping hidden libraries of dark tomes used in unholy rituals to turn the winds against honest Raseni captains, the thief hid his amusement as best he could.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Tupoc mused, ¡°I¡¯m sure Tristan has nothing to fear from our Raseni, Lady Phos. He¡¯s already beaten a woman today, why not another?¡±

    The thief did not react. It was not the first time the Azn tossed a barb his way, but giving him nothing in return saw him grow bored and cease. Having to take the needling again and again was exhausting, but he was dertemined not give Tupoc whatever it was he was after. Tristan let the conversation peter out again, saying nothing, and ignored Acanthe¡¯s sympathetic look. She had yet to object, for while she might be enjoying their conversation it was Tupoc Xical she had thrown in her lot with. She¡¯d not endanger that alliance for a nobody.

    The thief kept to his own mind for a time, unsettled by the ring of darkness around them. In Sacromonte there was always light, however distant, but here there was nothing beyond the glow of thenterns they carried. The Watch¡¯s outpost by the shore was hidden by the tall trees and the stars above seemed so distant ¨C as if even the ancient wonders of the Antediluvians were seen through a veil. He¡¯d read that the inds of the Trebian Sea were among the most luminous of all Vesper, so how dark must the rest of the world be? He shivered at the thought.

    The thief had no watch but bespectacled old Vanesa did, and when they halted word made its way down the column it had taken three hours and a half for them to reach the blood-soaked battlefield Captain Cristina had spoken of.

    It was a great clearing that the road ran right through, an opening in the forest, or at least it had been. There was a gaping pit at the heart of it now, even the ancient paving stones shattered, and dried blood spread everywhere in wild streaks. They approached slowly and carefully, swords and muskets out ¨C Tristan carefully loaded his pistol, cramming in the powder and ball ¨C until the shiveringntern lights made out great footprints in the earth. Each was asrge as a great pir and rounded, digging deep enough to hint at the crushing weight behind the legs. It was with relief that Tristan saw the tracks heading east, deeper into the forest. But the captain¡¯s warning proved prescient.

    As they passed around the pit shapes darted out of the shadows cast by the broken grounds. Only a dozen, though the suddenness of the charge caused some startled screams. Shots rang out before Tristan could even see the beasts properly, five of them dead on the ground in an instant ¨C that short Ramayan girl with the pistols downed two in the same breath. Half the remainder fled, the rest charging madly as they howled. They were lupines, Tristan saw, lemures with the look of great wolfhounds that grew bonelike stingers along their matted fur. Their teeth were toorge and curved for dogs, or even wolves, and their eyes like pits of yellow sulphur.

    The three that charged, for all their swiftness, ran into fine killers at the ready. Inyoni and Tredegar shot forward, des shing a beast¡¯s head was hewn open and the other run right through. The third passed them, just in time for Ocon¡¯s axe to nail to the ground. It went right through, like a hatchet for a melon, and pulp flew sickeningly.

    Tristan spared them no more thought, though, as more lemures were circling the treeline behind him. Only a few shapes slinking along the line of light cast by thenterns, but the sight of them was enough to have him clutching his pistol tightly. One ran out suddenly, and not thinking twice he lowered the pistol and pulled the trigger. The flintlock sparked but his wrist trembled and the shot went whizzing wide, the lupine darting back out of sight without ever have been in danger. Tupoc Xical snorted from behind him.

    ¡°Best stick to the ckjack, I think,¡± the Azn said.

    Tristan hid his embarrassment by looking away, pretending to watch the woods.

    ¡°Not that these are worth fearing,¡± Tupoc continued. ¡°Barely more than dogs.¡±

    ¡°Lupines prefer long hunts, Xical,¡± he replied, pleased to correct the other man. ¡°They can smell a scent for several miles and have unnatural endurance, so the packs like to hound their prey to exhaustion before going for the kill.¡±

    The Azn¡¯s pale eyes crinkled with pleasure and Tristan immediately knew he¡¯d made a mistake.

    ¡°I wonder,¡± Tupoc idly said, ¡°how it is that a Sacromonte gutter rat knows that.¡±

    The thief swallowed a curse as Acanthe shot him an assessing look. The Azn had been goading him all this time for a reaction and now he¡¯d finally gotten it. Cutting his losses, he moved away from the two and Tupoc let him retreat with a pleasant smile. The skirmish was good as done anyhow, the lupines unwilling to risk another attack. They must have been blood-mad to risk one on such arge group in the first ce. The column moved away, word from the fronting that a good camping site awaited two hours ahead. The lemures disappeared from the back as they left the clearing for the forest ahead, likely gone back to eat the corpses of their own.

    They would return, though, and so after another tiring stretch of march through the woods it was with relief that Tristan saw the camp site that had been chosen.

    It was well-situated, he must admit. The first stretch of forest behind them hade at an end, revealing long rolling ins stretching out for many miles ahead until another treeline began near what must be the foot of the looming mountains. To the northwest, the silhouette of the old aqueduct known as the High Road could be glimpsed in the weak starlight if you stood at the edge of thenterns long enough. It was close, no more than an hour¡¯s march away. The camping site itself was maybe a quarter hour away past the woods, two sloping hills with a slender cut between them. They had signs of regr use, with firepits already dug and dried outtrines.

    Under the orders of the infanzones, who acted as if they knew of the ce already and likely did ¨C it was an open secret the families kept records - a camp was raised. The firepits were fed with wood and charcoal as two watchers took ces at the summit of the hills, which would give a broad view of the ins below. The nobles raised their tents near the fires and their followers put down bedrolls around them, everyone else radiating outwards around the hills. As one of the infanzones¡¯ recruits, Tristan earned a ce halfway down the western hill near Yong and Lady Vizur¡¯s hired hand Sanale.

    The likes of the married pair and the two greyhairs had to settle for further down on either hill, the first to be dragged into the night should some lemure or cultist slip past the vignce of the watchers.

    It was no grimmer than the truth of the city he¡¯d been born in, Tristan figured, only stripped of the usual varnish that allowed people to ignore it. Putting down his bedroll and medicine cab, the thief checked in with the Cerdan valet for his time to keep watch and was sneeringly informed his turn was to be near morning, five hours past midnight. Inyoni¡¯s nephew Zenzele, who he was to rece, woulde to wake him. Pleased at the given time, for it meant he would get most of a night¡¯s sleep uninterrupted, Tristan bade good sleep to Yong and flopped down tiredly on his bedroll.

    He was asleep within moments.

    --

    ¡°<em>Tristan</em>,¡± Fortuna hissed. ¡°Tristan, you need to wake up.¡±

    His eyes struggled to open, sleep fighting to keep them closed. His entire body feltzy, like he¡¯d spent an afternoon napping, and though he could hear Fortuna he struggled to remember why he should care about what she said.

    ¡°You idiot,¡± the goddess cursed. ¡°Get up, someone¡¯s pinning a murder on you.¡±

    Sheer surprise and anger tore through the veil he¡¯d been wrapped in, eyes futtering open as he woke. The fires crackled in the distance, everyone asleep around him, and the thief bit his lip so he would not snarl. That tiredness had not been<em> natural</em>. Someone had used a contract on him. Shifting in his bedroll, Tristan caught Fortuna¡¯s eyes. The goddess, red dress bunched around her as she knelt in the grass, looked every inch the unearthly creature in the flickering light of the mes. Hair and eyes of molten gold, he thought.

    ¡°Who?¡± he murmured.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t see,¡± she admitted. ¡°Their face was covered. I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s a man, though.¡±

    Tristan grimaced. The goddess could not stray too far from him, rarely more than a room¡¯s length, she would not have been able to follow the stranger back to wherever they¡¯d hidden. She wouldn¡¯t be able to name his enemy. <em>First get out of the trap</em>, he reminded himself.

    ¡°Where?¡±

    His murmur was answered by Fortuna gesturing at his medicine cab. Inside? Gods, how hard had he been hit by the contract not to wake while someone was going through his belongings a mere two feet away?

    ¡°Keep watch,¡± Tristan said, and went to have a look.

    It was difficult to utch the cab and crack it open without making a sound whileying down, but it was not his first time needing quiet fingers. At first nce nothing was amiss, but then Tristan saw them: a dagger, carefully inserted between two vials, and a rag pushed into a half-hidden nook. A <em>bloody</em> rag, his closer look revealed. He unfolded it, careful to get nothing on his fingers, and saw that an edge had been wiped clear of blood on the cloth. <em>Just enough to get me hanged if they catch me with it</em>, he thought.

    Whoever had done this had been careful not to make him look like aplete fool: clever enough to hide and wipe the knife, just not to get rid of the rag after. If he were to sell the story in ce of his foe, Tristan decided, he¡¯d say that the rag was only hidden until it could be cleanly disposed of in a fire. Quietly he folded the cloth anew and took the dagger, beginning to close the cab silently as he put his mind to work along his hands. Someone must be dead, otherwise a wound deep enough to bleed this much blood would have woken them.

    More importantly, whoever had killed them wanted him to take the fall for it.

    Had he made an enemy, or had he simply seemed like a good sort to leave behind for the noose? There was no denying that he¡¯d been picked out in particr, with the way a contract had been used on him. Only, he thought, it could not only be him who¡¯d been touched by power. There were watchers as well and they would have noticed someone moving around so they must have been subjected to the contract too. <em>Unless they were in on it</em>, he considered, but then discarded the thought. Tristan was simply not important enough to be conspired against. That did not mean, however, that trying to out the scheme would be wise.

    A rat with a blood-soaked rag and a corpse someone needed to answer for? Even if he was the one to make a ruckus in the middle of the night, there were decent odds he¡¯d still end up the one hanged. If it was one of the nobles that¡¯d done it, they¡¯d close ranks to bury him. Not worth the risk. That did not mean there was not a solution: someone had done all the hard parts of pinning a murder and there was no need to waste all that work when he could use it instead. Closing the cab, he rose onto his knees. He could only see one of the watchers from here, but the Ramayan girl ¨C Shalini, if he recalled correctly ¨C was utterly still. No shifting around, no stoking the mes, no looking anywhere but straight ahead.

    Calming his breathing, smoothing his thoughts into calm, the thief stole the knife and rag from the grass before crawling forward. Silently, as not to wake any of those sleeping near him. Moving up the hill, he paused only to grab a loose pebble and gauge the distance. A heartbeatter he threw the small stone near Shalini, waiting tensely as it bounced off a half-buried log. The noise would have been unmistakeable, but she did not so much twitch. Still under the contract, then, just as he would be had Fortuna not shouted at him until he stirred. Good, that meant he had his opening. The crawl resumed until he was near the fires, where the tents of the infanzones had been raised.

    He could not see within, but outsidey their closest servants. The Cerdan valet, Isabel Ruesta¡¯s maids ¨C Beatris was unharmed, a relief ¨C but to his displeasure not Cozme Aflor. Counting the tents again, he concluded that the Cerdan brothers must be sharing one while Cozme had imed the other. It was too risky to try for a tent, he reluctantly admitted to himself. He¡¯d have to lower his aim: the Cerdan valet, Gascon. The brothers were unlikely to start carrying their own bags even if the valet was cast out, which meant it¡¯d likely end up Cozme¡¯s work for all his pretensions that he was the one really in charge. He¡¯d be more tired, more vulnerable, more likely to give Tristan an opening.

    nting the goods was not all that difficult.

    The rag he hid under a t rock a few feet away from the sleeping valet, with just a hint of the corner peeking out, and he slid the knife under the sleeping man¡¯s neatly folded jacket. As he began to withdraw he saw the redheaded maid suddenly turn in her bedroll, yawning as she pawed at her loose hair. Tristan breathed in sharply, preparing to borrow luck, but she never opened her eyes. He stayed still as a statue until her breath evened out, asleep again. Flush from the scare, he crawled his way back down the hill and slipped hastily back into his bedroll. Unseen, he thought, but he could not be sure. There would be no telling for certain until morning came.

    Though the thief knew he would need the rest, it still took him all too long to fall back asleep.

    --

    The second time, he woke to a scream.

    Putting on a show, Tristan reached for his knife and rose with a gasp. Yong was brandishing his sword, eyes wide open, and the both of them found a crowd gathering on the side of the eastern hill. The corpse was there, below where the Asphodel pair had been sleeping, and he padded over on bare feet to have a look the body. The moment he did his breath caught in his throat and he knew why he¡¯d been the one chosen to take the fall: it was one of the twins. Ju, he was fairly sure, the one he¡¯d struck yesterday. That was not, he grimly thought, a good look for him right now. It was her sister who¡¯d found the corpse, and Lan was red-eyed and shaking. Old Vanesa gently took her by the arm, offeringfort, but the blue-lipped woman pushed her away. She rose to her feet, eyes moving to him out of all the crowd as she did, and Tristan¡¯s stomach clenched. Revenge was but a shout away for her.

    ¡°My sister,¡± Lan croaked out, ¡°was murdered in the night. Her throat slit like some pig for ughter.¡±

    Tristan tensed as he forced himself not to squirm under her gaze, but then Lan¡¯s eyes moved away.

    ¡°Until we find who did it,¡± she said, ¡°no one here is safe.¡±

    Abject relief. An usation would have been no proof, but sometimes it didn¡¯t take much to whip up a mob. And a mob was very much in the making here, by the looks on people¡¯s faces as the crowd swelled.

    ¡°There¡¯s no stream near here to wash,¡± Inyoni called out. ¡°Someone here<em></em>will have blood on them.¡±

    The scarred older woman, like her charges, had been sleeping just on the other side of the hill. She¡¯d been one of the first to join the gathering throng.

    ¡°We have waterskins,¡± Brun calmly pointed out. ¡°There is no need for a stream.¡±

    The other Sacromontan had slept on the opposite side of the western hill, the infanzones between them, but still been one of the first to arrive after the scream. Already up, Tristan figured. By now long enough had passed for said infanzones to learn they had a mess on their hands, so like a pack of lupines they showed up all at once. Tredegar along, of course, having be the muscle for their crew more than she likely realized.

    ¡°Cold water won¡¯t wash out blood well,¡± Remund Cerdan announced, tone certain. ¡°I can still inspect everyone for traces.¡±

    ¡°And why is it,¡± Zenzele asked with wary eyes, ¡°that <em>you </em>would be doing the inspecting?¡±

    The other man blinked, as if it had never urred to him he might be questioned.

    ¡°Watch your tongue, Mni,¡± he bit back. ¡°You almost sound as if you are using an infanzon of-¡±

    ¡°We are not in Sacromonte, Cerdan,¡± the chubby-cheeked Ramayan called Ishaan calmly interrupted. ¡°Posturing does you no good.¡±

    Isabel Ruesta, looking like the very picture of anguish, stepped in between them. Tristan almost snorted, thinking she wasying it on a little thick. How most people who met her seemed not to notice never felt to surprise him: she wasn¡¯t<em> that</em> good an actress.

    ¡°Now is no time to turn on each other with wild usations,¡± Ruesta implored. ¡°What could Remund have had to gain, even were he a man to murder?¡±

    ¡°What did anyone here have to gain?¡± Ferranda Vizur bit out after her. ¡°It was a senseless thing. For all we know a cultist did this in the night.¡±

    Her appeal for an outside enemy was swiftly ignored.

    ¡°There is one,¡± Angharad Tredegar evenly said, ¡°who quarrelled with the sisters yesterday.¡±

    <em>Fuck</em>, the thief thought. And now came the price for yesterday. Eyes turned to him, a crowd¡¯s worth of them as near everyone had gathered around the corpse by now, but Tristan did not flinch. If he showed weakness they would devour him whole.

    ¡°We quarrelled over a pistol which is still in my possession,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°Would slitting her throat somehow make it even more mine, Tredegar?¡±

    ¡°No one else of thispany has done violence on another,¡± the Pereduri pressed. ¡°Who else is there?¡±

    ¡°You are,¡± he replied, ¡°trying to do me violence <em>right now</em>.¡±

    At that she balked, long enough for someone else to speak up.

    ¡°If we throw usations without proof,¡± Sarai said, ¡°any one us of could be the culprit. Lady Inyoni and Lord Remund are correct: we should look for evidence first.¡±

    And a mere heartbeat after she stopped speaking, as if it had been timed, there was an exmation of surprise. Oneing from near the tents of the infanzones, which raised Tristan¡¯s spirits even as the Tianxi with the silver eyes ¨C Song ¨C flipped over the stone near the valet¡¯s bedroll and revealed the bloody cloth.

    ¡°Blood,¡± Song announced. ¡°Too much for a simple cut.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s eyes narrowed. Fortuna, leaning against shoulderzily, hummed in agreement. Both of them were well-acquainted with chance, and that timing had been more than simply fortunate. It reeked of coboration, but what for? Had they been behind all of this? Tristan could not remember seeing the two women exchange more than few words since they¡¯de aboard the Bluebell and he¡¯d sought enmity with neither of them. It seemed off for them to try to frame him for an equally senseless murder, the pieces didn¡¯t fit. Whatever the truth, he was immediately forgot.

    The crowd exploded in jeers and shouts at the revtion of the bloody cloth, Gascon loudly eximing he had nothing to do with this but swiftly drowned out by a tide of indignation. Not even his masters could prevent his affairs from being searched, and chubby-cheeked Ishaan was the one to lift the jacket and reveal the nted knife. The Ramayan held it up triumphantly and in the moment that followed half the crowd looked willing to cut Gascon¡¯s throat themselves. That was where things took a turn.

    ¡°What of it?¡± Augusto Cerdan called out, shouting down the usations. ¡°It is his knife, you fools, I gave it to him myself years ago. He merely forgot to put it away.¡±

    ¡°It is true,¡± Remund immediately agreed. ¡°This is no proof at all, only nonsense. We all have knives. Where is the blood on the de?¡±

    Tristan, just for a moment, considered the possibility that whoever had murdered Jun in the night had used another man¡¯s knife for it. Wondered at the foresight of the murderer. And then he set that absurd thought aside, considering the much simpler proposition that the Cerdans were covering for their valet in case some of the shit he was dragging in ended up sshing them. It wasn¡¯t enough, though, and by the looks on the brothers¡¯ faces they knew it. They were not in favour with the other people here, not after having hidden away during the fight on the Bluebell. So Isabel Ruesta spoke up, eyes calm for all that her face looked troubled, and Tristan knew it was over.

    ¡°Briceida,¡± the noblewoman called out, ¡°you have known Gascon for years. Is it true, is the knife his own?¡±

    The redheaded maid smiled broadly.

    ¡°It is, mydy,¡± she said. ¡°I swear it.¡±

    That gave the others pause. Even if it were untrue, forcing the matter would now make this a muchrger trouble than a single corpse. The infanzonesmanded thergest group and were obviously makingmon front ¨C one that counted a troubled-looking Angharad Tredegar, that one-woman battalion. Meanwhile, who did Lan have backing her? Not a soul. Tristan saw that revtion sink into the surviving twin, the way she looked as if she had been struck. The impotent rage that twisted blue-tinted lips when she realized that no one would do a damn thing about her twin being killed in the night because no one cared enough. And that was when, naturally, Tupoc Xical decided to step in.

    ¡°I do not care for this talk of knives,¡± the Azn dismissed, ¡°but for this instead: how was it done?¡±

    A moment of surprise followed.

    ¡°The Tianxi¡¯s throat was cut but there is little blood spray on the grass and it is even,¡± the man continued. ¡°She did not move. Who does not wake or struggle even as they are dying?¡±

    <em>Someone touched by a contract</em>, Tristan encouraged. He¡¯d be mocked if he suggested as much, but the Azn was not someone they wouldugh at.

    ¡°Someone who was drugged,¡± Tupoc said instead. ¡°And there is only one here who carries such substances.¡±

    The eyes went back to him, the thief¡¯s blood going cold as the crowd¡¯s mood turned again. Even the gaze of the infanzones, whose crew he was meant to be part of. Only he was on their mirror-dancer¡¯s bad side and he would be a scapegoat for this mess much less close to them than the Cerdans¡¯ own valet. If anything, they might just help bury him.

    ¡°I have a bottle of soporific in my cab,¡± Tristan slowly acknowledged, ying for time, ¡°but it is quite full. I invite you to look if you doubt me.¡±

    He could only hope that it actually <em>was</em> full. He¡¯d not checked every single bottle while on the Bluebell, which now struck him as a grave oversight.

    ¡°What point would there be?¡± Tupoc asked. ¡°You could have topped it off with water, the colour is the same.¡±

    ¡°Then drink a mouthful,¡± Tristan acidly replied, ¡°and tell us if it feels diluted.¡±

    He could tell, though, that he was losing the crowd. What else was there, what shovel could he use to dig himself out?

    ¡°I carry half a dozen medicines that could be poisons, used in a malignant manner,¡± Tristan said. ¡°What need would I have for a knife? If someone plucked a life unseen in the middle of the night, it seems to me more like the work of a contract than that of a bottle.¡±

    ¡°It could have been the Lord of the Thirteenth Heaven as well, I suppose,¡± Tupoc drawled, ¡°but he is very far and your soporific fortuitously close. Besides, who is to say you do not have a contract yourself?¡±

    The Azn was enjoying this, the thief thought. He could see it in the man¡¯s pale eyes.

    ¡°Speak up then, boy,¡± Augusto Cerdan broke in, a man no older than Tristan. ¡°Do you have a contract? What does it do?¡±

    And now came the infanzones, bravely riding to the rescue of the only thing they cared about: their reputation. Tristan smiled, showing all his teeth.

    ¡°Your own valet is caught with a bloody cloth and a knife,¡± he said, ¡°and yet I am the one answering questions. An interesting turn, Cerdan.¡±

    He was teetering on the edge, and there was no telling which way it would go. Would anyone even speak for him, if the infanzones decided that he must be arrested ¡®for the safety of all¡¯? He¡¯d have to try the luck, gods damn it all. But even if it got him out of the immediate trouble, how much worse would itnd him in?

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t him.¡±

    Surprise caught his throat as silence spread over the hill and he turned to look at the speaker: Lan herself, mouth set in a straight line as she met his eyes.

    ¡°My sister and I spoke with himst night, we settled our affairs,¡± the blue-lipped woman lied. ¡°There was no longer enmity between us. This is mudslinging.¡±

    No one would argue with that he knew, not when it was her own sister that had been murdered, but already he was digging behind. Why? What did she gain by doing this? She had to know the murderer had good as gotten away with it already, what did she¡­ <em>Ah</em>, Tristan thought. <em>Two steps ahead, are you?</em> She¡¯d already seen through how it would end after no one paid for the death and decided to put him in her debt instead of making him an enemy. Only catching up now, his stomach clenched. He was about to lose everything he¡¯d manoeuvred for.

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Inyoni snorted. ¡°You¡¯d bury your own mother to keep the dirt from touching your feet, Cerdan.¡±

    ¡°Fuck this,¡± her nephew Zenzele spat. ¡°This isn¡¯t going anywhere. Come on, auntie, we¡¯re going. If they want to protect a killer it¡¯s on their heads.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Ishaan snorted, throwing the knife into the grass hard enough it sunk to the hilt. ¡°We part ways here.¡±

    There were some token protests by Ruesta about the need to stick together, but it was theatre. She made no real attempt to mend fences and within a quarter hour Inyoni¡¯s group of six was leaving. Herself, the nephew and his lover, the two Ramayans and that Azn called Yaretzi who sometimes tried to chat up Tredegar. She was a decent shot with a pistol, he¡¯d seen yesterday, but nothing else of note. The group headed for the road north and no tears were shed at this first departure. Why would there be? As far as the infanzones were concerned, they¡¯d averted a mess that would have entangled all of them and the groups had been meant to splitter today anyhow.

    Tristan stayed quiet and out of the way, knowing he too hade dangerously close to burning his fingers with this whole affair. Tupoc led his group away not long after, though not before making some smilingments to the infanzones about trust. Taking the two from Asphodel and Ocon, he headed east towards the woods. Watching the pale-eyed Azn stroll away, the thief could shake the feeling that only one person this morn had gotten everything they were after and their name was Tupoc Xical.

    After that there were only the infanzones and the soon-to-be leftovers remaining, so Tristan knew exactly whaty ahead. What Lan had seen before he did. The nobles would want to save face, and there was only one way left for them to do that. As he packed his affairs, the thief closed his eyes and forced himself to look for an angle. All his work to get close to the Cerdan, toy down the foundation of his revenge, was about to be undone but there had to be <em>something</em>. There was always an angle. By the time Cozme came to fetch him, smiling all rueful like he cared in the slightest, Tristan still had nothing. It was like wing at stone. Following the retainer, he found that the infanzones, their servants and other recruits were already waiting.

    The thief had not even noticed Yong being sent for, stuck inside his own mind. The youngest Cerdan, Remund, began to yammer on but Tristan only paid him half a mind. Something about how their valet could not be the killer, that he of course did not believe Tristan was the killer either but who could know? His older brother gravely added that they could not possibly put Isabe at even the slightest risk, surely Tristan understood. If this were Sacromonte they would have simply dismissed him with a smack on the mouth, telling him to mind his betters, but here they had to go through this charade because they needed others to follow them. Tredegar, Brun, Song, Yong. All useful hands, all people that needed to be reassured they wouldn¡¯t be thrown aside easily. A lie, but one the infanzones did not want seen through too quickly.

    It gave him no pleasure to see them go through these contortions, not when there was nothing he could do about the ending. The older Cerdan droned on while Ruesta looked at him with limpid eyes, as if full of sympathy. Ferrdana Vizur¡¯s open boredom was, at least, refreshingly honest. She wanted this over with as much as he did. It had already been decided he was to be cast out of their little group, lose his opportunity to get at Cozme and the Cerdans, and there was nothing in his hands that could hurt them. Nor did his allies - the thief stilled. Not allies, no. But there were enemies aplenty. Lupines who would be hunting them all, soon enough, and that could¡­ But how to deliver it?

    His revtion was encroached on by Isabel Ruesta¡¯s voice.

    ¡°I do not believe it either, I assure you,¡± she told him. ¡°And you came rmended to me by Beatris, who I most dearly trust. If she speaks again for your character, I will insist you remain with us.¡±

    Tristan stilled. The Cerdans looked surprised and angry while Tredegar looked resigned, which implied Ruesta might not be simply posing. What would she get out of this? After a heartbeat he decided she wanted him under her thumb. Someone who¡¯d owe her and not balk at doing the kind of things Tredegar wouldn¡¯t. The thief¡¯s eyes moved to Beatris and he saw the maid touch her jacket¡¯s pocket, the same one where she had stashed away the ruby he¡¯d given her. He saw the calction in her eyes and the answer she came to.

    He¡¯d already killed Recardo, and now he came with too many enemies attached.

    ¡°I do not know him deeply, mydy,¡± Beatris said. ¡°I cannot truly speak to his character.¡±

    She did not look away when he met her eyes, unashamed. As well she should be. Tristan was not angry, not really. How could he be, when just yesterday he had struck one the twins for a relic pistol? This was nothing more than the Law of Rats, the same he lived by. Beatris would do all she could to survive, as he would in her ce. It would have been a hypocrite¡¯s game to im anger here. Ruesta looked taken aback for a moment, then demurred to her maid.

    ¡°I can only follow your words, of course,¡± she said.

    Beatris not ying along had clearly been unexpected and Ruesta looked, amusingly enough, like she¡¯d been the one who just got a knife in the back. He breathed in sharply. That idle thought, that detail, was thest piece Tristan had needed. All of it fell into ce and suddenly there was no longer a need to humour any of this.

    ¡°I will put us all out of our misery,¡± the thief said, ¡°and simply take my leave before Lord Augusto begins another speech.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Ferranda Vizur frankly said.

    He walked away, deciding not to risk a nce at Yong. The thought was tempting to try and ruin his chances to ensure he was forced to stick by Tristan, but the infanzones were unlikely to throw away a skilled soldier on the thief¡¯s behalf and an unwilling ally could be as dangerous as an enemy anyhow. Instead he made straight for his medicine cab, discreetly reaching for a small green vial near the middlepartments while pretending to be arranging the vials. Yes, lodestone extract was there just as the drawing in Alvareno¡¯s Dosages outline. A shadow was cast over him inntern light, Tristan looking up to find Yong standing there.

    ¡°I did not expect a courtesy goodbye,¡± Tristan admitted. ¡°I wish you good luck on the road, Yong.¡±

    He hesitated, wondering whether he should offer a warning and how to phrase it so his scheme would not be threatened.

    ¡°I would hope so,¡± the Tianxi replied, ¡°since we¡¯re headed down the same one.¡±

    The grey-eyed thief paused.

    ¡°Your odds might be better with them,¡± he finally said.

    The Tianxi soldier eyed the bottle in his hand.

    ¡°Somehow I doubt that,¡± he said. ¡°Besides, we struck a bargain.¡±

    The thief cocked an eyebrow. Neither of them were Mni, to be obsessed with honour and oaths.

    ¡°And their way of going about things leave a bad taste in my mouth,¡± Yong admitted. ¡°They¡¯re headed to the High Road out west for some reason, they want to let the rest of us go first.¡±

    It only took him a moment to figure it out.

    ¡°Lupine bait,¡± the thief guessed. ¡°While we¡¯re being eaten they¡¯ll sneak past the packs.¡±

    ¡°That is also my read,¡± Yong grunted, ¡°and I¡¯ve had too much of that tired old game.¡±

    Tristan studied him for a long moment, looking at the older man¡¯s sweating face. He¡¯d begun drinking already, the thief thought.

    ¡°One day,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯d like to know why you left Tianxia.¡±

    Their eyes met.

    ¡°No,¡± Yong mirthlessly smiled. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡±

    The former soldier flicked a nce at the crew forming around the infanzones, frowning.

    ¡°If you have a scheme, now is the time for it,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯re about to leave.¡±

    For the barest moment, Tristan hesitated. Beatris was with them. But then he considered the thought of letting the infanzones get away with it, of letting them walk away clean like they always did, and it burned like coals in his belly. In the end, all that he owed his fellow rat was the uglyw they¡¯d been born to: nothing more and nothing less.

    Tristan uncorked the green bottle. The transparent fluid inside was sticky yet surprisingly liquid, so he was careful not to spill any as he wet his right hand. He carefully put the bottle back and closed the cab, walking over to where the crowd had gathered for thest of the earlier squabbling. There Ishaan had angrily thrown the knife the infanzones lied about and there it still was. Tristan ripped it clear of the ground with his left hand, careful to ther the leather grip with the liquid. He then strode right into the midst the infanzones¡¯ crew, de in hand. Song loosely aimed her musket his way and Tredegar put her hand on her saber, but he went straight for Augusto Cerdan and smiled.

    He flipped the knife, offering the handle to the scowling infanzon.

    ¡°You gifted it to your valet, didn¡¯t you say?¡± Tristan said. ¡°Have it back. Perhaps back in your hands it won¡¯t earn so poor a reputation.¡±

    With all those eyes on him, with Ruesta¡¯s eyes on him, Augusto could not back down from the implied challenge. He took the knife, fingers closing around the extract-drenched handle. It would have felt humid, but not wet. Not enough to draw suspicion.

    ¡°That mouth of yours will cost you some day, boy,¡± the infanzon coldly said. ¡°More than it already has.¡±

    ¡°We all pay the price at the end, Cerdan,¡± Tristan easily replied. ¡°It¡¯s the single fair thing in all the world.¡±

    And with that he walked away from the infanzon, from the lot of them, and back up the hill as they began to leave. The moment they were out of sight, Tristan rushed to his medicine cab. He carefully opened it using only his left hand, utching the sps and reaching for the ss bottle at the bottom. Shoving it under his armpit as he reached for a rag, he pulled the cork and wet the rag with grain alcohol. Methodically, ignoring all the eyes on him, the thief wiped his hand and the edge of his clothes with the wet rag. He was particrly careful with his skin, knowing that lodestar extract would sink in unless dissolved by alcohol.

    ¡°So what was that about?¡± Yong bluntly asked.

    Tristan finished up with the rag and tossed it away, careful not step anywhere near it. He then cast a look at the seven people he¡¯d be taking the Trial of Lines with, the band of leftovers than no one else had wanted. Yong and Sarai, the drunk and the woman wearing a mask. The exhausted and bickering married pair of Aines and Felis ¨C the gambler and the dust addict. Grief-stricken Lan who had put him in her debt, her once-polished smile reced by poorly hidden rage. And then the greyhairs, bespectacled Vanesa and ever-coughing Franchowith his toothless smile. It was not the crew he¡¯d wanted, but it was the one he had. He must make the most of it. An introduction was in order, a proper one.

    ¡°Are any of you familiar with lodestone extract?¡± Tristan asked.

    He got mostly nk looks, though Lan frowned as if trying to recall something. Most importantly, Francho¡¯s eyes lit up.

    ¡°You coated the knife in it?¡± the old man asked.

    ¡°The handle,¡± the thief agreed.

    The greyhair hummed in understanding.

    ¡°And for those of us unfamiliar with the substance?¡± Sarai asked.

    ¡°The lodestone bush is a nt that grows berries,¡± Francho exined, tone gone professorial. ¡°It ismon across the west and south of the Trebian Sea. The berries, whileestible, have an unpleasant side effect.¡±

    ¡°Their juice doesn¡¯t smell like anything to us,¡± Tristan revealed, ¡°but to lemures, they reek of fresh blood.¡±

    A moment of silence. Lemures like lupines, the beasts with the noses of hunting hounds crawling around these parts.

    ¡°The extract,¡± Yong slowly said, ¡°it will be more concentrated than the raw berry juice, won¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°At least a hundred times, if it is anything like what is sold in Sacromonte markets,¡± Old Francho said, grinning a toothless grin. ¡°Clever boy. Every lupine for a dozen miles will be after them like they¡¯re the only meat at the feast.¡±

    The thief only smiled a pleasant, friendly smile.

    ¡°They meant to use us to clear their path,¡± he shrugged. ¡°I am only returning the favour in kind.¡±

    Tristan liked to think of himself as a practical man, even when moved by revenge. It did not matter if the deed was not of his own hand, so long as Cozme and the Cerdans died.

 Chapter 9

    Chapter 9

    They¡¯d not left the campsite for half an hour before it got worse.

    ¡°We <em>agreed </em>to pool our men together, Ferranda,¡± Augusto Cerdan shouted. ¡°You would go back on your word?¡±

    ¡°I gave no word,¡± Lady Ferranda Vizur evenly replied, ¡°and go back on nothing. If you assumed, Cerdan, that is on your head alone.¡±

    The eldest of the Cerdan brothers was the one barking the loudest but he was not the one Angharad was wary of. Twice now Remund had tried to catch Cozme Aflor¡¯s eye, to give him a silent order, and only the retainer¡¯s obstinate pretence he had not noticed was preventing that disaster in the making. Isabel had retreated behind her maids, wisely so, but the rest of the infanzones were at each other¡¯s throats: Lady Ferranda and her hired huntsman Sanale standing on one side, the Cerdans and their retainers on the other.

    The Cerdan valet, Gascon, had pulled a pistol out of his blue-and-red livery and his impressive moustache bristled with his masters¡¯ anger. Lord Augusto had not drawn his sword, for all the red flush of his face, but his younger brother¡¯s left hand was kept under his cloak and to Angharad¡¯s eye the stance spoke of his holding either a pistol or a knife. Master Cozme, the real fighter of the lot, had pointedly refrained from reaching for a weapon but Lady Ferranda still kept a hand on the grip of the slender sword at her hip. She must be feeling the weight of the numbers arrayed against her.

    ¡°Turn on us now and we will remember it, Vizur,¡± Remund sneered. ¡°It is all of your house that will feel the displeasure of the Cerdan.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s teeth clenched. That, she thought, was a step too far. By the open disgust on Song¡¯s face and the nkness on Brun¡¯s, she was not the only one to think as much. Lady Ferranda¡¯s eyes went cold.

    ¡°Watch your tongue, you viperous brat,¡± she said. ¡°If you threaten my kin again, I swear by the Manes there will be blood.¡±

    Remund smiled, triumph in his eyes.

    ¡°See, I told you she was against us,¡± the Cerdan announced to all. ¡°For all we know she was the one who killed that Tianxi peasant. What if shees back to attack us in the night? We can¡¯t afford to let her loose.¡±

    Angharad had been reluctant to step in, for the affairs of the infanzones were theirs to settle, but when Remund¡¯s im was answered by the sound of Ferranda Vizur unsheathing her rapier she knew the time for such courtesy was past. She cleared her throat, shoulders tensing.

    ¡°You have made a grave usation, Lord Remund,¡± Angharad stated. ¡°Kindly either prove or withdraw it.¡±

    The infanzon¡¯s dark eyes swept the crowd, but as he did his face reddened. The Cerdan had made few friends and none now cared to back the youngest¡¯s wild usation. Remund tugged at his blue doublet¡¯s high cor, nervousness seeping into his eyes as it sunk in he might be short of defenders.

    ¡°You are here at our sufferance, Tredegar,¡± he began. ¡°You-¡±

    Brun took a measured step closer to Angharad¡¯s side, hand on his hatchet. The sight of it had Remund trailing off.

    ¡°I would like to hear your proof as well, Lord Remund,¡± Brun said.

    The weight of Song¡¯s silver eyes burned against the side of Angharad¡¯s face for a long moment, before the Tianxi idly took a step closer to them both. She did not reach for her musket but the implication was clear.

    ¡°My brother spoke in anger and shamed himself,¡± Augusto Cerdan suddenly cut in. ¡°He never meant to impugn Lady Ferranda¡¯s reputation.¡±

    Remund¡¯s face twisted in fury, as much turned on his now-smiling brother as Angharad herself. She met his gaze, unimpressed. Though it was true that thepany assembled at the beginning of the trial had ended, and so the oath not to do violence on one another as well, Lady Ferranda had given them no reason to bare steel.

    ¡°Do you withdraw your usation, Remund?¡± the fair-haired Vizur bit out.

    Movement to the side as Isabel strode past her maids, shaking her head.

    ¡°Of course he does, Ferranda, do not be silly,¡± Isabel said. ¡°You know how men¡¯s tempers are, he was only angered you would leave us so. I¡¯m sure he is most sorry.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°Naturally,¡± Remund said, after a beat. ¡°It is as Isabel says.¡±

    And so, Angharad noted, he was spared from having to recant and apologize with his own words. Cleverly done, if Isabel¡¯s intent was to spare him further humiliation, but the Pereduri¡¯s lips thinned. One¡¯s honour should not be left in another¡¯s hands. The ploy reminded her all too much of the tales Mother had told her of the High Queen¡¯s court, of courtiers confessing to the misdeeds of their izinduna patrons so that those hallowed personages¡¯ honour would not be stained. It was a base sort of cleverness, one she had not expected of Isabel. <em>She is only trying to keep the peace</em>, Angharad decided. <em>That is audable thing</em>.

    ¡°Then we have nothing else to say to each other,¡± Lady Ferranda stiffly replied, sheathing her de. ¡°It is best we part ways swiftly.¡±

    ¡°If you prefer,¡± Augusto Cerdan shrugged. ¡°A shame Remund¡¯s manners were so poor as to drive you away.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s jaw clenched. Was there anything in all of Vesper that would have the brothers cease pricking one another? Ferranda bad curt goodbyes to her fellow infanzones, even to Isabel, and ignored their attendants entirely. She grew warmer only whening over towards the others, kindly bidding farewell to Song and Brun before turning to Angharad herself.

    ¡°Your help was most appreciated, mydy,¡± Ferranda said,ying hand on her heart and bowing slightly.

    Angharad was not familiar with the gesture but mimicked it easily enough.

    ¡°It was nothing,¡± she replied.

    ¡°It was not,¡± Ferranda firmly said, ¡°and I will not forget it. I hope we may meet againe the Trial of Ruins and share a road for a time.¡±

    ¡°I look forward to it,¡± Angharad said, meaning every word, but cocked her heat to the side. ¡°I mean no slight, but are you quite certain you two should set out alone?¡±

    ¡°I have long prepared for these trials, mydy,¡± the other woman said. ¡°Believe me when I say I am certain indeed.¡±

    ¡°Then I will not wish you luck you ill need,¡± Angharad smiled, ¡°but may the God¡¯s blessing go with you.¡±

    Ferranda looked startled.

    ¡°You are a Universalist?¡±

    ¡°As are most Pereduri,¡± Angharad agreed. ¡°The Redeemers never made many converts among us.¡±

    The faiths might have the same source and believe in the same Sleeping God, but the hardline beliefs of the Redeemers had always made her ufortable. Their insistence that Vesper was the test of the God and he gave neither blessing nor sour, that devils and hollows were inherent instruments of evil, struck her as wretched. The Universalist creed, that the Sleeping God had divided himself into all save devils and all would return to him when he woke to be judged for their deeds, felt like a kinder and deeper truth.

    Not that a Sacromontan would know much of either creed. Their city was in the old hearnds of the Second Empire, the cradle of the Orthodoxy. The Lierganen had spread their faith far and wide, converting most of the known world, but since Mn had been only a distant province of the empire it had been spared the imposition of the imperial creed. Not that the Orthodoxy was so orthodox, these days. Tianxia and the Someshwar both imed to be the seat of the faith since the fall of Tarteso, asionally going to war over it.

    ¡°I should have guessed from theck of haughty sermons,¡± Ferranda snorted, but her amusement soon faded.

    It was reced by a flicker of hesitation before the blonde¡¯s expression firmed.

    ¡°A word of warning,¡± she spoke in a whisper. ¡°Isabel has already lost what she came to this ind for, and will now look to other prizes.¡±

    ¡°I do not understand,¡± Angharad frowned.

    ¡°You are not a choice she ever intends to make,¡± Lady Ferranda said, not unkindly.

    Without further ceremony, the other woman offered her a nod and decisively broke away. Angharad was left trying not to gape, as much from her flirtation with Isabel having been caught on to as by how out of the ck the warning was. And unnecessary. She hardly expected marriage out of a liaison that had yet to even begin and had not even found it in her to daydream of being joined in the Watch by the lovely infanzona. Isabel did not seem well-suited to such a life. No, their affair ¨C should it bloom - would end with the trials and remain only a fond memory. It was kind of Lady Ferranda to try to protect her feelings, but she had no undue expectations to be wounded by. Angharad was still wrestling with the suddenness of it all when Song and Brun joined her.

    ¡°A very polite woman,¡± Brun said, ncing at the departing pair.

    He sounded approving. Lady Ferranda and her hired man were heading east, Angharad saw, towards the road that supposedly led all the way to the mountains and the second trial awaiting within them. The Trial of Ruins, it was called. The Cerdans had several times implied it was some sort of maze.

    ¡°And clever,¡± Song mused. ¡°She waited until everyone else was gone to part ways with us.¡±

    Angharad nced at her.

    ¡°You believe she wants others to think she is still with our group,¡± she slowly said.

    ¡°A lone pair would be vulnerable,¡± Song said. ¡°But less so if no one knows they went off on their own.¡±

    Vulnerable to who, Angharad could have asked, but she knew the answer. She simply did not want to consider it.

    ¡°Then you suspect, as she must, that the murderer did not act alone,¡± she murmured. ¡°That there are those among us who would hunt other trial-takers.¡±

    ¡°I suspect the same,¡± Brun frankly said. ¡°And while I have no proof, it urs to me that Tupoc Xical was pleased our greatpany parted ways on such poor terms.¡±

    ¡°He also went hard after that man Tristan,¡± Song noted. ¡°Not without grounds, but it did feed the fires just when they were beginning to cool.¡±

    Angharad grimaced. She was not unaware she had acted poorly there, also casting the me on the apprentice physician. It was only sensible that when an oath-breaking killing was had one should look at where honour had proved loosest, but she could admit to herself that was not the sole reason she¡¯d spoken. It had been so deeply embarrassing, to find the man she¡¯d thought a kind soul standing over a beaten woman with a debt collector¡¯s weapon in hand. It¡¯d felt like he had taken advantage of <em>her</em>, back on the ship, and wounded pride had moved her lips. Her father had always admonished her over lessons ofw, saying that justice could spring only from clear mind and cold heart.

    Would that she had listened to him, instead ofughing that she would find a wife to run nw Hall¡¯s estate for her just as Mother had found a husband. She could not quite shake the Sacromontan¡¯s sharp retort. <em>You are attempting to do me violence right now</em>, he had said, and had he been wrong? Angharad had not bared a de but an usation before the others was almost as dangerous. It gnawed at her, that while respecting the letter of her oath she might well have vited the spirit. <em>And for wounded pride, of all things</em>. She had felt guilty enough to ept when Isabel brought up the notion of keeping the physician in the fold.

    ¡°I added to the mes myself,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°It was ill-done, and I do not know if I owe him apology but there should be some redress.¡±

    Another debt to mark, one of the many she seemed to be ruing these days. Like a drunken vagrant, she racked up ounts wherever she drifted to. What she would not give to be home again, where it had all made sense and her life had been a well-lit road ahead of her instead of the darkened trail she was now stumbling down.

    ¡°I would not say he¡¯s earned so much,¡± Song said, ¡°but that is your decision to make.¡±

    Angharad sighed, forcing herself to set aside the pointless thoughts.

    ¡°Tupoc is dangerous,¡± she finally agreed. ¡°He recruited fighters for a reason, and though I do not know whether he would hunt others outright I do not believe he would balk at violence should he meet us.¡±

    ¡°They went east, towards the woods,¡± Brun said. ¡°Of all the groups we should be the least likely to run into his.¡±

    True enough, as they were headed northwest towards the long aqueduct known as the High Road. For what Angharad did not yet know, as the infanzones had been tight-lipped about their ns, but she would soon learn. She had been told they were not far from the structure, a mere half hour of walk. Lady Ferranda¡¯s departure and the tenor of it having left a pall on them all, at first the mood was grim when they set out on their journey again. Angharad took the vanguard with Cozme Aflor once more, leaving the back to Song and Gascon. Brun, she saw with a thread of amusement, was chatting with Isabel¡¯s redheaded maid again. They seemed quite charmed by one another.

    Isabel herself stood between the Cerdans, a pleasant smile on her face as the three conversed. Angharad could only wonder whether at how genuine it might be, given how much more sharply the brothers had begun sniping at each other since the beginning of the trial. She kept her eyes ahead, however, looking for threats as the light of the greatntern Cozme carried swept the grounds before them. Herpanion at the front was not one for silences, so it was not long before he spoke up.

    ¡°Shame how it turned out in camp,¡± Cozme idly said. ¡°We could have used them.¡±

    ¡°It does feel like ourpany¡¯s ranks have grown thin,¡± she said. ¡°I regret my hand in that.¡±

    Cozme snorted.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think it¡¯s a reproach, Lady Tredegar,¡± the older man said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that Tristan boy cut the other rat¡¯s throat, but he was a little too slick for my tastes. Always up to something. I won¡¯t mourn leaving him behind.¡±

    The greying retainer sighed.

    ¡°Yong, now? <em>That</em> was a loss,¡± he said. ¡°Wish I knew what made him leave.¡±

    ¡°He was a skilled marksman,¡± Angharad slowly agreed, ¡°but why such esteem? You are a fair shot yourself.¡±

    ¡°You know that knot he had on top of his head?¡± Cozme said, gesturing towards the back of his own.

    Angharad nodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s the way men from Caishen do their hair when they go soldiering,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve worked with some of them before and they¡¯re hard men. some of the finest in Vesper.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s lessons on Tianxia had involved learning the Ten Republics by rote, but it took her a moment to ce which one Caishen was.

    ¡°The city is near the borders with Izcalli and the Someshwar,¡± she said. ¡°I was taught there is hardly a season there without skirmishing.¡±

    ¡°More than skirmishes, sometimes,¡± Cozme told her. ¡°About twenty years ago the raj of Kurin decided he wanted to im a slice of the londs, so Caishen mustered militia and mercenaries to turn him back. Only it turned into a rough stalemate, so a pack of Sunflower Lords led warbands over the border to attack both under banner of flower war.¡±

    ¡°That sounds¡­¡± Angharad began, looking for the right word. ¡°Messy.¡±

    ¡°It was that,¡± Cozme grunted. ¡°Bloody as all Hell too, and it took most a decade before the bleeding stopped.¡±

    ¡°Caishen won?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The Kurin troops shelled an old temple trying to push out the Izcalli, only they broke something they shouldn¡¯t have and a horde of old gods came howling out,¡± he said. ¡°They started killing everything so the Watch stepped in and told everyone to go home until they cleaned up the mess.¡±

    It was for good reason that the ckcloaks were given the authority to force temporary truces under the Iscariot ords, Angharad thought. Not even the most bloodthirsty of the Sunflower Lords wanted the devastation of the Session Wars toe again, those ruinous days when entire kingdoms were swallowed up by the Gloam as the great powers fought tooth and nail to seed Liergan¡¯s hegemony.

    ¡°You believe this Yong fought in the conflict, then,¡± Angharad guessed.

    ¡°He has a veteran¡¯s way about him and he¡¯s in his forties,¡± Cozme replied. ¡°I can¡¯t be sure but I¡¯d bet coin on it.¡±

    Angharad saw no need to doubt herpanion, their regr conversations having revealed that his fifty some years in Sacromonte left him learned in many matters. Not in the way a noble would be, a proper education, but in the manner of a skilled retainer. Useful knowledge, gathered on the ground.

    ¡°Sacromonte does seem to attract all sorts,¡± Angharad said. ¡°You met these Caishen soldiers in the service of House Cerdan, I take it?¡±

    ¡°I used to work under Lord Lorient, the boys¡¯ uncle,¡± Cozme said, tone wistful.

    He shook his head.

    ¡°Not Lord Cerdan himself, one of his younger brothers,¡± he borated. ¡°He ran the house¡¯s affairs in Feria District for a few years and we used hired hands there. The war in Caishen was just over, so the port was flush with penniless mercenariese to the City for work.¡±

    Angharad found herself approving of the Cerdan generosity in employing such luckless men, a reminder that the brothers were not the sum whole of House Cerdan. The eastern ports of the Isles often found themselves flush with destitute souls from Izcalli when one its constant wars went badly for a Sunflower Lord, but Mn did not treat the exiles as kindly. Most of them ended up press-ganged into the High Queen¡¯s navy or used asbour for the great shipyards.

    The two of them kept up lively talk throughout the walk, the noblewoman finding Master Cozme to be as pleasantpany as ever. It was obvious the older man missed his days spent serving Lord Lorient and was hoping to return to the man¡¯s service after the trials. Why he was no longer under Lorient Cerdan was something Cozme remained vague about, though Angharad suspected he had made a blunder of some kind. Joining the trials to protect the Cerdan brothers must have been his way of expiating the mistake, a worthy redress.

    Honour was not the sole province of nobles, Angharad reminded herself.

    Finding the High Road proved easy enough, near the end, for the structure loomed tall above the ins. At least thirty feet tall, the aqueduct was a long stretch of arches going into the distance ¨C first through ins, and likely even through the distant woods beyond them. Perhaps, Angharad thought, all the way to the mountains. The stone was weather-worn and smooth, she saw as she approached, and though there was no trace of where it once would have carried water to rain must still gather atop it: at the foot of where the arches began, the ground was a mess of stinking mud. The noblewoman stopped at the edge, wrinkling her nose.

    ¡°First Empire work, do you think?¡± Brun asked,ing to stand by her side.

    She¡¯d not heard him approach. How lightly the Sacromontan stepped, sometimes.

    ¡°It looks old enough,¡± Angharad agreed.

    Not all remains of the First Empire were wondrous machinery. The Antediluvians had left great works of stone as well, fortresses and cities and stranger things ¨C towers hidden beneathkes, pces bncing atop cliffs and even bridges that crossed half a sea. Many had aged poorly, shattered by war or the ravages of time as eras passed. First the Old Night, reigning for devils only knew how long, then Morn¡¯s Arrival announcing their fall when thest of the Old World took refuge in the depths of Vesper. It had been centuries from then to the Second Empire and longer still to this day. Their curiosity was ended by Isabel sweetly calling for all to gather, the infanzones finally ready to reveal their n.

    Only between the Cerdan brothers and Isabel she found that Song was standing, unveiling a scroll under the light of antern held up by Gascon. All gathered close and Angharad sucked in a breath at the sight of what the Tianxi revealed: a <em>map</em>. Spirits, no wonder the infanzones had been unanimous in their desire for her to join. Angharad had wondered at such unusual unity. Hungry for a better grasp of their situation, the Pereduri leaned close. Though it was rough work, nothing at all like Mni sea charts, the outline of the Dominion of Lost Things was clear. They hadnded at the southern end of the ind, at a ce named Lodoso Dock, and followed the road north.

    Passing through nameless woods they were now on a in that reached the shore on the western side but led into further forest to the north and east. The forest to the north was cut by a great river across which there were two bridges, and further beyond stood the mountains and a fort marked as the Trial of Ruins.

    ¡°Some of you might be wondering why it is that we have led you to the High Road,¡± Lord Augusto addressed everyone. ¡°Now is the time to have your answers.¡±

    He gestured at Song¡¯s map, finger tracing the air above the thin grey line that was the aqueduct on the map. It went straight north, parallel to the road, and crossed woods and river to end against a mountainside.

    ¡°Its name is most apt, you see,¡± the eldest Cerdan told them smilingly. ¡°We will climb the aqueduct and use it a high road across half the ind, bringing us mere hours away from the Trial of Ruins without ever being at risk.¡±

    ¡°The aqueduct is intact all the way across?¡± Brun asked, skeptical.

    A doubt earned, Angharad thought, if the two of them had been right in guessing the High Road to be a work of the First Empire. Her gaze left the map, instead turning to the tall arches. Not only was it of towering height but the weather-worn smoothness of the stone left no real grip for someone trying to climb. How were they to even reach up there?

    ¡°There are sections that fell apart,¡± Lord Augusto acknowledged, ¡°but we have means to cross them.¡±

    ¡°I imagine,¡± Angharad slowly said, ¡°that you also have equipment to climb our way up? It will take more than ropes and audacity to achieve this.¡±

    She had not seen cliff-climbing gear among the bags of the infanzones, but then she had not looked for it. Augusto Cerdan smirked, the stern lines of his face softening.

    ¡°We have something altogether better,¡± he said.

    His brother stepped forth, Remund preening under the weight of the gazes turned on him. With an arrogant smiled he brushed back his ck curls, tucking them under that ridiculous plumed hat he insisted on wearing. Why Sacromonte fashion dictated a side of the brim should be pinned to the hat¡¯s crown was beyond her ¨C unlike a tricorn, it would not even properly keep the rain out of your face. Satisfied he had everyone¡¯s attention, Remund Cerdan breathed out and began tracing thin air with his finger. For a startled moment Angharad thought he might be using a Sign, but the infanzon instead left a trail of thick light.

    <em>Contract</em>, she thought. The youngest Cerdan finished with a flourish of the wrist, having traced a small circle of light whose hole faced the sky. Before anyone could think to ask as to the usefulness of such a thing, Remund dramatically took off his hat and hung it on the light as if it were a hook. Both hat and light remaining hanging in midair, to the amazement of several gathered around.

    ¡°I will be making us stairs all the way to the summit,¡± Lord Remund announced. ¡°My power can support weight enough for a grown man and bags when properly focused.¡±

    ¡°That is impressive,¡± Angharad freely admitted.

    ¡°It is not a power without ws,¡± Lord Augusto was quick to reveal. ¡°Never let your flesh touch it, else it will be burned.¡±

    The younger brother turned a hard gaze on him, visibly furious.

    ¡°Do not be miffed, Remund,¡± Isabel said, patting his arm. ¡°We agreed to tell ourpanions as much, yes? No one wants an ident.¡±

    ¡°It was mine to reveal,¡± the youngest Cerdan insisted, but the edge to his anger was gone.

    He sighed, snatching his hat back a heartbeat before the solid light snuffed itself out. Angharad studied him carefully, looking for a price but finding none visible. Was his pact like hers then, bound to a single great oathsworn act? She had not studied the lore of spirits in depth as a girl, but she remembered only old and powerful ones were capable of such things. The Fisher was one such, ancient as stony shores of Peredur and powerful enough a spirit to have formed a body, but that was not so rare a thing. Sacromonte, for all its waning splendour, was host to some great spirits of the Second Empire ¨C the Manes, she thought them to be called.

    ¡°It will take us no more than four days to make it to the Trial of Ruins, keeping to a reasonable pace,¡± Song announced, carefully rolling up her map. ¡°We carry rations and water enough to make it there without resupply.¡±

    ¡°The sanctuary in the mountains provides food and water for all,¡± Lord Augusto told them. ¡°Our needs will be met.¡±

    The infanzones knew much of the trials and it was no secret why. Isabel had candidly admitted to her during one of their walks that most noble houses kept records of the Dominion of Lost Things for their own, though the Watch forbade the tracing of maps during the trials so any drawn must be after and from memory. Song¡¯s own map, of superior quality, must have been sold to her by a ckcloak and so stood a testament to the Tianxi¡¯s resourcefulness. There were no arguments as to the n the infanzones had revealed, rightfully so, and so without further ado the preparations for the climb began: Remund Cerdan, wearing thick cloves, began forging stairs with his contract.

    Or so he had called them, but Angharad found them closer to a rising slope. The infanzon only ever drew circles she noticed, never another shape even if the sized varied, and seemed as wary of touching the solid light with his bare flesh as others must be. Lord Augusto went to oversee the servants while Song and Master Cozme kept watch, leaving Angharad free to spend her time in pleasantpany. Isabel came to her side without being bid and they stood arm in arm as they watched Remund Cerdan put his contract to work.

    Isabel had long traded her brocade dress for more practical clothes, much like her maids, but they were just as ttering to her form as thest. A long jacket over a blouse and a yellow satin bodice led into matching breeches and hose, the ensemble secured at the waist by a broad belt while below the hose disappeared into knee-high boots. Having eschewed jewels the infanzona had instead added a touch of panache through a wide-brimmed felt hat, angled roguishly. Angharad¡¯s eyes lingered on the delicately embroidered bodice and the slender waist it encircled so lovingly.

    ¡°Is my bodice so interesting, Lady Tredegar?¡± Isabel teased.

    ¡°I could be looking at your pistol, Lady Ruesta,¡± she easily replied, smirking back.

    It was a small pearl-incrusted piece tucked into her belt,cquered so heavily there was no telling what the wood beneath might be.

    ¡°That would be disappointing,¡± Isabel said. ¡°I might have picked it thinking of you.¡±

    It was an effort not to cough in embarrassment, but Angharad was not a girl and she had yed this game before. Being smitten would only keep her on the backfoot for so long.

    ¡°You should have sent for me, then,¡± she lightly replied. ¡°Should it not be my duty to help you put it on?¡±

    Isabel¡¯s green eyes glittered with amusement, but small fingers pinched Angharad¡¯s side through her coat.

    ¡°Bold,¡± the infanzona half-heartedly chided.

    ¡°If that is your request,¡± Angharad drawled back, ¡°I will endeavour to deliver.¡±

    Isabel¡¯s lips quirked.

    ¡°I had thought to offer you a walk with me tonight,¡± she said, ¡°but I begin to think I would be courting danger.¡±

    Angharad met her eyes, offering a roguish smile.

    ¡°Somehow I don¡¯t think you¡¯d mind a taste of¡­ danger.¡±

    Isabel¡¯s cheeks pinkened, eyes widening, and she shyly looked away. It had been so very worth it to learn that smile after Thalente Cindi used it to get her into bed, Angharad mused and not for the first time either. Father had once caught her practicing it in the mirror, which had been mortifying, but not as much as the way he¡¯d then given her advice about perfecting it. Surprisingly good advice, too, which had led her to suspect Mother might not have been as much the pursuer in that courtship as she¡¯d always imed. The sudden realization that she would never again speak with her father, that never again would she see Mother kiss his neck in affection as they talked of this and that, hit her like a shot in the belly.

    She swallowed thickly, Isabel turning to shoot her a concerned nce at the sound. Angharad forced calm upon herself, setting aside the grief. She could not let the past catch up to her, lest it swallow her whole. Forward, ever forward until she took her revenge and atst she could allow herself to weep.

    ¡°Are you quite all right?¡± Isabel softly asked.

    ¡°I¡­ miss my home,¡± Angharad finally replied, keeping to a truth exact. ¡°It would be difficult to return.¡±

    Isabel found her hand and squeezed itfortingly.

    ¡°Difficulty does notst forever,¡± the infanzona said, then her voice became cadenced. ¡°All thingse and go, all that was will be: a closed circle is without end.¡±

    Orthodoxy words, but kind ones. She took what littlefort there was to find within them, gaze returning to Remund Cerdan as he finished thest of his work. He¡¯d climbed up, needing to draw the circles of light with his fingers, and was now a single one away from reaching the top of the aqueduct. His valet Gascon was holding up antern from below, its lights revealing a sight that had Angharad going utterly still. Remund¡¯s skin was pale as milk, and for a disgusted heartbeat she thought the man had hollowed, turned into a darkling, but it was not so. His movements were oddly stiff and she realized that his skin was no longer skin at all: it was as if it¡¯d turned into ivory. Even his eyes had gone pale. The noblewoman shivered in difort at the sight.

    ¡°It is not pretty,¡± Isabel quietly agreed. ¡°The Tiller-of-Rectitude has twisted tastes, for all that his boons are powerful.¡±

    ¡°Is he a Mane?¡± Angharad asked in a whisper.

    Isabel chuckled.

    ¡°No, nothing so impressive,¡± the dark-haired beauty replied. ¡°He <em>is</em> a temple god, though, revered enough to have his built in the Old Alcazar. It was a coup for Remund to attract his attention.¡±

    The work now finished, said Cerdan climbed atop the High Road and disappeared into the dark, perhaps hoping he had not been seen. His older brother directed the servants to begin bringing up the bags, Gascon and the Ruesta handmaids taking turns to bring up clothes. They covered their hands with washcloths to avoid being burned, the clumsiness it entailed slowing down the work even further. Angharad and Isabel reluctantly parted ways when her time came, the infanzona pulling on fitted leather gloves to help her on her way up. Up there she began to chat with Remund, one of her maids at her side to take up the bags the other one brought up.

    With about half the work done, Brun was sent up with his own affairs and Song pulled from guard duty for the same at Isabel¡¯s own suggestion. A courtesy, Angharad decided, meant, meant to soothe away the resentment the high-handed manners of the Cerdan had brought. Angharad went to keep Master Cozmepany, less than interested in watching Augusto Cerdan pettily ensure that his own bags were brought up by the servants before his brother¡¯s, and found him sitting on a stone as he kept an eye on the ins around them.

    Thentern¡¯s cast only went so far, but out here the lights of firmament lent an eye in a way they had not out in the woods. The cold light of cycling stars, those great Antediluvian wonders, shone like handfuls of diamonds sown in a sea of dark. Yet for all their beauty it was the crescent bite of the southern moons, slices of re bled out by faults in the machineries of firmament, that navigators set their courses by. Unlike the stars, they did not move with the passing of years ¨C though unseen ebb and flows dictated the strength of their light.

    ¡°Almost done?¡± Cozme idly asked.

    She nced back.

    ¡°Still more than a third of the bags left,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Mostly supplies. Lady Isabel¡¯s bags were brought up first.¡±

    Unsurprisingly, given that Lord Augusto had been deciding the order. He was still down there with the dark-haired maid and his valet, enjoying the exercise of authority.

    ¡°Of course they were,¡± Cozme Aflor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ¡°At least with Mistress Song up there we have-¡±

    A shout interrupted him, both their gazes immediately drawn by the sound. Song was gesturing wildly, pointing to their left. Cozme was on his feet in a heartbeat, pistol drawn, and Angharad reached for her saber ¨C yet there was nothing there. Was had the Tianxi seen?

    ¡°What in the Manes is she shouting about?¡± Cozme muttered, picking up hisntern.

    Fiddling with the shutter to open it wider, he let out a curse when it jammed and began pulling at it. Song shouted again.

    ¡°-RUN!¡±

    The shutter suddenly jerked open, light leaping forward and revealing a dazed lupine three feet away where there¡¯d been thin air a heartbeat earlier. Angharad¡¯s arm moved even as her mind froze, slicing through the lemure¡¯s eyes. The creature whimpered, just before Cozme fired behind her and she turned just long enough to see another lupine¡¯s brains stter the grass. It was then she finally caught sight of them: strands of shadow on the green, slithering unseen towards them. She barely began to count before ceasing in blind dread: there were dozens, maybe even a hundred, converging from all sides. The Pereduri seized her panic before it could seize her, ripping thentern out of Cozme¡¯s hands.

    He cursed, but she was already throwing it behind them. As the light whirled it ripped away the veil hiding the lupines behind them, dazing them for a moment as it had the others.

    ¡°<em>Run</em>,¡± she hissed, and they did.

    She broke into a sprint, hacking blindly when something snapped at her heels, and saw Cozme¡¯s wide-brimmed hat fly off when he turned to cut at burning yellow eyes. They were soon at thentern she¡¯d thrown, howls erupting behind them as the pack emerged from nothingness and ahead she saw one of Isabel¡¯s maids going up the rings of solid light, the valet right behind her, screaming as she burned her hands in her hurry. The distraction cost her, Angharad¡¯s foot slipping on the grass, but Cozme caught her arm and kept her standing. A shot sounded from the top of the aqueduct, thentern behind them exploding in a ball of pale fire whose blooming light had the lemures yelping in pain.

    They did not waste Song¡¯s gift, running thest of the way hard enough their legs burned. Angharad almost slipped into the mud when she reached the ground by thest of the bags, supplies she knew they would have to abandon. Already Lord Augusto was climbing up his brother¡¯s rings, shouting for his valet to hurry, and there was just enough room for another to begin going after him. Angharad and Cozme traded a look for a heartbeat, then she gestured for him to go. She would have slipped out there, if not for his help. That debt at least she could repay. She turned to face the onught, de in hand, and breathed out slowly.

    The light of abandonednternsid out a ghostly ring for her, the darkness beyond just thin enough that when whatever greater power had veiled the lupines released its hold she saw the horde entire. A dozen slowly circling around her, eyeing the ck ichor still staining her de, and twice as many spreading around. She saw it then, the monster behind it all. She would have thought it a hill on the horizon, if it had not moved. Large as a carriage, the wolf-like lemure leaned heavily on its toorge front legs, the great maw seton its eyeless face filled with teeth like razor des. The horror, though, did noty there: it was covered in bulbous cysts and open wounds, trailing from all of them a foul ck pus that the lupines came close to lick as if it were to them mother¡¯s milk.

    Shadow shivered down their fur when they did, melding them with the dark, and Angharad retched at the sight. Her disgust was forced aside when fear stole its ce, her wandering gaze enough to incite the lemures to attack. The yellow-eyed monsters charged a dozen all at once, bone stingers rattling up a storm as they ran. Shots rang from above, downing two while the other balls missed, but Angharad kept her eyes on the enemy. Going still, she glimpsed ahead.

    (It leapt up, tearing out her throat as another hamstrung her and the rest barrelled into her corpse)

    Crouching down without missing a beat, she let the lupine fall into the mud as she carved through the muzzle of the one to her left. Pivoting on herself to rise back to her full height, she stole another glimpse.

    (ws into her back, snapping at her heels from behind, a mass like a tide tipping her over.)

    <em>Precision in all things</em>, she told herself. <em>So the wasp kills the lion.</em> Measured movement, using her pivot to stumble back so the lupine wing at her back instead stumbled into the one crawling out of the mud to bite at her heels. Hands high, shifting the weight so she could steal her footing back in time to sh at the muzzle of the first lupine in the tide. It was chaos after that, too fast and brutal for glimpsing. ws tore at her side, through coat and shirt, and she smashed a skull with her saber¡¯s pommel and hacked into another enemy¡¯s nk. Another few shots from above, and another from closer: Cozme had reloaded while climbing.

    And just as suddenly as it hade the tide withdrew, lupine corpses strewn all over the ring of light as the survivors fled back to the safety of the dark. Angharad, panting, felt the foul mixture of blood, sweat and ichor slide down her skin. Already another pack was gathering, andrger.

    ¡°Climb,¡± Isabel called out. ¡°Before it is toote.¡±

    Not eager for another melee she was unlikely to survive, the Pereduri moved towards the rings. She could tell immediately, though, that it wouldn¡¯t be enough. Gascon was near the summit, but the valet had dropped the cloth that covered his hands and his fingers were covered with ck burns, his eyes red with tears. Lord Augusto had half-climbed with him but couldn¡¯t go ahead, not when the rings could not support the weight of two men, and though Angharad could squeeze close to Cozme it would leave her a mere handful of feet above the ground. The lupines would drag her down in moments. Song shot her musket again, blowing up antern in a burst of pale me to scatter the gathering pack.

    Only two left.

    ¡°A rope,¡± Angharad shouted. ¡°Thrown down a rope, we¡¯ll climb up the side.¡±

    ¡°Then they¡¯ll stop shooting to cover us, you fool,¡± Augusto shouted.

    But Brun, the God bless him, listened to her instead of the Cerdan. Within moments he was dangling a rope off the edge, and though it would need a leap to catch it Angharad would not miss. She glimpsed, saw herself falling short, and adjusted the angle. She had as many chances as she would need.

    Song shot again, anotherntern buying them precious time.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Cozme swore, looking back. ¡°Therge one ising. Can the rope handle both of us?¡±

    If that creature came, Cozme wouldn¡¯t be high enough for safety either.

    ¡°Isabel,¡± Angharad screamed. ¡°You and your maids, <em>help Brun</em>.¡±

    Four people on the rope, would it be enough? They would have to risk it.

    ¡°It should,¡± Angharad said with certainty she did not feel. ¡°I¡¯ll go first, try to catch you.¡±

    Another shot, thestntern went and she breathed out. The light faded and the pack thundered against the ground, racing forward. Time to- there was a scream, above, and Angharad¡¯s breath caught as she watched Augusto Cerdan twist the knife he had rammed into his valet¡¯s back, throwing the weeping older man down. With a shout of triumph the infanzon climbed up to safety, Cozme close behind. Angharad looked back for a heartbeat, seeing a lupine¡¯s jaw close around Gascon¡¯s face, and felt something well up in her. She followed behind Cozme, the ring of lights winking out behind her, and though one of the lemures leapt up just in time to almost catch her boot she got away in time.

    Few even tried to reach her, the pack falling on Gascon like ravenous hounds and tearing him apart.

    Taking Song¡¯s hand and letting herself be pulled up atop the aqueduct, Angharad let out a shaky breath. But she was not done, not yet. She wiped her de clean on the side of her trousers and sheathed it, then turned her eyes on the knot of worried-looking infanzones. Even as the pack howled below them, prowling at the feet of the arches like hungry dogs, Angharad strode forward. Cozme caught the look on her face and moved in her way, but she sidestepped him and struck as hard as she could: her palm caught Augusto Cerdan on the cheek, hard enough he fell to the ground. She heard the cock of a pistol being pointed at her back but ignored him as everyone began to shout, unsheathing her saber.

    As fury and fear warred over the eldest Cerdan¡¯s face, she tossed the empty scabbard at his feet.

    ¡°Have you gone<em> mad</em>?¡± he began. ¡°I¡¯ll-¡±

    ¡°Augusto Cerdan,¡± she cut through with icy calm, ¡°I name you a disgrace in the eyes of all who see, a coward without honour. Pick up this sheath and duel me once peril passes, or let your heart serve in its stead.¡±

    The challenge was delivered in clean, crisp Antigua andid out the two choices thaty before the craven traitor. He could either let her execute him for his deeds, here and now, or pick up the scabbard and ept a duel when they reached safety. Cozme still had a pistol pointed at her back, but Angharad did not flinch as she met the traitor infanzon¡¯s dark eyes. She could not see behind her, where the honour of the others might have fallen, but the demands of her own were beyond dispute. A long moment passed, all their lives resting on the Sleeping God¡¯s breath as the lupines howled all around, until finally Augusto Cerdan moved.

    He picked up the sheath and the slower of his two deaths with it.

 Chapter 10

    Chapter 10

    It was an old road, nibbled at by the elements the way crabs would nibble at a corpse, but it had held up well.

    Enough so their pace across the in was swift even though two of their crew were old. Vanesa was in better shape than Francho, whose cough resurfaced with often, but Tristan would still bet on the toothless old man in a fight: she¡¯d candidly admitted that without her spectacles she might as well be blind. In truth, the thief thought, it was all going a little too well. ording to Vanesa¡¯s pocketwatch it was now slightly past midday and they¡¯d seen neither hide nor hair of a lemure. Where Tristan was growing restless, though, most the others were growingx. The idle talk was proof as much.

    ¡°Mad to think there¡¯s a road here in the middle of nowhere,¡± Aines said, shaking her head. ¡°Who even built it?¡±

    Yong had taken the front and Lan the back ¨C the grieving twin was in no mood forpany ¨C but the rest of them were haphazardly arranged somewhere in between. It felt more like they were on an evening stroll than the dangerous journey they truly were, but there was no point in trying discipline this lot. Twice now Yong and Tristan had tried to prod people into a proper column only for the effort to copse within a quarter hour as people drifted wherever they wanted. They might be the fittest of the band, along with Sarai, but their authority ran thin.

    ¡°Some emperor,¡± her husband shrugged, scratching his arm. ¡°I expect the infanzones would know which, what with Sacromonte being the old capital.¡±

    Francho snorted, earning himself an unfriendly look.

    ¡°Something funny, old man?¡± Felis asked.

    ¡°Sacromonte was a regional port, never the Second Empire¡¯s capital,¡± Francho informed him. ¡°That honour belonged to Liergan first, then to Tamaria after the Vituperian Crisis and-¡±

    Felis loudly gathered up saliva and spat to the side, straight into the tall grass. It would have been hard to miss given that it reached up to his shoulders.

    ¡°You¡¯re full of shit,¡± Felis said. ¡°Everyone knows Sacromonte was the jewel of the old empire.¡±

    ¡°One always blinks first when staring down the blind,¡± Francho sighed, then rasped out a cough.

    Though he had no horse in this race, the thief stepped in. Best not let this turn into too much of a squabble.

    ¡°That¡¯s from Chabier, isn¡¯t it?¡± Tristan asked, cocking his head to the side. ¡°One of his <em>Historical Reflections</em>.¡±

    The old man nodded, beaming his way.

    ¡°Not the most dutiful of historians, but he had a way with words,¡± Francho said. ¡°Did you study his work?¡±

    Lan let out a harsh bark ofughter from the back.

    ¡°Does he look like a <em>student</em> to you, old man?¡± the blue-lipped woman mocked.

    ¡°I did read the two of the volumes,¡± Tristan evenly replied, ¡°but never could get my hands on the rest.¡±

    Gifts from his teacher, who had curated most of his readings by dint of being the one providing him the books. It¡¯d been his mother who taught him to read and write, his father never having the time, but past that his education hadrgely been born of Abu¡¯srgesse. It was ordingly full of holes, as she only appeared infrequently and was uninterested in most of what would be consideredmon schrship, but he¡¯d found the eclectic nature of what he¡¯d learned had its uses. Knowing both a little less and a little more than you should had a way of making you difficult to predict.

    ¡°Thest three of the ten are only in print in the Kingdom of Izcalli,¡± Francho told him. ¡°Even when I taught at Reve I could not obtain copies.¡±

    Tristan started in surprise and he was hardly the only one.

    ¡°You were a Master at the University of Reve?¡± Sarai slowly asked, as if disbelieving.

    Much like him, she must be wondering what such a learned man would be doing on the Dominion of Lost Things. Even if Reve¡¯s other Masters decided to throw him out, half the infanzones in the city would be squabbling to bring him into their household as a tutor. The university might be adjoined to Sacromonte but it was not within its bounds, so the schrs were not beholden to the infanzones: they could not simply be ordered to teach feckless noble youths.

    ¡°Of moral philosophy,¡± Francho confirmed, ¡°though I¡¯ll confess I always preferred history. I parted ways with the university after I had some disagreements with our rectoress over a matter of schrship.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it had nothing at all to do with those books you paid the ckcloaks with,¡± Lan said, thinly smiling. ¡°From the Reve library, were they?¡±

    The old man reared up in offence.

    ¡°I am not a <em>thief</em>,¡± Francho hissed back, ¡°I-¡±

    He broke down into a wet hacking cough, which was when Yong found Tristan¡¯s eye. Without saying a word the former soldier made himself clear: this was getting too loud. The thief inclined his head towards Lan, volunteering to handle her and getting a nod back. He let himselfg, casually joining the lone sister at the back. The Meng-Xiaofan twins had been impably groomed when they first came onto the Bluebell, their blue robes freshly cleaned and their City trousers without so much as a crease, but that was long gone. The clothes were rumpled, Lan¡¯s blue-tinted lips cracked from weeping and the side of her head, once shaved to contrast with the ponytail, was now thick with stubble. She kept a veneer of sneering calm but the look in her eyes reminded Tristan of broken ss.

    ¡°Come to chide me, Tristan?¡± Lan smiled. ¡°I must have been a bad girl indeed.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re stirring the pot,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I¡¯ll not gainsay grief-¡±

    ¡°How <em>kind </em>of you,¡± Lan harshly cut in.

    ¡°- but that ends now,¡± he quietly finished. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to be bickering.¡±

    They had been lucky enough to avoid lemures so far, his trick with the lodestone extract having worked better than he¡¯d dreamed it might, but with every step they got further away from the source of that luck. It was only a matter of time until monsters or cultists found them but he would not hurry that inevitability by making a racket in the middle of an open road. He was not sure how well tall grass would swallow sound and unwilling to bet on such steep odds.

    ¡°Big strong man you are,¡± she smiled. ¡°Are you going to point your pistol at me now?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± the thief calmly replied, meeting her eyes. ¡°I am going to beat you unconscious, then cut up your leg so you can¡¯t catch up and the blood draws lemures off our trail.¡±

    She began tough in his face, but as she studied it the sound trailed off and she swallowed. She¡¯d found the truth he had let onto there: he meant every word. He owed her a debt for her aid back in camp, when the crowd had been close to turning on him, but that had its limits.

    ¡°The others-¡±

    ¡°Have nowhere else to go, even if they disapprove.¡±

    Lan licked her cracked lips.

    ¡°You owe me,¡± she said.

    ¡°I am not a student, it is true,¡± Tristan affably replied, ¡°but I am not Mni either. How much do you think debt is worth<em></em>to me, Lan? Enough to risk my life?¡±

    They both knew the answer to that so the woman straightened in rm, her anger swallowed up by much more immediate fear. Good. Now time to see what he could squeeze out of her while she was on the backfoot.

    ¡°I¡¯m still useful to you,¡± Lan said.

    ¡°It¡¯d been days and Felis hasn¡¯t gone into withdrawal,¡± Tristan acknowledged, ¡°so you must have dust hidden away. That makes<em> it </em>useful, not you. Try again.¡±

    She flinched at the unspoken reminder that Angharad Tredegar was a long way from here and none of this crew would care to y the hero for her sake. Lan¡¯s possessions were only her own so long as no one cared to take them from her. The former Meng-Xiaofan frontwoman grit her teeth.

    ¡°I know things,¡± she finally said. ¡°Ju and me, we looked into other people.¡±

    Tristan cocked an eyebrow, expectant.

    ¡°That Song girl that went with the infanzones, her surname Ren and she¡¯s from Jigong,¡± Lan revealed.

    She stopped there, as if it were supposed to mean something to him.

    ¡°At that means?¡± he invited.

    She sighed.

    ¡°That she¡¯s cursed,¡± Lan said. ¡°Her family n is responsible for the Dimming.¡±

    It took a moment for him to ce what that was.

    ¡°The Luminary that got broken a few decades back?¡± he asked.

    Lan rolled her eyes, nodding in confirmation.

    ¡°<em>Rats</em>,¡± sheined. ¡°Always going around like Sacromonte¡¯s the heart of the world.¡±

    Tianxia was one of the wealthiestnds of Vesper not only because of trade but also because of its great grain fields, which were bathed in light even hundreds of miles away from the cities. The machinery behind that miracle was called the Luminaries, great mirror-conduits set in firmament that connected the re to towers at the heart of the founding republics of Tianxia. Only there were nine Luminaries and ten republics, so every five year a lottery was held to determine which republic would go lightless. The Dimming had been disaster enough to warrant discussion around other shores of the Trebian Sea because somehow the Republic of Jigong had damaged one of the mirror-conduits up in firmament, bringing the number of functioning Luminaries down to <em>eight</em>.

    Jigong had been refused the right to win the lottery ever since, consigned to the dark.

    ¡°It would have happened before she was born,¡± Tristan pointed out.

    He was not clear on the year of the Dimming, but it was at least three decades past and Song Ren looked hardly older than he.

    ¡°Half the functionaries in Jigong cursed the Ren after the Dimming happened,¡± Lan snorted. ¡°That means hundreds of gods and the kind of hate that¡¯ll flow down a bloodline.¡±

    It was the thief¡¯s turn to roll his eyes. Cathayan Orthodoxy was famously superstitious, the inevitable consequence of letting gods take the examinations that elevated one into the ruling bureaucracy of the republics. <em>Lock a Tianxi¡¯s door and they¡¯ll me nine gods</em>, the old saying went.

    ¡°Song Ren is bad luck,¡± he shrugged. ¡°Fine. That¡¯s all you have?¡±

    Lan scowled, her pride obviously pricked by his indifference.

    ¡°That Asphodel noble, Acanthe, her contract has something to do with corpses,¡± she said.

    <em>That </em>got his attention and he didn¡¯t bother to pretend otherwise. He¡¯d chatted with Acanthe Phos for some time without ever getting a hint of what she might be keeping up her sleeve.

    ¡°What did you find?¡±

    ¡°We looked inside her bag on the Bluebell,¡± Lan said. ¡°She has small box with bones in it, broken shards and some thin needles.¡±

    It couldn¡¯t be only that, he thought, else Lan would have said the contract had to do with bones and not corpses. Thinking back on Acanthe¡¯s actions since she¡¯d left the ship, only one stood out to him as unusual.

    ¡°She was gathering corpse-ash from the pyres, wasn¡¯t she?¡± he asked. ¡°When she nosed around them with the rest of Tupoc¡¯s crew.¡±

    The former Meng dealer narrowed her eyes at him.

    ¡°Scooping it up with her bare hands,¡± Lan said. ¡°You were looking into her too?¡±

    ¡°Tupoc, but it drew my eye,¡± Tristan admitted.

    She nodded in agreement, then shot him a sideways look.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough to prove I¡¯m worth the trouble, I¡¯d say,¡± she stated.

    ¡°You have more,¡± Tristan guessed, and by the closed look on her face he was right.

    ¡°And I¡¯ll be keeping it, in case we must have another of these pleasant chats,¡± Lan evenly replied.

    He might be able to get a little more if he twisted her arm over it, Tristan decided, but it was not worth burning down the bridge for good. This would have to be enough.

    ¡°You¡¯re worth the trouble,¡± the thief conceded.

    Her triumphant look never quite got to bloom.

    ¡°So long as youy off making it,¡± he finished.

    He left her to mull on that, putting a spring to his step so he might catch up to the others. Tristan was of a mind to head to the front and speak with Yong, as they¡¯d been on the walk for half a day now and a better n than fleeing forward was due, but s that was not to be.

    ¡°I¡¯m bored,¡± Fortuna announced.

    She was staying at his side without bothering to pretend she was walking, a sight highly ufortable to his eyes. It felt<em> wrong</em>, as if the world itself were an illusion he was glimpsing through. It was something the goddess was well aware of and frequently used to screw with him whenever she felt like things were getting too dull. She wasn¡¯t walking the wrong way for the one she was advancing yet, at least, which was a relief. That gave him a headache every bloody time.

    ¡°I¡¯m a little low on choices for entertainment here,¡± Tristan murmured, pretending to scratch his hair. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Go bother Sarai,¡± Fortuna immediately suggested. ¡°She¡¯s amusing.¡±

    At least it wasn¡¯t one wedded pair she¡¯d taken to, thank the gods for that. Other gods only, because he refused to give Fortuna any form of gratitude for a lesser shade of being a pain in his ass. Giving the goddess a measuring look, Tristan decided she was in one of those moods best left untested. Sarai it was. The false Raseni was near the head of the pack, chatting with Vanesa, but the old woman nced his way with a smirk when he approached and made a show of leaving them to talk alone. She was misreading this quite deeply, but he saw no need to correct her when the misunderstanding was to his advantage. It was hard to tell if Sarai had noticed, under the veil and mask, but he suspected not.

    ording to the dark sweat spots around the armpits and back of her thick grey dress, she should be a mite distracted.

    ¡°How manyyers do you have under there?¡± he snorted. ¡°It¡¯s not <em>that</em> warm out.¡±

    Trebian weather, as it was called, cool enough for a coat in the wind but punishing the heavier fashions outside of it.

    ¡°This entire forsaken sea is a boiling pot,¡± Sarai growled back, that faint ent touching her voice again. ¡°It is a miracle the Raseni aren¡¯t all dried up husks, wearing as much as they do.¡±

    ¡°The weather¡¯s cooler around their ind, I hear,¡± he said. ¡°Regretting the disguise?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t get in my way when I move, it is only the heat that¡¯s trouble,¡± Sarai sighed. ¡°It will keep.¡±

    ¡°Or you could take it off,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I¡¯ve no idea what you are trying to hide, but is there truly anyone here worth hiding things from?¡±

    He gestured around them, valiant alliance of leftovers that they were.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Sarai said.

    ¡°I am?¡± he replied, somewhat surprised.

    ¡°You <em>do </em>have no idea what I¡¯m trying to hide,¡± she pointedly replied.

    Fortuna cackled loudly in his ear, sadly getting her bargain¡¯s worth after having been a pest. Still, it would not do to let himself be trampled too thoroughly.

    ¡°A smidge above none, I¡¯d argue,¡± he shrugged. ¡°You¡¯ve just admitted you were not born to a shore of the Trebian Sea.¡±

    She shot him a steady look through the mask. Ah, hadn¡¯t noticed that had she?

    ¡°You don¡¯t sound Mni,¡± he continued, ¡°so my guess would be the Imperial Someshwar. Somewhere ind, or maybe one of the peoples on the Tower Coast?¡±

    The end was pure fishing and that veil gave nothing away. The eyes, though, betrayed not a whit of concern. He¡¯d missed the mark.

    ¡°You dig so eagerly for others¡¯ secrets,¡± Sarai chided, ¡°but you ought to look better after your own.¡±

    ¡°Secrets? There are none, I am as an open book,¡± Tristan brazenly lied. ¡°Ask me anything.¡±

    She studied him for a moment, then shrugged.

    ¡°If you insist,¡± Sarai said, then leaned closer. ¡°Who paid you to kill the Cerdan brothers? I figure it¡¯s some infanzon trying to get at Ruesta.¡±

    Fortuna oohed gleefully as his blood went cold, that horribly ufortable feeling of having been seen through seizing him by the throat again, so the rat smiled wide and bright to hide it.

    ¡°You misunderstand me, my friend,¡± Tristan replied.

    ¡°Do I?¡± Sarai teased.

    How much did she know? Had she only noticed a coincidence and gone fishing, as he had? Yong wouldn¡¯t care about his killing Recardo, he¡¯d been open enough to the idea, but the former soldier might not be as eager to have the infanzones as outright foes. And if Tristan lost the veteran, he lost this crew: standing alone he would have no authority to assert. Sarai must know this but she was not threatening him or trying to leverage it. Either she didn¡¯t know as much as she was implying or she simply did not care. <em>Not from the shores of the Trebian Sea</em>, he reminded himself. Did she simply care nothing for petty squabbles so far from her home? His silence was beginning to stretch on for too long, but indecision stilled his tongue.

    ¡°Take the bet,¡± Fortuna whispered against his ear. ¡°She¡¯s got even hands, Tristan. She gave you measure for measure every time.¡±

    His goddess could be a fool in many ways, he knew, but sometimes her eyes saw true. Sarai had been scrupulously even-handed in their every bargain, giving as good as she received. If he gave trust¡­ It went against his every instinct, the lessons of the years he had spent alone with only fickle fortune as hispanion. <em>When someone has a knife at your throat</em>, Abu had taught him, <em>you must either destroy or befriend them.</em> And if he¡¯d learned anything from Fortuna, it was that sometimes the long odds took the prize. Swallowing thickly as he came to a decision, mouth gone dry, Tristan put on a winning smile.

    ¡°You do,¡± he firmly said. ¡°Me, an assassin? Perish the thought.¡±

    Sarai snorted, but the mirth caught in her throat as he continued speaking.

    ¡°No one paid me, so more urately speaking I would be a murderer.¡±

    She choked on that, though the surprise did not silence her for long.

    ¡°Are you telling me,¡± Sarai got out, ¡°that you are not even gainfully employed?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not.¡±

    ¡°You are a deep disappointment, Tristan,¡± she solemnly informed him. ¡°I thought you a man of means.¡±

    ¡°s, I have but methods,¡± he confessed.

    She let out a quiet, delightedugh at that. Something like a smile tugged at his own lips, the thrill and relief of the long odds having borne true tingling against his scalp. And maybe more than that. How long had it been since he¡¯d found it so <em>easy</em> to talk to someone?

    ¡°Are you going to tell me why?¡± Sarai idly asked.

    ¡°Are you going to tell me your real name?¡± he idly replied.

    ¡°I thought Sacromontan men were titans of gantry,¡± sheined.

    He could hear the pout.

    ¡°That¡¯s the Mni,¡± he informed her.

    ¡°Of daring, then.¡±

    ¡°The Izcalli.¡±

    ¡°¡­ charm?¡±

    ¡°Tianxi,¡± Tristan drawled, ¡°and if you think I do not have a ready triteness for every corner of Vesper then you¡¯ve obviously spent little time in thepany of sailors.¡±

    ¡°See?¡± she enthused. ¡°Such a wealth of worthlessness, you are not <em>entirely</em> destitute after all!¡±

    He swallowed a grin, somehow certain she was doing the same under the veil. And as he had given trust, he was given trust in return.

    ¡°There will be a need for a n soon, if we are to keep this band together,¡± Sarai said. ¡°I have something that might be of use for that purpose.¡±

    He cocked an eyebrow at her.

    ¡°Song Ren has a map of the ind in her possession,¡± the false Raseni said. ¡°I traded for a good look at it.¡±

    Tristan breathed in sharply.

    ¡°How good is your memory?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Good,¡± Sarai said, ¡°not that it matters.¡±

    She met his gaze squarely.

    ¡°There is a Sign that allows one to seize a sight and keep it nestled inside your mind.¡±

    Measure for measure, Fortuna had said, and the golden eyes saw true. That was the secret Sarai had been keeping up her sleeve, the reason she carried for weapon only a knife. Like Leander Gtas she had knowledge of the strange arts of the Gloam, only unlike the sailor she¡¯d kept that talent carefully hidden. He nodded slowly, acknowledging the worth of the secret she had revealed. The sudden seriousness of that after their easy repartee left him strangely embarrassed, as if he¡¯d spoken too loudly near a grave, so he left on the pretext of speaking with Yong about arranging a break. Sarai inclined her head as he left, almost solemnly, and he returned the gesture.

    It felt like a promise, though of what he did not yet know.

    What he¡¯d meant as an excuse ended up being true, as Yong pointed out both Felis and the greyhairs were beginning to slow down. A halt to eat and rest while a proper n was put together would be good for everyone. Half an hourter they found a decent resting ce, a smattering of ruins by the wayside of the road. It was short walk into tall grass to reach them, the stalks parting to reveal half-buried stone. What Tristan thought might be a curved roof rose from the earth in a gentle slope, a set of statues now little more than worn stumps circling around it. The roof made for afortable seat, and from the highest edge he could see the tall grass spread around them.

    He got to hear the married pair argue as well, Aines and Felis unaware that their decision to head behind the roof to argue left him a dozen feet above them and just out of sight.

    ¡°- on our own,¡± Felis was insisting. ¡°I just need to do Lan a few favours, she¡¯ll fork out supplies for us and-¡±

    ¡°You mean she¡¯ll give you dust,¡± Aines bit out. ¡°Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed, Felis.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± her husband harshly replied. ¡°How long was it on the boat before you were gambling?¡±

    ¡°If I¡¯d won-¡±

    ¡°You never win,¡± he hissed. ¡°How do you think we ended up here?¡±

    ¡°How?¡± she hissed back. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you how: your uncle threw you out after you pawned his tools so you could pay for another packet to lick up.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not the one who yed dice with the kids¡¯ bed as coteral, Aines,¡± he growled. ¡°Just the one who had to tell them why they slept with their nkets on the fucking floor.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving the others,¡± Aines abruptly said. ¡°Talk all you want, that¡¯s how it is.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯d have a better chance on our own,¡± Felis cursed. ¡°You know it. It¡¯s some boy and the Tianxi calling the shots, they¡¯re bound to fuck it up. You and I, though-¡±

    ¡°Why do you want me to go so much, Felis?¡± Aines quietly asked. ¡°What did they tell you in that room, when they split us up?¡±

    A silence.

    ¡°What did they tell <em>you</em>, that you won¡¯t trust me anymore?¡±

    Bought seats both of them, Tristan recalled. Whoever it was that owed their debt was ying what Yong had called a red game, one of those vicious wagers the twins had also warned him about. Whatever that wager might be, it was making an ugly situation even uglier. <em>They can¡¯t be relied on for anything</em>, he decided. A way to shore up their numbers at best, but most likely a long fuse lit before they ever set foot on the Bluebell. He might have eavesdropped more if they¡¯d kept talking, but Yong called for everyone gather at the foot of the roof. Tristan scarfed down his rations then hurried down, bringing his waterskin with him.

    Before he¡¯d gone up to eat he¡¯d quietly conferred with Yong and Sarai. The two were now before the others as had been discussed, the former soldier standing while Tristan¡¯s other ally crouched to draw in the earth with a twig. It was a rough sketch, but with thentern set besides it the thief could easily make out the shape of the ind and where they were: a straight line from the docks where they¡¯dnded, a quarter of the way to the second trial up in the mountains. Ahead of themy woods and a river, across which there were two bridges: one was fed into directly by the road, the other stood further east. The only other line through was the High Road, the aqueduct going straight across half the ind, but its arches would make poor anchors for a rope bridge.

    Tristan joined the other two in front, waiting until Francho finished lowering himself to the edge of the maybe-roof gingerly. He looked to be in some pain, enough that the thief considered offering him something for it before they began marching again. Bedonna extract, perhaps, properly diluted with water.

    ¡°As you can see,¡± Yong addressed the others, ¡°we have made good time but it will be days before we get anywhere near the Trial of Ruins.¡±

    ¡°How do we know the drawing is urate?¡± Lan asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s a copy of the map the infanzones will be using,¡± Sarai replied. ¡°They would not settle for anything less.¡±

    Mutters of agreement. Some looked liked they wanted to ask how she might have gotten that, but none quite dared with the two of them nking her. Which had been the very point.

    ¡°So we just need to rush in a straight line until we get there,¡± Felis shrugged. ¡°Seems easy enough.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t work,¡± Tristan said, ignoring the man¡¯s scowl. ¡°The ckcloaks told us that the cultists of the Red Eye will be out in force, they¡¯re bound to be keeping watch on the main bridge. We¡¯d be walking straight into an ambush.¡±

    ¡°That scarred Mni led her band towards the road north,¡± Francho noted. ¡°She seems to believe it might work.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know if they stayed on that path,¡± Sarai pointed out.

    ¡°Even if they do, they¡¯ve got powder and des enough to fight through,¡± Lan said. ¡°They¡¯re all armed and trained, greyhair. We wouldn¡¯t do anywhere as well in a fight.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°Besides, we¡¯ve got more than the hollows to worry about,¡± she continued. ¡°Tupoc Xical¡¯s going to be on the hunt.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s eyes narrowed and Yong¡¯s face turned grave.

    ¡°And how do you know that, exactly?¡± the former soldier asked.

    ¡°Because my sister and I offered him dirt on half of you in exchange for getting us safely to the second trial,¡± she admitted without a hint of shame. ¡°He turned us down without a moment¡¯s hesitation. Why do you think that is?¡±

    Half a dozen answers bloomed on half a dozen faces, but the truest one passed lips first.

    ¡°Because he doesn¡¯t think we¡¯ll live long enough to be worth knowing anything about,¡± Vanesa quietly said, taking off her spectacles to clean them with her chemise.

    She spoke with a tired certainty, like someone the world had already let down so many times she could no longer even muster anger over it. Ainesughed nervously, the sound shrill.

    ¡°You¡¯re mad,¡± she said. ¡°What would be the point? It¡¯s not like there are limits to how many people can get to the second trial. It doesn¡¯t help him to kill us, it¡¯ll just slow him down.¡±

    ¡°Unless,¡± Tristan quietly said, ¡°it¡¯s not really about us. It¡¯s about what he can <em>buy</em> with us.¡±

    He found the lone twin¡¯s eyes and matched her gaze.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you think, isn¡¯t it Lan? That he wants to sell us to the Red Eye cult in exchange for the right to get to the second trial unhindered.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s what fits,¡± the Meng frontwoman replied. ¡°Why he gathered only a small crew, why he doesn¡¯t think anyone is worth bargaining with: he already has another deal in mind, one that doesn¡¯t involve fighting the Red Eye.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s nonsense,¡± Felis snorted. ¡°You¡¯re all fretting like hens over nothing. The boy won¡¯t pull any of this shit: the ckcloaks would toss him out of the trials if he made a bargain with savages.¡±

    ¡°No rules, Felis,¡± Sarai reminded him. ¡°Only survival.¡±

    ¡°The Watch has a long history of striking deals with darklings against other darklings,¡± Francho stated, worrying his lip. ¡°A necessity, when their duties take them so far from the light of the re. They might even <em>approve</em>.¡±

    And Tristan¡¯s teeth clenched because, when it got down to it, how hard could it really be for the Watch to drive the Red Eye off the ind? The Dominion was wild, unsettlednd but it was not sorge an ind that a two thousand men could not thoroughly clear it out over a few months. So why hadn¡¯t they? <em>Because these are testing grounds</em>, the thief thought. <em>Because they want to see if we can make bargains with darklings without getting burned, because the cruelty isn¡¯t an ident it¡¯s why they still use this ind at all.</em> Those who joined the Watch through the trials of were not sent to training camps, he''d heard, not drilled and lectured and pampered.

    They were inducted straight into the ranks, a ck cloak set on their shoulders, and Tristan was beginning to understand why.

    ¡°There¡¯s only one thing for it,¡± Yong spoke up, cutting through the silence. ¡°From now on we must keep off the road and take a route they won¡¯t expect. Anything else means death.¡±

    Too many enemies and in too many ces, the thief thought. His instinct was to sneak through, to find the quiet way in, but this wasn¡¯t Araturo District. He was not the rat here, knowing all the streets like the back of his hand, they were. They¡¯d get caught before getting anywhere, and unlike back home it wasn¡¯t like they could try to hide behind a brawl between the Hoja and ¨C or <em>could</em> they?

    ¡°We head straight for the second bridge,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Cutting through the tall grass and the woods.¡±

    Eyes went to him.

    ¡°They may well expect us to avoid the main path,¡± Yong warned him.

    ¡°They¡¯ll guard all the bridges anyway,¡± the thief said, shaking his head. ¡°They have the numbers for it, Sarai and I figured it out.¡±

    Their conversation by the docks was not so soon forgot.

    ¡°It is true,¡± she agreed, rising to her full height. ¡°They should have a few hundreds warriors at least.¡±

    ¡°Gods be good,¡± Felis eximed, huffing. ¡°Spare me the posturing. We haven¡¯t so much as <em>seen</em> a hollow, how would you even-¡±

    ¡°Then what is the point of going for the eastern bridge?¡± Lan bluntly asked, cutting through.

    The middle-aged man did not quite dare to re at the woman holding his leash.

    ¡°The Watch captain called them the cult of the Red Eye, but are they really?¡± Tristan asked. ¡°One entity, I mean. They are warbands, not an army. Like those taking the trials.¡±

    ¡°You believe they are divided as well,¡± Yong slowly said.

    ¡°They¡¯re thiefcatchers from different inns, all after the same prize money,¡± the thief said. ¡°They won¡¯t share word or help each other. They are a cult, certainly, but why would it mean they¡¯re all on the same side? Gods won¡¯t bless them twice for the same sacrifice.¡±

    ¡°An interesting theory, to be sure,¡± Francho delicately said, ¡°but only that.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Sarai said, shaking her head. ¡°He¡¯s right. Think back to the outpost, the number of watchmen you saw. Captain Crestina said she lost half hermand, so double it. How many does that make?¡±

    ¡°Fifty, maybe sixty men,¡± Aines said.

    She got surprised looks for it and shrugged.

    ¡°I got curious before the captain arrived, wanted to see if there was anything to do to pass the time.¡±

    Looking for soldiers to dice with, Tristan tranted, she happened to suss out how many there were around.

    ¡°That¡¯s not anywhere enough to defend their storehouses if two hundred hollows try an assault, no matter how poorly armed,¡± Yong noted. ¡°Not with the treeline so close. That says the Watch garrison doesn¡¯t expect them toe in great numbers.¡±

    ¡°So we rush to the eastern bridge,¡± Tristan repeated, ¡°and then we <em>hide</em>.¡±

    Lan let out a sharp littleugh, catching on quick as was her wont.

    ¡°Then when the warband guarding that bridge sees no oneing,¡± she said, ¡°they¡¯ll think we went to the other one. That their rivals got all the sacrifices.¡±

    ¡°So when they thin their numbers to go have a look, or leave outright,¡± Tristan leadingly began.

    ¡°We cross,¡± Sarai finished. ¡°And run as fast as we can to the Trial of Ruins.¡±

    That, he thought with a sliver of satisfaction, sounded like n. Perhaps not the cleverest or the most intricate, but one that might just work. And though he could see that not all were convinced, that some thought it would get them all killed, no one spoke up against it. Not for love of what had been said, he thought, but forck of anything better to offer. No one really believed that they could get to the other bridge quickly enough to avoid a fight.

    And a fight they would lose, there was no doubt about that.

    The crew broke up after, everyone splitting up to rest for the remainder of their break and see to their belongings. He went back up the roof to grab his bag, settling on the edge just the way Francho had earlier. Stretching outzily, Tristan let out a groan. He was not used to such long walks. Thieving required endurance more mental than physical. He took onest drink from his waterskin and set about putting himself back together, pulling at the loosened strings of his woolen shirt. He shrugged on his jacket after, the long sleeves and knee-length reach betraying it was rat¡¯s clothing even if the wool was dyed grey. Infanzones and the wealthy aping them preferred shorter sleeveless jerkins, deigning to wear long coats only when travelling. Some of the seams in the back were growing thin, Tristan noted as he tugged at the jacket. He¡¯d had this one for two years and though he had been careful frequent use was wearing it down.

    Grabbing his tricorn, still pleased at the find ¨C he¡¯d always liked the look of them on Mni seamen ¨C the thief noticed Vanesa approaching him from the side. The old woman¡¯s in linen chemise and trousers were City staples from the Murk to the ports, but her red frock told him she had been someone of more than passing means. As did her sses and pocketwatch, both worth several months of wages for amonbourer. That raised questions, as did the way that Vanesa sometimes seemed almost half-hearted in her attempts to get through the trials. What had forced her to the Dominion, if not desperation? There was a story there, should he care to dig for it.

    ¡°Extend your arm,¡± the old woman said, gesturing at his left.

    Hiding his wariness, he did. She bent slightly forward and began patting down the back of his sleeve thoroughly.

    ¡°Dust and soot,¡± Vanesa told him after she finished. ¡°Boys never think to look behind, my son is just the same.¡±

    Not having been mothered in many years ¨C Abu might be old enough to be his grandmother, but her blood was colder than a crocodiles¡¯ ¨C Tristan was taken aback enough he struggled to find an answer. Coughing into his fist, he changed the subject.

    ¡°You have children?¡± he tried.

    ¡°Only the one,¡± Vanesa wistfully said. ¡°You must be around sixteen, yes? He is twice your age now.¡±

    ¡°Eighteen,¡± Tristan drily replied. ¡°I simply can¡¯t grow a beard for the life of me.¡±

    ¡°My husband never could either,¡± she smiled at him. ¡°Not forck of trying.¡±

    <em>Dead husband but her son still lives</em>, he filed away. Had she been abandoned to a debt from beyond the grave? Sacromonte¡¯s debtsws were some of the harshest around the Trebian Sea ¨C wife or husband shared in what the other owed, children in what their parents did and if property was shared even siblings could be dragged into the pit. Tristan was considering how best to ask what her trade had been without being too obvious about it when he was interrupted by a startled shout. Baring his knife, the thief turned to find it had been Francho making everyone jump. The old schr was leaning against the side of the half-buried roof, a bare hand on the stone and his worn body trembling.

    Finding no immediate danger, Tristan put away the knife. That scream, though¡­ Chewing at the inside of his cheek, the thief grabbed his pistol and powder horn. No ball in it yet, but perhaps soon. There was no telling what the noise might have called down on them.

    ¡°What¡¯s with the racket?¡± Felis called out.

    Francho¡¯s eyes rolled up in his head even as Tristan approached him, though he did not seem to be in pain. Before the thief could speak the old man snatched back his hand, neck glistening with sweat as he kept on shivering.

    ¡°We need to leave,¡± the old man said, then began wetly coughing into his hand. ¡°Now.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Yong evenly said. ¡°What did you do?¡±

    ¡°Contract,¡± Sarai said. ¡°He used a contract.¡±

    It was not a question.

    ¡°The stone,¡± Francho rasped out. ¡°It speaks to me. Old voices. The stronger the memory, the louder.¡±

    ¡°And what did they say?¡± Tristan asked, dread welling up.

    ¡°There is an altar below,¡± the schr said, voice shaken. ¡°Sacrificial.<em> And</em><em>hollows live there</em>.¡±

    Aines screamed, and if she had not Tristan would have died. He turned to her, saw the mening out of the tall grass but also the glint of steel inntern light. An arrow, halfway to his throat, and all he could do was borrow luck. He drank swift and deep, the ticking loud as a scream, and saw the fletching on the arrow tear. It missed but only narrowly, splitting open his jacket as death spared him. Immediately he threw himself down as another arrow whistled above his head, gritting his teeth as he released the luck. He heard the click a moment toote, not quite quick enough to roll over when the pistol he¡¯d loaded with powder blew up against his side.

    Letting out a hoarse shout as he threw it away, patting away the burns that¡¯d blown through his shirt, the thief swallowed a moan of pain and rose to his feet. Around him all Hell had broken loose.

    Yong blew through a tall, pale man ¨C pale as milk, beard and hair wild ¨C with a shot before tossing way the musket, drawing his sword as arge man in chainmail hoisting an axe walked up to face him, but the others were not doing so well. An arrow had taken Francho in the side and while Vanesa had run to help him two hollows wereing for them bearing spear and mace. Another was in the tall grass, pulling back the string on her crossbow, though her eye was on¡­ <em>Lan</em>, who was running out into the dark. There must be another, wielding the second crossbow, but Tristan saw no trace of them.

    Should he run? No, it would just be a slower death. He would never make it across the bridges alone. Tristan drew his knife, still light-headed from the burns.

    ¡°Felis, Aines,¡± Yong shouted, eyes peeling away from his fight for a second, ¡°silence the crossbow. Don¡¯t let her fire again!¡±

    No waiting to see if they would obey, Tristan rushed in. Not there but towards the greyhairs, just in time to see Vanesa being kicked down by a skinny man covered in a thick padded tunic. Tristan ducked under the swing of the other hollow, some leering bastard with big eyes, and the mace¡¯s haft bounced off his side. Grimacing ¨C that would bruise ¨C he still slid his knife between the skinny hollow¡¯s ribs. Or tried to, slipping against a metal te under the tunic and slicing down closer to the kidney. He drew back as quick as he could, face growing grim. His chance hadin in getting rid of one from the start, now it was going to turn on him.

    ¡°Go,¡± Tristan shouted at the old pair, ¡°I-¡±

    He ducked out of the mace¡¯s way again, the swing gone wide, but the other hollow struck true. The spear¡¯s haft batted down on his shoulder, forcing him to his knees as he yelped. The thief palmed his knife, readying a throw, but the mace was swinging again and then there was a sound like a <em>pop</em>. Coolness brushed past his face as the cultist¡¯s eyes went nk. His face, scarred with red ellipses ¨C <em>Red Eye</em>, he thought ¨C cked and his swing dulled. Tristan backed away, rising to his feet as he aimed, while the spear cultist broke the other from his trance with a shove. Not quickly enough: the thief snapped his wrist, burying the knife to the hilt in the mace-wielder¡¯s throat.

    The other shouted in dismay, rushing with his spear, but even as Tristan drew the knife he¡¯d imed at the docks there was another soft pop. From the corner of his eye, the thief saw Sarai¡¯s fingers wing at the air in another Sign. He saw a flicker, too, and shouted out a warning just in time. She threw herself aside before the crossbow bolt could in impale her from the back and he felt a sliver of relief just in time for the no-longer-stunned cultist to ram into him shoulder first. Down Tristan went, flipped on his back, and only realized why he¡¯d not just been run through when the hollow kept going towards Sarai. The Signs were more of a threat than a rat with a knife.

    Teeth clenched, he scrabbled to his feet and leapt at the cultists¡¯ back. They tumbled down together atop a shouting Sarai, who stabbed wildly at the hollow with her knife but sliced through only padding. Tristan tried to block the man¡¯s arms, the three of them grinding like worms. The hollow was stronger than him, damn the bastard, and through the thief¡¯s failing grip pinned Sarai¡¯s hand. The cultist kept the knife down and gripped her throat as she struggled to trace a Sign on his face, Tristan abandoning the failed hold to gouge at the hollow¡¯s eyes with his thumbs. The man screamed, loudly enough the thief did not hear the bolt whistling at him. Sheer luck saved his life when the cultist bucked him off before the shot could go through his chest.

    The hollow threw himself away from them with a howl of pain, one hand on his now smoking face and the other wing at Sarai¡¯s face.

    The darkling ripped off the veils and mask, revealing a face as pale as his own, and Tristan¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He scrabbled to his feet again, pained and exhausted, just in time to see the hollow draw a long knife and ¨C and die, Yong¡¯s de hacking halfway through his neck. The former soldier wrenched it out, pushing down the corpse with a kick, and swept their surroundings with a steady gaze. Yong lookedpletely unfazed, not a trace of dirt or sweat on him: only a few strands of his topknot hade undone. Tristan swallowed, rising to his feet as he looked around them. The married pair had killed the crossbow wielder they went after, at some cost. Aines had a growing ck eye and Felis a broken bolt in his arm.

    Yong¡¯s own opponent, the big man wearing armour, was lying in a pool of his own blood.

    ¡°Darkling,¡± the Tianxi evenly said, watching Sarai.

    ¡°I am not,¡± she replied, warily rising to her feet.

    Her hair was dark and long, Tristan saw, her eyes a paler shade of blue than he¡¯d believed. It was an angr face she had revealed, its chin pointed and cheekbones high.

    ¡°What else could you be?¡± Aines nervously said. ¡°Were you working with them this whole time, Sarai, is that why we¡¯ve been ambushed?¡±

    Tristan thought, then, of the conversation they¡¯d had by the shore as the sailors took the crates out of the Bluebell. A sentence he¡¯d thought innocent but might not have been at all. <em>The Mni love to use trinkets up north</em>, she¡¯d said. Almost like she had been there, seen it with her own eyes. And she might not be Mni, but there were another people living in the far north.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she is,¡± Tristan said.

    He looked around for his pistol, found it lying on the ground but a few feet away.

    ¡°She fought with us, almost died,¡± Vanesa agreed, clutching her ribs. ¡°She could not have been working with them.¡±

    ¡°I mean I don¡¯t think she¡¯s a darkling,¡± the thief said, shaking his head.

    He picked up his relic pistol, opening the secretpartment and revealing the piece of rhadamantine quartz. Its pale glow caught everyone¡¯s eyes, including Sarai¡¯s, and Tristan made a show of palming it. Meeting her gaze, he lightly tossed it her way. She caught it without batting an eye, then took off one of her gloves and set the stone against her naked palm.

    The pale skin did not burn at the direct touch of the re.

    ¡°You are from the Mni colonies,¡± Francho spoke into the silence, sounding fascinated. ¡°Thends under the Broken Gate.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± Sarai conceded, ¡°a very long way from home.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re a ve,¡± Felis snorted. ¡°What in the Manes are you doing trying to get into the Watch?¡±

    By the look on Sarai¡¯s face that talk might have gotten ugly, but Yong cut in before it could begin.

    ¡°She is no darkling, that¡¯s all that matters,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°We¡¯ve wasted enough time on this, we need to bind our wounds and go.¡±

    ¡°Gods, we need to rest,¡± Aines replied, appalled. ¡°After all that? We beat them, we have the time.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Tristan quietly said. ¡°We don¡¯t. Two crossbows fired and only one was silenced. Someone escaped.¡±

    Which meant the cult of the Red Eye had found them, and if they did not run quickly enough they were all dead.

 Chapter 11

    Chapter 11

    <em>The sharp crack echoes against the stone, smoke billowing past the open door. </em>

    <em>There is a grunt of pain but men still rush past the threshold: tall, becloaked, bearing des. Mother bares her own, undaunted by the numbers, but a shot sounds from the back and she staggers. Red blooms on her chemise, deep in the belly, and she lets out a wet gasp before she is struck across the mouth. Angharad can do nothing but watch: her screams die in her throat, her limbs are made of lead. Mother falls against the wall, against the rich wood panelling she so loves, and when another shot takes her shoulder blood is sttered all over it. She falls to her knees, breath a rattle, and then thest man walks in. Tall, fat and with eyes cold as ice. He owns the others, they only watch as he raises his pistol. </em>It was the wrong choice, Lady Maraire<em>, he says. Mother rasps out an answer, but the words are drowned out by the roar of the mes. Smoke swallows everything.</em>

    Angharad woke with wet eyes, the way she always did after dreaming of her mother.

    She could only be grateful that it had ended early this time, before her father¡¯s whisper in her ear and thest of the horror. Her neck was beaded with sweat but she stayed there, lying in her cot, and tried to blot out from her mind the bloody, broken figure the nightmare had fixed in her mind. She hated it, that this was how she should remember Mother. Rhiannon Tredegar had been long and lean, like the crack of a whip made into a woman, with only green eyes softening a faced shaped stern by the Sleeping God¡¯s own hands. There had been a presence to her, a severity demanding respect. That was the way Angharad would remember her, but her dreams did not bend to her wants. She could still see hear the thump of knees hitting the floor, the blood spraying on wood.

    Angharad had thought the nightmares finally gone, having had none since Sacromonte, but she had counted her blessings too soon.

    The noblewoman rose in her covers, unsurprised to find most were yet asleep. Only Song, perched at the edge of the aqueduct with a veiledntern besides her, had woken for her turn on the watch. The Tianxi did not turn at the sound of someone waking, and in the privacy that afforded her Angharad wiped her eyes. Letting her breath even out, she passed a hand through her hair. The nt braids would keep for a week or two more, she thought, but soon they would need redoing. She almost missed when she had kept her hair shorter, in Mni knots, instead of braids going halfway down her back. Almost. She had let it grow out to celebrate the earning of herst mirror-mark and that much she would not let herself regret even out here.

    Mother had been so proud, she remembered. Lady Rhiannon had been skilled with a de but not a mirror-dancer, and the joy had been in on her face that day. Angharad had basked in that pride, feeling that atst she added to her mother¡¯s legacy in some small way. Rhiannon Tredegar had made a name sailing the dark seas, crossing waters which no re touched with only the trembling lights she had brought with her keeping darkness at bay. She had faced storms of Gloam and sea, the hatred of merciless spirits from the depths and even the fleets of pirates to emerge one of the great explorers of the age. It had been Captain Tredegar who first found the hidden isle of Lunkulu, who sailed through the perilous Western Canals and reached thends beyond.

    And now it was all smoke, Angharad bitterly thought. The Tredegar name passed into nothing while she scuttled like a rat in a maze for the pleasure of the Watch, debasing herself earn seven years under their protection. If she could even do that, the noblewoman grimly thought. Her eyes turned to the manner theirpany hadin down to sleep for the night and in the meagre light of Song¡¯sntern showed their divisionsid bare.

    The Cerdan brothersy furthest away from her, Cozme Aflor guarding them. Both now openly counted her an enemy. It was only the disgust of everyone else at the murder of their own valet that had kept Augusto from trying to order her killed. On the opposite side Angharad¡¯s own coty with two others close, Brun of Sacromonte sleeping in one while Song¡¯sy empty. In between the two camps Isabel and her maidsy, bridge and moat. When Brun and Song had grown closer to her as the Cerdans revealed themselves honourless curs, Isabel had been forced to step in as peacemaker. She had prevailed on the brothers to respect Angharad¡¯s truce, reinforcing that there would be no fighting until theirpany had left the throes of peril. Yet, despite the infanzona¡¯s efforts, the dark-skinned noblewoman knew thispany to be a barrel of powder with a lit fuse.

    And sooner rather thanter it would blow up in her face.

    Her mother¡¯s lessons would avail her of nothing here. It had taken boldness for Rhiannon Tredegar to raise their house¡¯s name and Mother disyed it in all things, so it had troubled Angharad all the more when Mother confessed to fearing the High Queen¡¯s court. <em>There is nothing to fear</em>, she had insisted, childishly offended by her idol¡¯s sudden weakness. The royal court had duels the way dogs had fleas, but Mother was a skilled de and who but the finest of swordmasters could threaten her? Even if she offended some lofty izinduna, a grudge could not be pursued beyond the reasonable. The High Queen was the keeper of Mn¡¯s honour and she did not allow any slight upon it. <em>Sweetling</em>, Mother had gently replied, stroking her hair, <em>I would be dead long before my sword left the scabbard.</em>

    She had exined, then, how the duels that could lead to embarrassment never happened at all. Knives and poison and curses would settle it long before that, any difficulty on the way to earning the High Queen¡¯s esteem ruthlessly snuffed out. Mother¡¯s way to survive had been to remain a mere curiosity, a famed explorer kept in the court¡¯s eye only by the High Queen¡¯s favour and wielding no real power or influence. She had avoided the hangman¡¯s noose that would be rising in station and remained at sea instead of ying courtier, too far to be counted as an enemy by the powerful of Mn. That had been a rude awakening for many a reason, among them that Angharad had known even then that she would not follow her mother out at sea.

    Was she to let the name of Tredegar ¨C Maraire, to the Mni, but blood ran true no matter the letters ¨C fall back into obscurity when her mother passed? Mother had had no answer, and in the end it had been Father who soothed her.

    ¡°Your mother has mastered her fear of an unknown,¡± he told her. ¡°That which lies beyond the re, the seas that devour ships and hopes. But pride blinds her to realizing she surrenders to all the other unknowns of Vesper, believing that courage against one is courage against all.¡±

    He smiled then and though Gwydion Tredegar was never the tallest or most handsome of men, when he smiled Angharad had always thought her father outshone all rivals.

    ¡°You need not share her unknowns,¡± Father said. ¡°Come, I will teach you so that you may learn and so knowledge may end fear.¡±

    She had not loved his lessons but she had learned them, well enough that when standing among the sons and daughters of izinduna when tournaments took her to Mn she¡¯d sailed those waters without falling afoul of the hidden reefs. And it was her father¡¯s lessons she must call on again, now that honour had led her to make enemies of half thepany she must fight alongside with to survive. Like a swordmistress at the High Queen¡¯s court, she must ensure she¡¯d live long enough to bare her de. And the first step to that did not begin with her closestpanions, not with Isabel or even Master Cozme. Instead when they raised camp, not even an hourter, she made a quiet request of Isabel Ruesta.

    The dark-haired beauty considered her for a moment, eyes intrigued.

    ¡°In a spirit of peace, I would hope,¡± Isabel asked.

    Above them the stars burned cold, as they had for her forebears in distant Peredur. In the wind Angharad Tredegar thought she had caught the echo of their old shore-songs, story and lesson and question all in one. She almost began to hum the first few notes of <em>The Fair Wife</em>.

    ¡°Not to make enmity,¡± Angharad swore.

    <em>Love is sweet, a heady brew,</em>

    <em>but my hand must be won fair</em>

    <em>Sweet love, what will you swear </em>

    <em>as troth if your love is true? </em>

    When the trek north began anew she found herself walking at the back of theirpany, Lord Remund Cerdan besides her. To prove they were all still allies, Isabel had suggested. A gesture of goodwill. The youngest Cerdan moved warily, as if with every step he feared she might jump out and cut his throat. For all that, Angharad feared not getting from him what she desired. She knew what Augusto Cerdan wanted most of all, so she owned half his name.

    ¡°It is regrettable we are at odds, my lord,¡± she said, forcing a mourning sigh.

    She did not lie: in all of Vesper, there must be a soul capable of such regret. The infanzon frowned at her, as if puzzled by her civility. The moment she had be his enemy, she divined, what little esteem he¡¯d granted her before had disappeared. Now she might as well be some savage from Triu, raiding colonists by the sea.

    ¡°Youy grave insult at the feet of House Cerdan,¡± Remund stiffly replied.

    ¡°An insult demands redress,¡± she said. ¡°Yet is should be given where it is deserved, not carelessly offered to the unworthy.¡±

    ¡°And what would a <em>Mni</em> know of what is deserved?¡± the infanzon mocked, rolling his eyes.

    ¡°We may well have all died yesterday, if not for your contract,¡± Angharad said. ¡°<em>Tha</em>t is deserving.¡±

    Of many things, let Remund Cerdan decide which without her help. The younger brother puffed up and for a moment Angharad felt sick. It might be that the man was so vain any praise at all went to his head, she thought, but she¡¯d known other boys like him. Born to great families and stalking about with their knives ever bared, offended and offending, but so often beneath that there had been a wound. <em>How starved of esteem must you be, that an enemy¡¯s words are all it takes to straighten your back?</em>

    ¡°It is good you recognize as much,¡± Remund drawled. ¡°I thought you an ingrate, I don¡¯t mind admitting it. It is said to bemon w of your people that you take a mile whenever you are given an inch.¡±

    ¡°Mni are not without ws,¡± she said. ¡°I like to think ingratitude is not one of them.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± the young man smiled, eyeing her up and down. ¡°Then how am I to be rewarded?¡±

    She kept her face calm at the implied insult. He had no interest in her, not really. He was simply waving around his knife, hoping to score red on flesh.

    ¡°Honour is to be earned with one¡¯s own hands,¡± Angharad said. ¡°And it urs to me than any lost by Cerdan hands could be regained by the same.¡±

    Remund breathed in sharply, eyeing her with surprise and a different kind of wariness than before. He¡¯d looked at her the way one might a wild beast, when this began, but now there was a different tint to it.

    ¡°You surprise me, Tredegar,¡± the infanzon murmured. ¡°Perhaps you are not so dim after all. Such a thing could solve many problems at once, yes.¡±

    She held her tongue, letting him stare at the pond until he found the reflection he was looking for.

    ¡°A duel to first blood to avenge my house¡¯s honour,¡± he mused. ¡°It is true a victory against a swordmistress would be the talk of the season, enough to avoid the ire of my lord father over Augusto¡¯s unfortunate end.¡±

    ¡°One hopes,¡± Angharad said with measured precision.

    Dark eyes narrowed at her.

    ¡°Getting Cozme out of the way so you have an opening would not be impossible,¡± Remund conceded. ¡°But how can I be sure you¡¯ll hold up your end of the bargain?¡±

    ¡°My word is my bond,¡± she tly replied. ¡°I will swear oath to it, should you prefer.¡±

    The nobleman smiled,ying his palms against the back of his head as he strolled forward with a touch of unearned swagger.

    ¡°No,¡± Remund Cerdan finally said, smile widening.

    Angharad hid her surprise, slowly inclining her head. She must have made a mistake, or perhaps underestimated the bonds of brotherhood.

    ¡°You gain much with this and me too little,¡± Remund idly added. ¡°I require more of you.¡±

    The sliver of respect she had been feeling died young.

    ¡°I am listening.¡±

    He leaned close, too close, smiling still for all that his eyes were without mirth.

    ¡°This little dance of yours with Isabel, it is to stop,¡± Remund said.

    Silence again, for no words were more persuasive than one¡¯s own.

    ¡°She encourages you, no doubt,¡± the younger Cerdan shrugged. ¡°It is her way. She enjoys the attention, and in truth I do not begrudge her that. Why marry at all, if your wife is not to be the envy of all your peers?¡±

    The liey in the tight cast of his jaw as he forced the first <em>not </em>through his lips.

    ¡°But it irritates me, your flirtation,¡± Remund smiled. ¡°I find tasteless the presumption that, even in jest, you could be the rival of an infanzon. So you will cease. Keep your distance from her.¡±

    ¡°You want an oath,¡± Angharad surmised.

    ¡°I do,¡± the dark-haired main jovially replied. ¡°And one for our other bargain too. There will be no slipping out at thest moment, my friend.¡±

    The words came easy to her, as if they had alwaysin on the tip of her tongue.

    ¡°On my oath, I will no longer seek thepany of Isabel Ruesta,¡± Angharad said.

    He sighed.

    ¡°I suppose no longer speaking to her at all is too much to ask,¡± Remund conceded. ¡°And?¡±

    He cocked an eyebrow, gesturing for her to get on with it. She chose the phrasing carefully, pruned away the right words and left them in the grass for him to find.

    ¡°On my oath, I will cede victory to you in an honour duel over Augusto Cerdan¡¯s death in the same.¡±

    Remund cocked an eyebrow at her, a hint of smugness to his mien.

    ¡°Speak it again,¡± he said, ¡°only specifying my name instead of simply <em>you</em>. Let us not be careless with our words, yes?¡±

    She did as asked.

    <em>Victory is poison to reason, my darling</em>, Father had taught her. <em>Once men have caught you out, they think themselves your better in all things.</em> Remund Cerdan, for all that he despised his brother, thought him Angharad¡¯s match with a sword even though he manifestly was not. It had not urred to him that an honour duel could be to surrender as well as death, that she could simply wound the elder Cerdan to death¡¯s very edge before allowing him surrender. And if Augusto Cerdan died after the honour duel, not during, then she owed his brother nothing at all. Lord Remund Cerdan smiled condescendingly at her, deigning to engage her in small talk now that she had be his tool, and under her breath she hummed the old tune.

    <em>I promise the stars in a cup</em>

    <em>and the sea in your hand.</em>

    <em>a hall reaching the clouds;</em>

    <em>a hearth where hundreds sup</em>

    She had not turned the brothers against each other, that hatred had taken root long before she came into their lives, but now she had ensured they would not makemon front against her. That would ensure Master Cozme was not easily made to act against her: he was beholden to both brothers and now one wanted her to live. At least long enough to be of use to him, not that Angharad believed he truly intended to hold up his end of their bargain. More likely than not he would try to use the vagueness she had purposely left in the phrasing ¨C <em>in an honour duel,</em> not specifying one to first blood ¨C to try and kill her by surprise during their bout. Victory at first blood would win him praise from his peers, but avenging his brother? Oh, it might well make him famous.

    It did not matter. Snake or not, she knew half his name. He would not bite until he had obtained his heart¡¯s desire.

    Now she must prune away the other dangers, to ensure she made it to the hour where she would get her bargain¡¯s worth. That began with seeing to her own back, ensuring that thepanions she¡¯d made would have no reason to turn on her. When theirpany halted for rest, she volunteered to join Brun at the front until the next halt. The Sacromontan seemed to appreciate the gesture, especially when she took it upon herself to carry thentern. Their advance was smooth and almost pleasant, the High Road living up to its name: it wasrgely even ground, broken up only by where enterprising weeds had taken root in the stone. Most of their attention was not reserved for the path ahead, anyhow.

    It was below that their eyes strayed, down into the ins they were soon to reach the end of. The lupines that had hunted them for the better part of yesterday were left behind when they crossed a deep gully unmarked on Song¡¯s map, unable to cross, but there was no telling if the creatures had gone around to continue their pursuit. The spirits had not been able to do anything from below, but the incessant howling had frayed everyone¡¯s nerves ¨C and risked drawing in some greater spirit that would not be kept away by something as simple as the height of the aqueduct. So far they had glimpsed a few silhouettes creeping across the nds, but none ever came close enough to be lit up.

    The infanzones, Angharad would admit, had hatched a very clever n. If not for the misfortune of being set upon by the lupines the march all the way to the second trial might have gone without a single drop of blood spilled. She was not alone in that opinion.

    ¡°I am d not to be walking the ins,¡± Brun told her. ¡°I would find it difficult to lower my guard long enough to sleep down there, after that mess with the lemures.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps our misfortune will have helped the others,¡± Angharad said, though she did not truly believe it. ¡°It would be some small sce.¡±

    ¡°I suppose there is need for all of that we can find, these days,¡± Brun drily said.

    She grimaced.

    ¡°I regret that ourpany has be at odds,¡± Angharad said. ¡°And know I yed a part in it.¡±

    The fair-haired man dismissed her words with a wave of the hand.

    ¡°I¡¯ll not quibble with ruthlessness, not on the Dominion of Lost Things,¡± he said, ¡°but you were right to strike the man. It would have been a fool¡¯s act to let the Cerdans murder one of us without consequence.¡±

    His face darkened.

    ¡°Infanzones already dispose of lives too easily for my tastes,¡± Brun said. ¡°I would not encourage the habit.¡±

    It was ufortable hearing him speak of his rightful rulers in such a way, but she must admit that the disrespect might not be unwarranted. Not for all infanzones, for while Sacromonte¡¯s nobles were shadows of what they had once been they were still of noble blood, but she would not deny the Cerdan brothers were not living up to the duties of their privilege. It was a failure that reflected badly on their kin, who should have properly educated them to the responsibilities of rank.

    ¡°You do not sound fond of them,¡± Angharad tried.

    ¡°I am the son of miners,¡± he said. ¡°Theirs was not a pleasant life, Lady Angharad, and it was spent enriching the same kind of men as these Cerdan.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear of their passing,¡± she gently said.

    ¡°It has been years,¡± Brun shrugged.

    The calm on his face she could hardly understand, for the grief she felt over her parents would surely be a wound in her side until she died. She could not think of anything but vengeance that would lessen it even slightly.

    ¡°Some are better than others,¡± he continued. ¡°Lady Isabel seems decent enough.¡±

    He shot her a knowing look at that.

    ¡°She has been very kind,¡± Angharad stiffly replied.

    ¡°Briceida tells me she¡¯s decided not to withdraw after the first trial,¡± Brun told her.

    She did not hide her surprise, at both the words and the implication that one of Isabel¡¯s handmaids would gossip about her mistress¡¯ affairs in such a way.

    ¡°Was this ever in doubt?¡± she asked.

    If so, it was news to her. Isabel had never hinted as much, though it was true she had spoken little of her ns.

    ¡°She hesitated after learning her cousin had died,¡± he said. ¡°Did she not speak of it with you?¡±

    Angharad shook her head.

    ¡°Perhaps she worries of your safety,¡± Brun idly said. ¡°Without her mediation, our troubles with the Cerdan would only grow worse.¡±

    It would be foolish, she chided herself, to think Isabel would risk her life for her when whaty between them was but a flirtation. The thought still brought a pleasurable flush to her cheeks.

    ¡°Or she recovered from the shock and stuck to her course,¡± Angharad said.

    Brun did not look convinced. He must be quite the romantic, she decided with a swell of fondness. How long before the lingering nces between him and the redheaded handmaid ¨C Briceida ¨C turned into something more? How scandalous. Still, it ddened her that some happiness was being born out of these trials no matter how passing it might be.

    ¡°Whatever the truth of it, she is a good friend to have in our corner,¡± he said. ¡°I hope that your avoidance of herpany during our halt was not a cooling in rtions.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s lips thinned. Brun studied her, then slowly nodded.

    ¡°Not so, I see,¡± he said. ¡°Does perhaps your talk with Remund Cerdan have something to do with this?¡±

    Speaking of an oath sworn in secret without the permission of he it was sworn to came too close to dishonour forfort. Angharad kept silent, but denied nothing.

    ¡°He does seem like the more jealous of the two,¡± Brun grunted. ¡°Maybe enough to get an oath.¡±

    The blond Sacromontan shot her a piercing look.

    ¡°I wonder,¡± he said, ¡°how someone might describe the way you acted during our halt.¡±

    Angharad beamed down at him. What a clever man.

    ¡°I did not seek thepany of Isabel Ruesta,¡± she very precisely replied.

    Describing something that had been done in public could not be taken as revealing a secret, after all. Brun snorted, scratching the blond stubble on his chin.

    ¡°Were that an oath, it¡¯d be one with a hole wide enough to sail a ship through,¡± he said. ¡°All it¡¯d take was someone figuring it out and passing on the wording to the object of the terms.¡±

    ¡°It would be a clever and convivial soul who did such a thing,¡± Angharad replied, lowering her head in gratitude.

    Brun smiled.

    ¡°Might be I¡¯ll help Lady Isabel¡¯s girls carry her bags this afternoon,¡± he said. ¡°I imagine it¡¯s the kind of thing she might thank me for in person, sweet as she is.¡±

    Her head lowered even further. Were they not journeying through a dark isle that was the roost of darklings and evil spirits, Angharad might have found the entire affair all strangely romantic: a binding oath to a rival, clever servants passing messages between star-crossed lovers and a duel with another rival on the horizon? She must have read half a hundred ys that had all of these. As it was, little about this made her heart flutter. It felt much like walking a tightrope instead.

    ¡°If could have a reassurance, first,¡± Brun quietly said. ¡°Should this turn ugly, should the brothers and their mindere for us, will your¡­ talent be enough to tip the scales?¡±

    The pause made it in what it was he was asking of: her contract. Though it was most tactless of him to inquire, as one did not simply <em>ask</em> about these things, she did owe the man. Or would soon enough.

    ¡°I have killed more than three men in a day,¡± Angharad simply replied, then chose her words carefully. ¡°My hand moves faster than it ought to.¡±

    Not a lie, though the implication was. It sat ill with her to deceive Brun even by implication when he had been such a loyalpanion, but that decision she had made before ever leaving Mn. It could not get out that the Fisher had given her the gift of foresight, else returning home would forever be barred to her. The blond man nodded at her in understanding. To her surprise, he then offered a revtion of his own.

    ¡°I can sense the living,¡± he told her. ¡°People best, hollows and beasts with more difficulty.¡±

    Her brow rose.

    ¡°A great gift,¡± she said.

    There would be more to it, and neither had even obliquely referred to a price, but she was still moved by the disy of trust. It spoke well of the man¡¯s character that he would acknowledge and mend his indiscretion immediately. It made her even more of a wretch to be fooling him, a truth she found hard to swallow. She was not used to answering kindness with such faithlessness.

    <em>Wed me, be my fair wife </em>

    <em>And these will all be yours </em>

    <em>I swear this on my life </em>

    <em>And the life that will be ours </em>

    The next step came slightly past midday, after they stopped to eat and once more changed the arraignment of the column. Angharad would have sought out Song, finished securing her back, but when Cozme Aflor instead offered for the two of them should take the rearguard she agreed without hesitation. He, too, was a danger that must be settled. Master Cozme was a skilled and loyal retainer charged with keeping both Cerdan brothers alive: so long as Angharad was a threat to their lives, the risk remained that he would attempt to kill her. It might not be honourable, but some might argue that a servant¡¯s true honoury in choosing the fulfillment of duty over their own virtue. As the older man had been the one to approach her, she chose to let him lead the conversation.

    ¡°I¡¯ll not defend what was done to Gascon,¡± Master Cozme briskly said. ¡°It was ill-done and ill-advised. The boy was scared, but that¡¯s no excuse.¡±

    He looked ufortable. Without therge hat pairing with the long hair and grey-flecked beard, he was not quite as roguish ¨C despite his obvious care for his appearance, he was looking a little haggard.

    ¡°And no excuse was given,¡± Angharad said.

    Lord Augusto Cerdan had not so much as shed a tear over the killing, as far as she could see.

    ¡°He can¡¯t do that, not after you struck him,¡± Cozme replied. ¡°It¡¯d be an admission of weakness now, that he is beneath you. A ruthless man won¡¯t be loved, but he can be respected.¡±

    He thumbed his moustache.

    ¡°A weak man will have neither love nor respect.¡±

    Angharad cocked an eyebrow at him.

    ¡°What is this if not a defence, Master Cozme?¡± she asked.

    He spat over the edge of the aqueduct. His hand was hooked into his belt, as if he were on a casual stroll, but that seeming carelessness left it never too far from his pistol.

    ¡°Acknowledgement that we are in a pickle, you and I,¡± Cozme said. ¡°I¡¯ve been charged with bringing the both of them back alive and you¡¯re aiming to cut down on half that charge.¡±

    ¡°It is unfortunate that the demands of our honour are at odds,¡± Angharad replied, meaning it.

    She liked the older man. He was skilled at arms and friendly, a pleasant conversationalist and reliable in a fight. She could not even hold his loyalty to Augusto Cerdan against him, as it was the mark of fine retainer to remain at their master¡¯s side no matter the turn of the tide ¨C or whether such loyalty was truly deserved.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight you, Lady Angharad,¡± he bluntly said. ¡°But I¡¯ll have to, if it¡¯s the only way to keep the boy alive.¡±

    The Pereduri acknowledged as much with a nod. They had both known this without need for a conversation, so soon Master Cozme should reveal why it was he had approached her.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t ask you to set aside your honour,¡± Cozme Aflor slowly said, ¡°but-¡±

    Her brow rose, a clear warning for him to tread lightly.

    ¡°- it seems to me there is some room for maneuver in the terms of your challenge,¡± he continued. ¡°We¡¯re under truce until ¡®peril passes¡¯, are we not?¡±

    ¡°The sanctuary before the second trial is the natural end to that oath,¡± Angharad said. ¡°We will be beyond peril¡¯s reach there.¡±

    ¡°But only temporarily,¡± Cozme argued. ¡°In a greater sense, the entire Dominion of Lost Things can be said to be a ce of peril.¡±

    Angharad frowned at him.

    ¡°You want me to duel him in Sacromonte instead,¡± she said. ¡°After the trials have passed.¡±

    Her tone made clear what she thought of the wisdom of the proposal.

    ¡°You¡¯re aiming to be a ckcloak, aren¡¯t you?¡± Cozme said. ¡°You¡¯ll be under the protection of the Watch when youe, it won¡¯t be something that can be swept under the rug with knife or powder.¡±

    As good as an admission that otherwise the House of Cerdan might have resorted to these, which in truth did not surprise her.

    ¡°There is no guarantee the Watch will let me duel him, even if the challenge was made before my joining,¡± Angharad pointed out.

    The bearded man looked frustrated, and though the thought was unkind Angharad could not help but wonder: even should she ept this, would she ever find Augusto Cerdan no matter how many times she came knocking at the gates of his home? Or would he coincidentally be out travelling every time she arrived, set out on some business or other?

    ¡°Apromise then,¡± Master Cozme pressed. ¡°I would have time of you, since there is an interpretation where giving it does not mar your honour.¡±

    ¡°I am not so generous a woman as to give mine without purpose,¡± Angharad replied.

    ¡°There would be,¡± Cozme assured her. ¡°How much do you know of the Trial of Ruins?¡±

    Only what she had been told, which was not much. The Cerdan brother knew that their foreknowledge was part of what kept people with them so they had remained tight-lipped. Isabel, disappointingly, had followed their lead in this.

    ¡°It is a maze of some kind, which we must march through to cross the mountains,¡± she said.

    ¡°It¡¯s more than that,¡± Cozme said, shaking his head. ¡°It is all made of broken shrines, abyrinth-city dedicated to dead gods. And whatever it is broke them, Lady Angharad, it sowed a hatred deep in the stone. Now those who would pass the shrines must first survive cruel games led by their shadows, beating them to open paths.¡±

    ¡°It sounds a fearsome ce,¡± she admitted.

    ¡°It is where most people die, during these trials,¡± Cozme meaningfully said. ¡°Even infanzones sumb to traps and tests. And it is my charge to keep the brothers alive, one I will see through, but I am only a man. The Manes might decide I am to fail despite all efforts.¡±

    He shrugged, looking at her expectantly. The offery unspoken but not less clear for that: Master Cozme wanted her to wait until the end of the second trial to see if circumstance would make an honour duel entirely unnecessary. If Augusto Cerdan was taken by the Trial of Ruins, Angharad could hardly demand a duel of a corpse. Master Cozme was making it in he would still do his best to keep Augusto alive, as his honour demanded, but was asking to dy the duel so they might find out if the Sleeping God had other ideas. Should he not, then they could still duel before the Cerdan withdrew from the trials. It was a neat solution, she would admit, toeing the line of honour for all involved.

    It was also near certain to get her killed.

    Beyond the second trialy another sanctuary, where it was the intention of the infanzones to desist from their candidature to the Watch and ce themselves under its protection so they might be taken back to Sacromonte. Should Augusto Cerdan seed at iming that protection, he would be beyond her reach. That meant she must either plumb the depths of thebyrinth with the infanzones to ensure he could not, risking having a knife slid into her back during these ¡®games¡¯, or that she must find her own way through and wager she would cross before he did so she might intercept him on the other side. Even the better of these wagers was bad: the infanzones knew much of these trials and she little, something certain to be an edge when struggling against a maze.

    Yet Angharad did not voice the refusal that her heart whispered.

    ¡°It is apromise,¡± she said instead.

    When she had been thirteen ¨C only five years ago, though it felt like a lifetime away ¨C she had journeyed with servants to Iswayo, one of the great cities of southern Mn, for a tournament. She had not been a favourite to win, still young to the circuit, but already her skill was known from some lesser victories. One the day of the tournament, she learned that it was to be the debut of the daughter of a great izinduna. And coincidence had decided that, by the branches of the fighting-tree, she was to face that very girl on her second fight. Should they both win their first, of course. Angharad had duly expected victory there. An hour before the tournament began, as she was limbering up, a nameless servant had approached her and smilingly begun to talk.

    Without ever naming names of saying anything outright, he had implied that should the daughter of a great house find unexpected sess there might be boons for those involved. Why, the Sleeping God might find it fit for Angharad to be invited to a much more prestigious tournament in the capital and even be blessed with an auspicious start topetition there. The man bore no weapon, made no threat and never ceased smiling. Angharad was excruciatingly polite in her refusal, offended but unwilling to make a powerful enemy, and the nameless man had neither blustered nor gotten angry. Instead he had thanked her for her time and taken his leave.

    A few minutes before the tournament began, Angharad had found that the name of her opponent in her first branch had been changed for one of the favourites to win. She lost to the other girl after a respectable bout, who then in turn went on to lose by an excitingly small margin to the izinduna¡¯s daughter in the following match. It was an exciting bout, all agreed, and a fine debut even if the girl did not make it too far after that. There had been a lesson in that day, one she had well learned.

    And as Angharad walked side by side with Cozme Aflor, this genial and pleasant man who had taken great pains to avoid enmity between them, she knew sure as theing of the tide that if she refused him now he would try to kill her. Not right now, perhaps not even today or tomorrow, but a time woulde and then without bluster or warning Master Cozme would shoot her in the back or stab her in the heart. That clear-headed patience was a hundred times more dangerous than anything Augusto and Remund Cerdan had it in them to muster, for it was nothing more than a loyal retainer doing what his duty demanded of him.

    ¡°I would require assurances,¡± Angharad finally said, ¡°that the challenge will not be fled.¡±

    ¡°That could be arranged with the Watch when we get to the sanctuary,¡± Cozme said, sounding pleased. ¡°You¡¯d be willing to wait until the end of the second trial?¡±

    ¡°Should this be true, then I will dy my challenge until the end of the Trial of Ruins,¡± Angharad precisely said. ¡°If you would have an oath of me, I-¡±

    ¡°You word is enough,¡± the older man firmly said, shaking his head. ¡°You are Mni.¡±

    He meant it as apliment, she thought, so she would not take offence. Even the merchants of Mn were known as honest to all the peoples of Vesper, since outing them as liars could ruin their trade. Honour was important, on the Isles, and taint had a way of passing by association: it was not only nobles who were careful of thepany they kept. Reputation must be carefully curated, but then work was not rewards. Mni, it was said, did not lie. Their word was taken as bond when given, and the same trust was given to the peoples of the High Isle and the Low.

    <em>I give you then my hand, </em>

    <em>Promised in salt and air </em>

    <em>And by your side will stand </em>

    <em>The wife that you won fair </em>

    Master Cozme was in a fine mood when they parted ways that evening, certain he had gotten from her what he wanted. He had not. Angharad had agreed to dy<em> a</em> challenge, never promising not to issue another. It would be most satisfying to strike Augusto Cerdan a second time. Angharad let that prospect bring a smile to her face as they all ate, arrayed in the same unspoken camps they had this morning. Song and Brun on her side, the brothers and their protector on the other, Isabel and her maids in between. Only, she saw, now they of thend had changed. Remund smiled often at Augusto, almost smirking, and Cozme no longer kept a hand near his pistol. Isabel sometimes shot the younger Cerdan dark looks and seemed to be encouraging Briceida to speak with Brun.

    Angharad Tredegar watched them all and saw in them her father¡¯s lessons learned. Eating her dried fruits, she hummed under her breath of old tricks.

    <em>Here! Stars reflected in wine, </em>

    <em>a seashell held to your ear, </em>

    <em>the mountain I im as mine, </em>

    <em>and a hearth rats do not fear</em>

    The Tianxi at her side leaned close.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been toying with that tune all day,¡± Song quietly said. ¡° I am now official intrigued: may I know what it is called?¡±

    She flushed, embarrassed at having been caught out.

    ¡°The Fair Wife,¡± Angharad replied.

    ¡°A love bad?¡± the Tianxia chuckled, eyes teasing. ¡°I had not thought you in such a mood.¡±

    The Pereduri shook her head.

    ¡°It is a <em>cann</em>, a shore-song,¡± she exined. ¡°They are bads that teach lessons through a story.¡±

    Most were old as Morn¡¯s Arrival, the story went, and first sung to teach her ancestors when their ships found the stony shores of Peredur. The Fair Wife was said to be about a man seeking a beautiful spirit¡¯s hand in marriage, of the tricks yed to get one¡¯s way. Song¡¯s silver eyes stayed on her, full of a steady confidence that was a firmer cousin to calm.

    ¡°And what lesson does it teach?¡±

    Father had said that the lesson was that you received what you gave, a tale of reciprocity. Mother had often said it was simply about how spirits, like many men, simply could not be trusted. She had never entirely believed either, finding her own answer as a cann encouraged.

    ¡°That cleverness is a sword with two edges,¡± Angharad Tredegar replied. ¡°And every so often, we get everything that we deserve.¡±

    After all, thest couplet was sung by the spirit and not the man.

    <em>Sweet love, I find no fault </em>

    <em>and leave now in your care </em>

    <em>this hand of air and salt: </em>

    <em>the wife that you won fair. </em>

 Chapter 12

    Chapter 12

    It was an unusual experience, Tristan mused, to be treating others using a poisoner¡¯s kit in ways he hadrgely learned through study of interrogation. Not that anyone could tell the difference.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need a stick to bite down on,¡± Felis insisted. ¡°It¡¯s just a little pain, I can take it.¡±

    In most circumstances, the man might even have been right: regr use of dust could dull one¡¯s sense of pain. Not so here, however. Aines fretted at her husband¡¯s side but he kept pushing her away.

    ¡°I once saw a man bite through his own tongue,¡± Tristan conversationally said. ¡°It didn¡¯t kill him ¨C it is not usually a lethal wound, you see ¨C but it did seem to be an excruciatingly painful experience.¡±

    The dust addict paled, fiddling with his choppy brown hair.

    ¡°Are you much of a singer, Felis?¡± the thief asked.

    The man red, but he took the stick and ced his teeth against it. Tristan immediately ripped out the bolt, ignoring the half-swallowed scream that followed. It was a nasty little piece of work, the thief thought as he eyed the arrowpoint the hollows had used. Serrated so that it would cut flesh again on the way out. Felis went through spasms of pain, shivering, as Tristan set down the bolt and got to work cleaning the wound. A rag drenched in alcohol, then makeshift bandages made of ripped clothing. The man should be in no danger of bleeding out, but Tristan could not say if the flesh would take sick. Clothes made for poor bandages and they had too few to spare for the thief to be able to change them often.

    ¡°It is much as I can do,¡± he told Felis. ¡°I will give you something for the pain before you go to sleep.¡±

    That made all of them. Vanesa and Aines had gotten away with little more than bruises, Francho¡¯s rib was sprained but not broken and Yong had taken no wound at all. After Felis the worst off was Sarai: pins and needles had ripped at the side of her face when her veils and mask were torn off. Those he had not taken care of: after borrowing alcohol to clean the wounds, she had seen to them herself. Of Lan there was still no sign, not that they would take her in should she return. What worth was there in keeping around someone who would run when the knives came out? Choices must be paid for. Felis spat out the stick and rose to his feet, striding away without another a word. His wife stayed behind.

    ¡°Thank you, Tristan,¡± Aines tiredly told him. ¡°He appreciates it as well, he just-¡±

    Under the weariness and the wear, he could still see the shape of the woman she must have been when she was young. Dark hair and kind brown eyes, a heart-shaped face and slender frame. The kind of looks men of the Murk considered beautiful.

    ¡°This ce, it doesn¡¯t bring out the best in us,¡± she finished. ¡°It will be better when we get out.¡±

    <em>No it won¡¯t</em>, Tristan thought. The thief hesitated. He had decided not to involve himself too closely with the pair, wary of getting caught in the inevitable explosion, but now theirpany¡¯s numbers had thinned and wounds had been taken. If he could nudge their situation intoing to a head a littleter, perhaps the second trial, it would be a boon.

    ¡°Lan ran off with the dust,¡± he said. ¡°How long before it gets bad?¡±

    Aines¡¯ smile did not quite hide the shame in her eyes.

    ¡°Noticed that, did you?¡± she said. ¡°I thought you might, you¡¯ve got Murk all over you.¡±

    And they both knew that dust and the other drugs peddled there killed people just as sure as the gue, only slower and uglier. The dark-haired woman worried her lip.

    ¡°Two days,¡± she finally said. ¡°Maybe longer if your extract for the pain scratches the itch some.¡±

    ¡°That could be a problem,¡± Tristan admitted.

    One he did not have much to mend, save if one counted poison a solution. The sound Aines answered by was too bleak to truly be called augh.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she exhaled. ¡°I know. Gods, I know.¡±

    ¡°It seems ill-advised,¡± he delicately said, ¡°to be taking these trials given his¡­ condition.¡±

    His more than hers. Aines seemed as needful of gambling as her husband was of dust but her body would not rebel at theck of it: it was an affliction of the mind more than the flesh. He already knew they had note here by choice, that they had been paid for by others, but tired and grateful as she was a small invitation like this should be enough to get her talking.

    ¡°You think we had a choice?¡± Aines bitterly replied. ¡°We both racked up debts with the Cordero Sonriente, only we didn¡¯t know about each other¡¯s. One of their collectors put it together and came knocking at our door.¡±

    Tristan winced. The Cordero Soriente has begun as a charitable house the infanzones had meant to clothe and feed the poor souls of the Murk, but infamously within a year it¡¯d begun selling goods on the side and running whores in its chapterhouses. The Guardia never raided them, after all, lest the noble patrons be offended. By the time the thief was born the Cordero had branched into loans as well and earned a hard reputation among that crowded trade. They were respectable enough they could afford to pay the redcloaks toe and collect for them and the Guardia did not y nice when it came to the Murk.

    ¡°Yeah, that bad,¡± Aines sighed. ¡°The debt was big enough we would have been bound for the mines until we died, only we have five kids and no one who could take care of them. So when they offered to wipe the debt if we took the trials, it wasn¡¯t much of a choice at all.¡±

    ¡°They would not have made the offer without getting something out of it,¡± Tristan said.

    Aines convulsed, and with some surprise the thief realized that she was crying. It was not the tears that surprised him ¨C he¡¯d choked on bitter sobs in his time ¨C but that she would allow herself to shed them before a man half a stranger. Tristan gently put a hand on her shoulder but did not take her into his arms as an impulse demanded. He knew better than to get attached.

    ¡°It¡¯s a sport to them,¡± she croaked out. ¡°They pay the ckcloaks for the reports, after. So they know what happened in the trials.¡±

    ¡°What did they tell you, Aines?¡± he pressed.

    ¡°They¡¯ll drown my children,¡± she whispered, ¡°if Felis kills me before the end of the trials.¡±

    Sympathy welled up, but only a shallow stream. Most of his mind was on the talk he had overheard between the two, the way Felis had pushed for them to leave the group. To go off alone. And just as Aines must havee to, he grew sure the Cordero must have promised him something if he killed her before the end of the trials. <em>Red games</em>, Yong had called these. What a pretty turn of phrase for such an ugly thing. He kept Ainespany until the tears ran out and she muttered some excuses, returning to her cot like someone who did not know where else to go. Felis began a whispered argument with her within moments and Tristan decided to wait before he went over with the painkiller.

    Instead it was to Yong¡¯s side he went, sitting by the man as he oiled and cleaned his sword. The Tianxi nced his way with an inquisitive look.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re salvageable,¡± Tristan frankly said, careful not the nce the pair¡¯s way as he did. ¡°They were pointed at each other by their creditor.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re useful in a fight,¡± Yong just as frankly replied. ¡°I¡¯d be more inclined to get rid of the greyhairs than these two if we must cut weight loose.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying we cut them,¡± he replied, ¡°but they can¡¯t be trusted for anything delicate. It¡¯s only a matter of time until one knifes the other.¡±

    Either Felis for what he had been promised or Aines to avoid the same.

    ¡°Come the second trial, they are no longer our trouble,¡± Yong pragmatically said. ¡°Will theyst until then?¡±

    Tristan grimaced.

    ¡°Probably,¡± he conceded, then passed a hand through his hair. ¡°Marriage, huh. What a fool¡¯s game.¡±

    Yong shot him a highly amused look.

    ¡°You are speaking,¡± the Tianxi said, ¡°to a married man.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± the thief coughed. ¡°I mean no offence. I am sure your wife-¡±

    ¡°Husband,¡± Yong drily corrected.

    ¡°- husband is a fine man,¡± Tristan hastily assured him.

    ¡°He is,¡± the other man replied, but a hint of somethingy under the even tone. ¡°But I¡¯ll grant you it can sometimes make for a crowded bed, each other and our pasts all squeezed tight.¡±

    Much as the thief was itching to poke at that, to see what mighte out, a look at Yong¡¯s face was enough for him to decide otherwise. It was a closed shutter, and the Tianxi was shifting restless in that way Tristan hade to recognize as meaning he wanted to drink. The earlier violence seemed to have invigorated Yong, enough that he¡¯d not drunk liquor all afternoon, but now the clouds were returning. Best head that off as hard as he could: if the day¡¯s fighting had proved anything, it was that without Yong they were all halfway to the grave.

    ¡°I am d you are now calm,¡± Tristan said, ¡°for you seemed angry when you first saw Sarai¡¯s looks under the mask.¡±

    ¡°Hollows can¡¯t be trusted,¡± the Tianxi bluntly said. ¡°If she had been one, either she or I would have left thispany.¡±

    ¡°I have not found them any worse than men,¡± the thief said. ¡°Is this a matter of faith?¡±

    No one, not even cultish Redeemers, denied the truth of the Circle Perpetual ¨C the endless cycle of reincarnation that bound all souls not marred by the Gloam. To be a darkling, hollow, was to be evicted from the Circle and see your immortal soul tarnished into mortality. There were faiths of Vesper who thought this a great sin, something disgusting or wicked, and so thought hollows disgusting and wicked as well. The Orthodoxy should not be one of them, but then in practice Tristan knew precious little of the Cathayan Orthodoxy.

    ¡°It is a matter of fact,¡± Yong replied. ¡°All men go mad whenw runs thin, Tristan. When there are no more punishments, the savagery we pretend we¡¯ve never learnedes creeping out.¡±

    His dark eyes looked at something beyond the cast of thentern¡¯s light, the kind of haunting that could be a world away and still closer than your own skin.

    ¡°I have seen men I thought decent rape and steal and kill for no better reason than they could,¡± he said. ¡°But in the end, for all our cruelties, we are still men.¡±

    The former soldier¡¯s jaw clenched.

    ¡°I have found half-eaten children by the road,¡± Yong said with deste calm, ¡°where hollows went raiding. I¡¯ve tread over the broken bones of hundreds fed to mad gods, seen the aftermath of ritual so horrifying even the worst of Izcalli candlemen would balk at their use.¡±

    His tone had not grown heated but it¡¯d risen loud enough they were drawing looks.

    ¡°We still curse by the Old Night for a reason,¡± he said, lowering the pitch of his voice after he noticed the attention. ¡°And that is the world hollows would bring back: darkness for all, forever. No trust can or should survive that truth.¡±

    Tristan slowly nodded, keeping his thoughts off his face. He would not argue with Yong, not when the subject drew such fervour from the other man, but he was not convinced. There were entire kingdoms of hollows out there, great empires risen and fallen beyond the cast of the re. Schrs were certain that most of Vesper belonged to the hollows, and if Yong were right then the Old Night would long ago have been brought back. No, Tristan suspected that most hollows were no better or worse than men. Shaped differently by circumstance, perhaps, but not made of such different y.

    It was the cults that were things of horror, and a cult was not a kingdom ¨C much less a hundred of them.

    ¡°I¡¯ll not argue with killing those Red Eye bastards,¡± the thief said. ¡°Though I hope you¡¯ll forgive me if I¡¯d rather sneak past them if we can.¡±

    Yong waved his words away.

    ¡°So would I,¡± he said. ¡°And I can only wince at how Sarai must have suffered for her people¡¯s resemnce to hollows. I expect half the people she¡¯s ever met have tried to p her in chains.¡±

    ¡°Not Tianxi, no?¡± Tristan asked. ¡°I thought the Republics didn¡¯t hold with very.¡±

    ¡°All are free under Heaven,¡± Yong dutifully quoted. ¡°It¡¯s against all thews on all the books, it¡¯s true, but it doesn¡¯t stop some of the traders from shipping ves.¡±

    <em>Ah</em>, Tristan thought. Transporting the ¡®merchandise¡¯ was not buying or selling it, he deduced, which allowed the unscrupulous to follow the letter of thew. He was no longer a boy of ten, blindly admiring that the Tianxi had sent all their nobles to the chopping block and dreaming theirnd a veritable paradise. The Heavenly Republics were just as wed a beast as the other great powers of Vesper, he knew that. But he was still disappointed, somehow, that men who¡¯d made themselves free would force the opposite on others.

    ¡°The ve trade has made Mn rich,¡± he sighed. ¡°And the man who hates gold has yet to be born.¡±

    The Second Empire had used ves by the millions and most peoples of Vesper still did ¨C the infanzones might not call them such, but the hollows mining rubies and gold for them were ves in deed ¨C yet it was only ever hollows that Liergan had kept in chains. That time, that practice, hade at an end. The Kingdom of Mn had grown terribly wealth by stealing men in the north and shipping them to their western colonies, where they toiled raising rich crops under the re for their masters. And the tribes below the Broken Gates were very much men, for though they were pale of skin they were not severed from the Circle Perpetual. The re did not burn them.

    Yong snorted.

    ¡°When I was a boy,¡± he said, ¡°my grandmother told me it was Lucifer himself that made gold, for he knew that even sealed in Pandemonium gold would be enough for men to destroy themselves.¡±

    Tristan could not help but smile. It seemed that no matter where you were born, family tried to scare you with stories of the King of Hell.

    ¡°My father used to tell how he invented sleep,¡± the thief said, ¡°by botching a spell to kill all the world.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a clever one,¡± Yong appreciated, then wiped his sword down onest time. ¡°And a timely reminder of what I ought to do. Francho still has first watch?¡±

    Tristan nodded.

    ¡°Good, the greyhairs need to earn their keep,¡± the former soldier said. ¡°Will you speak with Sarai before turning in for the night?¡±

    The thief cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Should I?¡± he asked, surprised.

    ¡°Who, if not you?¡± Yong shrugged. ¡°The two of you have been fingers from the same hand since we left the<em> yiwu.</em>¡±

    He frowned, recognizing the Cathayan word but not the meaning.

    ¡°Relics?¡±

    ¡°Nobles,¡± Yong exined, smiling.

    There was a calm certainty behind that smile, the look of a man who knew the way the world was headed and that its road would inevitably be paved with the graves of his enemies. And who was the Tristan to argue that? The Tianxi still chopped kings into four pieces, whenever they got their hands on them, and no crown in Vesper had been able to make them stop. Parting ways with the still-smiling man, Tristan flicked a nce Sarai¡¯s way. She was sitting alone, Aines and Felis giving her wide berth, and while Vanesa had not been driven off by the pale skin the bespectacled old woman was sound asleep.

    He''d barely exchanged twenty words with her since her face was revealed, Tristan realized. They¡¯d had to run half a day and he¡¯d spent all his time since camp was made seeing to wounds. Perhaps a conversation truly was due, even if exhaustion was catching up to him. Sitting across from Sarai¡¯s pack, the thief popped his neck and let out a little sigh of satisfaction at the ensuing crack. He got an unimpressed look from the dark-haired woman for it.

    ¡°You could have done that beforeing over,¡± she said.

    ¡°And let you miss out?¡± Tristan charmingly smiled. ¡°You wound me.¡±

    ¡°Do it again and I just might,¡± Sarai threatened, but her lips twitched. ¡°I can¡¯t stand the sound.¡±

    ¡°I will take that in due consideration,¡± the thief assured her.

    There was a pause, and as he met her eyes he reached for his thumb with deliberate obviousness and the most obnoxious grin in his repertoire.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± she warned.

    ¡°How¡¯s the face?¡± Tristan idly asked.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she warily said, eye still on his thumb, ¡°the cuts aren¡¯t deep and-¡±

    The thief pulled at his thumb before she could finish the sentence, the small crack of the joint popping getting an indignant cry out of her. He was forced to shield his face with his arms when she began enthusiastically beating him with her veil. By the time she¡¯d finished retaliating, the two of them were grinning. Sarai shook her head, reluctantly pleased.

    ¡°The cuts won¡¯t even scar,¡± she told him. ¡°I¡¯ve had worse shaving my legs. How are your burns?¡±

    ¡°Better than they¡¯ve any right to be,¡± he honestly replied. ¡°They¡¯re clean and the flesh is red instead of ck, which is a good sign.¡±

    That he felt pain around it was a good sign, for great burns bit deep enough you could no longer feel pain there at all.

    ¡°The bruise on my side is more of a pain,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I already slept on my back.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be doing the same for a few weeks, I¡¯d think,¡± Sarai grunted. ¡°Shallow they may be, but I can¡¯t rest on them without hissing.¡±

    He nodded in sympathy, the two of them sitting infortable silence for a while. It was him that broke it, almost to his regret.

    ¡°Are we going to talk about it?¡± he idly asked.

    The secret that¡¯de out, all the petty little things tied to it.

    ¡°No,¡± Sarai replied.

    He cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°If we survive the trials?¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll give you my name,¡± Sarai agreed. ¡°My real one. If you want more, you¡¯ll have to trade in kind.¡±

    A fair bargain, as tended to be her way.

    ¡°Past is past,¡± Tristan shrugged. ¡°I am more interested in what is toe.¡±

    A request for information less dear but more immediately pressing. How far did Sarai intend to go, on this Dominion of Lost Things? Blue eyes considered him.

    ¡°By the end of these trials,¡± Sarai said, ¡°I will be wearing a ck cloak.¡±

    ¡°That is my aim as well,¡± Tristan replied, pleased and not hiding it.

    It meant their alliance could continue until the end. With Yong intending to join the Watch as well, he would have two reliablepanions to go into theing trials with. Sarai passed a hand through her dark tresses, face closing, then let out a sigh.

    ¡°This year¡¯s trials,¡± she said, lowering her voice, ¡°are not like the others.¡±

    He stared at her unblinking.

    ¡°Some of us were marked for more than simply joining the Watch,¡± Sarai said.

    He could not muster much surprise. He had known something was off since first setting foot on the Bluebell. Some things were not adding up: Abu had given him a shot at Cozme Aflor and a pair of Cerdan by sending him here, but there had been other ways. His mentor did not simply want him in the Watch, she had wanted him on that particr ship. Why?

    ¡°You are one of those chosen few, I take it?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°I am,¡± she said, smiling faintly. ¡°But so are you.¡±

    Despite their best effort, that knowledge did more to keep him awake than the bruises.

    --

    The tall grass felt sinister, now that they knew what might be waiting for them hiding behind the stalks.

    Theirpany had taken wounds, enough to smell of blood, and that meant they had to worry about more than the cultists of the Red Eye now that they¡¯d broken camp and resume their march. Lupines would prefer the open ins to the tall grass they were cutting through, but there were many kinds of lemures out there. The first creatures they found, though, were not lemures at all. Early in the morning Aines let out a small scream that had them all going for weapons, but what she had almost stumbled over did not end up warranting such dread: on the ground were a pair of wobbly carapace globes, from which tails with maces at the end protruded. The tails were being waved menacingly, though Tristan would have felt rather more menaced if the creature it belonged to was not cowering blindly inside its carapace.

    ¡°Those are glyptonts,¡± Vanesa pointed out amusedly. ¡°No threat to you, my dear, unless your feet are made of weeds.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re harmless, then?¡± Aines carefully asked.

    ¡°Usually herbivores,¡± Francho confirmed.

    He was met with an uprehending and somewhat worried look.

    ¡°A creature that eats only nts,¡± the old professor rified.

    The silent reproach on Aines¡¯ face at not having simply said that from the start had the thief smothering a smile.

    ¡°I recall reading that they favour mud,¡± Tristan said. ¡°We might be near a pond we¡¯ll need to go around.¡±

    Francho shook his head.

    ¡°They prefer flowing water,¡± the toothless old man corrected. ¡°For cleaning their scales. A river, more like. And if one of you gentlemen would do me the favour of tipping one over?¡±

    ¡°That seems unnecessarily cruel,¡± Yong objected half-heartedly.

    Sarai, not so burdened, borrowed the Tianxi¡¯s musket and carefully rolled one of the glyptonts upside down while avoiding the mace-tail. The other let out a strangely mouse-like squeak, tail disappearing inside like it¡¯d been sucked in, and promptly began a strategic retreat. It had abandoned its fellow quite ruthlessly, the thief noted.

    ¡°No honour among glyptonts either, huh,¡± he muttered.

    Meanwhile, Francho was coughing into his hand as he leaned over the belly-up glyptont that Sarai was holding down with the butt of the musket while it tried to flee. Aside from the four stumpy legs Tristan had expected there, though, was what looked like a round mouth in the middle of the belly surrounded by wiggling brown tentacles and a set of horn-like mandibles. Ergh. Francho, however, looked quite pleased.

    ¡°This is a reed glyptont,¡± he informed happily, ¡°a particr species that subsists not only of weeds but also small fish and frogs.¡±

    Aines shot him a betrayed look. Her foot at been at risk after all.

    ¡°And why should we care?¡± Felis said, putting aforting hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°Because it means the river ahead shouldn¡¯t have predatorsrge enough to bother our little friend,¡± Sarai replied, allowing the glyptont to flip back on the ground.

    It scuttled away into the grass, tail waving at them in what might have been meant to be warning but ended up looking like a child enthusiastically waving goodbye. Felis still looked mulish ¨C he¡¯d been in a foul mood all day and there was no mystery as to why ¨C so Yong borated further.

    ¡°There should not be anythingrge enough to attack us as we cross it,¡± the Tianxi said.

    All agreed it was best to go through instead of around, time being the greatest of luxuries, and with a little luck running water behind them might even put off lemures on their tail. It was not long before they could hear the flowing water and within a quarter hour they¡¯d reached muddy banks. The water did not go deeper than the waist of the shortest among them ¨C a toss-up between Aines and Vanesa, now that Lan was gone ¨C and the current was strong but not impossible to manage. A glyptont was hiding in reeds further downriver, thoughtfully chewing at stalk that poked right out and wobbled with every chew, while frogs croaked a quiet wee.

    They took a short pause to fill their waterskins and wash their faces before beginning the crossing. Tristan volunteered to go first, as someone must, and found the footing treacherous but hardly dangerous if you took your time. He called back to be careful with the stones at the bottom, which were slippery, and waited for Sarai to throw him the end of the rope. He found a fallen, rotting tree to tie it to while she secured it to a stone on the other end, theirpany then going about getting their affairs across. His medicine cab, in particr, required much careful handling not to take water. It had already proved its worth, so there was only minimum grumbling about the work.

    Yong was to be thest across and Vanesa was halfway through, the lot of them nearly in the clear, so naturally Tristan was already tense as a string when it all went wrong.

    They should have seen iting, tall as it was, or even heard it. But it was a hunter, and so there was no trace at all until it was out of the tall grass. The beak first, a cruelly curved thing ck as tar that rose as the creature stretched into its full height: at least ten feet, a cascade of deep purple feathers flecked with wriggling pale blue eyes. Its legs were bone, ending in great curved ws, and from under folded wings skeletal arms peeked out. The eyeless head should have felt like a bird¡¯s, all creased leather, but instead Tristan was somehow certain a man was looking at him. He did not need to be told what he was looking at: night-terror, eye-taker. A gravebird.

    ¡°Do not-¡± Tristan began, tone forcefully even.

    Then Aines screamed and it all went to Hell.

    The gravebird wailed and the thief flinched, the sound echoing between his ears until he had to scream to let it out. His tongue tasted of blood. Eyes wild, he fumbled for his knife even as Sarai swallowed a sob behind him. It was on Yong in an instant, cruel beak tearing into the Tianxi¡¯s shoulder as he tried to draw his sword. He fell with a scream and Tristan rushed to the water as the gravebird gobbled down the flesh it¡¯d ripped, the blues eyes on its feathers slowly beginning to spin. They were beautiful, he thought, but then Fortuna let out a shout of rm and he tore his gaze away.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at the eyes,¡± he yelled.

    ¡°<em>Jebati</em>,¡± Sarai cursed, then he heard someone getting pped across the face.

    Felis let out a bellow of anger, but Tristan had no time for this: he reached for Vanesa. The old woman was panicking, had fallen halfway to her knee slipping on stone, and the hand not clutching the rope felt slick as a fish when she caught his own. They struggled to drag her out of the river. Yong¡­ he was on the wrong side, and sometimes luck was not kind.

    Most of the time, really.

    Only when Tristan nced up, the creature was not finishing off the former soldier. It was looking at them instead, slinking forward and through the water like it didn¡¯t feel the current at all. The gravebird moved unhurriedly, so sure they were all meat on the te it was taking the time to toy with them. It let out another wail and Tristan shouted back to ward it off, Fortuna shouting with him, their voices threading as one. But Vanesa, Vanesa pped her hands over her ears. The moment she no longer held the rope the current took her, would have swallowed her downstream if not for the orb of Gloam that formed in her way. The old woman hit it like she¡¯d been thrown, crying out in pain, but clutched it so she would not be swept away.

    ¡°Quick,¡± Sarai yelled, ¡°I can¡¯t-¡±

    Skeletal fingers gently cradled Vanesa¡¯s cheek, the gravebird pulling her close, and Tristan watched with horror as the other hand bone hand went for her right eye. He threw his knife, but the gravebird dismissively flicked its feathers and it barely sliced into one of them. The de went with the current and now he was <em>out</em>. The other knife was with his pack, all he had was a broken relic pistol and gods ¨C Vanesa screamed, the gravebird ripping out the eye and cing it in a featherless hollow under its throat. One more feather in the making, Vanesa¡¯s eyes gone blue painted over it. They were all going to die, Tristan realized. He needed to run, to¡­

    The shot took the gravebird in the side of the head. It let out a cry of fury, but though Yong flinched at the sound like the rest of them the former soldier tossed down his musket and pulled his pistol. Another shot in the side of the head, magnificently ced ¨C feathers went flying and Tristan glimpsed ck flesh like a sea of worms. There was a hole there, staying made though the ball was already falling out. It would change nothing: a gravebird had as many lives as it had eyes. They had been worshipped as gods, once. Yong was out of triggers to pull, so the wounded man drew his de and Tristan watched numbly as the gravebird¡¯s skeletal hand reached for Vanesa¡¯s second eye.

    ¡°It seeds fear in you,¡± Fortuna whispered into his ear. ¡°That is what the wails are really for. You are not helpless.¡±

    He let out augh that was half a sob, desperately fighting the current to stay standing. What was he to do, hit the monster with his broken pistol? Absurd as the thought was it was still better than nothing, so he reached for the pistol and as the wet wood slid against his palm his gaze found the engravings on the side.

    ¡°Please,¡± Vanesa begged. ¡°<em>Please</em>.¡±

    And Tristan, fool that he was, palmed his priceless treasure. A piece of rhadamantine quartz, burning with the re¡¯s light, and then as he met Fortuna¡¯s smiling golden eyes he borrowed luck. The ticking began but he paid it no mind. All he needed was a moment. The thief threw the stone, and just as he did the gravebird turned: with perfect, impossible timing the rhadamantine quartz tumbled right into the hole in the side of creature¡¯s head. And it got <em>stuck</em>.

    The gravebird¡¯s scream ofplete and utter fury was so loud he couldn¡¯t hear the ticking when he released the luck.

    He snatched Vanesa by the back of her chemise, half-tearing it, and got her out of the way just as the gravebird began blindly iling. It was in pain, shaking and screaming, but the quartz was well and stuck. <em>May you burn from the inside</em>, he thought with vicious satisfaction. No lemure enjoyed the touch of the re. Vanesa had grown deadened from pain and shock, her eyes empty, but she moved when he pushed and the two of them fell to their knees in the mud of the riverbank. On the other side of the river the gravebird was shing at the ground in fury, Yong having wisely fled into the water while it was distracted.

    ¡°Go help him across,¡± Tristan ordered a gaping Felis, pulling Vanesa to her feet.

    Francho was unconscious, he saw, so he told Aines to get him awake and passed the bespectacled ¨C only half, now, the gravebird had ripped through the sses to get to her eye ¨C old woman to a sickly Sarai. They needed to take their bags and run before the gravebird rid itself of the quartz or drew something even worse. Going for his own affairs, only then did Tristan realized the prize he¡¯d paid for his throw: down the banks his medicine caby against a jutting rock, broken and half-submerged. It¡¯d tumbled down the slope while no one paid attention, half its contents spilling into the water or being ruined by it.

    He''d have to salvage what he could.

    Carelessly throwing all the stuff inside, mourning as he already saw there would be no more painkillers, he flicked a nce upriver and found Yong was being helped out of the water by Felis. On the other side, the gravebird had gone into the tall grass but its screams betrayed it had not yet gone far. Shoving the broken cab onto his back, the thief joined the others. Francho was back on his feet, looking half asleep and half dead. The wail had hit him much harder than everyone else, his eyes were still white with dread.

    ¡°We have to get moving <em>right</em><em>now</em>,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Anyone who can¡¯t keep up is left behind.¡±

    No one argued, for all knew that if the gravebird¡¯s scream had not drawn the cult of the Red Eye yet then Yong¡¯s two shots most certainly had.

    --

    The tall grass was the only reason they lived.

    At least three warbands were scouring thend looking for them and in the open they would have been dead within the hour. Instead, by hook and crook, they hid and muddled on. Twice they had toy down in mud at the bottom of crevasses as hollows passed above them, shadows lingering as they spoke amongst each other in a tongue older and harsher than Antigua. Their path was circuitous, Yong keeping them on grounds that would leave no easy tracks to find as they stumbled on wounded and tired. Tristan had taken just long enough to see to it that his and Vanesa¡¯s wounds would not kill them before pressing on, but while he still had alcohol he no longer had numbing agents.

    They would all be feeling their wounds.

    Squirming through filth and bushes, they made their way forward. After some hours exhaustion became too much, forcing breaks, but no one slept well of for long. They could not afford to stay in ce for too long with the cultistsbing through the grass. Theirpany kept moving through the night, stealing away the odd hour of sleep when it could.

    The start of the third day since they had split from the rest was not auspicious, everyone¡¯s exhaustion sharpening tempers and slowing down the greyhairs even further. Felis was prickly as porcupine, constantly scratching at his arms and picking fights with the others. Yong had to threaten to cut out his tongue to get him toy off Vanesa, who he used of breathing so loudly she would draw the Red Eye onto them all. The sole relief was that, for all that their pace had slowed to a crawl, Sarai believed they were approaching the eastern bridge across the river.

    Halfway through morning they found a toppled column rising out of the tall grass, enough so that when Tristan climbed atop it he was able to have a look further ahead.

    ¡°Good and bad,¡± the thief told them when he came down. ¡°I believe I saw the silhouette of the statue that Sarai chose as our marker. We are at most half a day away from the bridge.¡±

    ¡°And the bad?¡± Vanesa resignedly asked.

    ¡°The tall grass ends soon,¡± Tristan said. ¡°There is a span of open grounds between it and the beginning of the forest.¡±

    And open grounds could well be the death of them all, if there were any cultists keeping an eye out for them. Theirpany broke out into murmurs, save for Francho who hadid a hand on the broken column and had gone into his own mind with unseeing eyes. After the others agreed that they should first head to the edge of the tall grass before deciding whether or not to risk it, Tristan shook the old man out of his reverie. Not with his hand, you never knew with contracts, but with the but of his useless pistol.

    ¡°Ah,¡± the toothless professor muttered. ¡°Yes. We are going, I see.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t dozing off,¡± Tristan said. ¡°You were listening to the stone.¡±

    The old man nodded, quietly coughing into his hand.

    ¡°It is not from here,¡± Francho said.

    The thief cocked a questioning eyebrow.

    ¡°It was stolen from a temple, brought here by cultists to serve as a watchtower of sorts,¡± the professor borated. ¡°The men who carried them had strong opinions about being ordered to do this, and one broke his leg when it was dropped on it. That was¡­ vivid.¡±

    ¡°You hear their voices,¡± Tristan slowly said, ¡°as if hearing their old conversations?¡±

    It was in poor form to inquire as to another¡¯s contract, but if the old man wanted to unburden himself who was he to argue? Francho grimaced, shaking his head.

    ¡°Not so. It is more along the lines of what their hearts felt, when they touched the stone?¡± he tried. ¡°I hear resonance of moments that were, nothing exact.¡±

    It was still the kind of contract some would dly murder over, Tristan thought, if it truly could steal secrets out of stone this way. How many bloody old lies could Francho drag out of graves, should he care to go looking into the past of Sacromonte? Or any city in the world, for that matter.

    ¡°Useful regardless,¡± Tristan simply said, then gestured for him to move. ¡°Come on.¡±

    Theirpany resumed the march, creeping towards the end of the tall grass with an obsessive care for quiet. Tristan kept an eye on Francho as they moved, looking for the trace of a price for the contract, but found none. Disappointing, but not surprising: gods did not always like their dues easily found. It was because he was watching that he saw the old man suddenly stiffen, looking around for something none of them saw. Mere feet away from the end of the tall grass a stone block was buried, nestled between weeds with only a corner peeking out. The old man discreetly ran his fingers against it while the others halted at the edge of the grass, eyes growing shadowed.

    <em>You heard that stone¡¯s voice without pulling on your contract</em>, Tristan thought. Was that his price, then? Francho could hear the secrets of stone, but he could never <em>cease</em> hearing them? A blessing and a curse all at once. Fortuna hummed, having taken an interest when she noticed his. The goddess began idly turning around the toothless old man, looking at him like a haggler inspecting a horse.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t<em> seem</em> like he¡¯s bing harmonious,¡± Fortuna wondered, ¡°but he¡¯d have to if he was always listening at everything. His god would be in his head all the time.¡±

    <em>Harmonious</em>, Tristan thought with a grimace. That was how the goddess called turning into a Saint, which she insisted was a beautiful thing.

    ¡°There¡¯s probably some tricky use,¡± the Lady of Long Odds decided. ¡°Like he can only hear on odd hours or when some other condition is met. Hearing the stuff won¡¯t be his price, either, it¡¯s just how his boon manifests.¡±

    The thief made sure no one was looking at him before subtly nodding in acknowledgement.

    ¡°Someone decided to get fancy with him,¡± Fortuna sneered, tossing back her golden hair as she stalked away. ¡°It¡¯s all very crass, some parvenu god chortling at their own cleverness.¡±

    Tristan could only fervently hope that the other god was not listening and taking offence, though he was distracted from that fresh worry by Yong¡¯s sudden intake of breath. Brushing past Felis, the thief knelt at the Tianxi¡¯s side and peeked out of the grass. There was no need to ask what had made the other man react: the cultists were in in sight. Running across the t grounds, a dozen armed hollows were rushing forward as they shouted. <em>No, not forward. Away.</em> They were fleeing the woods, Tristan realized.

    ¡°That,¡± Sarai whispered from behind him, ¡°is not a good sign.¡±

    The second sign they received that trouble hade was the mist. Clouds of it billowed out from the forest floor, almost like a wave of pale chasing the hollows. And from the dark of the trees, crushing trunks and stones in eerie silence, a massive silhouette came striding out. Legs thick as pirs swallowed the distance, chalk white and taller than men. In the cold light of the stars, Tristan glimpsed an enormity of pale flesh withrge wriggling heads full of perfectly oval eyes, each mass ending in a great tentacle. The clouds billowed past the fleeing hollows, their screams suddenly going silent for all that their mouths were still open, and the great monster began snatching them up. Under the heads opened a gaping maw full of jutting bone tusks, and there the hollows were carelessly impaled and left to bleed out within the creature.

    ¡°A heliodoran beast,¡± Yong whispered. ¡°<em>Fuck</em>. The captain said it would be asleep.¡±

    ¡°She said it<em> might</em> be asleep,¡± Tristan darkly replied. ¡°It appears we¡¯re not that lucky.¡±

    They watched, shivering in fear, as the behemoth ate alive half the hollows and crushed a few more to death before wandering away in seeming boredom. The three cultists that survived ran into the tall grass well to the east of theirpany, heading away as fast as they could. It was only minutes after the great lemure was gone that thest of the mist dispersed and the oppressive silence with it. Tristan ran a tired hand through his hair, worrying his lip.

    ¡°We can¡¯t head for the bridge while that thing is prowling around here,¡± Felis said.

    For once, no one argued with the man.

    ¡°We need to wait it out,¡± Yong said. ¡°Hide until it gets bored, then cross before the hollows return.¡±

    ¡°And if theye back before we do?¡± Aines asked. ¡°We¡¯d be walking right into an ambush.¡±

    Neither was wrong.

    ¡°We cannot stay here,¡± Tristan said. ¡°There¡¯s still warbands looking for us, we need a hiding ce.¡±

    And to rest. They were all exhausted and getting worse. If there was a fight, half of them would fold in the first thirty seconds of it.

    ¡°The grass is full of cultists,¡± Sarai bluntly said, ¡°and creatures altogether worse. There is nowhere for us to hide.¡±

    ¡°That,¡± Francho said, ¡°is not entirely true.¡±

    All eyes went to him. The old man let out a wet cough, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

    ¡°Several of the stones we¡¯vee across spoke of water,¡± he said. ¡°They were taken from an old temple that has been swallowed by a swamp. I believe it was built on a tributary of the river we encountered yesterday, somewhere to our southeast.¡±

    ¡°Are you trying to kill us, you old bastard?¡± Felis growled. ¡°It¡¯ll be full of hollows just like the first one.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Tristan frowned. ¡°Not if they¡¯ve been stripping it for parts. It¡¯s not a sacred ce to them.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Felis bit out. ¡°You¡¯re just guessing.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± the thief admitted. ¡°But it seems likely to me. Do you have a better idea?¡±

    He did not, which settled the matter. Tristan ignored the whispered argument at the back of theirpany, Felis once more trying to convince his wife to leave and strike out on their own. Aines was much curter in her response than she had beenst time.

    --

    It took them an hour and a half to find Francho¡¯s temple, thest half hour spent mostly on finding a way through swampy grounds that did not involve wading waist-high in mud.

    There was not a trace of hollows around whenntern light found the first curved gate jutting out of mud and filth, and Tristan could hazard a guess as to why. He¡¯d seen great snakes slithering through the mud andrger shapes still in the water: crocodiles, or some creature that had the look of them. This was not a ce friendly to either men or hollows. The old professor, however, guided them from stone to stone without once erring. They took an ancient pilgrim¡¯s path of raised stone across the water, then passed through a dozen more curved gates to reach the temple itself: a squat square of a building topped by a dome that looked like a tulip¡¯s bud. It was, improbably enough, still standing.

    The swamp was nestled between overgrown hills, every inch of it infested with flies and croaking creatures. They were all eager to get out of the humid air and into the temple, which looked as if a storm had swept through. It had obviously been emptied of anything not nailed down by hollows, columns ripped out and mosaics stripped of colours. What few streaks of ancient white paint had not been melted away by the elements were covered with filth and grime, the ce dripping of it and stinking worse than Pandemonium.

    ¡°This is disgusting,¡± Aines said, sounding like she was about to retch.

    ¡°There is a better ce,¡± Francho told them, hopping up to a stone altar split in half with a younger man¡¯s enthusiasm.

    Behind it, the professor revealed narrow spiral stairs going down.

    ¡°There is a ritual pool down there,¡± he said, ¡°that is older than the rest of this temple. At its back should be a hidden passage leading to a shrine this was all built over.¡±

    Tristan could only ponder how formidably useful the old man¡¯s contract was proving to be while ncing down at the slick, narrow stairs.

    ¡°These are too small for all of us to squeeze through,¡± he said. ¡°We should send only a pair first.¡±

    ¡°As my old captain used to say: my thanks for volunteering,¡± Yong drawled.

    The thief rolled his eyes. He had nned to go anyhow. He caught Sarai¡¯s eye, silently asking, and she nodded in agreement. The stairs felt like they were sweating, moss growing in every corner, and Tristan almost slipped thrice. There was no grip as the walls were just as slippery as the floor. The chamber at the bottom looked more like a bath than the ritual pool Francho had described, a square hole full of scum water prefaced by cracked tiles while insects scuttled in corners, fleeing thentern¡¯s light. There were a few columns on a ledge at the back, most of them broken. Sarai caught up to him, steps careful as she avoided slipping. She took a skeptical look around.

    ¡°At least the smell is better than above,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°It¡¯s a start,¡± Tristan conceded.

    The reflection of the stone in the water made it look like there was a full wall, but as Francho had promised they found a passage tucked away behind a broken column. It was broad but low, enough that Tristan had to crawl on his hand and knees after handing off thentern. Sarai followed closely behind. The thief reached the end of the tunnel, dropping quietly onto the floor of what looked like a natural cavern. The ceiling was full of dripping stctites, a slightly sloped floor leading up to what appeared to a shrine carved into the stone. The cavern wall had been sculpted so it would look like the wall of the shrine, intricate silhouettes grasping each other¡¯s hands and feet in an endless chain.

    It cleverly made the shrine entrance look more than the vaguely oval hole in the stone that it was.

    He helped Sarai down, the two of them moving up the slope in careful silence. The ground was wet, the stctites dripping down likes knives dipped in blood, and there were insects scuttling just out of sight. Hand on hisst knife, Tristan suddenly gestured for Sarai to stop. He sniffed at the air, smelling smoke, and saw the same conclusion bloom in her eyes as his jaw tightened: they were not alone in here.

    ¡°Close thentern,¡± he murmured. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to be seen.¡±

    Sarai grimaced, no more eager to be in the dark than he, but still worked the shutter until it closed. The two of them resumed their way upwards, moving with care not to make a sound. As soon as they got a better angle on the shrine door, they saw that there was trembling light inside. <em>Pale</em>, he thought. Antern fed with re oil or powder, which meant this could not be hollows. He knew better than to think it meant they were safe. Pressing onward, they pressed themselves against the sides of the threshold to peek inside.

    There Tristan found a camp had been made inside the cramped shrine, bedrollsid down and packs piled up. There was even a small fire over which a pot was being made to boil, smelling of herbs. Two were tending to the food, and in the fire¡¯s light Tristan recognized them immediately: Ferranda Vizur and her hired hand, the Mni huntsman Sanale.

    Utterly surprised, he did not realize there was a third until she moved. The infanzona had not been foolish enough to leave her back unguarded. There was an alcove tucked away to the side of the entrance, just inside, and there someone who had been sitting was hastily getting up. They let out a noise of rm and the other two immediately turned. Sarai let out a curse and Tristan brushed past her, knife up, pushing the guard against the wall. Holding his de to their throat even as Sarai yelled for the other two to stay back, Tristan Abrascal froze when a curl of firelight revealed the face of who he¡¯d just taken hostage.

    ¡°Well,¡± Lan mused, blue lips quirking as she swallowed thest of the bread she¡¯d been chewing, ¡°this is awkward.¡±

 Chapter 13

    Chapter 13

    Lady Ferranda Vizur, wide awake and miffed at rats invading her camp, pointed her pistol at him.

    Though she must be a decent shot, Tristan was more worried by Sanale carefully aiming his long-barrelled musket. Mni had a reputation for being good shots and the same was true of huntsmen: a man who was both was not to be trifled with. Pressing his knife tighter against Lan¡¯s throat, he forced her to stand between him and the threats.

    ¡°Muzzles down,¡± Tristan ordered, ¡°or I slit her throat.¡±

    Ferranda, seemingly more at ease in hunting leathers than she had ever been on the Bluebell,ughed in his face.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± the infanzon said. ¡°She¡¯s not one of ours.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate,¡± Tristan admitted.

    ¡°Right?¡± Lanined. ¡°And here I¡¯d thought we were getting along.¡±

    The surviving twin had yet to even struggle against his grasp, not seeming terribly concerned with being his hostage.

    ¡°This doesn¡¯t need to turn violent,¡± Sarai called out. ¡°We didn¡¯te here to fight.¡±

    He noted with approval that she still moved to get part of Lan in between her and the potential shots.

    ¡°Walk away,¡± Sanale replied, ¡°and there will be no fight.¡±

    The tall Mni had not moved an inch since shouldering his musket, barely even blinking, but Tristan could not afford to keep his eyes on him: Ferranda was beginning to slowly inch left, towards a better angle of fire.

    ¡°We can¡¯t do that,¡± Tristan said.

    He took a half step back, moving to keep Lan in the way of both Ferranda and Sanale, and the infanzona stopped trying to nk him. For now.

    ¡°As a neutral and unconcerned party,¡± Lan opined, ¡°I believe we shoulde to a peaceful resolution.¡±

    She was unanimously ignored.

    ¡°We found this ce first,¡± Ferranda told him. ¡°By right it is ours to use.¡±

    ¡°The temple upstairs isn¡¯t fit for sleeping,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°The stink is unbearable and there¡¯s no door to keep creatures out ¨C if the choice is between you and crocodiles in my bedroll, I¡¯ll take my chances here.¡±

    He meant it too. It might be best to feign backing down first so they coulde back in a while with more muscle, but the thief would not risk sleeping upstairs. Ferranda hesitated, which was unttering to her stout face: she looked like she was biting down on a twig. She then shared a long look with her hired hand, who eventually nodded.

    ¡°We still have first im,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°If you want to use this ce, your group will have to pay in supplies.¡±

    Group, she had said, which meant she knew it was not only he and Sarai. Tristan spared a moment to re at a cheerfully unrepentant Lan. She had wasted no time in selling information on them all.

    ¡°I even gave them my best guess about your contract for free,¡± she smilingly whispered. ¡°Because <em>fuck you</em>, Tristan. Did you think I¡¯d let you threaten me without paying for it?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± the thief conceded.

    He was not offended by the sale on moral grounds, only irritated by the inconvenience of it.

    ¡°Do we have a bargain, Tristan?¡± Ferranda Vizur pressed.

    He was still hesitating when Sarai brushed past him,ing fully into the fire¡¯s light and exaggeratedly putting away her knife.

    ¡°In principle we agree,¡± she said. ¡°Now let us talk specifics.¡±

    Ferranda¡¯s face tightened at the sight of the pale skin and Sanale moved his muzzle to aim at her without even realizing it, but when Tristan released a still-smiling Lan the tension released.

    ¡°You heard her,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Let¡¯s haggle.¡±

    --

    A day¡¯s worth of rations each, cut in half for all those who would keep watch ¨C which was, in practice, all of them. That was how much they¡¯d pay. Sarai also got the pair to agree that theirpany could earn back more of the fee through chores: tending the fire, cooking, mending and washing clothes. There was some discontent among their group at the prospect of ying servants to the pair when they outnumbered them so, but sheer exhaustion saw to it no one refused the terms. Some among them might have epting cutting off a finger for a good night¡¯s sleep in a safe ce.

    The shrine itself was much too small to amodate everyone ¨C counting Ferranda and the huntsman, they now numbered ten ¨C so most of them ended up spreading their bedroll right outside it. A round of introductions began then was aborted halfway through when it came out Lan was also here, few taking the revtion of her presence well. By the time tempers had cooled no one was in a mood for talk, so instead they went to sleep.

    It was much refreshed that Tristan woke up that afternoon, most the other still sleeping. Yong was seated by the fire with Sanale, the two men talking in low voices as they gestured, and not far from them Vanesa was slowly and carefully plucking feathers off a freshly killed bird. Two more were waiting. The thief watched the careful way she moved, realizing she was trying to learn how topensate for her missing eye. With everyone else asleep ¨C save for Lan and Ferranda, who were missing ¨C he decided he might as well help her. The discussion between the other seemed too involved to wee a third.

    Wordlessly he picked up another of the bird, some grey-feathered thing about the size of a duck, and got to plucking. Even missing an eye Vanesa was going faster than him, which had her smiling.

    ¡°Practice,¡± she excused him.

    She adjusted her sses on her face, after. Se was forever fiddling with them since the gravebird had ripped through ss and wire to get at her eye. The frame was bent and dug into the side of her head, but it was either that or not seeing much of anything.

    ¡°I don¡¯t eat a lot of bird,¡± Tristan conceded.

    Pork was cheaper. You could feed a pig damn near anything and they were much harder to steal than chickens ¨C there was a reason they were the staple meat of the Murk.

    ¡°They are one of the only things I can cook,¡± Vanesa smiled. ¡°My mother despaired I avoided the kitchen, but at least I learned her almond sauce recipe before she passed.¡±

    ¡°You worked, then,¡± the thief said.

    ¡°I am a clockmaker,¡± the old woman said, then grimaced and reached for the cloth covering her missing eye. ¡°Or I was, at least. I am not sure I could do detail work anymore.¡±

    <em>Ah</em>, Tristan thought. And there was the mystery of how she had afforded her pocketwatch and her sses solved. Not only was clockmaking a lucrative trade, she worked with watches and lenses. A cobbler never went barefoot. It did not exin what a woman of her age and means was doing on the Dominion, but that mystery was being chipped away at slowly but surely. The thief decided to let the matter lie for now, as obtaining the story there was more a matter of curiosity than need, but Vanesa surprised.

    ¡°You must be wondering how I ended up here,¡± the old woman knowingly said.

    ¡°The question has crossed my mind,¡± Tristan admitted.

    ¡°You¡¯re such a polite boy,¡± Vanesa chuckled, shaking her head. ¡°It is no great secret, I don¡¯t mind telling you.¡±

    She plucked out another feather, dropping it to flutter.

    ¡°My son is in debt to the Menor Mano,¡± Vanesa said. ¡°Enough he was never going to dig himself out, so they decided to send him here as payment. Only his leg was crippled, Tristan, so he was sure to die.¡±

    The thief grimaced. This was an ugly story and he could already tell how it would end.

    ¡°I offered to go in his ce,¡± the old woman said. ¡°My husband is gone and tinkering no longer brings me the joy it used to. Better to spare my only son than spend myst years withering on the vine.¡±

    He offered her a sad smile, at a loss of what to say. Was such a sacrifice to be praised? Tristan was not so sure. It was an act of love, but the man saved did not sound deserving of it. How long would it take before he frittered away his mother¡¯s sacrifice?

    ¡°You are kind, listening to me ramble like this,¡± Vanesa said, patting his arm. ¡°Doing so much to keep us alive when some of us are so little help.¡±

    She sighed tiredly, leaning back.

    ¡°Do not let the trials burn it out of you,¡± she sleepily said.

    And Tristan felt a sliver of shame, because he was not kind at all. Even as she had talked, part of him had been more concerned with the puzzle than the woman. The same part that¡¯d noted the Menor Mano had sent in two souls this year ¨C Ocon, thatrge Azn, had been a legbreaker for them ¨C and wondered if there was anything there he could use.

    They plucked the rest of the birds in silence, and when he left afterwards it felt a little like fleeing.

    --

    By afternoon¡¯s end everyone was awake and the cave had turned bustling.

    Lanterns were fully unveiled as everyone busied themselves: clothes were washed and mended, wounds seen to and there was haggling over the fresh meat and use of the fire for cooking. Their refuge had turned into a smallest of viges, a happy one now that everyone was rested and fed, but Tristan knew it would notst. Already Felis was growing prickly, though never when Yong and Sanale were looking, and Lan had somehow charmed Vanesa into speaking with her again. Tristan washed and mended his clothes, leaving them to dry as he sat in little more than a shirt and underclothes.

    The currents were in to see. Aines was furious at her husband for the nces he kept throwing at Lan, who would no doubt fork over some dust by day¡¯s end to get a leash on the man again. Vanesa was too bloodied and exhausted to do much of anything, and whenever Francho wasn¡¯t coughing in a corner he was peering at the carvings to the left shrine entrance ¨C which was irritating Felis, whose bedroll was near there. Ferranda had begun speaking with a surprised Sarai, who warmed to her before long. Much as Tristan would have liked to eavesdrop on that conversation, he had thinking to do.

    They needed to cross the forest and bridge to get to the Trial of Ruins, and the obstacles in the way were greater than anticipated. His bet with the Red Eye warbands, that they would be split between the bridges and could be tricked through this, seemed to have paid off. It was the heliodoran beast he¡¯d not counted on, and it made everything harder to predict. Men he could guess at, but beasts? He could not be sure when the monster would decide to wander off, what was keeping it here in the first ce and how the cultists would react to its presence.

    They were still around, Sanale had seen their warbands searching the tall grass when he went out hunting, but the Mni could only speak to the surroundings of the temple. He had, wisely, not gone further than that. Meanwhile the bridge was in the woods, further north. Were there cultists there as well, or had the heliodoran beast driven them all off? Would the warbands in the grass immediately head for the bridge when the lemure left, were they already clearing out west towards the other bridge? Too many questions he did not have answers to.

    Instead of giving in to frustration, he followed Abu¡¯s lessons and instead attended to unknowns he could find the answer to. There was not mending his medicine cab, not with the tools on hand, but the thief set about taking inventory of what remained usable and fixing it up enough it wouldn¡¯t spill everything out. Tristan had already taken a first look when seeing to wounds earlier, but a closer look gave grim answers. Most of what he had left were poisons, which had been kept deepest in: white arsenic, antimony, mandrake and volcian yew. The lodestone extract remained, as did the bearded cat extracts. Neither were mortal, the bearded cat being a mushroom whose extract caused violent bursts of madness in those who partook of it.

    Aside from these, he only had the distilled alcohol and the medical turpentine he¡¯d been using to treat his burns.

    There was only so much he might aplish with these. Putting his entire supply of volcian yew in a corpse might possibly inconvenience a beast the size of the airavatan if it ate it ¨C the substance was a poison meant for lemures andres - but it would not kill it. None of his other poisons would affect it all that much. He was unsure if the lodestone extract would have any effect, since he could not recall seeing a nose on the lemure, and the creature was already blood-mad so there was hardly a point to the bearded cat extract. He could spare neither the alcohol nor the turpentine.

    ¡°You¡¯re pouting,¡± Fortuna teased.

    So much activity in such close quarters had mercifully seen to it she did not need further entertainment. Being overly nosy tended to make up swaths of her day no matter where they were.

    ¡°I am low on tools,¡± Tristan murmured back.

    And thinking about this wrong, he realized as his eyes moved to the others in the cavern. He did not need to attract the heliodoran beast directly when he could rely on someone else doing so. Dosing Ferranda Vizur with lodestone extract just before they parted ways was likely his best bet: killing the other lemures the scent would attract had a decent choice of attracting the greater monster. Meanwhile their own group could make a run for the bridge and gamble on the cultists not having returned to hold it yet. The issue, he figured, was that Lan might have revealed he had pulled this very trick on the infanzones already. If the pair were watching for it and caught him, the potential blowback could get him killed.

    He needed to have a talk with Lan.

    ¡°And not paying enough attention,¡± Fortuna told him. ¡°Sarai¡¯s been whispering with that noble in a corner for half an hour now.¡±

    And that, Tristan thought, might be a problem. When he turned to have a look at the two of them he found that Sarai was rising to her feet. Her gaze swept the cavern, lingering on him, and his stomach dropped. He could see where this was headed already. Hispanion did not waste much time, sparing only an amused look for the way he was sitting on his knees in his underclothes.

    ¡°We should talk,¡± Sarai told him. ¡°Yong too.¡±

    Tristan nodded, telling her he wanted to dress first to buy himself some time. Yong had struck a quick friendship with Sanale, which was good for them but less so for Tristan. He could guess which way the Tianxi would be leaning in the conversation toe. The five of them squeezed in around the small fire, given the run of the shrine by the others ¨C Lan¡¯s sly offer to tend the mes for them was politely refused ¨C for at least a little while.

    ¡°I have been speaking with Sarai,¡± Lady Ferranda said, ¡°and it appears both our groups are intending to make for the eastern bridge.¡±

    Their ns had hardly been a secret and even if they had been Lan would already have sold them. Tristan had anticipated that Ferranda Vizur would learn this, that much was no surprise. What he had not anticipated was that an infanzona would deign to talk to a pale-skinned foreigner, getting a hook in one of the three people needing convincing before their groups could ally.

    ¡°It would only be sensible to attempt the crossing together,¡± Sarai said. ¡°Between the cultists and the heliodoran beast, we need all the help we can get.¡±

    Sanale met his employer¡¯s gaze for a moment, then turned and shrugged his agreement. A nce at Yong¡¯s face told Tristan that the Tianxi was about to agree.

    ¡°That may not be wise,¡± he slid in before Yong could speak. ¡°Arge group will make noise and draw attention.¡±

    ¡°I hardly think,¡± Ferranda wryly said, ¡°that it will be us two making that noise.¡±

    <em>Yes</em>, Tristan thought, <em>but if youe with us I cannot use you as a distraction.</em> His was a poor argument and he knew it, so he turned the talk around instead.

    ¡°It is true, the two of you would have a better chance of sneaking through alone,¡± the thief said. ¡°Which has me wondering what you gain by joining us.¡±

    If he could not defend, best to make the enemy do so instead. The Mni huntsman fixed him with a t stare, his bead-covered coat open at the front.

    ¡°des and powder,¡± Sanale bluntly replied.

    The thief almost grimaced. He¡¯d lost that in a single exchange. Finesse could only get you so far against pure candour.

    ¡°Sarai is right, Tristan,¡± Yong cut in. ¡°We need the help: I want two more sword arms with us if we stumble into a warband.¡±

    And with Yong finallying down on the side of the alliance, it was finished. Tristan did not rule theirpany, and though he was one of its leading figures so were the other two. If they agreed, there was little he could do except leave. Continuing to struggle would only lessen him in the eyes of the others, so it was best to capitte and move on. At least he could try to wheedle information out of this.

    ¡°Then it is settled,¡± the thief said, shrugging his shoulders. ¡°We makemon cause to cross the bridge.¡±

    Sarai nodded at him, pleased, and Yong only looked bemused he¡¯d not agreed from the start. It was true that on the face of the alliance was a benefit: their group had numbers, but they needed fighters. Meanwhile the pair had fighters but needed numbers, enough that they could not simply be overwhelmed by the hollows if they were caught by a warband. It was all too pretty, ever a sign that the story was yet young. Tristan did not doubt for a moment that Ferranda Vizur would sacrifice them the moment it gained her an edge, but that was fine.

    He just had to do it to her first.

    ¡°In the spirit of friendship,¡± Sarai said, ¡°Lady Ferranda has agreed to share information about the state of the trials for us.¡±

    Ah, Tristan thought. So that was what she had bartered for when whispering with the infanzona in a corner.

    ¡°We encountered Lady Inyoni¡¯spany before they went to fight their way through the western bridge,¡± Ferranda told them. ¡°They had taken wounds and one of their number was lost.¡±

    That was a surprise. Inyoni had been a grizzled old killer, a veteran, and the rest of her crew well-armed. Two more Mni of wealthy birth, a pair of Ramayans that¡¯d proved skillful and that nd Azn woman made for an impressive crew, perhaps the finest fighting force to emerge from those brought by the Bluebell. That this was even doubt could be exined by two words: Angharad Tredegar.

    ¡°Lemures?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°Cultists,¡± the infanzona solemnly replied, shaking her head, ¡°but they did not strike alone. Tupoc Xical and his threeckeys were with them.¡±

    A round of grimaces followed that. Lan¡¯s prediction that Tupoc meant to hunt them proving true was grim news.

    ¡°Their group rushed straight down the road,¡± Yong finally said. ¡°They must have been the easiest to find.¡±

    The blonde noble shook her head.

    ¡°That had been my guess as well, but Lady Inyoni is no fool: they took a detour west to shake pursuers,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°It was on their way back to the road that they were attacked.¡±

    Tristan frowned.

    ¡°Then how did the cultists find them?¡± he asked.

    It would have been open grounds Inyoni¡¯s travelled, but though darklings could see better in the dark ¨C and some colours were known only to their kind ¨C their sight was not perfect. A small group taking an indirect route would not have been easy to find.

    ¡°A tracking contract,¡± Sanale said.

    Was that a sliver of disdain in the huntsman¡¯s voice? Professional pride from a tracker, perhaps.

    ¡°It belongs to Lady Acanthe Phos, the pockmarked girl from Asphodel,¡± Ferranda continued. ¡°Lady Inyoni¡¯s nephew learned this through his own contract, but with Lan¡¯s help I believe we learned how her contract functions.¡±

    Tristan had been given the same information they had and found it was not much of a leap to make.

    ¡°Ash and bone,¡± he said. ¡°Perhaps all human remains? Acanthe can track them once she has touched them, or something close to that.¡±

    Ferranda nodded.

    ¡°I imagine they intrigued to nt ash on all of the groups,¡± she said. ¡°I am surprised yours was not attacked.¡±

    As was he, since theirs was the most vulnerable by far. Tupoc would not have been able to hit them immediately, he would need to first find the Red Eye cult and strike his bargain, but once he had they would have been the natural target. Their crew had been behind Inyoni¡¯s, which had been the first to leave, and high in numbers while low on fighters. Perfect fodder for sacrifice. So why had Tupoc not focused his efforts on them? Perhaps he had not been able to.

    Almost none of them had stood anywhere near Acanthe Phos, Tristan noted as he tried to recall their early days of the trial. And almost all of them had a single bag and bedroll, it would have been harder to hide a piece of bone there than within the bags ofrger groups. As for ash¡­

    It urred to Tristan, then, that he had passed some time walking besides Acanthe Phos and she had even once taken his arm<em>. There was some kind of dust on the back of my sleeve</em>, the thief suddenly remembered. Vanesa had thought it dust and soot when she cleaned his coat, but the lighting had been poor. It might well have been ash. The older woman had rid his arm of it quite thoroughly, though, and with a shiver the thief realized that Vanesa¡¯s small act of motherly kindness might just have saved all their lives.

    ¡°We must,¡± he forced out, ¡°have gotten lucky.¡±

    Ferranda¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°The Manes were with you, then.¡±

    Not eager to linger on how close they might just havee to getting killed, Tristan cleared his throat.

    ¡°Who was it that Inyoni¡¯s crew lost, if I may ask?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Her nephew¡¯s lover, the girl called Ayanda,¡± the infanzona said. ¡°He was quite distraught over the loss.¡±

    That the two younger Mni had been lovers was not something he had known, but neither was it a surprise. She had obviously not been kin to them, and there were only so many other things she could be.

    ¡°They were lucky only one died,¡± Tristan said.

    There Ferranda scowled.

    ¡°We do not know for certain she is dead,¡± the blonde said. ¡°Lady Inyoni said that hollows were careful to take her alive.¡±

    ¡°The Watch warned us,¡± Sanale evenly said. ¡°They want sacrifices.¡±

    Better she had died, Tristan thought, than whatever the cult of the Red Eye had in store for her. Poor girl. Yong, though sympathetic, kept the conversation moving.

    ¡°Do you know if they crossed the bridge sessfully?¡± he asked.

    ¡°They did,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°We held back and watched. Only there was trouble: they struck the cultists guarding it by surprise, but the fighting drew the heliodoran beast.¡±

    Tristan blinked.

    ¡°Then they are all dead,¡± he slowly said.

    ¡°Before it could reach them, the beast fell into confusion,¡± the infanzona said. ¡°The cultists scattered in fright and Lady Inyoni¡¯s group fled north.¡±

    Yong let out a low whistle.

    ¡°That sounds,¡± he said, ¡°like a very dangerous contract. Do you know whose?¡±

    Sanale shook his head.

    ¡°We were far,¡± he said.

    Tristan¡¯s interest, however, had been caught by another detail.

    ¡°The beast,¡± he said, ¡°did it seem lethargic?¡±

    Was this the contract that had been used on him when an attempt was made to frame him for Jun¡¯s murder? The infanzona shrugged.

    ¡°As Sanale said,¡± she replied, ¡°we were far. I can only tell you that when it came out of the daze and found no one around, it fell into a great rage.¡±

    The noblewoman leaned forward.

    ¡°And as it rampaged, it shook the earth so strongly that the bridge copsed,¡± Ferranda said.

    <em>Fuck</em>, Tristan thought. The bet he¡¯d thought hade true had, in a way: in reverse. Instead of the absence of people trying to cross the eastern bridge driving the hollow there to head west, it would be the other way around. All the warbands that had been prowling around the western bridge would be headed this way even as they spoke. <em>Fuck</em>, he thought again. No wonder Vizur had been so eager to make an alliance with them even when she had evidently split from the rest of the infanzones. The infanzone knew she needed to cross as soon as possible. The longer they waited, the more cultists would arrive.

    Turning on the pair was no longer feasible, he decided. He must act ordingly.

    ¡°When the beast wandered off,¡± he said, ¡°did it appear to be tracking the cultists who fled?¡±

    Ferranda Vizur narrowed her eyes at him.

    ¡°It moved in the same direction as one of their groups,¡± she acknowledged, then her face hardened. ¡°Are you perhaps thinking of using lodestone extract?¡±

    There was a t, usatory note at the end. So Lan had talked. Ferranda¡¯s displeasure was understandable: she had been among those his ploy was to burn, or perhaps even had burned. Regardless, Tristan met her brown eyes without shame.

    ¡°There is nothing to fear from me this time, Vizur,¡± he replied. ¡°You are no longer attempting to use us as bait.¡±

    He had acted out of vengeance, it was true, but also out of practicality. The infanzona¡¯s lips thinned in anger, but she did not argue the point. They had owed each other nothing and it was not her the trick had been aimed at. Yong¡¯s back had gone straight and his own gaze at the noblewoman was unimpressed, so Tristan was not without support.

    ¡°Airavatan see odours,¡± Sanale brusquely said. ¡°It could work.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s eyes swivelled to the hunter.

    ¡°Lodestone extract smells like blood to lemures, but it is not actually blood,¡± he carefully said. ¡°Would that still fool it?¡±

    The huntsman hesitated, then nodded. Tristan would have preferred greater certainty but sensed it was the best he would get.

    ¡°Then we might be able to distract it,¡± the thief said.

    ¡°It may chase us from there,¡± Ferranda warned.

    ¡°Better to have it somewhere we know than to be left wondering where it is,¡± Yong replied.

    ¡°We could try to attract it near the cultists,¡± Sarai said. ¡°It would keep them both upied while we make for the bridge.¡±

    The thief blinked at her. That was¡­ bold, to say the least. He passed his hand through his hair, considering it just as the others were.

    ¡°It would be ying with fire,¡± Tristan finally said. ¡°If they catch us nting the extract, if we get bogged down fighting them¡­¡±

    None of them had forgot the massacre of the entire first wave of trial-takers in exactly such a situation. Or that Inyoni and her crew might well have suffered the same fate if they¡¯d not had a contract that let them escape.

    ¡°We would need to find a Red Eye encampment for that n to be an option at all,¡± Yong pragmatically said. ¡°That means going out to look.¡±

    ¡°We need to do that regardless,¡± Ferranda pointed out. ¡°We cannot afford to rush in blindly, not with the forces arrayed against us.¡±

    She was right, Tristan thought, and it was in enough to see that no one argued. The talk instead turned to who would be going. Yong volunteered, brushing aside the thief¡¯s worries about how his shoulder was healing. The wound had not torn muscle or required stitches ¨C the gravebird had been toying with him ¨C so the Tianxi insisted he was fine. Ferranda conferred with Sanale away from the fire, which surprised Tristan: it implied their rtion was more nuanced than that of an infanzona and her hired hand.

    ¡°I will be going,¡± Ferranda said when they returned. ¡°Two of us will be enough ¨C any more and the chances of getting caught by a warband grow too high.¡±

    And aside from Sanale, Tristan thought, no one else among them was practiced at forestry. He was decent at sneaking around, but even tall grass such as the one around the swamp was ufortably different from the alleys and rooftops of Sacramonte. It was agreed on without quibbling, the dangers headed their way cooling any desire for argument, and after that all that they broke the news to the rest of theirpany: if Yong and Lady Ferranda came back with the right news, then they would be attempting the crossing tonight.

    --

    Everyone began to pack the moment the pair disappeared into the passage.

    The mood was subdued, even Felis keeping his peace. Though from the suddenly loose shoulders on the man, Tristan figured that might have something to do with licking up some dust. The thief wondered what it was that Lan had demanded of him in exchange. As for the Meng-Xiaofan dealer, his idle suggestion that she be left behind had been refused. She had, it seemed, bought Lady Ferranda¡¯s agreement to let her follow them until the second trial with information after stumbling onto the pair by pure chance. Tristan would not call a woman who¡¯d lost a sister only days ago lucky, but the gods must have taken a shine to Lan for her to make it that far.

    That, or she had been sitting quiet on a contract.

    Just between them rats, he could admire how well she had yed her rathercking cards. Lan was a poor fighter, had disyed no contract and was openly unreliable in the face of danger. Yet with only wits and a penchant for digging into other people¡¯s things, she had been able to bargain her way to safety again and again. That was something worthy of respect, even if he did not particrly like the woman. Respect and some wariness: neither were the kind of people to hold a grudge over the kind of wing they¡¯d done at one another, but it would not do to forget that they were far from friendly.

    About a quarter hour into packing his belongings Sarai came to find him. It was idle chatter at first, but he noticed she was keeping an eye on how close other people were. As soon as she was sure no one could overhear, the talk changed.

    ¡°You meant to use the lodestone trick again,¡± Sarai quietly said. ¡°On them. It¡¯s why you were against us allying.¡±

    It was tempting to lie, but he bit down on the instinct. He had already extended trust. He would not keep doing so blindly, but withdrawing it just as blindly would be equally foolish.

    ¡°It struck me as the most likely n to work,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°It was a wash the moment they got Lan to talk,¡± she replied, shaking her head.

    The dark-haired woman looked ufortable.

    ¡°I thought your enmity was with the Cerdan,¡± she continued. ¡°Not all infanzones.¡±

    The thief hesitated again, but he could see what silence would cost him here. No one wanted an ally that was a rabid hound, which murderous hatred of all the nobles of Sacromonte might as well make him.

    ¡°It is Cozme Aflor I most want dead,¡± he admitted. ¡°The brothers are ledger work, payment against an old debt.¡±

    ¡°And Ferranda Vizur?¡± Sarai pressed.

    ¡°I have little against her,¡± he shrugged. ¡°I believed the pair would go their own way, which made them a sensible target.¡±

    ¡°You still opposed the alliance when I was bringing it forward,¡± she pointed out.

    ¡°And I still would, had I not learned of the other bridge¡¯s breaking,¡± Tristan frankly replied. ¡°People will die in this crossing, Sarai. If I have a choice, I would rather it be them than us.¡±

    All the Red Eye warbands rushing their way tilted the odds against anyone being able to sneak through, enough so that additional swords were worth more than a distraction. If the pair could be used for their des and other dupes used as a distraction, Sarai¡¯s suggestion, then that n was superior. But it was also only viable now that they had skilled trackers other than Yong out trying to find darkling encampments. Sending out alone a wounded Yong, who even in such a state was their best fighter, would have been rolling on bad odds. Sending a potential liability with him would have been even worse. Sarai¡¯s blue eyes stayed on him, then she slowly nodded.

    ¡°Good,¡± she said.

    Worth staying allied with, she meant. He would not say he was relieved, but neither would he deny it.

    ¡°Ferranda parted ways with the other nobles before your lodestone trick had effect,¡± Sarai said. ¡°Their n was to climb the High Road using a contract and then march across the ind unhindered, but there is no telling if lemures attacked them first.¡±

    Tristan almost cursed. Of course the infanzones hade in with a cushy n that put them right out of harm¡¯s way while everyone else died beneath them. Lodestone extract wouldrgely stop smelling after a day, so if they had made it up on the aqueduct they would be safe by now. There would be no telling until the second trial, then. <em>And there I will have to act, or they will be able to slip away before the third.</em>

    ¡°One more reason to make it to the Trial of Ruins,¡± he simply replied.

    He made sure to incline his head in thanks, acknowledging that she had most likely looked into the fate of the Cerdans for him. She smiled back, flicking his shoulder.

    ¡°Mayhaps we¡¯ll be lucky and they¡¯ll have eaten at least one out of three,¡± she said.

    The thief smiled back, almost wonderingly. Not so much at the thought as how she had said it: <em>we¡¯ll get lucky</em>. Not only him. The implicit promise there, without her having ever asked why he wanted any of them dead, was¡­ Measure for measure, that was how Sarai dealt. He had told her the truth of what he wanted, so she had offered her help in achieving it. There was something so terrifyingly straightforward about that he ended up shying away from meeting her eyes. She had an ulterior purpose in these trials, he reminded himself, had admitted as much.

    It would be dangerous to begin trusting her too much.

    Sensing the mood had changed, Sarai took her leave. It left Tristan to finish packing his bag and rearranging the broken cab so that nothing woulde out spilling were it dropped. Left him alone with his thoughts, also, or more urately his thoughts and one more thing.

    ¡°She would make a good priestess, I think,¡± Fortuna mused. ¡°You must ask her if she gambles.¡±

    The goddess was sprawled theatrically across a t stone, red dress flowing down artfully as she rested her chin against her palm. She was the very picture of imperial leisure, missing only servants to fan her and feed her grapes.

    ¡°Of course,¡± he lied.

    Golden eyes narrowed at him.

    ¡°Are you pouting again?¡± the goddess asked. ¡°You know, it is only charming if done once in a while. Otherwise is the province of toddlers.¡±

    He rolled his eyes at her.

    ¡°It is only unease, not pouting,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I feel¡­¡±

    Fortuna snorted.

    ¡°I knew you¡¯d get like this about someone actually liking you,¡± she smugly said. ¡°It¡¯s all the amusement you refuse me when you get stab wounds.¡±

    Tristan made sure no one was looking his way before ring at her.

    ¡°You¡¯re inventing things,¡± he insisted. ¡°This has nothing to do with Sarai.¡±

    ¡°I never said her name,¡± Fortuna smirked.

    ¡°It was implied, you pile of bad decisions,¡± he hissed back. ¡°It¡¯s this n, Fortuna, it is all wrong.¡±

    The goddess gracefully shifted into a sitting position, legs over the edge of the stone, and her mood turned serious so swiftly he had no idea if she had been faking the taunting before it. Gods, she had always been like this. Sometimes she made him feel like he was still a boy.

    ¡°What about it rubs you wrong?¡± she asked.

    Having to answer her forced him to think it out, to truly look at what it was that bothered him.

    ¡°It is not the kind of method I like using,¡± Tristan finally said. ¡°It is barely a n. It relies on assumptions, even if it works perfectly it will be risky and we are making too little use of the time we have before it begins.¡±

    Thest, he thought, might be the one that most went against the grain. Thievery was about waiting for the right moment, but that moment had to be found. It was not an orange falling into yourp. Too much was being left to chance and too little done to change this.

    ¡°Then do something about it,¡± Fortuna shrugged,nguidly rising to her feet.

    The dress followed, a trail of blood slinking after the goddess. She smirked at him again, strolling away like there was nothing more than say. The part he might be most resentful about, Tristan admitted to himself, was that she had helped. There were still hours left before they moved out, if they made the attempt tonight, and he did not have spend them sitting by his broken cab and silently fretting.

    So what could he do?

    His eyes swept across the cavern, lingering on the rest of thepany before dismissing them. It would not be impossible to pulls tricks to tighten or loosen alliances ¨C Lan and Felis were easy levers ¨C but there would be no point. All of them wanted to survive, it would keep them together and looking outwards until there was a semnce of safety. Their remaining supplies were food, water, powder and bedrolls. None of which could be put to particrly unusual use.

    His gaze stopped on the carved doorway of the shrine, the great chain of silhouettes grasping the feet of those in front of them. Tristan was, at the end of the day, a thief. Why was he trying to be a general or a conspirator? Better that he use the skills he had actually learned. First, to case the ce. Whoever had built this was long dead and buried, that was not the end of it. It so happened that Tristan had someone on hand who could get answers from beyond the grave.

    ¡°It might be as old as the First Empire,¡± Francho said, stroking his white stubble. ¡°Not of Antediluvian make, of course ¨C it is much too humble for that ¨C but still build before the Old Night.¡±

    If he let that beard grow, it would not be long before he had more hair on his chin than his head.

    ¡°So what was it for?¡± Tristan asked. ¡°To honour some god?¡±

    ¡°Religion before the Orthodoxy was very haphazard, as far as we can tell,¡± the toothless old professor mused. ¡°The Universalist creed from the Isles is probably closest to what it looked like.¡±

    ¡°And that means,¡± the grey-eyed man encouraged.

    Francho blinked.

    ¡°Temples <em>to</em> a god were rare,¡± he said. ¡°They were more along the lines of designated sacred ces, grounds where mortals and gods might meet and give each other gifts if it pleased them.¡±

    ¡°So there might still be a gift left,¡± Tristan said. ¡°If it was hidden well enough.¡±

    ¡°This shrine was abandoned centuries before Sacromonte was a fishing vige, my boy,¡± Francho gently said, fighting down his cough. ¡°If there was ever anything here of worth, it is long gone.¡±

    But the old man was thinking as a historian, and that was not the right way here. This was the Dominion of Lost Things, not some glittering temple on the Tower Coast. The ind had been full of hollows and worse ever since anyone could remember, and while the temple above had been looted this shrine was much older. It had not been so well hidden the darklings would not have looted it, but how hard had they really looked? It would have seemed a small and dingy ce,pared to the great painted temple above. And this was not the kind of ce treasure hunters woulde to even if it had not been Watch territory, which made it even more off-limits.

    ¡°There can be no harm in looking,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Is there a part that would be more sacred than the rest?¡±

    Francho sighed.

    ¡°The ceiling,¡± the old man said. ¡°What scarce records we have of the era imply that in many parts of Vesper firmament was feared and worshipped in equal measure.¡±

    Tristan thanked him, the professor visibly forcing himself not to roll his eyes out of exasperation. Only Sanale sat within the shrine, tending to thest of the fire, and he did not spare the thief more than a nce. The insides were as in as the outside, for all that the clever stonework tried to hide it. The arches and columns that stood out of the wall slightly were pure affectation, no more useful a support than any other carving might have been, and they led up to a high curved ceiling that was just slightly too uneven to truly count as a dome. Up there were circr stripes of stone standing out, whatever had been disyed on them worn away or covered by the ck taint of smoke.

    At the apex of the almost-dome was a full circle of the same motif as the threshold, silhouettes grabbing the feet of others, and a hole in the stone the size of a man¡¯s head. It went up, like a pipe, and was the reason a fire could be lit in a ce small as this shrine without choking everyone inside. On the ground there were three broken altars, or so he guessed: most the stone was gone, likely stolen by hollows. What few pieces remained were being used by Ferranda and her hired hand to dry their clothes. Lifting a shirt under Sanale¡¯s watchful gaze revealed that their stone was covered with carvings.

    Still the silhouettes.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Sanale asked.

    The man was looking at him with a frown.

    ¡°Looting the shrine,¡± Tristan frankly replied.

    The huntsman considered that, then nodded.

    ¡°Good luck.¡±

    The thief grinned back, then let his gaze drift back up. Francho had said the ceiling would be important, but even without the old man Tristan would have begun with looking there. It would have been the most difficult part of this shrine to make, and in the builder¡¯s ce he would have been certain to add in a secret alcove or two. Climbing wasn¡¯t difficult beyond the strain it put on his burns, which was enough for the thief to be swallowing a hiss. Anchoring his foot against the side of the ¡®column¡¯, he hoisted himself up to have a look at the first stone stripe jutting out of the ceiling. It was, he found with surprise, also adorned with the silhouette chain. Only the top of the stripe, so it could not be seen from below, but the motif seemed to be circling around the near-dome ceiling.

    Ignoring Sanale¡¯s gaze, and now the people crowding the shrine entrance looking at him, the thief dragged his left foot up on top of one of the sculpted arcs and used the leverage to pull himself further up. From there he had a better vantage of the stripes, which he saw were all carved with the chain in the same ce. And there was a detail to it: the way the chain was facing, it seemed to be encircling the ceiling through the stripes. Circling upwards like a spring.

    ¡°Francho,¡± he called out.

    The old man brushed past Lan toe into the shrine, looking as if he did not know whether to be impressed or appalled.

    ¡°You are going to break a leg for the grand prize of dust,¡± the professor told him.

    The thief ignored that with the practiced ease of a man living bound to a goddess that could not be silenced.

    ¡°There¡¯s a pattern to it,¡± he said. ¡°I need you to look at the carvings outside, around the door. Is there are beginning and an end to the chain?¡±

    Francho sighed but did look intrigued. More importantly he inspected the carvings as he¡¯d been asked, returning with surprise on his face.

    ¡°There is both,¡± he said. ¡°And the ¡®end¡¯ sneaks past the top of the threshold as a small line, continuing inside as a carving behind a ridge.¡±

    ¡°Where does it lead?¡± Tristan asked

    His arms were beginning to cramp but he held himself tight.

    ¡°The floor, and then nowhere,¡± the old man said. ¡°It is still a dead end.¡±

    Now, maybe, but had it always been? The tiles in the temple upstairs had been ripped off the floor and walls, so it might well have been the same down here. A part of the chain was gone, but perhaps not all of it.

    ¡°The altars,¡± Tristan said. ¡°They have markings too, see where they lead.¡±

    Sanale was interested enough by the spectacle to agree to remove the drying clothes, but Francho clicked his tongue after going around looking at them. Theirbour had, Tristan saw from the corner of his eye, drawn most everyone else as an audience. A few looked excited, more amused.

    ¡°Too much is gone,¡± the schr said. ¡°The altars connected to each other, I think, and perhaps headed for the back wall. I cannot be certain with what little is left.¡±

    The back wall was something Tristan could work with. From up there he could see what the angle might have been, and there was a carved column leading into an arch facing more or less where the altars would have been. Moving in that direction across the top of the arches, he crouched down to have a closer look. No trace of the chain anywhere near the ground, but ah! Atop the curve of the arch, under dust he rubbed away with his thumb, he found the carved chain. The bottom was worn away, but it was facing upwards: towards the first of the stone strips encircling the dome.

    ¡°Found it,¡± Tristan triumphantly said.

    It had been as he suspected: the chain began outside, passed through the altars and then slowly rose up the ¡®sky¡¯ only to lead at a final destination: the smoke hole, which might have another purpose after all.

    ¡°What is it that you are even looking for?¡± Francho asked.

    ¡°You said shrines like this were for trading gifts,¡± the thief said. ¡°And it urs to me: if the first silhouette is standing on the ground and all the others are holding up another body, what will thest one be holding up?¡±

    The toothless professor was not slow.

    ¡°There might be a gift for the gods at the end,¡± Francho mused. ¡°Symbolically speaking, that is not without sense.¡±

    The difficult part was getting up there, as the old man¡¯s warning had not been unsound: if he fell badly from this height the thief would break something. Getting a hand into the smoke hole took more acrobatics than he would prefer: feet resting on the highest stripe, his hand on a jutting stone of the ceiling to wedge himself and then all he could do was peer in the dark above. Shoving in his free hand, he groped around in search of anything at all. It seemed like a dead end, just a hole going upwards, until he pressed against the back and found there was a little give. Not much, though. Inspired, he ran his fingers near the bottom of the stone and found a carved silhouette offering up nothing.

    Pressing against it, he felt a stone give and suddenly the back wall toppled.

    Tristan yelped, taking back his hand as the stone fell out and down into the shrine. Francho shouted a curse when it almost fell on his head, but the thief¡¯s attention was on the hiddenpartment he had revealed. Though he could not see inside, he could feel it out. There was some kind of basin carved into the bottom, a sloping incline, but after he felt out all the sides and even the top of thepartment Tristan was forced to admit that it was empty. Either the caretakers of this ce had taken away their treasure or someone had found it before he could. Enthusiasm dimming, thief carefully made his way down.

    He still slipped, footing giving away against the side of the column, but by then he was close enough to the ground he was able to fall without even a bruise to show for it. Still hurt, though, almost as much as Francho¡¯s gentle smile as the thief rose to his feet and brushed himself off.

    ¡°I told you it was unlikely,¡± the professor said. ¡°Besides, it is already impressive that you found the hiddenpartment.¡±

    In sharp contrast to the old man¡¯s attempt atfort, Tristan saw from the corner of his eye that Fortuna¡¯s head was popping out of the smoke hole. Long golden hair falling like a curtain, she still somehow managed to look down at them contemptuously. Like some queen granting audience to vagabonds, Tristan thought, and that was when it fell into ce.

    ¡°The chain goes both ways,¡± the thief said, cutting through whatever Francho had been saying.

    The old man frowned.

    ¡°Obsessing over this will do you no good,¡± he said.

    Tristan turned grey eyes on him.

    ¡°You said it yourself,¡± he said. ¡°The gods gave gifts as well as received them. If there was something at the end of the chain, there should be something at the beginning too.¡±

    He would have been willing to look for the first link in the chain himself, but despite his open doubts Francho led him to it. The small carved silhouette had its feet against the ground of the cavern, as if standing on it, and when Tristan pressed against it nothing gave. He blew at the carving, finding that there were the smallest fracture lines between that first silhouette and the stone around it. It could have been time¡¯s work, he thought. But it might not be. Leaning closer, he ran a finger beneath the carved feet and it came back touched with grey stone dust. Greyer than the stone of the cavern wall. To someone¡¯s loudly eximed disgust, he tasted it. Ha! He¡¯d been sure he knew that grey.

    ¡°There is nothing,¡± Francho said. ¡°Surely you can see-¡±

    Tristan took out his knife, picking away at the carved silhouette until some a chunk of the left leg fell off. Beneath ity stone of a different grey. The old man wetly coughed into his hand, his breath wheezing.

    ¡°Is that what I think it is?¡± Francho said, voice still faint.

    ¡°If you are thinking ¡®antipodal stone¡¯, then yes,¡± the thief smiled.

    Vanesa was standing close, antern in hand, and when Tristan asked she wordlessly gave it over. He opened the shutter until the naked me was revealed, then pressed it against the carving. Antipodal stone was believed to be one of the wonders of the Antediluvians for it was a stone that, unlike others, contracted when heated instead of expanding. Some of the great canals of Sacromonte had been built out of it, in times before it became so rare, so Tristan knew the look of the stone. It was not long before he estimated it would be warm enough, the scorched figure of the silhouette hot to the touch but not so much that with his sleeve covering his fingers he could not pull at it. The stone came free when he pulled, revealing anotherpartment, and Tristan grinned.

    ¡°I was wrong,¡± Francho murmured. ¡°Most in error.¡±

    The thief angled thentern to have a look inside, triumph blooming when he saw there was an object in there. It wasrge enough he had to grope at the inside of thepartment for another mechanism, eventually finding out that the sides of the ¡®mouth¡¯ could be pushed further open. What he took out of thepartment looked like a musical instrument of some sort, though not one he knew. It was squatter and longer than a lyre, and its wooden body had long petrified. Strangest, though, was that though where nubs for seven strings on the crossbar there were not even the broken remains of one. Tristan pulled it up into the light, feeling something move inside the body when he did.

    Lightly, and it was near weightless, but there was definitely something within.

    ¡°That,¡± Francho quietly said, ¡°is a supplicant¡¯s cithara.¡±

    They had attracted a crowd, everyone circling in around them. The thief hid how the number of people behind him was making him ufortable.

    ¡°A musical instrument?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°One meant only for the hands of priests,¡± the professor exined. ¡°It is yed with strings of Gloam, to appeal to the gods with prayer-songs.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s worth a lot?¡± Lan asked, leaning past Vanesa.

    More than a few considering gazes turned on the cithara at the question.

    ¡°That depends on the nature of the relic,¡± Francho hedged. ¡°But by itself not particrly, save to collectors.¡±

    He coughed into his hand.

    ¡°But inside the cithara¡¯s body there will be a substance,¡± he said. ¡°It will have beenid there by the priests who crafted it to shape the nature of the prayers, umting power with use. <em>That</em> can be worth a great deal of coin.¡±

    Tristan raised an eyebrow, pressing the cithara into his hand. The professor looked askance at him for a moment, as if wondering what the meaning of it might be.

    ¡°The wood is petrified,¡± the thief said. ¡°Turned to stone.¡±

    And Francho could listen to the echoes lying within stone, could he not? The old man looked startled, then his face pulled into a frown of concentration as heid an open palm against the cithara. He shivered, arm trembling, and withdrew his hand with a long sigh.

    ¡°Feathers,¡± Francho told him. ¡°It is feathers inside, meant for songs of sleep.¡±

    And so by the time Song and Ferranda returned, bringing word they had found cultists and so their group was to try the bridge tonight, Tristan Abrascal was smiling.

    He had a n.

 Chapter 14

    Chapter 14

    They began to feel the bite of the missing supplies on the third day.

    Angharad had measured her portions from the start, nning for four days¡¯ worth of meals. Formal registration with the duelling circuit had exempted her from ever having to attend <em>isikole</em>, the mandatory four-year schooling, but Mother had seen to it she received some of the training nheless. She had not enjoyed the lessons then but now she saw the use what she¡¯d learned going out into the countryside: how to make a fire, skin an animal and ration her food. Her portions remained the same, but those who had not been as prudent paid for it. Isabel¡¯s maids, in particr the redhead, ate little but crumbs for breakfast. That would not do.

    Angharad cut her meal in half, then in half again, and wordlessly gave a quarter to each.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Beatris sincerely said, bowing her head.

    ¡°It is very kind of you,¡± Briceida added.

    The sheer gratitude on their faces made her ufortable. She snuck a look at Isabel, who was chatting with the Cerdan brothers as she ate her own meal. It would not have been proper for the mistress to suffer on the behalf of careless servants, it was true, but the dark-haired beauty should have kept a closer eye on her maids in the first ce. Though neither Brun nor Song were anything of the sort to her, Angharad had inquired as to their own meals the previous day. Brun had been most amused by her concern, informing her he¡¯d eaten worse in smaller tes, while Song¡¯s rationing had been even more strict than her own.

    Neither of the Cerdan brothers seemed to be running out of food, even though they had been eatingrger meals than anyone else. Even Master Cozme, whose te was usually not muchrger than Angharad¡¯s.

    ¡°Ah, infanzones,¡± Brun smiled, looking at them. ¡°Not a breed of men prone to wastefulness, it must be said: they¡¯ve already spent poor Gascon¡¯s life and now they eat his food.¡±

    ¡°Supplies are supplies,¡± Song pragmatically replied. ¡°It is the extravagance that irks me.¡±

    Angharad could not quite say why it was wrong for the Augusto and Remund Cerdan to eat the rations of the valet one of them had murdered, but it was. It did not matter that the food was theirs, or that the man who might have had a im to it had passed. It was wrong. She stewed on that for the rest of breakfast. After all were done, Song brought up the notion that since food was beginning to run out all should pitch in their provisions for amon stash that would be rationed out fairly between everyone.

    ¡°A Tianxi proposing theft from her betters,¡± Remund Cerdan sneered. ¡°How very surprising.¡±

    ¡°No doubt she¡¯ll expect us to vote on it,¡± his older brotherughed.

    ¡°We already share thentern oil,¡± Brun pointed out. ¡°It is only going a step further.¡±

    The decision had been made unanimously when it became clear they were running out of oil. They had lost fournterns fighting off the lupines so only three were left, but the greater loss had been the skins full of oil. Now there was so little left they had killed twonterns and let only the vanguard of their group carry one that was lit, lest they run the risk of running out before they even left the High Road. Having only the light of the stars to walk by would have been dangerous enough, but the prospect of Gloam disease was even more fearful than that.

    ¡°It is always only a step further, boy,¡± Augusto lectured, ¡°until we kneel with our necks on the chopping block.¡±

    Angharad frowned at them.

    ¡°There has been no talk of violence or taking from anyone, only an offer to contribute to amon good,¡± she said.

    ¡°It is not for nobles to fill the world¡¯s empty bellies,¡± Remund dismissed. ¡°We will run out of loaves long before we run out of beggars: themons must take responsibility for themselves.¡±

    The Pereduri did not hide her disgust. Did Remund Cerdan not understand what being a noble <em>was</em>? All men had a trade, a vocation under the Sleeping God, and to be born a noble was to learn the trade of leadership, the burden ofmand. To then let your own go hungry was a fundamental failure of that duty. More disappointingly, the Cerdans were not alone in their opinion.

    ¡°My handmaids are free to join such an arrangement if they wish,¡± Isabel said, ¡°but I will not. I will see to my affairs without needing the help of others.¡±

    The offer was the nail in the coffin of Song¡¯s proposal, for now neither she nor Brun were inclined to continue the n. The maids had nothing to contribute to the pot, meaning in practice they would be fed at the expense of those who filled it. Angharad understood she had no right to expect the two of them to take food off their tes for strangers, but for all that everyone had their good and proper reasons the result was still that two of theirpany would go hungry. The selfishness of it all was cloying. She rose brusquely to her feet, anger caught in her throat.

    ¡°It is not much,¡± Angharad stiffly told the maids, ¡°but I will share again at supper what I did for this meal.¡±

    The three of them would go hungry, but hunger passed. Dishonour would not. Isabel smiled at her but Angharad¡¯s answering gaze was cool as she went to grab her back. Sometimes people were less than you had thought them to be.

    --

    After they resumed the march it was not entirely a surprise when Isabel joined her at the back. Angharad was yet under oath, she could not have approached the other herself. With Song and Beatris walking in front of them while Augusto and Remund Cerdan took the vanguard far ahead, they even had a modicum of privacy.

    ¡°I will be sharing half my meals with them as well, Angharad,¡± the infanzona quietly told her. ¡°But it would have served no good to shame the brothers before everyone.¡±

    She studied Isabel from the corner of her eye, wondering if she was being appeased. No, she decided. Isabel was not scheming, only too prone to ying the peacemaker even when the other side was undeserving ofpromise. It was a w born of kindness, not something baser.

    ¡°Speaking for your own is your responsibility,¡± she finally said. ¡°Your maids deserve better than silence.¡±

    Irritation shed in the infanzona¡¯s green eyes.

    ¡°They might,¡± Isabel sharply replied, ¡°but I imagine they yet prefer being on speaking terms with the man whose contract is the sole way for us to get down from this aqueduct.¡±

    Angharad had not considered that, she would admit, but duty was duty.

    ¡°It is a matter of honour,¡± she said. ¡°Nobles have obligations, Isabel.¡±

    ¡°There is honour in keeping everyone breathing,¡± the infanzona retorted ¡°And that means keeping the brothers happy. Do you not understand that every time one of them has the watch they could simply leave us?¡±

    Isabel swallowed, obviously distressed.

    ¡°Angharad, they could take the food and thenterns and <em>go</em>,¡± she said, snapping her fingers. ¡°Just like that, leaving us stranded. And why wouldn¡¯t they? You swore to kill one of them and Song¡¯s map has lost its use. There is only one reason for them to stay.¡±

    The woman they were both courting, Isabel did not need to say, and Angharad felt her anger ebb away. It would have been a fine thing to say that she¡¯d been convinced by the soundness of the argument, and it genuinely was sound! Open contempt from the woman they were courting might well drive the brothers away just as Isabel feared. But the truth was that the tremor in Isabel¡¯s voice and the fear on her face did more to convince Angharad to let go of her indignation than all the rest. Who was she to cast me, when she had not even noticed the burdenying on the infanzona¡¯s shoulders?

    ¡°It will be all right,¡± she quietly said,ying gentle a hand on the Isabel¡¯s wrist. ¡°Only one more day to the end of the High Road, and then they will have no power over us.¡±

    She let out a long breath, leaning into Angharad¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°I am tired,¡± she admitted. ¡°And afraid. None of it has gone the way I thought it would.¡±

    ¡°My uncle told me it would be a hard journey,¡± Angharad said, ¡°but it has been trying in different ways than I had expected.¡±

    ¡°So it has,¡± Isabel snorted, pushing back a curl. ¡°To think we could be at risk of Gloam disease in this day and age.¡±

    ¡°We will not be for some time,¡± Angharad absent-mindedly replied.

    Curious green eyes turned on her.

    ¡°You know of the process?¡±

    ¡°My mother was a sea captain,¡± she replied. ¡°Few know the terror of that disease better than sailors.¡±

    Particrly those who sailed the Straying Sea, which unlike the Trebian had no light shined down on it from firmament. Only the royal house¡¯s great triumph, the Serpentine Roads, dared to cut through that once-unbroken darkness.

    ¡°It takes seven days entirely without re or a month with less than two hours a day exposed for the disease to take,¡± Angharad continued. ¡°So long as we keep eating our meals underntern light and keeping watch with the same, we are not at risk.¡±

    ¡°I have heard Mni studied the disease more deeply than any other,¡± Isabel hesitantly said. ¡°That they have measured what it does to men.¡±

    ¡°The basics aremon knowledge back home,¡± she admitted.

    Clearing her throat, she pitched her voice higher.

    ¡°Seven dead and one alive, thest in dark to thrive,¡± Angharad sang.

    All children of the Isles were taught the nursery rhyme. Mni schrs had found that out of ten men who contracted Gloam disease, the results cut towards an average: seven would die, two turn darkling and one survive. Mother had always said that the hollowing was moremon than that, however, and that sometimes those headed for death could be saved if they were bathed in direct re for long enough ¨C the burning light that straight fell from the cracks in firmament, not the gentler glow of Antediluvian devices. Isabel shivered against her.

    ¡°What a dreadful verse,¡± Isabel murmured, ¡°but I suppose itys out the endings in.¡±

    ¡°It is meant to be sobering,¡± Angharad said, slipping her arm into the other woman¡¯s and squeezing it. ¡°That way children remember to stay out of the Gloam, especially in the countryside.¡±

    Mn and its sister-inds, Peredur and Uthukile, were not under a part of firmament where the Antediluvians had built wonders. It was only a great pit of re that made the inds habitable, and that light was not as sophisticated as that ofnds with older blessings. Between the shadows cast by they of thend and the Challenger ¨C that great wandering machine high up in the sky ¨C cutting through the light, there was no end of nooks and crannies where a careless soul might find a bad end.

    ¡°It is not natural to stay out of the light for too long,¡± Isabel agreed. ¡°It presses against the soul of all those not estranged from the Circle Perpetual.¡±

    ¡°We have been weathering it fine for now, I would say,¡± Angharad replied.

    Isabel prettily smiled, then leaned close. For a golden, terrifying heartbeat Angharad thought she was about to be kissed but instead the infanzona tugged her coat into ce.

    ¡°There, that¡¯s better,¡± Isabel said, smirking in a way that told she knew exactly what she¡¯d just done.

    Angharad cleared her throat. She had not blushed, at least.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she got out.

    ¡°It is nothing,¡± she airily replied. ¡°If you must thank me for anything, let it be for this: we are not all taking to the dark as well you think. Your helper Brun, for example.¡±

    ¡°He is not a helper,¡± the Pereduri said, ¡°but apanion.¡±

    ¡°Apanion who does all you ask him to and keeps the same foes,¡± Isabel drily replied. ¡°But call him apanion if you like ¨C the reluctance is part of your charm, I think.¡±

    Angharad was not sure whether she was ttered or insulted, but either way she pushed through.

    ¡°Brun has been well enough,¡± she finally said. ¡°Why do you believe otherwise?¡±

    ¡°He puts on a good show when we have meals, or when he is paired with someone else,¡± Isabel conceded. ¡°Even when he speaks with dear Briceida. Yet the moment he is not, a ck mood takes him.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s brows rose in surprise.

    ¡°Not a speck of emotion on his face,¡± Isabel continued, ¡°and he grows restless. Always reaching for that hatchet of his while the eye wanders.¡±

    ¡°I had no notion,¡± she admitted.

    ¡°I doubt he would take well to an attempt tofort,¡± the infanzona noted. ¡°Men rarely do, from a woman whose skirts they are not trying to slide under. I mention it only so you might keep an eye on him.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Angharad swore.

    Brun had been good and kind, she would not repay these things by letting the Gloam have him. While the eponymous sickness was some of the worst of what the dark held in store, it was hardly the only illness born of it. Most of them were of the mind: it was not rare for men to go mad, in pieces or all at once, for theck of light.

    ¡°Good,¡± Isabel smiled. ¡°You are one of the pirs of thispany, after all. It would not do for you to act otherwise.¡±

    ¡°You overestimate my influence,¡± Angharad dismissed.

    ¡°Do I?¡± the green-eyed beauty said. ¡°Around you gathers the capacity for much violence, Angharad. Two fine fighters and then yourself. There is a reason I believe the brothers would flee, not attempt to fight you for the reins of power.¡±

    ¡°Even if that were true,¡± she said, ¡°what has it helped? I agreed with Song, this morning, that we should share the food. It did no good.¡±

    ¡°I usually find, when I am refused, that I simply did not ask the right way,¡± Isabel said.

    Angharad shot the infanzona an amused look. Yes, she did not find it all that difficult to believe that few would refuse her much of anything. Only the amusement faded when she found Isabel meeting her gaze squarely, a look almost unkind in them. No, Angharad thought, not unkind. It was the same she had seen on some of the tutors Mother arranged for, men and women who¡¯d agreed to meet to Angharad only out of courtesy for the reputation of the famed Captain Tredegar. She¡¯d had to prove she was worth their time, their lessons.

    She had been tested then and she was being tested now.

    Wrenching her gaze away, she kept her eyes peeled ahead. She had not asked the right way, ording to Isabel, but she could not see the Cerdans agreeing to anything she proposed. She had struck a bargain with Remund and he had be friendlier in the shallowest of manners since, but that did not make them of one mind. Cozme Aflor was unlikely to intercede on her behalf either, and Isabel had made it clear she could not afford to openly pick a side. There was a saying in Peredur, that a man¡¯s name had two halves: his deepest regret and his heart¡¯s desire. To know either was to own half his name, to know both was to have him bound as tightly as any spirit.

    So what was it the Cerdan brothers wanted, that she could use it against them?

    They wanted to inherit, badly enough to strike deals with enemies to rid themselves of their rival. Badly enough that Master Cozme was here as much to protect them from one another as the trials themselves. Only Angharad had already made bargains using that desire, and to use a lever too much was to break it. Could she muster Song and Brun to try to force the notion? Perhaps, but there was no guarantee it would work ¨C more likely the confrontation would drive the infanzones away in the night. It could note from her, Angharad decided. She was the enemy, even to the Cerdan she had made alliance with.

    The silence lingered between she and Isabel, enough to unsettle her, but the infanzona waited without a word or a trace of boredom on her face. Quietly expectant, and so Angharad forced her mind down furrows she had already dug. If not from her, then from who? Isabel had dismissed Brun as being her helper, and though she was wrong in this the brothers might share that opinion. That barred either he or Song from being an answer. That left only the maids and Isabel, for the brothers were unlikely to willingly get food off their te on behalf of people theyrgely disliked and held in contempt. Did they even like anyone of theirpany save Isabel?

    And there Angharad stilled, for the brother did indeed like Isabel. Perhaps even loved her, though she had her doubts. One of the reasons the Cerdan brothers were so ardently courting Isabel Ruesta was the wealth of the infanzona¡¯s house, which making ties to would surely see the earner rise above his brother to inherit their family¡¯s title. It was a shade of the heart¡¯s desire, half the name seized by a different grip, and the openings were all there weren¡¯t they? Angharad carefully put the pieces together in her mind. Isabel¡¯s maids had been given permission to join the ¡®arrangement¡¯ of shared food, and Isabel was going to share part of her meal with them.

    All that needed doing was to nudge the events a little further along.

    ¡°Have you considered,¡± Angharad said, ¡°giving your entire meals to your maids?¡±

    Surprise flicked across the other woman¡¯s face, a sh of it followed by Isabel breathing in sharply and releasing a littleugh.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said. ¡°That <em>is</em> clever.¡±

    It was the Pereduri¡¯s turn to start.

    ¡°You were not leading me towards such a solution?¡± she slowly asked.

    ¡°Not at all, darling,¡± Isabel chuckled. ¡°There were other ways, but I really should not be surprised this is what you thought of.¡±

    She shook her head with wry amusement.

    ¡°It is all very Mni, yes? Thedy gives away her meals to her servants, noble in deed, and naturally when she ends up without anything the lords courting her will fight for the privilege of providing. Gantry all around, with just a hint of the mercenary sensibilities lying beneath.¡±

    Thest sentence she spoke with open approval, which had Angharad grimacing. Not, however, disagreeing. That was the ugly truth of the words exact, the one her father had made sure to teach her: if you cleaved only to the letter of honour, honour had a way of ending up being what was most advantageous to you. No matter how callous or cruel. When the Father of Devils appeared in the Great Tales, the King of Hell never spoke a single lie or broke a single oath. It made Lucifer no less dangerous: a single whisper from him had been enough to turn Issay the Great, first and finest king of Mn, into a bloodthirsty tyrant.

    She was broken out of her ruminations by Isabelying a head against her shoulder.

    ¡°You are prone to brooding, Angharad,¡± she said. ¡°We will have to fix that.¡±

    ¡°How ambitious of you,¡± she drawled back, ¡°when we will only have so long together. Until the end of the second trial is not so long, mydy.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my life will not end after the Trial of Ruins,¡± Isabel flirted back. ¡°It is why I want to take it in the first ce, darling.¡±

    She flicked a meaningful nce ahead.

    ¡°With such an achievement to my name, my parents will allow me greatertitude to choose who I may tie myself to,¡± Isabel said.

    ¡°A cause worth fighting for,¡± Angharad replied, only half jesting.

    ¡°I thought you might say that,¡± Isabel Ruesta smiled, green eyes warm with promise.

    --

    There was only so long the two of them could nestle against one another at the back of thepany without being seen, so when lunch grew close they reluctantly parted ways. Perhaps it was for the best, Angharad thought, for if she¡¯d felt Isabel¡¯s lips whispering against her ear or her neck one more time she might have ended up doing something very unwise. And by the knowing look Song gave her when they sat down for the meal, they had not gone entirely unseen after all. Angharad was in too good a mood to feel all that chided, which seemed to amuse the Tianxi.

    She was careful not to pay too much attention while the trick she had agreed on with Isabel unfolded, the maids with their full tes offering to contribute to a joint stash of food while theirdy sat smiling at them without a speck of food to show for. Augusto was the first to offer his meal, Remund looking like he was about to curse when his older brother beat him to it. Isabel offered to take only half from each, ever the peacemaker, and the pair spent more time ring at each other than noticing anything else. Master Cozme caught her eye, cocking an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged innocently.

    The man chuckled, stroking his moustache, and tipped what would have been his hat at her.

    Angharad smiled back but kept her attention on the arrangements for the food. There was precious little bargaining, the two maids aware they were being weed into the pact from a position of weakness, and it was elected that Song would see to the rationing itself. It was to begin with supper and end with arrival at the second trial. The maids remained close to them as they ate, the most Angharad had seen of them since the journey began, and it became clear that in Isabel¡¯s absence the two did not bother to hide theirmon dislike. Briceida, the well-mannered redhead, kept fiddling with a small ivory trinket: it was a needle with a sculpted head, toorge for sewing and so likely meant for keeping hair in ce.

    ¡°It is quite pretty,¡± Brunplimented. ¡°A gift from your family?¡±

    ¡°From poor old Gascon, in truth,¡± Briceida replied, preening at thepliment. ¡°He won it gambling during our first night on the ind and gave it to me the following day.¡±

    ¡°How kind of him,¡± Beatris drily said. ¡°Entirely unprompted, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    A poisonous re was turned on her.

    ¡°We cannot all earn precious stones from rats, I suppose,¡± Briceida smilingly replied. ¡°Whatever did you do for it, dear Beatris? I can only hope you weren¡¯t taken advantage of.¡±

    ¡°Going through my affairs again, I see,¡± Beatris coldly replied. ¡°And to think I am the one from the Murk.¡±

    Angharad cleared her throat, interrupting them before the bickering could get out of hand.

    ¡°A lovely needle indeed,¡± she said. ¡°Do you intend to use it with your hair, Briceida?¡±

    The maids sheathed their ws when the conversation turned, Brun offering her a grateful look for the intervention. The rest of the meal was spent on idle conversation, and before long they were on the march again. Tempting as it was to try to sneak another moment with Isabel in the dark, Angharad resisted the urge to try and walked with Song near the middle of their column instead. Before they could even begin to converse the entirepany ground to a halt when Master Cozme let out a shout from the front.

    ¡°<em>Everyone down</em>,¡± the old soldier hissed. ¡°Boy, close thentern.¡±

    The fear in his voice killed any hesitation there might have been at following the order: Angharad ttened herself against the bottom of the High Road while Brun, who had been in front with Cozme, closed thentern¡¯s shutter. All Angharad glimpsed before lying down against the stone was a tall silhouette striding across the ins in the distance, some feathered creature. For what might have been the better part of an hour they stayed there, only Cozme raising his head over the edge to look, and finally the old soldier told them to get up after it was gone.

    ¡°What <em>was </em>that thing?¡± Remund Cerdan asked.

    ¡°A gravebird, my lord,¡± Cozme Aflor darkly replied. ¡°We do not want to ever draw one¡¯s attention.¡±

    All the Sacromontans looked shaken at the name, and Song as well, leaving Angharad the outsider. She had never heard of such a spirit. They resumed the journey in a strange mood, Augusto Cerdan¡¯s too-loud boasts to Isabel that he would have protected her from the lemure ringing unpleasantly. The elder brother was more careful with his words than the younger, but not so much as to be called careful without theparison. Remembering what he had said about chopping blocks that very morning, Angharad flushed with embarrassment. The insult had not been implicit in the slightest, only not spoken to Song directly.

    ¡°I apologize for Lord Augusto¡¯sck of manners this morning,¡± she quietly told the Tianxi. ¡°There was no call for him to imply you have such bloody intentions, no matter the politics of the Republics.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure no end of little nobles are tucked in at night to tales of Republicansing to chop off their heads if they¡¯ve been bad,¡± Song amusedly said, ¡°but I assure you the stories are exaggerated. It is only in the southernmost three republics, the Sanxing, that nobles were all sent to the block.¡±

    Angharad started in surprise.

    ¡°I was taught that there are no nobles in Tianxia,¡± she slowly said. ¡°Was this wrong?¡±

    ¡°There are no titles, certainly,¡± Song replied. ¡°But the northern republics camete to the fold, and some less eagerly than others. Many nobles there were granted high positions in the bureaucracy afterying down their old rights. Their families remain rich and influential to this day.¡±

    ¡°That is not nobility,¡± Angharad told her, not unkindly. ¡°It is corruption.¡±

    For some reason the Tianxi looked very amused.

    ¡°They still have to take the examinations,¡± she said. ¡°Those unsuitable to serve are weeded out, worry not. It is apromise only Yellow Earth purists take issue with.¡±

    These Angharad had heard of. Tianxi radicals hatching conspiracies all over Vesper, assassins and fomenters of rebellion. That the Republics might not endorse their actions but equally refused to denounce them was one of the reasons Tianxia was so often at war with its neighbours. The Pereduri often found it hard to reconcile how a people so sensible over other matters could be so senseless in this one.

    ¡°There is no need to look so troubled, Angharad,¡± Song teased. ¡°I only speak of this to make it in that firebrand hatred is notmon. I even studied the Mni ssics, I¡¯ll have you know.¡±

    ¡°The Great Tales?¡± Angharad said, impressed. ¡°I must confess I have only read <em>Ships of Morn</em> and <em>The Madness of King Issay</em>.¡±

    It was tradition that written Umoya be learned through the Great Tales, even if thenguage was dated. She had despised it so much as a child that Father had only made her read the two most exciting of the tales, the ones full of battles and rebellions and gory ends. If Song had read all nine of the works, it was a worthy achievement.

    ¡°Were they tranted into Antigua or Cathayan?¡± she asked.

    ¡°In the original Umoya,¡± Song replied wlessly in that verynguage.

    ¡°How rare,¡± Angharad enthused in the same. ¡°I only ever learned Antigua and some Gwynt myself.¡±

    The ancient Pereduringuage was considered uncouth to speak in Mni society, and only solely used bymoners deep in the duchy¡¯s countryside.

    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to learn Gwynt,¡± Song admitted. ¡°There are all these lovely-sounding songs from before Morn¡¯s Arrival that your people put to writing. My mother would not hear of it, though, kept me on Centzon and Samratrava.¡±

    The two mostmon tongues of, respectively, the Kingdom of Izcalli and the Imperial Someshwar. Angharad did not stare but it was a close thing.

    ¡°Song,¡± she delicately said, ¡°may I ask how manynguages you <em>do</em> speak?¡±

    ¡°Seven fluently,¡± the Tianxi replied.

    ¡°Were you to be an interpreter, by any chance?¡± Angharad tried.

    The other womna¡¯s face turned serious.

    ¡°I had an unusual upbringing,¡± Song admitted. ¡°But we have strayed far enough from our thread, I would think. If you did not take to the Great Works, may I ask what you did enjoy?¡±

    The subject change was gentle, but no less firm for it. The noblewoman would not be so discourteous as to ignore it.

    ¡°I am fond of poetry,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Some Lierganen greats ¨C ria and Alifonso in particr ¨C but firstly the Mni luminaries. Ybanathi is my favourite.¡±

    She only realized what she had said after it was toote to bite down on the words. Quietly mortified, Angharad snuck a sideways look at Song. Perhaps the Tianxi was unaware that the poetess Ybanathi was famous for her verses about her pining affections for women. Or that, in some circles, asking another woman if she had read Ybanathi was considered an indirect way to ask if she too had an interest in the fairer sex. Song smiled at her.

    ¡°Oh, I have never heard of Ybanathi before,¡± she said. ¡°What did she write?¡±

    ¡°Several books of poems,¡± Angharad vaguely replied. ¡°They defy easy description.¡±

    ¡°I must see to acquiring them after the trials, then,¡± the silver-eyed woman decided. ¡°Perhaps you can exin them to me.¡±

    The mortification piled on and still the Tianxi offered her that innocent smile, unknowingly twisting the knife. Although, Angharad thought as she narrowed her eyes, that smile might be a little <em>too </em>innocent.

    ¡°You are making sport of me,¡± she used.

    ¡°Oh, distant firmament, break my back!¡± Song theatrically recited, hand over her heart. ¡°It would be kinder than your frown.¡±

    She had not thought to hear the <em>Ode to Isore</em> recited to her here, much less in perfect Umoya. It was more embarrassing than she might have dreamed of.

    ¡°This is most unwarranted,¡± Angharad intively said.

    ¡°I will spare you this once,¡± Song allowed. ¡°But only if you formally renounce the belief you might have ever been subtle about your preferences.¡±

    ¡°I hid nothing, but neither did I trumpet it about,¡± she protested.

    ¡°It might have been more akin to a drum,¡± Song conceded. ¡°Not at the forefront, yet effectively impossible to miss.¡±

    The obvious amusement on the other woman¡¯s face was contagious, for all that Angharad was being the figure of fun. It was meant with such an obviousck of bile that her own lips could not help but twitch.

    ¡°I will have you know that-¡±

    ¡°Someone ahead,¡± Brun suddenly announced.

    The change that came over theirpany was instant: weapons were eye in the blink of an eye, Angharad¡¯s own saber leaving the sheath, and all eyes went forward as the infanzones let better fighters pass them. Only there was nothing but darkness ahead, even in the light of thentern Cozme was now hoisting up.

    ¡°This is noughing matter, boy,¡± Master Cozme harshly said. ¡°If you think-¡±

    <em>I can sense the living</em>, Brun had told her. <em>People best, hollows and beasts with more difficulty.</em>

    ¡°I believe him,¡± Angharad cut in,ing forward.

    She gently pressed aside Isabel, then brushed past Augusto to join the two at the front. Her eyes went to Brun, whose face was calm but eyes had grown cold. He was preparing for a fight.

    ¡°How many?¡± she asked him.

    ¡°Either one or two,¡± he murmured. ¡°Hollows, so it¡¯s hard to tell.¡±

    He leaned in closer.

    ¡°I cannot distinguish height,¡± Brun whispered in her ear. ¡°They could be below. Maybe four, five hundred feet ahead.¡±

    She grimaced, nodding her understanding. Cozme¡¯s eyes moved between the two of them, narrowed, and the man was not a fool. He no longer asked questions or doubted Brun¡¯s word, drawing his sword with the hand not already holding his pistol.

    ¡°Should we kill thentern?¡± she asked him.

    He shook his head.

    ¡°No point, hollows see better than us in the dark,¡± Master Cozme said. ¡°Hard to take them by surprise. On a narrow road like this, our best bet is rushing in.¡±

    She nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Then we need a vanguard,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I volunteer.¡±

    The veteran smiled roguishly.

    ¡°As expected,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.¡±

    He nced back.

    ¡°Pistols and muskets out,¡± Cozme Aflor ordered. ¡°Take a shot if you have a clear one, but otherwise hold your fire.¡±

    Tension thrummed across her skin when they moved to the front, limbering limbs. With Brun¡¯s help they might take the enemy by surprise, his contract peering ahead better than sight, but she would not bet on it. Lanterns could be seen from far away in an ind without much light. She shared a nod with Cozme, then began moving. Long strides at first, then quickening into a run and rushing headfirst into as quickly as they could. Brun was holding thentern behind them, casting is glow ahead, but Angharad still missed the signs. She thought it a curve in the stone until the dusty grey cloak nestled against the left edge of the aqueduct was thrown off, a tattooed pale man unloading his crossbow right at Cozme.

    She struck out in an arc sweeping upwards and-

    (Cozme ducked, the bolt tearing through his cheek, her strike was too early)

    -slowed her blow, catching the bolt¡¯s head and sending it skittering up while Cozme ducked with a shout. A heartbeatter he unloaded his pistol at the hollow as the man tried to get up, the ball hitting metal under a hair shirt and knocking the man back down. Angharad rushed forward, eyes sweeping the High Road for any trace of the second, but she found nothing. Only stone and - <em>shit</em>, Angharad thought, eyes straying to the side as she saw a slender silhouette running away in the ins below. They were near an arc in the aqueduct, the other darkling must have been hiding under it.

    ¡°Someone shoot-¡± she called out, only for a sharp crack to interrupt her.

    The back of the runner¡¯s head burst red, Song¡¯s impable aim iming another life. Good, she fiercely thought. The coward would not be able to send for reinforcements. The hollow up on the aqueduct began to rise again but she was on him and smashed her boot into his chin, putting him down, then hacked at the hand bringing up a curved de to sh at her. There was a scream of pain as her steel bit deep as bone, the hollow¡¯s sword ttering on the ground, and sheid a boot on his chest to keep him on the ground. Cozme was by her side a momentter, smashing the pommel of his sword in the hollow¡¯s face. The unsettlingly pale man, who she now saw was not tattooed but ritually scarred, fell in a daze.

    ¡°You want a prisoner?¡± Cozme asked.

    Angharad hesitated. There was no reason for the hollow to talk save if they promised to set him free, which she could not risk, or through torture, which she would not countenance. The matter was settled when a thrown hatchet sunk between the hollow¡¯s eyes with a whooping wet sound, right into the skull. Death was near instant, Brun sliding past her as she stood struck with surprise to wrench free his weapon. He met her stare head on.

    ¡°Too dangerous to live,¡± the fair-haired Sacromontan simply said.

    There was, though, something like satisfaction in his eyes. Had Isabel seen the truth of it, was the dark affecting him? Angharad studied they of his shoulders, how they seemed to loosen, and decided that not. He had been restless because darkness was not an enemy he could fight, but now that he¡¯d fought ¨C however short the fight ¨C he had bled out some of the unease. It sat ill with Angharad that the hollow had been killed without a weapon in hand, but this was a battle and not a duel. Honour had not been breached.

    ¡°You are not wrong,¡± she finally said, and that was the end of that.

    The rest of thepany caught up and some few moments investigating found where the hollows had been camped. Up on the High Road there had been nothing but a waterskin ¨C gratefully added to their reserves ¨C under therge grey cloak, but below the arch was a pair of bedrolls and what looked like stripes of dried meat along a basket of ck tomatoes. Song found how the hollow had climbed up, a knotted rope ending in hooks that had been hidden along the curve of the arch. Its existence led to heated debate, Brun and the Cerdan arguing someone should climb down and seize the supplies.

    ¡°There are two fresh corpses about and we are deep in the ind,¡± Song tly replied. ¡°Every breath we waste here is a danger.¡±

    Angharad found it distasteful to take from the dead, even though within certain bounds it was no taint on honour, so she was inclined to agree. As did Isabel, who wanted to leave this ce as swiftly as possible. The argument might have gone on for longer had Beatris not suddenly let out a startled cry. Angharad reached for her de again, following the maid¡¯s gaze, and found a slice of darkness blotting out distant stars.

    ¡°<em>Harrowhawk</em>,¡± Song shouted.

    It would take more than a de to kill this, Angharad realized, for as the beat of great wings became deafening she saw that the descending shape was tall as three men. Master Cozme dropped thentern, hurriedly cramming powder and shot down his pistol, and in that toppled trembling light the Pereduri saw a storm of oily feathers. Talons thicker than her legs tore into the hollow¡¯s corpse, ripping it apart like wet paper, and in eerie silence the spirit unfolded its wings. <em>It is a man</em>, Angharad thought incredulously. Within the ck feathersy a silhouette of tarnished gold, arms and legs outlined in golden wire as they led up to a helmeted head.

    But the arms thickened, twisted, turning into golden feathers where there should have been hands. The entire man shivered, and only then did she realize it was nothing but colour on feathers ¨C colours that seemed too deep to truly be that.

    Angharad only realized she had gone still, that all sound had fled her ears, when Brun barrelled into her.

    They both fell on the hard stone, the Sacromontan hastily getting out an apology as they rose to their feet. Behind them Song snapped off a shot right in the eyes of the golden helm, but though feathers gave the spirit cared not. While Angharad had been entranced Cozme had been thrown down, wounded in a way that left a ck scar on his face, and Augusto was dragging him off while screaming as the top of his lungs. Why? The creature barely even moved, only watching them as it nonchntly tore at the hollow¡¯s corpse.

    ¡°It¡¯s too old for lead,¡± Song cursed. ¡°We need to run.¡±

    From a spirit that could fly? It would be pointless. They could only fight. Breathing out, Angharad pushed down her fear and turned to face the golden frame. Distance would be hard to measure, with so little light, but it was not so different from shadow-fighting. She could do this, the Pereduri told herself, and rushed forward. Someone behind shouted her name, but she could not find it in herself to care. It felt¡­ distant.

    ¡°YOU ARE HOME.¡±

    ¡°Mother?¡± she whispered, stumbling forward.

    ¡°YES. COME TO ME. YOU ARE HOME.¡±

    Had it, had it all been a dream? The fire and the screams and the people hounding her to the ends of the earth. She took a step forward, back slick with sweat.

    ¡°YOU ARE SAFE,¡± Mother sang to her. ¡°YOU ARE HOME. YOU ARE <em>MINE</em>.¡±

    She could feel the warmth of the hearth, her mother¡¯s embrace. Only even as took another step, she felt it slip through her fingers. The warmth was leaving, cold running through her veins. The coolness of water in the dark, in a deep ce that only silence knew. And a voice spoke through her, though it was not a voice: it was the tide eating away the cliffside, the cry of gulls picking at corpses, the sound of men kneeling. It was the patient crawl of the inexorable.

    ¡°Know your ce,¡± the Fisher chided.

    Angharad came back to herself as the golden stingers that¡¯d been closing around her face like grotesque fingers tore away, the spirit screeching in pain as it tried to cover its head with its wings. She hacked at the body, de sliding into the feathers as if they were made of oil, and withdrew her dripping saber with a shiver of disgust. There was nothing she could do, she realized, and so she fled. Whatever it was her patron had done to the spirit, it was soon gone and she¡¯d barely taken three steps before its wings unfolded again.

    ¡°Briceida,¡± Isabel said in a trembling voice. ¡°Do it.¡±

    ¡°Mydy-¡±

    ¡°<em>Do it</em>.¡±

    And Angharad saw as the redheaded maid took a step forward, ashen-faced and turned her eyes on the spirit looming over them all.

    She pped her hands.

    The terrifying ring of it threw the noblewoman down against the stone, as if a ship had smashed into a cliff right above her head. Her cheek against the aqueduct, dirt and blood in her mouth, Angharad crawled forward. Behind her, the spirit ¨C the harrowhawk ¨C was rippling like a pond in the wind. All save for the silhouette of gold painted on its feathers.

    ¡°Again,¡± Isabelmanded, tone grown firmer.

    Briceida pped her hands and wind blew against Angharad¡¯s braids, the spirit screeching behind her. The Pereduri rose to her feet and out of the way, Brun helping her up. She turned just in time to see the harrowhawk rip in two the hollow¡¯s corpse, screeching in hatred at them, but flinching away when the redheaded maid drew back her hands. A least scream of hate and the spirit leapt off the edge of the aqueduct, great wings spreading, and fled into the night.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Brun gently asked her.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she got out. ¡°I was¡­ protected.¡±

    She could no longer feel the Fisher¡¯s presence. The old spirit would have let her die, she knew, if it had been ws or fang that were to take her. But the harrowhawk had tried to take her soul, and that the Fisher had not been willing to countenance.

    He had a im to it, until their bargain was done.

    ¡°And a good thing that you were,¡± Song bit out, looking her over from head to toe like a fretting mother. ¡°Harrowhawks eat the souls they take, Angahrad, but slowly. It is decades of screaming torment.¡±

    ¡°Then I must give Briceida my thanks twice over,¡± she replied, turning to find the handmaid.

    She was currently kneeling on the floor, Isabel standing over her and soothing her back as the redhead desperately ate what looked like a white powdery tablet. Aside from Cozme¡¯s face wound and the way Augusto Cerdan was cradling his left arm, theirpany seemed to have made it out unharmed. They would not have, Angharad thought, had the creature been more interested in eating their bodies than their souls. Pushing down the grim thought, she returned her gaze to the strange spectacle of Briceida.

    ¡°A Sacromontan remedy?¡± she ventured.

    Lierganen medicine still hewed too close to the practices of the Second Empire, all knew, and so their doctors were hardly better than the gue.

    ¡°No,¡± Brun quietly replied, eyes hooded. ¡°That¡¯s chalk. Tablets of chalk.¡±

    His parents had been miners, Angharad recalled. None of them furthermented on Briceida crunching down on an entire tablet the length long as the beginning of the noblewoman¡¯s wrist to the tip of her fingers. If it was not medicine then it was a contract¡¯s price, and not something to be discussed when the handmaid had just saved all their lives. The redhead was half-weeping, Isabel gently holding her as she finished thest of the chalk and began retching.

    ¡°Another,¡± Briceida rasped. ¡°<em>Fuck</em>, he wants another.¡±

    She was noisily sick a heartbeatter and they all looked away. In the songs, in the stories, spirits asked beautiful things of those they made bargains with: a song of true love, the beat of a butterfly¡¯s wings, a de quenched in devil¡¯s blood. But those were songs, and truth was not so pretty. Sometimes spirits wanted baser things as payment, like the sensation of a woman eating chalk no matter what the eating did to her body. At Brun¡¯s quiet suggestion they spent went to pull up the rope the hollows had used to climb the aqueduct. After the harrowhawk¡¯s visit, there was no more talk of lingering there: it might yete back, or a more dangerous spirit grow curious of the racket.

    Briceida had to eat most of a second tablet, but that one at least she kept down. They moved out the moment she could stand, Angharad putting away the rope in her bag without a word.

    They fled forward into the dark, only a shiveringntern light guiding them.

 Chapter 15

    Chapter 15

    It had already been a difficult day, so naturally it began raining.

    Only a patter at first, nothing like the sheets of icy water Peredur¡¯s coasts enjoyed springing on its dwellers, but it grew. Within an hour they could hardly see in front of the even with thentern, stumbling along carefully. Master Cozme pointed out a silver lining, that few lemures could fly in such weather and none could follow a scent through it, but wet feet spoke louder than his optimism. It did not stop there: Angharad had near forgot that the High Road was an aqueduct, after using it for a highway so long, but now she was up to her ankles in the reminder. The rain had filled the aqueduct¡¯s body up to their ankles and were it not so rich with broken edges the water would have run even higher.

    Between wading against the current on now treacherous footing, all of them being soaked to the bone through their clothes and the wind beginning to hurl itself at them from the east ¨C cold, it felt as if none of them were wearing coats ¨C the mood took a grim turn.

    It did not help that not all were recovered from the encounter with the harrowhawk. Angharad was yet dazed, prone to staring out into the storm, and though Cozme had cleaned out the wound he¡¯d taken on his face the flesh was still dark. They were both better off than Augusto Cerdan, whose left arm was broken, and better still than poor Briceida. The handmaid had been sick since eating her chalk tablets, enough that the wind and rain slowed her advance to a crawl. Brun was helping her keep pace, but the two were at the back of thepany and certain to stay there. Angharad made sure to pull back and stay with them a span whenever they trailed behind too much.

    She caught an irritated expression on Brun¡¯s face once or twice, but she would tell himter no insult was meant to his efforts. It was only that if they lost the pair in the storm, there was no telling when the two would be able to catch up. Better to slow their entirepany than to risk it.

    They all felt the change in the current around two hours before dinner, the way it was now pulling forward instead of back. It was good news, Angharad was informed as a few of them pulled close together and shouted over the rainstorm¡¯s din to understand each other. It meant they were close to a break in the aqueduct, one they had nned to reach hours ago. They had passed the great river without even realizing and by now they must be surrounded by woods. If they pushed on after dinner time, they ought to reach the end of the High Road today. Since no one was eager to sleep in a river, Angharad the notion was agreed on.

    The first break in the High Road was subtle enough Beatris almost walked off the edge.

    She was pulled back shrieking by Remund Cerdan, who promptly shouted for a halt. It was only a break of about five feet, though unnaturally neat: as if some giant¡¯s sharp sword had sliced through the aqueduct. If not for the weather they might have been expected to make the jump, but as things stood Remund was prevailed upon to use his contract. First a ring for them to step on, halfway, then another above and to the side of it for them to hold on to.

    ¡°Some of you have gloves,¡± Song shouted into the rain. ¡°They should be shared with whoever crosses.¡±

    Not even the Cerdan brothers tried to argue that holding a cloth to the rings of light would be enough in such weather. Good. Angharad had not been looking forward to again pulling her sleeves forward and grasping the light through them: if she slipped even a little, she would be holding the burning radiance. She was the third to cross, using Isabel¡¯s gloves and passing them back to a leaning Brun, and once across with her pack she followed Cozme to the edge to share in his grimace. The small break had only been the first, leading onto an elevated ind ten feet long. The real precipicey ahead: almost forty feet of mostly missing aqueduct, with some arches still standing but no funnel over them.

    ¡°It may be too dangerous to cross,¡± Master Cozme yelled.

    The man passed a hand through his drenched hair, clearly regretting the loss of his hat. Angharad sympathized: with how much rain her braids had taken, it felt like someone had hung a waterskin against the back of her head.

    ¡°We cannot camp here,¡± Angharad shouted back. ¡°There¡¯s no other way.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll need to be carried after,¡± Cozme told her. ¡°The contract is hard on his body.¡±

    ¡°Then we will carry him,¡± the Pereduri insisted.

    There was no arguing with the needs of the moment, so before long Remund Cerdan set to tracing his rings of light across the gap. It was a thing surreal, almost out of a y, to see the man hanging in the air in the middle of a storm with only slices of light to stand on, making a foothold and handhold every time. Had Angharad not been able to glimpse the clear terror on the younger Cerdan¡¯s face, she might have thought him a spirit. Lord Remund slowed near the end, his limbs grown stiff, and only narrowly made it to the other side. He copsed the moment he reached there, though to everyone¡¯s relief the rings stayed. Not knowing how long that would be the case, they set to crossing in a hurry.

    It was one of the most thoroughly unpleasant experiences in Angharad¡¯s life.

    The rain somehow made the solid light slippery, and with the wind whipping it in her face she could barely see the rings ahead of her. Twice she had to hold on for dear life to one of the ¡®handhold¡¯ rings as her boots slipped, fear icily seizing her limbs, and when she threw herself at the end of the road her angle was off: she fell and bruised her knees against the aqueduct¡¯s bottom, cold water running down from her corbones to her belly. It was a good thing she carried no ckpowder, for it would surely have been ruined. As the fourth to cross Angharad found that others had already helped Remund to sit up but also that he was no better for it.

    Though he stayed out of thentern¡¯s light, all the skin she glimpsed had turned pale as ivory and she hardly saw him move save for breathing. The infanzon was half a statue already and there were still others yet to cross. Stomach in knots at the though of what might happen to him and the others both, Angharad stalked around the end of the ring road with nervous impatience. They had a stroke of luck when the storm began to calm, the rain growing sparser, but it would only get them so far. By the time thest of them began the crossing, Remund could only moved with a shallow breath. Not even to blink. Augusto was thest to cross, and in a way he was lucky.

    The storm was near dead by now, the rain barely more than a patter and the wind more of a breeze. The Cerdan made better time than any of them all the way across ¨C lights winking out behind him ¨C as he made haste. On thest foothold he threw them all a cocky grin, his only good hand releasing the handhold ring before he leapt.

    The wind picked up halfway through.

    Angharad was standing close, still stalking about, so she saw the horror writ in on his face. His jump fell short, brushed aside, and he hit the edge of the aqueduct with his belly. Hands scrabbled against wet, smooth stone while water flowed into his face ¨C screams of surprise of dismay sounded behind her, but Angharad was already moving. She caught his arm as it slid back, clothes ripping but her fingers tightened around his wrist and she held tight with gritted teeth. She was kneeling in the water and, Sleeping God, she could feel her boots slip.

    ¡°Help her,¡± Isabel shouted.

    Cozme was there a momentter, pulling at Augusto¡¯s shoulder, and between the two of them they hoisted him over the edge. Augusto crawled through the wet, eyes wild and limbs shaking as he fled the edge of the aqueduct.

    ¡°Gods,¡± the infanzon croaked. ¡°<em>Gods</em>.¡±

    Catching her breath, Angharad knelt by his side and closed her eyes. Her heart was beating as wildly as his must. She might have stayed there a while, rain flowing down her face, had the infanzon not tugged at her sleeve.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Augusto Cerdan said. ¡°Lady Tredegar. I did not think you would¡­¡±

    ¡°We are under truce,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Your safety is yet my concern.¡±

    It was not the reason she had moved. In the moment, she had only seen a man about to die. Honor¡¯sws had only caught up to her hands after the deed. The dark-haired noble swallowed, nodding, and looked torn.

    ¡°The rings only support the weight of one man,¡± he said, tone somewhere between a plea and a concession. ¡°There was no other way for us to live. The knife, it was a mercy. Better that than to be eaten alive.¡±

    Her face hardened.

    ¡°Then we should have died,¡± Angharad tly replied. ¡°There are some lines good men do not cross.¡±

    His cheeks were already red from the cold, but anger reddened them yet more.

    ¡°I should have known better,¡± Augusto Cerdan spat out. ¡°Go on, then, Tredegar. Honour has been satisfied, you need not keep mypany any longer.¡±

    It sounded fine by her, so she stiffly took her leave. Even after that close call theirpany agreed to press on, for now that the storm was weak they were certain to be able to descend from the High Road that night. The original n, Angharad learned, had been for theirpany to camp up on the aqueduct for safety and then descend the following morning ¨C that method would also allow Remund, who was still unmoving as marble, to rest before using his contract again. Instead they would be using the rope taken from the hollows that Angharad was carrying so they might find shelter down in the woods away from the water. It would take hours, after all, for the aqueduct to empty even after rain ceased. None of them wanted to sleep in a filthy riverbed.

    It was almost a surprise that thest leg of the journey was so uneventful, the only imposition that Remund Cerdan had to be carried by two of them at all times. He was, she noticed much heavier than a man his size should be. Angharad was careful never to touch any of that too-pale skin when it was her turn to bear the weight, afraid of what it might spread. By the time they reached the end of the High Road, or at least the part they intended to use ¨C its silhouette resumed half a mile ahead, leading into the mountains - Remund was capable of hobbling forward. It only took one of them to help him keep up, much like Briceida.

    Getting down from the aqueduct was more tedious than dangerous. Remund and Briceida were lowered tied with the rope instead of climbing down, which took most of the rest of theirpany to do safely, and after that down went theirst supplies. They were all soaked, exhausted and irritable but by the end of it they were finally back on solid ground.

    Around them were deep woods, tall trees whose branches obscured much of the sky, but the way forward was in: they were near the bottom of a hill and going north up the slope would lead them to the mountains where the second trial awaited. There would be a need to march eastwards for a few hours, as the High Road was on the western half of the Dominion, but they should be well past the hollows and the most dangerous lemures. They still set a watch after finding a tall tree to hide under, settling in for the night and hoping their clothes would dry some before they had to march again.

    Exhaustion saw to it that Angharad fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

    --

    The clothes were only half-dry, so they all stank like dogs when they set out the following morning.

    The slope was muddy and slippery, covered by a thick carpet of dead leaves, but there could be no mistaking the way they needed to go. Up the hills they went, through trees and great ferns and fields of pale blue wildflowers. When the mud turned to rock Angharad knew they were close, and barely an hour after that they were looking up at the towering heights of the mountains at the heart of the Dominion of Lost Things.

    ¡°We are a little further north than I would prefer,¡± Song told them, consulting her map, ¡°but following the mountains east will get us most of the way there. We will have to go around crags to find the road to the sanctuary, but I expect we will reach the end of our journey a little past midday.¡±

    The Tianxi¡¯s prediction ended up somewhat off, as they discovered two hours in that andslide had cut their path east. They decided against risking to cross it when they found some great boulders bncing precariously further up, instead dipping back south into the woods and then resuming going east. Their pace was slower in the forest, noticeably so, and by the time they stopped for lunch they were barely halfway through the journey. Before long, at least, they finally found the crags that Song had mentioned: three massive rocks with t tops, forming a broad half-circle appended to the mountainside.

    ¡°The road we must take passes behind them,¡± Song said, ¡°and then rides the edge of the one closest to the mountains to lead up to the sanctuary¡¯s entrance.¡±

    ¡°Would it not be possible to go through them instead?¡± Master Cozme asked. ¡°Surely there are paths we could use.¡±

    ¡°There are, but I was advised against doing this,¡± the Tianxi replied. ¡°Landslides are apparentlymon, especially after rain.¡±

    ¡°It is an unnecessary risk,¡± Isabel opined. ¡°Let us take the longer way.¡±

    Most agreed with her, including Angharad. They had barely begun circling the crags when Brun breathed in sharply. He turned to catch her eye and she drifted close, but Remund Cerdan ¨C now recovered, unlike poor Briceida who was stillgging behind despite being able to walk on her own ¨C raised a hand at them.

    ¡°None of that,¡± the infanzon said. ¡°If your contract had told you something, share it with all ourpany and not only our dear Lady Tredegar.¡±

    Angharad grimaced but nodded when Brun¡¯s turned a questioning gaze her way. The cat was out of the bag: Master Cozme had noticed the hint of a contract before their fight with the hollows, and evidently passed on his suspicions to his lords.

    ¡°There are people to our west,¡± Brun said. ¡°Hollows, I think. At least ten of them.¡±

    They had juste from the west, moving eastwards, so theirpany was either being followed or about to be: most of them were poor woodsmen, any half-decent tracker would be able to find traces of their passage.

    ¡°Are they following us?¡± Augusto Cerdan bluntly asked.

    ¡°Too early to tell,¡± Brun shrugged, ¡°but they areing our way.¡±

    ¡°Then we must hurry,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Thest thing we need is a fight.¡±

    She did not fear testing her de against darklings, but theirpany was wounded and exhausted. Mistakes were certain to be made. They picked up the pace, no longer even half-heartedly attempting not to leave a trail, and after half an hour Brun told them the hollows had been left behind. The news cheered them all, until another quarter hour passed and he told them that another group of hollows wasing from the west.

    They were, it seemed, being hunted.

    ¡°If we head south we might be able to circle around the western warband,¡± Isabel suggested.

    ¡°That is exactly what they want, mydy,¡± Cozme Aflor shook his head. ¡°They are not going for the kill at the moment, only pushing us firther away from the sanctuary so they might hunt us at their leisure.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know how well they can track us,¡± Remund noted. ¡°Isabel¡¯s idea might well be feasible.¡±

    Angharad shook her head.

    ¡°This is too much for coincidence,¡± she said. ¡°How would they have known to watch near the High Road? It smacks of Gloam sorcery or a tracking contract.¡±

    Thetter were not so rare: she had been hunted through the streets of Sacromonte by what she suspected to be exactly such a thing. The darklings of the Dominion were a cult worshipping some ancient spirit, it was only to be expected that some among them would have won contracts off this ¡®Red Eye¡¯.

    ¡°She is right,¡± Master Cozme grunted. ¡°It¡¯s too close a hunt for how clever we have been. There is only one way: we need to try the crags.¡±

    No one was eager, given the dangers Song had spoken of, but at least thendslides would not be purposefully hunting them.

    ¡°I saw what looked like a trail going up,¡± Brun told them. ¡°About half a mile back.¡±

    ¡°I saw it as well,¡± Song agreed. ¡°It seems our best chance if we are to move quickly enough to slip the noose.¡±

    It felt like wasted time to go back the way they¡¯d juste, but Angharad kept silent. It was the wisest course. The trail the pair had spoken of was more of ravine justrge enough for someone to squeeze through, leading towards what thentern revealed to be an outcropping low enough to be climbable. Forck of better choices they went through, stone scraping at their sides. It was half an hour of asionally painful squeezing and climbing ¨C Briceida was finally feeling better, no longer slowing them down so much ¨C until they reached a broader path.

    It was another ravine inside the crag, this one about two people wide. Angharad suspected it must have been worn into existence by rain over decades, for it was narrow at the top and wider at the bottom. The ground had dried sincest night, fortunately, and the footing was smooth. The asional falling rock was a small price to pay for the good time they made but goods news, as ever, were followed with bad.

    ¡°We are being followed,¡± Brun told them, voice echoing against the stone. ¡°They are taking the same path we did.¡±

    And gaining on them, he did not need to say. They hurried but the hollows stayed on their heels and the situation was untenable. It was Augusto that offered a solution.

    ¡°Look at the edges on either side,¡± he said, pointing up.

    Rocks was what they found, but Angharad immediately grasped what he was leading at. Their ravine, carved by water, was thinner at the top. The cliffside over them was being eaten away at by erosion, grown unstable. With the right nudge, it could copse.

    ¡°We do not have enough powder to blow it up,¡± Angharad told him.

    Not even if they used every powder box and pouch they had with them.

    ¡°No,¡± Augusto agreed, ¡°but there is another method at hand.¡±

    He turned to Briceida, face stern, and the handmaid flinched. The Pereduri wanted to chide the infanzon for demanding such a thing of her when only yesterday she had saved all their lives, but she bit her tongue. It would work, she was sure of it. The ravine echoed slightly when they spoke, the oppressive noise that the redhead¡¯s contract made was certain to have great effect. And as she had said, they did not have enough powder to use instead. So instead Angharad steeled her heart and stepped forward.

    ¡°If you are too sick to walk afterwards, Briceida, I will carry you myself.¡±

    The other woman flinched again, and Angharad bit the inside of her cheek in shame. Isabelid a hand on her handmaid¡¯s arm and gently smiled.

    ¡°You know I would not ask it of you if our lives were not on the line, my dear,¡± the infanzona said. ¡°But they are, yours among them.¡±

    Briceida reluctantly nodded, then turned to address Angharad.

    ¡°I will surely have need of your aid, mydy, so I must take you at your word,¡± she said.

    ¡°As it should be,¡± the Pereduri simply replied.

    They waited longer before doing it, choosing a fitting ce for the deed. Further ahead they found a ce where the ravine narrowed to a single man¡¯s width and the slope rose quickly ahead, which was most suitable. Angharad was tense all throughout, but after Briceida pped her hands only a few chunks of stone fell over their heads ¨C and their group scattered in time. The redhead had directed the sound skillfully, and past them the damage was impressive. After the initial avnche, a heartbeat passed and there was a massive crack. An entire chunk of the cliff began sliding down, a stonerger than two horses, while all along the ravine smaller rocks fell in a thundering rain.

    Briceida bit through another tablet of chalk and was noisily sick afterwards, barely able to stand, so Angharad had her climb on her back and hold tight. They did not wait until the dust had settled to begin their flight.

    It was another hour of narrow ravines and waterless waterfalls before they found a way out, which to their pleasant surprise was atop the middle crag of the three. They rose to the stars above their heads and a spread of thin grass atop the stone, woods beginning ahead. That stripe of forest seemed to lead all the way to where the first crag touched the mountains, from what they could make out. There Song said that the road to the sanctuary and the shrines began. Though it had been a dangerous affair, in the end they had shaven a few hours off their journey by risking the crags. The mood lifted at the news, even Briceida managing a smile, and they resumed their march.

    When they were a dozen feet away from the forests¡¯ edge, Brun suddenly went still.

    Angharad was learning to hate the sight of that.

    ¡°Hollows,¡± he said. ¡°Dozens of them, waiting in ambush.¡±

    Master Cozme loudly cursed. Angharad wished manners allowed her to do the same, for she fully shared the sentiment. The cult of the Red Eye had been one step ahead of them again.

    ¡°How far ahead?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°Hard to tell,¡± Brun admitted. ¡°There¡¯s something off about the warband, like it is not truly there. I think the Gloam might be clouding my contract.¡±

    ¡°So it could be false, an illusion?¡± Augusto Cerdan pressed.

    ¡°Wishful thinking,¡± Angharad cut in. ¡°We must treat them as real.¡±

    The ensuing argument was quiet but heated, theirpany eventually owning up to the truth that there was no way out but through. Going eastwards on the other crag had no guarantee to yield a path down, and even if it did there was no guarantee the hollows would not follow them there ¨C or even wait at the end of the path, at the bottom of the climb towards sanctuary. The trouble was that not all of their group was fit to fight, or even run for long, so a ruse need be employed.

    ¡°One group to draw attention, another to sneak through,¡± Master Cozme suggested.

    It was a in strategy, but they were not well-oiled enough a crew to attempt anythingplicated anyhow. Simply putting all the fighters in the distraction group was a recipe for ughter if the other group was caught, so the division was not so clean. Isabel, Briceida ¨C helped to walk by Beatris - Song and Augusto would be the crew meant to sneak around. Cozme, Angharad, Brun and Remund were to draw the enemy into a running fight. With Brun¡¯s contract they should have the advantage of surprise, allowing them to strike first and true before running past the enemy.

    The ensuing chase and confusion would allow the others to get past the enemy, or such was the hope.

    Much as Angharad might have wished otherwise, there was no time for long goodbyes. The longer they waited to move the greater the risk the ambushing cultists would tire of waiting and try to catch them out in the open instead. She squeezed Isabel¡¯s hands tenderly when the infanzona came to kiss her cheeks, then shook Song¡¯s hand. Thest three received a nod, friendlier for some than others, and she set out into the woods behind Master Cozme. With Brun serving as their eyes, they chose their angle of approach ¨C along the eastern ridge of the crag, nking the hollows ¨C and slowly advanced, careful not to make any noise.

    For nearly half an hour they moved as silently as they could, nerves rising, until they were in ce. Angharad could see most of the warband from behind the bush she used a hiding ce, maybe twenty darklings mostly bearing spears and swords. There were a pair of crossbowmen as well, standing near an old hollow in robes. A priest of some kind? The old one, who the others seemed to defer to, was talking to people who she could not see ¨C the sight was blocked by a fallen tree ¨C in what sounded like Antigua. The cultists wore padded cloth as armour, save for a few elites, but were all fighting fit and many scarred from war.

    ¡°Careful with the crossbowmen,¡± Cozme murmured. ¡°Try to keep trees in the way and kill warriors wearing padding first. The armoured will tire first when chasing.¡±

    They shared nods, fists tightening around their weapons, and took the deep breath before the plunge.

    Then the Sleeping God turned in his slumber, undoing all their ns.

    It happened in moments: a band of half a dozen warriors, most armored with breasttes or mail, were talking with someone up a tree and the answer they got had themughing. They spread out, pping or jostling a few of the other warriors, and in moments they were all up. Heading southwest, where the other group should be beginning to move. Cozme swallowed a curse and they all hesitated. Their only chance against such numbers had been surprise but now the warriors were up and alert. It would be a ughter and not one in their favour. Yet they could not abandon the others, Angharad would not allow it.

    ¡°We hit them from behind when they begin to attack,¡± she murmured.

    Augusto nodded in approval, then Cozme. Brun grimaced then agreed as well. They set out, slowly, and that was when Angharad saw her: that Asphodel noble from the Bluebell, the one with the e scars. She had just leapt down from the tree, joining another. One by one Angharad saw them. Leander Gtas, still without his arm but no longer looking so gaunt. Therge Azn called Ocon, his hammer hefted over his shoulder. Andst of all the leader of their pack of jackals, Tupoc Xical himself. He asked something of the Asphodelian woman, Lady Acanthe, and she pointed to the southwest.

    The hollows followed her directions without a single voice speaking otherwise.

    ¡°Tracker,¡± Angharad said through gritted teeth.

    But one who could not find their group. Their enemies would pay for that. Creeping behind the warband, who were so certain of the Asphodelian¡¯s contract did not bother with a proper rearguard, they waited until they could see the hollows spreading out for an ambush. When Song carefully slipped out from behind the shadow of a tree, eyes scanning the woods, the warriors at the fore raised their spears and finally Master Cozme signalled for their group to attack. They burst out of the brush, none of them announcing their arrival with war cries, and just as Song¡¯s eyes widened at the sight of them Cozme Aflor shot the first hollow from behind.

    Madness seized them all.

    Angharad felt a crossbow bolt whiz past her head as she hewed open a man¡¯s head, pping aside another¡¯s spear and plunging her de through his open mouth. She ripped it clear, teeth flying and saw that powder smoke was obscuring the melee. She glimpsed Ocon kicking down Remund Cerdan, only to be driven back by Cozme, and then through the drifting smoke she saw Song being surrounded by hollows. Angharad rushed there, ducking under someone¡¯s blind strike in the smoke and cutting at what felt like cloth. Song was cornered, having cut a hollow with her de but now being stuck holding back another¡¯s de, so Angharad struck with worried fury.

    They were fighters, these darklings, but their training wascking.

    She let the first ovemit to her lunge, tripped her as she stepped back and slit her throat on the way down. The hollow behind her screamed, attacking in rage with a two-handed sword, but he was <em>slow</em>. Strength only mattered if it could reach you. She plunged the point of her saber in his throat, wrenching it out and stepping to the side so he might die finishing to strike at air. The third hit Song¡¯s knee, forcing her down with a pained grunt as the sword she was holing back dipped towards her throat, so Angharad clicked her tongue and pivoted to adjust her angle to eviscerate the fourth hollow.

    The silver-eyed Tianxi let out a snarl of triumph, pushing up and punching thest hollow in the throat before running him through. Angharad began to check her for wounds, then had to duck behind a tree when she heard the whistle of an arrow. Song followed her there.

    ¡°We need to run,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°Grab everyone we can and flee.¡±

    Angharad nodded.

    ¡°Briceida first,¡± she said. ¡°She will need help.¡±

    Song nodded and the two burst from cover, Angharad avoiding the spear-point of some fat darkling in mail and kicking him in the stomach. Briceida was only a dozen feet away from them and she had been struck down, but she was not dead: instead a hollow had ckened her eyes and was now standing over her half-conscious form. <em>They want prisoners</em>, Angharad realized with horror. She fell upon the hollow that stood over the redheaded maid, but before she could do more than bat aside his sword she heard movement behind her. She smoothly pivoted and struck at torso height, but Tupoc took the blow with the side of his metal segmented spear. He then whipped at her belly with the bottom of the haft, forcing her to backpedal. Behind them Song shed des with the hollow, covering Angharad¡¯s back.

    The Azn, she realized, was humming some kind of song. Something light and cheerful, as if this were a festival instead of a battlefield.

    ¡°You will die for this,¡± Angharad swore.

    ¡°I admire your confidence,¡± Tupoc told her.

    Worse, he sounded like he meant it. She went after him furiously, but he was not like the cultist: whoever had trained him, they had done a good work of it. He never stopped moving, forcing her to circle and weave by constantly changing the distance: he used his spear as much as a quarterstaff as thrusting weapon. Song finished her opponent and woke Briceida, but the redhead could barely move even when helped up. Worse, they¡¯d drawn attention. More wereing and when a crossbow bolt hit the tree an inch away from her head Song drew back.

    ¡°Run,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°The others are, it is lost-¡±

    Angharad snarled, catching a blow from the side of Tupoc¡¯s spear and then using her favorite tfoot trick ¨C half a step back, let it slide down the length and pivot as you hit out with the pommel. Her saber¡¯s pommel caught the Azn in the jaw, her first solid hit, and he rocked back. Bloodied, atst. The Pereduri moved towards Briceida but there was already a cultist on the redhead, grabbing her by the hair, and she was tossed down on the floor. Angharad struck at the man¡¯s back furiously, but it was not enough.

    ¡°No,¡± redhead wept. ¡°No, <em>you won¡¯t take me.</em>¡±

    The world breathed in, and then Briceida let out a scream like the p of thunder.

    Ringing silence filled her ears and something blew Angharad off her feet. She fell against a tree, knocking her shoulder badly. Her vision swam as she gasped, trying to rise, only to feel someone dragging her up. Sound began to return, but dimmed.

    ¡°Quick,¡± Isabel hissed. ¡°Hurry, while they are confused.¡±

    Angharad stumbled forward as best she could, half-blind. Two hands steadied her, Isabel on one side and Master Cozme the other. But they were not alone: Remund was with them, face bruised and lips bloodied. Behind them shouts began, the hollows beginning to recover from Briceida¡¯s scream.

    ¡°The others,¡± Angharad mumbled.

    ¡°They ran also,¡± Remund said. ¡°The hollows did note to kill: they wanted sacrificed, an only took one.¡±

    The pride in his voice sickened her. Briceida, oh Sleeping God. She was still alive, and now the cultists had her. But what could Angharad to, save continuing to run? The daze was passing, but she was no match for the warband now pursuing them. All she could do was run like a coward with the rest of theirpany. Only it could not be so easy. How long they ran in the dark Angharad was not sure, but eventually they stopped: the rest were ahead of them, hiding behind a tall stone, and Song gestured fervently for them to stop. Angharad fell against a tree, hearing Master Cozme peek around and breathe in sharply.

    ¡°There¡¯s a clearing ahead,¡± he said. ¡°And a pair of watchers. If we don¡¯t kill them before they scream for the others we are all dead.¡±

    ¡°Where are we?¡± Angharad murmured.

    ¡°Near the edge of the crag,¡± Isabel replied just as quietly. ¡°If we get past them, running northeast will be a straight line to the sanctuary road. We need only-¡±

    She was interrupted by a shout behind them. The Pereduri tensed for half a heartbeat before realizing they had not been seen. Not yet. But the cultists they had left behind had found their trail, were catching up to them. If they did not move soon, then they were just as dead as in Cozme¡¯s prediction.

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to shoot them,¡± Angharad said. ¡°All we can do is run.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Master Cozme grunted, though he did not sound happy about it.

    Neither was she. The sound would draw the other cultists to them. The older man was already pouring powder down his pistol¡¯s muzzle, peeking out past the tree trunk to gauge the distance to the pair of watchers. The best shot of theirpany was Song, so Angharad half-rose to try and catch her attention. Between she and Cozme, their odds were good of killing both watchers in one volley. Only when Angharad turned her gaze there, it was another who had a gun in hand: Augusto, his sole good arm steady and his face cold, aimed his pistol. Only it was not at the hollows. Behind him Brun turned, surprise on his face, but he was toote.

    Augusto Cerdan met Angharad¡¯s eyes and pulled the trigger.

 Chapter 16

    Chapter 16

    Angharad flinched, but she did not die.

    No, the ball hit the tree about a foot to the right of her head. Bark went flying and a heartbeatter both cultists keeping watch turned her way - she felt Cozme going still as he was caught leaning out of cover.

    The cultists shouted, and just like that the traitor had killed them.

    There should have been a burst of movement, of surprise and fear and hatred, but instead Angharad breathed deep. The urgency bled out of her, slowly but surely, as a great silence spread. Stillness hung in the air, like the world had been seized by the throat.

    The fishing line struck the scene before her and the impact rippled out, as if writ on water.

    Angharad Tredegar stood stranded on an ind¡¯s shore, stones digging into the soles of her boots. She looked down at herself, seeing on the water the moment where time had gone still: at once she knew she still stood there, in that other ce, but also that so long as she stood on this forlorn shore it was nothing but a reflection on shadowy waters. The ripples calmed, showing again the crystallized act of Augusto Cerdan¡¯s betrayal in perfect detail. Without turning or daring to move an inch, Angharad knew that there was something besides her. An entity great and terrible, so much that her mind trembled at the very thought of beholding it.

    The Fisher¡¯s steady breath was as a gust of wind, the spirit patiently fishing in the moment-be-water.

    ¡°He betrayed me,¡± Angharad finally said. ¡°I knew he would, but to think he would go so far? Master Cozme and his brother, even <em>Isabel</em>.¡±

    She ground her teeth, seething with impotent anger.

    ¡°He is a man without honour,¡± she bit out.

    Above them there was only darkness, as if they stood under an eternity of nothing, but Angharad somehow knew there was a ceiling. This was a cavern, resounding with the quiet echo of waterpping at the shore of the ind within it. Where the spirit she had struck a pact with still waited, his patience as absolute a truth as theing of the tide.

    ¡°Honour,¡± the Fisher said, slowly speaking the word as if feeling it out.

    The fishing line struck at water, ripples turning the moment into a confusion of colour and lines, and the spirit hummed.

    ¡°A worthless thing.¡±

    She rocked back as if he¡¯d struck her across the face. Anger and surprise fought fear for the barest of heartbeats, long enough she looked at the spirit. A hulking shape towering above her, more fortress than man, and in the dark she could make little more than a silhouette. But she saw the trails of ichor, the rivulets of ck on grey skin that bled down from the crown of his head. They dripped down the Fisher¡¯s body all the way to the stones beneath his feet, staining them ck. There was a basket on the other side of him, tall as she and full of wriggling things.

    Instinct screamed at her not to look at it too closely.

    ¡°It is not,¡± she sharply replied. ¡°It is priceless.¡±

    The Fisher shook his head, chiding.

    ¡°Its price is known to all, Angharad Tredegar.¡±

    His voice was not a man¡¯s voice, with emotion and cadence and all the shades of humanity. It was a spirit¡¯s, as much the glimpse of something she could barelyprehend as a sound. Her mind told her she heard the sound of the sea against stone, of bones shattering like twigs, but she could not have exined<em> why</em>. Against her will, Angharad wrenched her gaze away. She was trembling, slick with sweat. The spirit was not meant to be beholden by mortal eyes.

    ¡°Why were you betrayed, child?¡±

    ¡°Fear,¡± she said. ¡°Fear and jealousy.¡±

    The spiritughed. It was a sound utterly without joy: a wound ripping open, a friend abandoned in the dark.

    ¡°Because you are weak,¡± the Fisher corrected.

    ¡°I am not weak,¡± Angharad hissed. ¡°I have earned ten stripes, spirit, and won against-¡±

    ¡°The victories of a child,¡± he dismissed. ¡°You fight a woman¡¯s battles, now, yet still hold them up as trophies. Why should they not betray you? It is nothing more than what you deserve.¡±

    ¡°We had a <em>truce</em>,¡± she shouted. ¡°He turned not only on me but on his brother, on Cozme and Isabel. How can you im I am at fault?¡±

    ¡°Truce,¡± the spirit repeated, amused. ¡°Another word. How many will you hide behind?¡±

    ¡°Keeping your promises is the foundation of the world,¡± Angharad bit back. ¡°Of everything we are.¡±

    ¡°There is only one foundation to the world, child,¡± the Fisher said, with a certainty like iron and stone, like tide and decay. ¡°The eldestw, whose name is extinction.¡±

    And now she understood, for she had learned at her father¡¯s knee as much as her mother¡¯s. The old songs, the old tales, the old ways. She hade here in the dark, on the eve of death, and the spirit she had bargained with was testing her. Angharad swore she would not prove unworthy.

    ¡°That is despair, spirit,¡± she said. ¡°I refuse it. It will not own me.¡±

    And she meant it, for all that she had a role to y. Angharad was not without fault, and sometimes she bent honour or twisted it, but she would never renounce it. It there was failure, it was hers and not that of what she aspired to. Even if she fell short all her life, why should she cease trying? The final betrayal of what you were was to surrender to the tide of the world, to let it decide who you were to be.

    ¡°Perhaps it is not writ in the bone of Vesper that honour should matter,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°But it can be made to - and I will fight to make it so.¡±

    She readied herself for pain or anger, for the test of her resolve, but the spirit only flicked his fishing rod. Lights swirled, and below the waters she glimpsed shapes moving.

    ¡°And so you are betrayed,¡± the Fisher said. ¡°You im rights you have not won, acting as if your desires are born worthy of respect.¡±

    ¡°Why do you still exist, Fisher, if the eldestw is absolute?¡± she challenged.

    ¡°It can be stalled,¡± the spirit said. ¡°That, too, is true. But only strength can achieve this, and you are weak. Your will is dull. Your enemies defy you with impunity.¡±

    Shapes circled around the bait under the surface, as above lights scattered like a broken mosaic.

    ¡°Laws,¡± the Fisher told her, ¡°are the right of the strong and them alone. Your honour is not aw, it is a noose.¡±

    Her heart clenched with fear. This¡­ it did not feel like a test of her mettle. There was no fearsome wrath, no pain or fear or battle of tricks. The Fisher did not seem interested enough in her for this, and that more than anything else had a gaping pit opening in her stomach. Was this only a remonstration before her death, some kind of sick sermon from the ancient spirit? <em>No</em>, she told herself<em>. Doubt is how victory slips away</em>. It must be a test, it must.

    ¡°I do not believe that,¡± Angharad replied, looking down at the waters.

    She clenched her fists, knowing that as soon as the ripples settled she would once more see Augusto Cerdan betraying his kin and professed love for a better chance at running away. The Fisher was not wrong, that the infanzon had done it because he feared her not. Because he thought he would get away with it, that even if she survived she would be bound by oaths not to y him for his treachery. All of this might never have happened, if she had simply let him fallst night. But that was not the whole of it, was it?

    If you began to act in only the ways that helped you, if you cared nothing for duty and dues, then you were as an animal. And that sickness, it spread until there was now but thew of the sword and the whole world was as a butcher¡¯s yard. There was a cost to peace, to plenty and safety and Vesper being more than packs of wolves tearing each other to bits: sometimes, you had to lose. To ept that you could not win every time, because if you could not why should anyone?

    Honour had been used against her, but that did not mean honour was wrong. Only that the wicked had been cleverer than she.

    ¡°Having the sharpest de,¡± she quietly said, ¡°that¡¯s not what honour is. It is defending the weak, it is doing the right thing. Even when it costs you.¡±

    The Fisher did not even turn her way.

    ¡°Then perish.¡±

    It was not a test, Angharad Tredegar then understood. It had never been. This was no tale of the Fifth Branch, where the clever princess moved the heart of the spirit with her honour. No y where her perseverance would be rewarded with the aid of an all-powerful ally, not even a song of cleverness and guile. The old monster she had made a pact with had wanted her to be a worse woman than she was, and now that she refused to be that monster would let her die. And the utter dismissal, the casual disinterest, was what burned her most. Because had the spirit not known who she was, when they made their pact? And now it shamed her for it, as if being anything but a selfish pit of despair was some sort of sin.

    ¡°What did you choose me for, if not this?¡± Angharad snarled. ¡°What else, if not honour?¡±

    Below the waters, one of the shadows bit the bait. It struggled after, scared and hurting and somehow knowing it was going to die.

    ¡°I remember them shouting of it,¡± the Fisher said, ¡°when the ships firstnded on our shores.¡±

    Arms like towers pulled, ripping out of the water a wriggling shape that Angharad¡¯s eyes shied away from. It was caught in a great palm, the barbed hook deftly slid out of shadowy flesh.

    ¡°Honour, honour!¡± the spiritughed. ¡°They raised it a banner, bedecked their champions in it, painted it on the lips of their queens.¡±

    The wriggling thing fought with terror¡¯s strength, but for all its efforts it did not slip the Fisher¡¯s grasp. Angharad could not see the old spirit¡¯s face but she knew it was smiling, just as she knew that part of her would have wept at the sight of it. The Fisher¡¯s fingers squeezed, and after a wet and ugly crack the wriggling thing no longer wiggled at all.

    ¡°How sweet it made their screams taste, when my teeth cracked their bones.¡±

    Angharad shivered as the spirit tossed the broken thing into the basket, where the dead flesh spread terror like poison in a cup.

    ¡°They loved their honour so much, your forebears,¡± the Fisher reminisced, ¡°that I nailed them to the Young Shore so they might sing of it on the wind for theiring kin to hear.¡±

    <em>Oh Sleeping God</em>, Angharad trembled. <em>What have I done? </em>

    ¡°There were so many the sea turned red,¡± the spirit told her lovingly, ¡°that not even seagulls could drown out the screams.¡±

    What had she sworn to free or die trying?

    ¡°Honour?¡± the Fisher said. ¡°I would not give wind for honour. I gifted you my sagacity, child, because you hate them. Because you fear them.¡±

    And on the water before them Angharad saw scrawled the nightmare of the night where her life had been broken forever, the fire and the screams and the blood on the stone. Her breath caught in her throat and she did not deny the spirit¡¯s words for they were the truth.

    Angharad Tredegar would avenge her family.

    That oath she could not break, not without killing what was left of the girl who had been daughter of Rhiannon and Gwydion Tredegar. And if she killed that girl, what was even left?

    ¡°It has be half your name,¡± the spirit said. ¡°You cannot renounce that, so the journey has be inevitable.¡±

    The Fisher slowly turned, and before her trembling gaze fled to the stones at her feet the Pereduri glimpsed trails of ichor on grey flesh.

    ¡°There is poison in your veins, Angharad Tredegar,¡± the Fisher fondly said, ¡°and when you learn to drink of it, you will be a thing of dread. One fit to break the locks on my cage.¡±

    And as Angharad looked down at her boots, she saw the mistake atst. Because the spirit had cut to the bone of her, but he had not done it without a price to himself: he had revealed of him as much as he stripped bare of her. <em>I gave you my sagacity</em>, the Fisher had said. Nor merely a boon or a sliver of power, but a part what he was. That was not a small thing, one without costs or one that could easily taken back. If she died, he would <em>lose</em> something ¨C and not least of it what the spirit thought was a chance of someone capable of freeing him.

    Her gaze rose back to the water, finding once more Augusto Cerdan¡¯s feverishly triumphant gaze looking back at her.

    ¡°You need me,¡± Angharad quietly said.

    ¡°There are others,¡± the Fisher said, ¡°and my nature is patient.¡±

    ¡°But not wasteful,¡± she said. ¡°You brought me here for a reason, Fisher. To learn your answer, so that I might beat the eldestw. You do not want me to be dead for all that you castigate me. You want me to be strong.¡±

    <em>For that is the only way you think I will ever be able to free you</em>, she thought.

    ¡°Go on, then,¡± Angharad Tredegar said, forcing herself to look at the face of horror. ¡°Show me your way.¡±

    She saw nothing, only grey and shadow and ichor, yet still her eyes watered with tears. Then she smelled blood, felt it inside her mouth and sliding down her cheeks. She did not flinch or look away. The Fisherughed: a ship breaking on a reef, a shield wall shattering.

    ¡°I am no peddler god, child,¡± the spirit said. ¡°I gave you a gift of blood and bone, which you have not learned to use. Did I give you eyes or my own sagacity?¡±

    ¡°Then teach me,¡± Angharad challenged.

    ¡°That is why you are here,¡± the Fisher said. ¡°You lessen yourself, clinging to your body like the shore. That is a child¡¯s fear.¡±

    The great spirit¡¯s voice rang like a decree.

    ¡°y it,¡± he said. ¡°Embrace the water.¡±

    She watched the water before her, writ with light and a tale of treachery, and took a step beyond the shore. The water was cool, cold in a way that seeped into her bones, but she pressed on. A step after another, until was swallowed whole and she opened her eyes.

    --

    She stood besides Angharad Tredegar, whose expression was startled fury, and stepped away.

    Violence exploded, the cultists charging towards the shout and pinning thepany down. Still surprised, the four behind the tree hesitated. Isabel took a crossbow bolt to the belly, falling with a scream, and Angharad Tredegar charged into the mass of warriors.

    She would die, Angharad thought, it was only a matter of time.

    Brun tried to sink his hatchet in Augusto Cerdan¡¯s back, eyes shining with emotion, but Beatris stopped him. She pulled at him and Song, face conflicted, said something to both.

    Angharad thought she would be able to hear, if she came closer, but she could not quite manage it.

    The three fled, Augusto struck across the face when he tried to go with them. He doubled it through the clearing even as Cozme was struck with a spear and Remund lost a hand to a sword blow. Cozme tried to run, but he was caught by one of the watchers and beaten unconscious.

    Angharad Tredegar killed five before Ocon broke her leg and Tupoc rammed his spear through her heart. She died trying to w at his throat onest time, but her bloody fingers fell short.

    --

    Angharad¡¯s head broke the water, gasping. She felt a massive hand rest atop the crown of her head.

    ¡°Do better,¡± the Fisher said, and forced her back under.

    --

    This time, Angharad Tredegar began by pulling Isabel out of the way. She ran towards the other four and Cozme Aflor took a crossbow bolt in the back halfway there. They all rushed into the clearing, sweeping over the two watchers like a tide, but the warband caught up with them before they reached the trees. Three survived to run.

    Angharad Tredegar was not one of them.

    --

    She sucked in a breath, emerging from the water.

    ¡°Please,¡± Angharad said, ¡°I need-¡±

    ¡°Again,¡± the Fisher said, and pushed her back under

    --

    Angharad Tredegar charged the watchers herself, hoping the others would follow. She took a wound to a thrown knife and Brun was shot in the arm, but they made it across the clearing before the warband caught up with them. She shouted an order and everyone scattered, as she did, running their own way towards the sanctuary road.

    Five survived to flee.

    Angharad Tredegar¡¯s wound slowed her enough that Leander Gtas traced a Sign before her and she hit a wall that could not be seen, falling down for a hollow to knock unconscious. The warband took her.

    --

    ¡°I¡¯m drowning,¡± Angharad gasped. ¡°You can¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Again,¡± the Fisher said.

    --

    Angharad Tredegar ordered them so scatter before they had finished running across the clearing.

    Two survived to flee.

    --

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how,¡± she pleaded, mouth full of water and blood. ¡°I can¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Then try again,¡± the Fisher said.

    --

    Nine more times she went under, until atst she found it. The loop in the hole, the winding path. And as the Fisher¡¯s hand left her head, she fell to her knees in the shallows by the shore. Crawling as she coughed and wheezed, spitting out water tinted red.

    ¡®¡¯It¡¯s too much,¡± she got out. ¡°It would have killed me.¡±

    ¡°Without my hand, the poison will eat you from within,¡± the Fisher acknowledged. ¡°But you have learned, and will learn. It is a beginning.¡±

    It would never be like that again, Angharad grasped. No more chances by the dozen, only the poison pill she could swallow and hope not to die. But the Fisher had not lied. She could do it, now. Step out of herself, beyond what she had thought the limits of her pact: that she could only have glimpses, and only through her own eyes. And that was yet a beginning in the old spirit¡¯s eyes. What kind of terrible gift had she bargained for? Sagging against the rocks, water stillpping at her legs, Angharad closed her eyes. Listening to her own breath, she could only think of how close she hade to drowning.

    Would she have be one of those wriggling things in the water, if she had?

    She stayed there on the shore, prostrated like one of the forebears the Fisher had told her he had mutted and tortured. But like all things out of the spirit¡¯s mouth, that had not been the story whole.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t strong enough, in the end,¡± Angharad said. ¡°My forebears, they beat you. You lost the war.¡±

    The Fisher¡¯s gaze rested on her.

    ¡°They bled me and bound me, Angharad Tredegar,¡± the Fisher said. ¡°They stole half my name. But they could not end me, not for all their desperate bargains. So they buried me deep, where no one would find me.¡±

    The spiritughed but it was the sound of teeth gnashing until they shattered, of a limb dipped in scalding water.

    ¡°They should have known better. Nothing is ever lost.¡±

    She could feel the cold leaving her, the stillness fading. This ce was about to end.

    ¡°Yet you are wrong, Angharad Tredegar,¡± the Fisher said.

    And thest thing she heard before opening her eyes chilled her blood.

    ¡°I have not lost the war: so long as I exist, it has yet to end.¡±

    --

    She grabbed Isabel by the sleeve, pulling her along. That way Remund would not hesitate to follow. Angharad ran out from the cover of the tree, the taller of the cultist watchers palming a knife as the other charged with his spear. She released Isabel¡¯s sleeve, speeding forward, and at thest moment took a left. The thrown knife went wide, the other¡¯s spear came for her belly but a pivot and a spin opened the charging hollow¡¯s throat.

    A heartbeatter Song shot the second watcher.

    Angharad turned, only for Isabel to gasp and even Master Cozme rock back.

    ¡°Your eyes,¡± Isabel stammered. ¡°There¡¯s so much blood.¡±

    Oh, was that why she felt so light-headed? That was unfortunate.

    ¡°Contract,¡± she curtly said. ¡°The three of you must run west, it¡¯s your best chance.¡±

    ¡°How do you-¡±

    Angharad brushed past Remund, ignoring his question, and intercepted thest four as they rushed into the clearing with a slight dy. She needed to refine that, buy a little more time, but they would not listen if she asked. So instead she strode forward, past a haggard Brun and Beatris, and rammed her fist in Augusto Cerdan¡¯s belly. He tried to block it but he was slow and fearful, so he was on his knees and dry retching in the heartbeat that followed.

    ¡°Tredegar, now is <em>not the time</em>,¡± Cozme called out, rushing towards them.

    Good, that should do it. A nce back told her that Isabel and Remund were already running towards the woods, as she¡¯d told them to. When Song caught up, for once looking disturbed, Angharad met her eyes. Song was always the one who listened when she gave an order, no matter the try. The noblewoman would prove worthy of that trust.

    ¡°Take them by the eastern path,¡± she said, gesturing at Brun and Beatris. ¡°You can¡¯t join up with the others, not yet.¡±

    Song nodded, face tight.

    ¡°I will wait for you at the end of the road,¡± she said. ¡°For as long as I can.¡±

    ¡°Sleeping God go with you,¡± Angharad smiled, and walked past her.

    Now to find out if she had been clever enough. Cozme was helping up the traitor as the warband broke past the treeline and in that moment she saw the dilemma on the face of the white-haired priest. The man could see a pair entering the trees near the western edge of the crag, three most of the way to the eastern path and three still in the middle of the clearing. One of these was being helped up, and the one doing that was older than the runners. In the heartbeat that followed the old cultist made the easy choice, barking out his orders. The warband would go for the three sacrifices they were certain to get, writing off the rest.

    The warriors came for them like a pack of wolves.

    ¡°You¡¯ve killed us all, you bitch,¡± Augusto gasped out.

    ¡°You, I will most certainly kill before this is done,¡± Angharad agreed. ¡°Let us find out for the rest.¡±

    The elder Cerdan ran for it, as he had thest two glimpses, and Master Cozme followed him after hesitating for a heartbeat. Angharad instead tapped the t of her sword against her shoulder, granting the warband an impable duellist¡¯s salute and earning an absolutely delightedugh from Tupoc Xical. Now, she thought, it was all over except the dance. She began backing away towards the east, the edge of the crag, and watched as the lead hollows hesitated. Most chose to pursue Augusto and Cozme, since she did not appear to be fleeing, including the remaining crossbowman - who¡¯d had the gall to kill her thrice.

    By the time a party gathered to corner her with her back to the cliff, she was facing only nine cultists and Tupoc¡¯s crew. The rest were in pursuit, not yet knowing the effort was fruitless.

    ¡°Surrender, child,¡± the old hollow in robes told her. ¡°You will not be harmed by our hand if youy down your arms.¡±

    ¡°Come and take them, hollow,¡± she replied, open in her disdain.

    The warriors, infuriated by her disrespect for what she still suspected to be some kind of priest, broke ranks to rush her. With that many headed her way, it should be that ¨C ah, and there it was. Tupoc ordered his pack of traitors to hold back, going in alone. Getting her arm broken by that hammer once had been quite enough: Ocon was remarkably quick for a man his size. Differences in height meant the hollows reached her as an uneven line, so Angharad slid into the gap. She stepped past a wild axe swing, racking her saber down the man¡¯s back, and pivoted as the two hollows closest turned to converge on her.

    Sheshed the first across the eyes before he could bring up his sword, ignoring his scream in favour of stepping out of a thrusting spear. She avoided the point but the cultist was skilled enough to p her shoulder with the haft, which hurt but more importantly <em>slowed</em> her. She was more tired than she had been in the glimpses. Her body did not move as quickly and it was only getting worse. She stepped further away from the cliff, letting the warriors converge on her from all sides except the back, then when enough weremitted she<em></em>charged.

    The spears got in each other¡¯s way, needing too much space for how close the warriors were, and she ducked under a sword blow to hammer her shoulder into the hollow¡¯s chest. It hurt her more than him ¨C he was wearing a breastte ¨C but he was knocked down and she stepped over him. Not quite quickly enough to avoid a cut in the back of her shoulder, just to the side of the bag still fastened there, but the axeman got a little too close and she hacked halfway through his wrist before dancing away. Towards the ledge, counting her steps so she would not fall over it. That had been a most embarrassing death. Two had been made unable to fight, a respectable beginning, but it would notst.

    Tupoc had stayed out of it so far, watching her fight with smiling pale eyes, but when he struck it was the same way he always did.

    He waited until the hollows that¡¯d run into each other spread out into a half circle, this time the spearmen keeping careful distance from each other, and when they struck he slid past them ¨C after tripping a spearman into her without batting an eye. She sliced open the spearman¡¯s throat without hesitattion and kicked him back into Tupoc, but the Azn was too quick. He danced around the corpse, his strange segmented spear feinting for her throat and scoring a mark against her cheek when she was forced to parry. She saw the sword move from the corner of her eye and knelt, slicing through the back of the hollow¡¯s right knee and pushing him over the edge while he screamed.

    Four now, she was near the right amount. The only trouble was that handling Tupoc in a fight was like kissing a viper, a truth the Azn kept fresh by forcing her to throw herself to the side to avoid being impaled. She shed at the closest hollow¡¯s ankles to force her to keep back, but Tupoc smashed the middle of her back with the butt of his spear and she let out a hiss of pain. Rolling over she shed his way, letting him dance back, and/

    The hollow rammed the spear through the back of her right knee, ripping a scream from her throat

    /stepped to the right, letting out a scream as her veins burned. Her muscles spasmed, her heart beat wildly and Angharad thought that if she glimpsed even once more today her veins would fill with smoke. She had used the Fisher¡¯s gift all too much. The hollow that¡¯d almost impaled her took advantage of her span of weakness, striking her in the belly with the side of his spear, but Angharad took the hit and grabbed the shaft. Grunting with effort, feet spread wide, she forced the man into Tupoc¡¯s path ¨C who pushed him off the ledge without pause ¨C and threw the spear in the legs of the hollowing from her side. She needed space, just a little more space, to get to the right ce.

    Gritting her teeth, she rushed the hollow she¡¯d just thrown the spear at and hacked at his face. Only it was hasty blow, awkwardly ced, and his parry caught it clean. It held her in ce just long enough for another warrior to narrowlynd a blow against her head, cutting through braids and scalp before she rammed her saber through his wide-open guard and plunged it through his eye. Withdrawing, blood dripping down her face, she fled into the space she had made just as Tupoc came for her. This was never a fight she was going to win, no matter how many times she tried, and if she even won <em>too much</em> of it the result would be her death.

    If they hated her too much, they would make sure she was dead.

    Just as her backfoot slid past a trail of wildflowers, Angharad stepped closer to the ledge and parried Tupoc¡¯s thrust. He redirected it to hit the side of her knee, but she came even closer to the edge and the Azn saw his opening. Pivoting so he was facing her with the cliff behind her, he twirled his spear. The trick had killed her, the first time he pulled it out. Now she could only hope she had read it right because everything depended on it. The first feint was at her right shoulder and she ignored it, preparing to catch the blow to her belly instead ¨C that she made to parry, only to overextend and¡­

    The spearhead ripped up and down, through her bag and shallowly on the flesh beneath.

    Angharad fled the steel, stumbling back one step and then another, only to find herself leaning back at the very edge of the cliff. Tupoc¡¯s eyes widened as she began to lose her bnce, and thest saw thing she saw before toppling over the edge was the smile on his too-perfect face while he gave her a textbook-perfect duellist¡¯s salute.

    She had exactly two heartbeats to live.

    The first was spent snatching the hook at the end of the rope ¨C which she could not take out herself, they¡¯d look for her, the bag had to be cut open so she could do it in time ¨C and strike forward with it. Just in time for the iron hooks to sink deep into the dead tree just over the edge, her sweat-drenched fingers slipping as she desperately held on to the rope burning her hands. She smacked into the cliffside, not hard enough to fall but hard enough it jolted her spine and she had to swallow a scream of pain. Her arms burned but she held, no matter the pain she held. Below, ttering down against the rock, fell two things: the pack she no longer cared for and the saber her father had ordered made for her. She needed both hands for the rope, she¡¯d tried it.

    Surviving in honour had a price, the Fisher had not lied about that.

    Folded under the log, Angharad kept her mouth shut as one of the hollows came to have a look over the edge and cursed. He yelled something back at the others in anguage she did not know, stepping away, and when Tupoc came to have his look he said not a word. The one time she had killed seven, the cultists had hated her enough to look closely: they¡¯d seen the hooks in the log and pushed it down with their spears.

    ¡°I told you she was not going to be one of the easy ones, Bishop Rholes,¡± Tupoc drawled in Antigua. ¡°You should have listened.¡±

    ¡°You told me much, but I now question the worth of your word,¡± a man replied in the same tongue, heavily ented.

    It was the old hollow¡¯s voice, she recognized, the one who she thought might be a priest. Bishop must be some kind of darkling title. Angharad held on tight to the rope, pressing herself against the cliff of the crag. Already her arms ached from having borne her entire weight and more during the fall, but to loosen her grip was to die. Sweat pricked against her palms, the rough hemp of the rope helping none, and she desperately looked for an outcropping to rest her feet on. This was the farthest she had ever got with foresight, beyond this she was blind.

    ¡°How so?¡± Tupoc asked as he stepped away, sounding genuinely curious.

    ¡°We bargained for four,¡± Rholes coldly said. ¡°You have not delivered four, Leopard Man.¡±

    ¡°I promised you opportunities, Bishop,¡± Tupoc replied. ¡°Not birds in hand. If you could not catch as many as you wanted, that is your failure and not mine.¡±

    Sleeping God, was she going to die here because her arms were too weak? There was nothing to hold onto, only a cliff rippling down to where her broken corpse would lie. Her boots slid against the stone and she fought down a rising panic, pulling herself up as she ignored the burn rising in her arms. That was when she saw it ¨C not below her, but to the side. The skeletal dried remains of a bush, jutting out of the crag¡¯s side. It was to her left and she had to wiggle to the side of the stump, dread turning her limbs to lead, then pull herself up so she could rest her foot against the stump. It was higher and now her head was slightly over the edge, so-

    The dead bush gave, the old wood snapping, and she fell down half a foot as she bit down on a scream until her lip bled. She was slipping, her fingers wing at stone, and though she still held the rope the hooks at the end of it hade half-loose from the stump. She mmed her chin into the crag¡¯s ground, ignoring the pain as she tried to slow the slide. If she fell, if she <em>fell</em>¡­ Her boot hit the bottom of the bush, a part that did not give for it was wedged into stone, and her slide came to a halt. Angharad felt like weeping with relief, but she could not.

    Tough her face was half-hidden by a clump of wildflowers, through them she could see Tupoc Xical and his footpads standing with the warband of hollows. If she made too much noise, they would find out she still lived.

    ¡°- so go pick up her corpse at the bottom of the cliff,¡± Tupoc dismissed. ¡°Do you expect me to roast the flesh and pour your wine as well, Rholes?¡±

    ¡°The god cares nothing for the flesh of the dead,¡± Bishop Rholes bit out. ¡°It is the living that make worthy sacrifices.¡±

    ¡°If you expect resurrection of me,¡± the Azn drawled, ¡°I can only apud your optimism, my friend.¡±

    Lady Acanthe let out a snigger, then hid it behind a hand when the bishop turned to re at her. More warriors hade through the woods, bringing their numbers up to a dozen, and that was a great many more than Tupoc and his traitors. Angharad saw the anger on their pale faces, the way they bristled at the disrespect their priest was being shown, and wondered what the Azn¡¯s game was. Did he really think he could win if it came to a fight?

    ¡°Four taken, four allowed through,¡± Rholes insisted. ¡°If you do not live up to your end of the bargain, why should we?¡±

    Thergest of the two Azn, Ocon, leaned forward with an ugly grin as he hefted hisrge hammer over his shoulder.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want anything to do with that scrap, hollow,¡± he said. ¡°Believe me.¡±

    One of the hollows, wearing a shirt of iron mail, spat to the side and came to stand by his priest with his hand on his sword.

    ¡°Let us fight them, lord,¡± he said. ¡°We will take them all to the temple, I swear it. Their disrespect demands punishment.¡±

    Tupoc¡¯s footpads stirred in unease, for the hollows were reaching for their arms. Swords and spears and axes, even two crossbows. However skilled a warrior, numbers were not something easily challenged,

    ¡°He won¡¯t do that,¡± the eerie Azn smiled, raising his right wrist. ¡°Will you, Bishop?¡±

    On it was small bracelet of beads, ck stones sculpted in the Azn style. Angharad¡¯s gaze dipped to Bishop Rholes, who was rubbing an identical bracelet worn on his left wrist. The old hollow¡¯s face was considering, and after pulling away from the bracelet he tugged at his white beard.

    ¡°I think,¡± Bishop Rholes slowly said, ¡°that two is not enough. That you are short enough of the oath that I will be afforded enough room.¡±

    Tupoc¡¯s face was a smiling mask, but some with him were easier to read.

    ¡°He might be right,¡± Leander Gtas nervously said. ¡°If he tries to take us prisoner instead of kill us, he might not forfeit his heart.¡±

    His leader, the traitor of traitors, eyed him with dislike. A nce was enough to have the gaunt man flinching back, reaching for the arm he¡¯d lost on the Bluebell before proving himself a man without honour.

    ¡°You would take such a risk out of petty spite?¡± Tupoc lightly said. ¡°I do not think you so careless, Rholes.¡±

    ¡°Two,¡± the bishop tly repeated, ¡°is not enough. I already took a risk on this bargain, Leopard Man. I will not return to my god with such petty offerings.¡±

    ¡°That is troubling,¡± Tupoc replied.

    He hummed, prowling back and forth like the great cat after which his society had been named. His gaze swept around, thoughtful, and for a terrifying heartbeat Angharad thought he had seen her through the flowers. But his gaze moved on and lingered on the hollows, as if measuring them, before he let out a sigh.

    ¡°Very well,¡± he said, and struck Leander Gtas in the belly.

    The sailor gasped in pain, bending forward, and before he could so much as trace a Sign the Azn grabbed him by the head and smashed it into his knee. Gtas dropped to the ground in a sprawl, bloody-faced and unconscious. Tupoc took a step back, ignoring the horrified look Acanthe Phos was shooting him just as much as Ocon¡¯s mocking chuckle.

    ¡°Three for three, then,¡± Tupoc offered the bishop. ¡°That should sate your god and our terms both.¡±

    Bishop Rholesughed.

    ¡°A true son of the Radiance,¡± he said. ¡°Not a speck of loyalty in you.¡±

    Tupoc arched a too-prefect brow, as if to ask him to get on with it.

    ¡°The bargain holds,¡± Rholes conceded. ¡°You may reach the sanctuary under blessing of peace.¡±

    Neither side was eager to remain after that, the cultists taking their wounded and their fresh sacrifice before heading south. The search for Cozme and Augusto, she saw, had been called off: the warriors that¡¯d gone after them returned empty-handed, following their brethren south. Tupoc and his remaining helpers began heading north after they went, towards the road that would lead to sanctuary. Only the Azn begged off leaving immediately, telling them to go ahead, and he headed towards the edge of the cliff the moment they entered the woods. Panic rising, Angharad lowered herself past the edge of the cliff. Even if she fought him and win, the noise was sure to bring back hollows. If he found her, she was dead.

    Not even ten heartbeatster pale eyes looked down at her from over the ledge, taking in her situation with nothing but amusement.

    ¡°I told you,¡± Tupoc Xical conversationally said, ¡°that you would regret noting with me.¡±

    ¡°Damn you,¡± Angharad hissed. ¡°Damn you for this and for all-¡±

    The Azn reached down, pressing the butt of his spear against her forehead, and she swallowed her anger. Drops of cold sweat ran down her back. All he needed to do was push and down she went.

    ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± Tupoc smiled.

    He suddenly burst forward, and though it took all she had Angharad did not allow herself to flinch. And that was all he¡¯d sought, she realized a heartbeatter, for her to flinch: the spear had not moved so much as a hair¡¯s breadth. Those unnatural pale eyes had watched her all the while and finally the Azn nodded.

    ¡°You are a delight,¡± Tupoc Xical said with satisfaction, drawing back. ¡°I look forward to working with you in the second trial, Lady Tredegar.

    The spear withdrew and the monster offered her a salute with it.

    ¡°Until then, a good day to you.¡±

    And just like that, he left. From her sight first, then disappearing into the woods where the others had gone. Angharad, breathing shallow, dragged herself over the edge. There shey in the dirt, sweaty and bloody and caked in filth. Her body burned, but not half as much as the indignation in her belly.

    Swallowing the scream in her throat, Angharad Tredegar pushed herself up to her feet and began her walk to the Trial of Ruins.

 Chapter 17

    Chapter 17

    Tristan, sitting on a stone, idly strummed at strings that did not exist. The supplicant¡¯s cithara in his hands was but a petrified piece of wood without the additional essory of a priest with mastery of the Gloam to weave strings and pluck at them. The first might not be so impossible, but the second was rather more of a hurdle. So, in the hours past midnight but before they left, Tristan asked a burning question.

    ¡°Can you y cithara?¡±

    Sarai eyed him like he¡¯d tracked mud all over her nice Izcalli carpet.

    ¡°Can you dance the <em>moravac</em>?¡± she shot back.

    The thief duly considered this.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never tried,¡± he said.

    ¡°There¡¯s your answer,¡± Sarai easily replied.

    He supposed it would have been a too lucky for one of them to be able to y the ancient magical instrument he¡¯d dug up from the shrine. As expected, he would have to scrap it for parts. Tristan would have liked to keep the cithara for the rest of the trials, but its bellyful of feathers would do the trick instead ¨C if only the once. Sarai¡¯s blue eyes remained on him, scrutinizing.

    ¡°You¡¯re scheming again,¡± she noted.

    ¡°I would never,¡± Tristan lied.

    ¡°We¡¯re not betraying Ferranda,¡± Sarai reminded him. ¡°She¡¯s lovely and her rtionship with Sanale is very romantic.¡±

    He blinked at her in surprise.

    ¡°Her what?¡± he repeated.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± Sarai patiently said, ¡°they have two bedrolls but only one gets mussed. Either one of them sleeps on stone or they¡¯re fucking.¡±

    He¡¯d actually thought Sanale was being very neat.

    ¡°They don¡¯t act like it,¡± he said.

    Tristan himself might not partake, but he had learned to recognize the signs of people being lovers. He¡¯d caught on that things between the pair were not quite as simple as mistress and hired hand, but he¡¯d not seen any telltale marks of there being a physical dalliance.

    ¡°They¡¯re probably used to being discreet,¡± she shrugged. ¡°She¡¯s a noble, right? I imagine her family would disapprove.¡±

    ¡°They likely don¡¯t know,¡± Tristan frowned.

    The way that Sanale was not a corpse floating by Fisherman¡¯s Quay was something of an indication. The thief could not remember ever hearing House Vizur before, but the other infanzones had treated Ferranda as one of them so she should not be an impostor. It must be one of the lesser houses, those barely above merchant households in means. <em>The kind that needs to marry its children well to keep themps lit</em>, he thought. He thought he might have an inkling of what Ferranda Vizur was after bying to the Dominion of Lost Things, and thus was forced into the unpleasant experience of feeling the barest kernel of respect for an infanzona.

    This ind truly was full of trials.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be keeping faith,¡± Tristan told hispanion, returning to the thread. ¡°I am only considering the ways our efforts might turn sour.¡±

    ¡°We are taking risks,¡± Sarai acknowledged. ¡°But there is no way forward without doing so.¡±

    They of their n was simple enough. Yong and Ferranda had found cultists encamped in the woods to the east of the bridge and killed a fox on the way back. Theirpany was to approach the camp while the hollows slept, then Tristan would stuff the fox carcass with every drop of lodestone extract he had left. One of the three among them that did not bumble in the woods would nt the carcass in the cultist camp, at which point their group would begin a circuitous route west while waiting for the heliodoran beast to attack the hollows. With both their obstacles keeping each other busy, they were then to run for the bridge in rtive safety and hope the great lemure did not finish the cultists off before they could cross.

    It was going to blow up in their faces.

    If someone asked him why he was so sure of that Tristan would have struggled to answer, but within the enclosure of his own mind it seemed obvious. It was in the moving parts, the hitch of the clock, the ringing of the coin as it spun up: debacle was in the air. Too much neatness was being relied on and if years with Fortuna¡¯s had taught Tristan Abrascal anything it was how to sniff out aing debacle. Now, the clever thing would be to find his way out and prepare for when firmament dropped on their heads ¨C ensure, by hook or crook, that he was not the one of the lost.

    But the thief gotten greedy since he sailed to the Dominion. Too used to the shelter ofpanions that would not easily betray him, to others keeping their word and expecting his to be kept. To all theforts that were a slow poison, dulling your edge and lulling your eyes into closing. <em>Never grow roots</em>, Abu had taught him. <em>Trees are good only for felling.</em> Hard as the lesson had been to live up to, it had also kept him alive: how many times had he crossed a slumlord or a gang only for their swaggering bullies to find he was a ghost? No home, no haunts, no ties. No man could take revenge on morning mist.

    Tristan had not forgot the methods through which he¡¯d stayed alive so long, how in his own way he¡¯de to thrive ¨C a fatter rat than most ¨C but still he found his mind spinning out the wrong ns. Tacking on demands, like keeping Song and Sarai alive. Vanesa as well, the thought crept in, but bit down on it. If he opened the door to the old woman then Francho would not be far behind and soon he would like a miner out of the Trenches: back breaking for the weight of the stones he carried.

    ¡°When ites tumbling down, and it will,e find me,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I may be able to keep us alive.¡±

    The heliodoran beast was clever, for a lemure: not the kind of creature that would eat poison if it could smell it. And it so happened that Tristan had a cithara¡¯s worth of something the beast would want to avoid.

    If he stretched them thin, there might be feathers enough for three.

    --

    Traipsing through the woods was significantly more unpleasant when they were wet.

    It had rained while Yong and Ferranda went looking for the cultists and gods but he wished it had been long enough since for the forest to dry. Vanesa thrice tripped on a slippery root she misjudged the distance of before he asked Aines to stay with her, Felis kept shivering from the cold ¨C a fresh lick of dust courtesy of Lan had perked him up but also made him feverish ¨C and with the rain washing off many of the marks Ferranda had left they¡¯d got lost for half an hour. Sanale took the lead in her ce, effectively trailzing, which slowed them down further. They advanced with thenterns veiled until only the barest slice of light showed, a procession trying to be quiet but falling short of sess.

    At least no one was chatting.

    With Sarai ahead of him and Francho behind, the thief had much room to move and so he was left alone with his thoughts. It was not a blessing: with only himself forpany, they kept going in increasingly grim circles. Perhaps it was his difort with the woods or simply the way the darkness seemed like it kept closing in from all sides, but part of him could not help but feel they were walking to their deaths. As if they had all missed a knife with their names written on the de. The same instincts that had guided him in Sacromonte insisted he was making a mistake and it frustrated him not to know if it was unease talking or if he should be listening.

    ¡°You look like you¡¯re chewing on a lemon,¡± Fortuna told him.

    ¡°I feel as if I am pulling a noose around my neck,¡± Tristan muttered back. ¡°How else should I look?¡±

    Pondering this, the goddess mimed pulling at a rope above her head and rolled her eyes before lolling out her tongue.

    ¡°Mwore like tshis,¡± she informed him.

    It was one of the keenestforts of Tristan¡¯s life that other people could not see Fortuna.

    And to think some schrs insisted gods were fonts of wisdoms, that their words could open up fresh realms of understanding. Still, his lips twitched. Any moment now ¨C the golden-haired goddess, still taunting him with rolled up eyes, walked backwards straight into a tree. This did not actually hurt her in any way, but as tended to be the way when she ran into things without noticing Fortuna emerged on the other side ring at the tree as if she had been personally attacked. However grim the situation, watching the Lady of Long Odds begin yet another imcable blood feud with an inanimate object did wonders for his mood.

    She¡¯d once spent an entire month trying to talk him into tearing down a worn statue of Emperor Pere after passing through it mid-sentence. Tristan, naturally, had instead paid the matron of the house across the street to thoroughly clean it. Best nine radizes he¡¯d ever spent.

    Ducking under a low branch, the thief followed the sight of Sarai¡¯s back. She had cut away at her skirts since her face was revealed, making slits so they could more easily be run in, and taken off her gloves. She still carried only a knife for weapon, but what did she need des and powder when she could call on the powers of the Gloam? The thief bit his lip, hard enough he almost drew blood. He was still tired from running throughst night, despite the rest since, and their pace through the woods was slow enough it was not the first time he¡¯d caught his mind beginning to wander to nowhere. He¡¯d be of no use to anyone, not even himself, if the cultists got the drop on him.

    And the cult of the Red Eye was certain to have watchers. Their warband had raised its camp far from where their group had encountered the airavatan, but there was always a risk. It would have been madness not to keep a full watch with the likes of a heliodoran beast prowling the woods.

    The darkling camp Yong and Ferranda had found was about an hour to the east of the bridge, in the woods facing the tall grass. It was by the river ¨C which, this far east, was at the bottom of a wide ravine. The way the pair told it, they had found the hollows half by chance: it had begun to rain violently while they were out and during the storm part of the cliff the cultists had made their camp broke off and copsed into the ravine. If not for the ruckus that had made, the pair might have missed the darklings entirely for their camp was well-hidden behind a tall thicket of trees and broken ring of raised stones.

    Sarai slowed in front of him, then weaved behind a tree. Following quietly, Tristan found that in the small clearing before him ¨C little more than a dozen feet of room between trees, all wet earth and stinking dead leaves ¨C most of their party had stopped. The two who had been leading them, Yong and Sanale, must have called a halt. He joined them to find out why, the informal circle that¡¯d formed to make decisions assembling in short order: Ferranda and Sanale, he and Yong and Sarai. And Lan, who instead of chasing away he made eye contact with.

    The blue-lipped Tianxi met his gaze and dipped her head in acknowledgement of the debt ¨C he could force to leave but had not ¨C and he looked away to find Sarai¡¯s lips twitching as she made no pretence she had not been watching them. As tended to be the way with her, he was left feeling wretchedly bare.

    ¡°We are close to the camp,¡± Yong told them. ¡°No more than half an hour at our current pace.¡±

    ¡°We were supposed to get closer still,¡± Ferranda Vizur said. ¡°Why stop now?¡±

    Tristan forced himself not to look at Vanesa, who had beengging behind even with Aines¡¯ help. It was close to morning now, as they¡¯d left only after everyone grabbed a few hours of sleep in anticipation of the early start, but at her age that made little difference. <em>It won¡¯t be about her, besides</em>, he thought. Yong had never been shy about his belief that if the greyhairs could not keep up they should be left behind.

    ¡°I found tracks,¡± Sanale said.

    ¡°From your tone,¡± Sarai slowly said, ¡°they are not ours from earlier.¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°Fresh.¡±

    ¡°There should not be anyone from the Bluebell left around here,¡± Lan noted. ¡°That leaves only hollows.¡±

    Or the Watch, Tristan thought, but they should not be involving themselves in the Trial of Lines.

    ¡°At least ten,¡± Sanale said, ¡°but they are good. Could be more. All moving east, quiet but quick.¡±

    ¡°If they were friends to the warband in the camp,¡± the thief said, ¡°they should have no reason to be sneaking around.¡±

    ¡°They could be hiding from the airavatan,¡± Sarai suggested.

    ¡°This far east?¡± Yong said. ¡°If it were anywhere near here it should have already found the camp. They must be hiding from the other hollows.¡±

    Tristan did not disagree. The beast hadst been seen hours to the west and it had no reason to push this far east save the hollow camp ¨C which would already be as a graveyard, if the airavatan had caught scent of it.

    ¡°Thatplicates things,¡± Ferranda Vizur grimaced. ¡°We don¡¯t want to be caught in the middle of a cult war.¡±

    ¡°If we let them get into a scrap first, it will be be easier to nt the carcass,¡± Tristan pragmatically said.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know if they will fight,¡± Yong said. ¡°They could band together. And even if they do, it might not be anytime soon.¡±

    It was early morning still, before the dawning hour where most of Sacromonte woke, so Tristan would admit it was a toss-up: there was no telling whether this fresh warband would want to press on to strike while the other hollows were asleep or rest instead.

    ¡°We must track them and find out,¡± Ferranda said.

    ¡°It would be dangerous to try the cultist camp before we know we won¡¯t be attacked from behind,¡± Sarai agreed.

    So did Tristan, as it happened, and the rest of them. Ferranda and Sanale were the ones who headed out into the woods, the rest of theirpany waiting in the clearing and huddling for warmth until the pair returned with news. The thief lowered himself to the ground and rested his back against a tree, closing his eyes to enjoy the break ¨C though not so much he ever ceased listening to the noises around him. All this talk of ambushes had his nerves thin. Before long he heard someone heading his way, though what he found when he opened his eyes surprised him. Francho, hand smoothing back what few wisps of white hair remained atop his head, came to plop himself down by his side.

    The old professor held his t cap tucked under the arm of his worn green coat, pulled tight enough around his neck that only the cor of his cotton shirt showed. His boots were of good make and obviously new, but his breeches werebourer¡¯s clothes in dull brown whose seams were beginning to give. He was dressed, Tristan thought, like a man who had raided his wardrobe for clothes he thought fitting for the countryside and put them out without thought to what fit and not. <em>You bought the boots just for the Dominion, didn¡¯t you?</em> That was telling, the thief thought. Francho, unlike Vanesa, still had an eye to living through this.

    The toothless old man let out a sigh when he rested his back against the tree, fruitlessly trying to pull his coat even tighter.

    ¡°Try to gather your strength,¡± Tristan advised. ¡°This is thest breath before the plunge.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯ve gathered,¡± Francho agreed. ¡°It has been an interesting few days, Tristan. I have seen things I never thought I might.¡±

    ¡°That temple was stripped clean,¡± the thief drily said. ¡°Is a single supplicant¡¯s cithara enough to please you so?¡±

    ¡°I went treasure hunting when I was a youth, so empty temples are old hand to me,¡± the old man chuckled. ¡°Three expeditions in the isles of Nemn, though our captains were so careful bolder hunters had already emptied the ruins.¡±

    The thief hid his surprise. The isles of Nemn were famous in Sacromonte: treasure hunters had been sailing there for decades yet were said to have found no more than a third of the inds. Many of them could only be reached if their name was known, some ancient Antediluvian aether machine otherwise keeping them hidden. Once every decade or so, when a new name was dug up by schrs, every treasure crew south of Ixion¡¯s Lighthousepeted to be the first to plunder the depths. The stories Tristan heard made it in the crews were as dangerous to each other as the dead gods and the traps, not at all the kind of ce he imagined a man who taught at the University of Reve might go.

    ¡°What was it that surprised you, then?¡± he asked.

    The old man paused for a moment.

    ¡°That young girl on the ship,¡± he said. ¡°I never caught her name.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s belly clenched. There was only one he could be meaning.

    ¡°Marz,¡± he said. ¡°Her name was Marz.¡±

    Francho sighed, which set him to coughing into his hand. The cough never got worse but neither did ever seem to go away, which had left the thief to wonder whether it was from the depredations of old age or from a contract¡¯s price.

    ¡°A tragedy,¡± Francho said. ¡°It always is, when a god takes one of us, but I had never thought to see a Saint with my own eyes.¡±

    ¡°I could do without seeing it again,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Francho softly said, ¡°I agree.¡±

    A hesitant pause.

    ¡°Have you read what Alizia Arquer wrote on the three modes of the divine?¡± Francho asked.

    Tristan cocked an eyebrow. As a matter of fact, he had. Abu had obtained for him the extract of the work being referred to, <em>The Sea of Shapes,</em> concerning the subject. He had been interested enough to track down aplete copy afterwards. He¡¯d even set aside his distaste for the family name involved ¨C the Arquer were one of the Six, the infanzones of infanzones ¨C and paid proper coin for it. Stealing from those who peddled witch books was a fool¡¯s bargain.

    ¡°Perception, dislocation and manifestation,¡± Tristan quoted.

    These were the three modes through which gods interacted with the material, ording to Lady Arquer. Perception, for a god to make themselves seen to a mortal, was the most basic. Even the most destitute of deities could do it and it was the limit of Fortuna¡¯s own power. Gods who were still little more than shapes in the aether first brushed against Vesper this way, reaching through ces or times matched to their nature. Tristan himself had met Fortuna at his lowest, hiding in a shattered shrine with no way to live save beating long odds.

    Dislocation was the act through which a god brought a mortal into themselves, a connection of souls that could not be done without an existing bridge ¨C usually a contract. It was an experience supposedly much like a vision, the world around you grinding to a halt until the god released their hold. Even that was a trick of perception, however, for no god was powerful enough to halt the march of Vesper: it was only by bringing a soul into themselves that could cheat and make a single heartbeat seem an hour.

    Thest was manifestation, what all gods relentlessly sought: to be physical, aether manifest. In Lady Arquer¡¯s words, ¡®to ovee entropy, existence bing less effort than absence¡¯. It could only be achieved through mortals - by contracts, sacrifice and prayer. The Manes, those old gods who were patrons to the infanzones, were said to have walked the world since before the fall of Liergan. Not all need be so old, forever. The Old Alcazar, the broken fortress at the heart of Sacromonte turned temple district, was full of temples and shrines to gods manifest. It wasn¡¯t only the nobles that saw divinity in the flesh either.

    Even the Murk had a few, though only fools bargained with gods who chose to make their home among squalor and desperation.

    ¡°Lady Alizia¡¯s works have long been of interest to the university,¡± Francho said. ¡°The Arquer now jealously hoard their secrets, so it has been the work of generations to expand on the original posttions.¡±

    Tristan was not surprised at the secrecy: the Arquer were famous for being able to forge ¡®legacy¡¯ contracts, bargains with gods that were passed down the bloodline. They sold that expertise for riches and favours, and whether you were a the most splendid of infanzones or the lowest of rats no one liked to share their begging bowl.

    ¡°I was once friends with the Master of Aetheric Studies, Tristan,¡± Francho continued with forced nonchnce, ¡°and she told me of an experiment made on the nature of sainthood.¡±

    ¡°Did she,¡± Tristan frowned, grown wary of the conversation.

    He could not grasp where the old professor was headed and it raised his hackles. This was not idle conversation, he could tell that much.

    ¡°The question to be resolved was as follows: does one absolutely need to draw on a contract for the process of sainthood to begin, or is continued exposition to the lesser modes ¨C perception and dislocation ¨C enough on its own?¡±

    The thief stilled. So that was what this conversation was about. He met the man¡¯s dark eyes.

    ¡°You heard me talking,¡± he said.

    Francho coughed, the sound of wet as the saliva flecking his lips.

    ¡°I saw your lips move,¡± he said. ¡°And once I thought of it, it is not so hard to put together: how often did I see you looking at something in the dark or muttering to yourself? I had though it a nervous habit.¡±

    Fortuna leaned against the tree, cocking an eyebrow as her red dress trailed in the muck and leaves.

    ¡°I thought it would be Sarai that caught us,¡± the goddess admitted. ¡°Interesting.¡±

    Tristan forced himself not to look. It was more habit than need, for already he knew that denial was not on the table.

    ¡°I am not in danger of sainthood,¡± Tristan replied in a murmur. ¡°There is no need to worry.¡±

    He would have preferred to dismiss the professor entirely but that would be unwise. If Francho took this to the others out of fear, the thief might well be cast out of theirpany: no one would want to take a risk with a Saint. The old man grimaced.

    ¡°I understand your god may be assuring you of that,¡± the old professor gently said, ¡°but perception is not meant tost so long. I imagine it began when you made your contract. How long have you been continuously seeing them ¨C a week, a month? The danger now grows by the hour.¡±

    Fortunaughed. He kept his face nk.

    ¡°Pretend,¡± the thief slowly said, ¡°that it has been a year.¡±

    ¡°Or ten,¡± the goddess added.

    Francho peered at him dubiously.

    ¡°That is¡­¡± he began, then stopped. ¡°You are serious.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°Your god should be dead,¡± the schr said. ¡°Perception takes power, and the god does not devour you at the end then it is frittering itself away for nothing. Once it has spent itself, its consciousness will fade back into the aether.¡±

    The thief flicked up a nce at Fortuna, who looked as baffled as he felt.

    ¡°It feels more natural to be with you than not,¡± the goddess told him. ¡°Tell the idiot I have not grown weaker.¡±

    ¡°It says it has not faded since starting,¡± Tristan duly repeated.

    Fortuna, scowling, began reaching for his hear as if threatening to pull at it.

    ¡°She,¡± he hastily revealed. ¡°She says.¡±

    ¡°<em>It</em>,¡± Fortuna repeated in disgust. ¡°You cmitous brat, how dare you deny my beauty for even an instant? Poets wept at my leaving, Tristan, they <em>fucking wept</em>.¡±

    s, they hadpany so he could ask her whether she was sure they had not been weeping <em>until </em>she left. Francho¡¯s eyes were wide and alight.

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± the old professor murmured. ¡°The study of gods is the study of exceptions so the cry of impossibility is that of a fool, but never have I seen our understanding of the modes so contradicted. Your goddess must be extraordinary.¡±

    A heartbeat passed.

    ¡°I¡¯ve changed my mind,¡± Fortuna announced, preening against the tree. ¡°He is obviously a man of piercing insight.¡±

    Tristan supposed it was senseless to call ttery a weakness when the Lady of Long Odds was made up mostly of those in the first ce. Describing her by her strengths would be like describing a sinking ship by how well its sails could catch the wind: not untrue but rather missing the point.

    ¡°A discussion for another time,¡± Tristan calmly replied, quite possibly meaning never. ¡°I hope your concerns were set to rest.¡±

    The schr looked puzzled, for a moment, and only then remembered how their conversation had begun. He coughed in embarrassment.

    ¡°Yes, naturally, of course,¡± Francho hurriedly said. ¡°I did not mean to pry into your affairs, my boy. It was only worry.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Tristan said, and in truth he did.

    He had not enjoyed the polite interrogation, for that was what their talk had been, but he might well have done the same in the other man¡¯s shoes. The professor still felt guilty, however, it was in on his face. In practice he had asked of Tristan¡¯s contract, which was the kind of thing some people pulled knives over. The guilt made the man babble, seeking to fill the silence. After a few aborted attempts at idle talk he fell back on safer grounds.

    ¡°I have been listening to old stones,¡± Francho said. ¡°The raised ring of stones where Yong and Lady Vizur found the hollow camp, you might be interested to hear it is only one of many.¡±

    Tristan cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°I am,¡± he admitted. ¡°There are others?¡±

    ¡°I am not sure of the number, but there will be others along the length of the river splitting the ind,¡± the professor said. ¡°More interesting yet, I believe them built by the same people who raised the shrine were we found Lady Vizur. The cultists care not for them, save as building materials.¡±

    ¡°So what were they for?¡± he asked. ¡°They do not look like shrines.¡±

    ¡°I cannot tell,¡± Francho enthusiastically said. ¡°Some voices speak of ritual killing, but that may be the work of the Red Eye ¨C it can be hard to tell the when and who of what I hear. I find intriguing, however, that they were raised along the river. Many cultures saw running water as a metaphysical boundary: the rings could be meant to strengthen or weaken it.¡±

    The chatted for a while still in low voices, Tristan keeping the talk going in part to distract from their earlier one. Twice he raised his voice when speaking of the stones when someone was close, the second time when it was Lan. That should throw them off the tracks of the earlier conversation. The talk was long done by the time Ferranda and Sanale returned.

    Their faces were grim. The news were not good.

    ¡°We did not find them,¡± the Mni bluntly said.

    The man¡¯s directness was starting to grow on him. It had a certain charm to it.

    ¡°The trail cut off after a field of gravel,¡± Ferranda added. ¡°There is no telling if they are still around.¡±

    Tristan took off his hat ¨C which was doing a delightful job of keeping dripping water off his scalp, a testament to the asional Mni stroke of brilliance ¨C and passed a hand through his hair.

    ¡°We need to nt the bait on the cultists anyway,¡± he said. ¡°If we wait too long they¡¯ll break camp and our n is good as finished.¡±

    None of them liked the additional risk, but what choice did they have? It was simple but careful work, stuffing the dead fox with lodestone extract. Lady Vizur had caught the animal the back with a throwing knife ¨C one he¡¯d never seen her use, caution he could only approve of ¨C so he had to widen the wound a bit before inserting the substance. He made sure wash his hands careful with alcohol after. There was less of it left than he would have liked.

    ¡°Careful not to get any on you,¡± he warned.

    Lady Ferranda silently nodded. She and Yong were the ones to set out for the cultist camp again, leaving the rest of them to wait in that same clearing. There was no point in finding a better hiding ce when the trees and stones here would serve fine. Tristan helped a tired Vanesa to fold her legs beneath a jutting rock, tucked away out of sight. The bandage around her eye was red again, he saw with a grimaced. But he only had one roll of makeshift bandages left and this would keep for a while still so he did not make the offer.

    ¡°We are almost through,¡± Tristan told her. ¡°Once we cross the bridge it should be a clear path to the second trial.¡±

    It would be senseless for cultists to wait in ambush past the bridge when the bridge was already being guarded. He could not be sure, of course, but he doubted there would be much trouble on thest stretch of the journey. Vanesa wanly smiled.

    ¡°My legs won¡¯t give yet, don¡¯t worry,¡± she said. ¡°It is these cursed roots that are never where they should be.¡±

    ¡°Once we¡¯re sure the beast is on the hollows, we¡¯ll open thenterns wide,¡± he told her. ¡°It will be easier to move for us all.¡±

    Sanale had done the rounds while he busied himself with the old woman, nudging the fewcking in prudence to find better ces, and now there were only the two of them left. The huntsman took him aside. Tristan had never gotten so close a look at the beadworks on the man¡¯s cloak and shirt before: they were all sharp angles and deep colors, though nothing so bright it would stand out in the woods. The thief had heard that all the clothes adorned with the same that were sold in Sacramonte were fakes, for beadwork was particr to the northern Low Isle and the colored patterns particr to family ns of that storm-wrackednd. The other man sought and held his gaze.

    ¡°The beast might catch us,¡± Sanale grunted.

    Tristan¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°It is a risk,¡± he cautiously agreed.

    ¡°If it do,¡± the huntsman says, ¡°and you betray us, I will shoot you first.¡±

    The thief¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°That sounds like a threat,¡± he said.

    ¡°Is,¡± Sanale said, sounding pleased at his quick understanding. ¡°So don¡¯t. Fuck infanzones, but not Ferranda.¡±

    ¡°I thought it was the very opposite, with you two,¡± he drily replied.

    The Mni frowned, confusion pulling at his scarred cheeks ¨C little smooth stripes Tristan had never noticed before, none thicker than a razor de. The man¡¯s Antigua might not be good enough for wordy the thief eventually admitted.

    ¡°You and her,¡± he said instead.

    Sanale¡¯s face brightened with understanding and he nodded.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°She is not like the others. So don¡¯t betray, or I¡¯ll kill you.¡±

    Well, that did have the benefit of being impably straightforward. No nuances to get lost in.

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Tristan assured him.

    The Mni eyed him for a while, then slowly nodded.

    ¡°She thinks Sarai runs you,¡± Sanale said. ¡°But I don¡¯t. You¡¯re more like <em>umndeni</em>.¡±

    A word in Umoya, Tristan thought, but not one he recognized.

    ¡°We¡¯re allies,¡± he shrugged.

    ¡°We should be too,¡± the huntsman bluntly said. ¡°Better you than infanzones. All snakes.¡±

    Against his better judgement, the thief¡¯s lips twitched.

    ¡°One of your own nobles went with them,¡± he pointed out. ¡°Tredegar.¡±

    Sanale snorted.

    ¡°Peers,¡± he said, like it exined everything.

    When he saw it did not, the huntsman continued.

    ¡°Half are mad,¡± Sanale exined, ¡°the other act it.¡±

    It had the air of an old saying to it, which made it all the more amusing to hear.

    ¡°Not a great admirer of nobles, I take it,¡± Tristan grinned.

    ¡°My uncle shoot their taxmen when theye to the hold,¡± the huntsman proudly said. ¡°Ouw under three different names.¡±

    It was making an increasing amount of sense to the thief how Sanale got along so well with Yong, a man who referred to nobles by a word which meant <em>relic</em>.

    ¡°Yours are a forward-thinking folk, Sanale,¡± Tristan told him. ¡°Would that we were all so wise.¡±

    The Mni eyed him, as if trying to ascertain if he was being made sport of, then nodded decisively.

    ¡°The Trial of Ruins needs allies,¡± the huntsman stated. ¡°The weak get sold out. Think on it.¡±

    Tristan found, to his surprise, that he was considering it. He was yet hesitant to tie himself too closely to anyone ¨C the more interest he had to care for, the harder it would be to get a good shot at Cozme Aflor ¨C but he could do worse for allies than this pair. They werepetent, and while he did not trust Vizur in the slightest he was fairly sure that if Sanale ever intended to turn on him the knife woulde from the front and not the back. The huntsman offered him a polite nod, which he returned, and then Sanale went to cut off thestntern entirely.

    There were plenty of roots and stones to hide under, but after staying so long in the same clearing Tristan was feeling restless. The brush of wind against the leaves above had him reaching for his knife, what he thought to be a bird only a shivering branch, but the idea it brought to mind pleased him.

    It took a minute or two to find a halfway dry tree with branches low enough he could hoist himself up, but find it he did. The bark bit at his fingers as he climbed but the work was not arduous and once crouched on the lowest branch he found another in reach: he¡¯d be able to get higher with little effort. Once he began rising he continued on a whim, the thought of breaking past the canopy of this damnable forest too pleasing to resist.

    In a matter of minutes he broke past the leaves, face emerging for his first clear look at the sky since he¡¯d entered the forest. The stars shone pale in the distance, their light just enough to outline the sea of trees spread out below. When squinting he could almost make out where the treeline ended to the north, the ravine where the river ran. The bridge was too far to make out. Breathing in slowly, the thief let tension bleed out of his frame. It was not in his hands whether Yong and the infanzona would seed, all he could do was wait. Until then, he might as well take in the rare sight of a wild forest that - was that <em>mist</em>?

    For three secondsTristan leaned forward, heart beating against his ears, and prayed to any god listening it was just some fog from the rain he saw. But it was too thick, moved too quickly. <em>The heliodoran beast</em>. <em>It¡¯sing.</em> It was too close for the lodestone extract to be responsible: Sanale had said the lemure saw smells as colours, but while a beacon of colour had just been lit the monster was more than halfway to the camp already. It¡¯d already been close, but why? The thief struggled to understand where it had gone wrong, until finally he found the keystone.

    Sanale had said the tracks he¡¯d found earlier were heading east, but perhaps it might have been more urate to say they were heading away from the west.

    ¡°It was after them,¡± he muttered. ¡°<em>Fuck</em>.¡±

    Sarai had been right. The cultists hadn¡¯t been going east because they were looking for a fight with the other hollows, they were running away from the heliodoran beast. And Tristan figured they might well have lost it, because there¡¯d been no sign of the monster, only now most of a bottle¡¯s worth of lodestone was wafting up like a column of smoke. It was like waving a red g before a bull. Cursing under his breath, he got moving: branch after branch, until he could leap down into the leaves. Vanesa peeked out from under her stone.

    ¡°Tristan?¡± she called out.

    ¡°Trouble,¡± he replied. ¡°Sanale, the beast is already close.¡±

    The Mni huntsman stepped out of the shadow between trees like he¡¯d just manifested out of thin air, grim face gone grimmer.

    ¡°I¡¯ll fetch them, then we run,¡± he said.

    The addition of Yong to ¡®them¡¯ was likely more than just politeness, considering how well the pair got along. Tristan shook his head.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± the thief said instead.

    The man looked about to object, so he raised his hand to cut him off.

    ¡°If the people here have to run, I can¡¯t guide them,¡± he said. ¡°You can. I¡¯ll be enough to y messenger, Sanale.¡±

    Reluctantly, the Mni nodded. He gave few curt instructions as to the path to follow, which Tristan carefullymitted to memory, and without further ceremony he went.

    --

    It would have been a lie to say that Tristan moved smoothly or skillfully.

    He almost ripped his knee up sliding down a t stone and used the wrong lightning-struck tree as a signpost, forcing him to double back and take a left past the running water. But he got there, and though it came at the cost of some scuffing and spitting out a mouthful of dead leaves he got to the outskirts of the cultist camp. Creeping across the wet earth he risked a look, finding a few fires lit from behind the broken ring of raised stones ¨C of which barely half were left. The trees were thick here, so close every path needed squeezing through, but that worked in his favour for now. It would be difficult to pick him out even for a darkling.

    From what he could tell the cultists were not yet awake, save for the watchers ¨C two of which were perched atop raised stones. Now he needed to find out if Yong and Ferranda were still around, dearly hoping they hadn¡¯t just walked past each other in the dark.

    When a gloved hand coved his mouth, pulling him back, he moved without thought.

    Elbow in the stomach, pivot, opposite elbow in the neck while he reached for his knife. There was a grunt behind him and he turned to see Ferranda Vizur clutching her head as she stumbled back. She was groaning in pain. Behind her Yong moved out from behind an oak¡¯s trunk.

    ¡°You should have whistled,¡± the Tianxi murmured.

    ¡°I can see that now, yes,¡± the infanzona rasped out.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky I looked before using the knife,¡± Tristan told her, unsympathetic.

    Tempted as he was to rub salt in the noble¡¯s wound, there were more pressing matters.

    ¡°The airavatan is close,¡± he said. ¡°Where is the bait?¡±

    In the dark it was hard to make out their expressions but there was no missing how they both stiffened. Neither were fool enough to think anything but death awaited if the beast caught them.

    ¡°In a berry bush close to the edge of their camp,¡± Ferranda replied. ¡°How close, Tristan?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t be sure now, but when I left-¡±

    He never finished the sentence.

    Not forck of trying, but because at his feet mist was billowing out. The thickness of the growth had yed against him, let him miss the creeping advance until it was toote. The airavatan was here, and where its mist spread there was only silence. A shiver of dread went down his spine. If it had found them¡­ But from the corner of his eye he saw movement near the edge of the cultist camp. In the trembling light of the fires a hulking shape approached, tearing through the trees in eerie silence. Gods, but it was so quick for a creature sorge. It almost seemed delicate, the way it moved, until you saw the crushing weight it bored down on all it touched.

    Panicking hollows tried to wake their fellows without being able to scream in rm, but it was toote. The great beast slowed only for a moment, when it reached the edge of the ring of raised stones. Tentacles carefully felt out the edge of them, and after finding what they wanted the beast burst through.

    Someone pulled at his arm, and Tristan did not fight back. They ran, leaving the cultists to their death.

    --

    The way back was faster than when he¡¯de alone, but not fast enough.

    They could not run as quick as Tristan felt the need to, heart racing in fear: it was dark and slippery and none of them had brought antern. It¡¯d been too risky. He followed Yong¡¯s back as best he could, tried to walk where the man walked, and only slipped the once. Neither of the others stopped for him when he did. Tristan was not angered by it, could not be when a primal terror pressed against his own back. As soon as they found the others, he thought, they must all run. The n was not yet undone, only on the razor¡¯s edge. They had been meant to already be getting closer to the bridge when the heliodoran beast attacked the cultist camp, but this was not beyond salvaging. If the airavatan took its time with the hollows they might still get across in time.

    Tristan felt relief well up in his throat at the sight of the lightning-struck tree he recognized from earlier, knowing it meant they were close, but ahead of him the others were no longer moving. They were hiding behind the hollow of a birch, eyes ahead, and he joined them with great care to be quiet.

    The rest of their crew was out of hiding, a half-openntern by Sanale¡¯s foot casting its glow over the clearing. The Mni huntsman had his musket out and pointed, the others around bearing their own arms. It was in to see why: facing them were a dozen armed hollows. <em>The other warband</em>, Tristan thought through clenched teeth. The one that had been fleeing the beast. He pulled his knife. Yong had a pistol in hand and was already loading it with powder, while Ferranda Vizur unsheathed her sword with care to keep the sound low. They were at the back of the cultists, if they struck first¡­

    ¡°Peace, strangers,¡± a woman called out. ¡°None of us can afford to spill blood here.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s eyes followed the voice and what he found gave him pause. The hollows were armed with spears and swords, a few with mail and one a breastte, but one among them wore only robes and bore no de. It was blonde woman with skin pale as milk and a broad face, aged around what must bete thirties. Her eyes were wide and shining, unsettlingly ck. She¡¯d caught the three of them out and the advantage nowy with her band, but the enemy did not look eager to fight - a fight Tristan¡¯s crew might not win if they forced it. The three of them traded resigned nces beforeing out of the trees, carefully circling around the darklings to join the others.

    ¡°I know that look,¡± Yong said, spitting into the leaves. ¡°Bishop, are you?¡±

    ¡°A learned man,¡± the woman praised, tone friendly. ¡°I am Bishop Dionne, a servant of the divine.¡±

    ¡°Lovely to meet you,¡± Lan called out.

    A rat to the bone, that one, Tristan fondly thought. She¡¯d shake hands with the King of Hell himself if she thought him a useful rtion.

    ¡°A sentiment shared,¡± Bishop Dionne easily replied. ¡°I would have no quarrel between our warbands. We have already suffered losses and abandoned the season of the hunt. Besides, spilling blood will bring the woken god on us all. There are only tears to be had in that.¡±

    Ferranda hade to stand besides Sanale, sword in hand, and she took the lead.

    ¡°Then let us all part ways in peace,¡± Lady Ferranda offered.

    ¡°That would be pleasing,¡± the bishop agreed. ¡°But first I seek of you knowledge of how the woken god was drawn here. We had lost it, mere hours ago. I believe that change is of your doing, yes?¡±

    Hesitation. It was a reasonable thing to ask, but already they could all dimly feel it would not really end at that first request. Perhaps this was, the thief thought, best handled by him. He stepped into thentern¡¯s light and made a show of sheathing his knife. The hollow warriors made no move to return the courtesy, but it drew the bishop¡¯s approving eye.

    ¡°It was a scent,¡± Tristan told her. ¡°Medicine I carried that also happens to draw the attention of gods. It has all been spent.¡±

    He disliked speaking up, drawing attention to himself like this, but they needed to <em>go</em> and he didn¡¯t trust anyone else to get it done as quickly. Every breath spent here was one less between them and the beast. The priestess smiled pleasantly.

    ¡°And how am I to know you speak truth?¡± she asked. ¡°You might have cursed my warband the same way.¡±

    She wanted something, as he¡¯d thought. She¡¯s mentioned losses earlier so maybe she wanted a prize topensate for them. Something to bring back home to avoid the perception ofplete defeat. Already he was going through his options, finding what he might offer as a bribe, and opened his mouth to ¨C

    Yong casually lowered his pistol and shot a hollow.

    A scream of pain, followed by more of surprise and anger. Swords and spears rose on the other side, pistols and des on theirs, but Tristan¡¯s eyes were on the bishop. And when he saw the expression that flickered there, he understood that Yong had not been so reckless after all. Bishop Dionne was not furious, for all that ger face now showed anger. For the barest of heartbeats she had been amused. When Tristan¡¯s eyes moved, he was not surprised to find that Yong had only shot the warrior in the leg.

    ¡°You offer insult, stranger,¡± Dionne said.

    ¡°I offer a gift,¡± Yong replied without batting an eye. ¡°A man you know you will outrun. Let us part on those terms, Bishop, for you will get no more of us.¡±

    The sole man in mail pleaded something to his priest in a gutturalnguage. If Tristan were inclined to bet, he¡¯d say he was asking for permission to fight.

    ¡°There is no need for that, Vasil,¡± Bishop Dionne smiled. ¡°Let us ept this gift in the spirit it was meant. Come here, Alin.¡±

    Grimaces bloomed across the faces of her warriors and the wounded man took a step back, eyes wet with tears.

    ¡°No, Bishop,¡± Alin pleaded, ¡°I swear I would-¡±

    The priestid a hand on his head, and there was a small stir of wind. The warrior shivered, only for him to straighten his back as she withdrew her fingers.

    ¡°I take your pain for an hour, my son,¡± Dionne said. ¡°You have a chance now: outwit the god, or earn the honour of its teeth.¡±

    They had just cast him out, Tristan thought. The smell of blood was sure to draw the heliodoran beast, so he must be left behind. And part of him felt horror at how easily that life had just been thrown away but the part had been trained, the one that kept him alive all these years, was instead fitting pieces together. The airavatan had in trial-takers and cultists both the day before the Bluebell docked, but there had been no trace of them impaled inside its maw when he saw inside yesterday. <em>They are only kept there until death,</em> he decided. How long did it take a man to die from impalement? There was no telling, unless you knew where they got impaled, and that was impossible to predict. But the odds were still worth it. Bishop Dionne flicked a nce their way.

    ¡°Let us part ways in peace, as was offered,¡± she said, an ironic lilt to the offer.

    ¡°No,¡± Tristan said, and stepped forward.

    ¡°What are you-¡±

    Someone silenced Felis as the thief took his cab off his back, opening it up. He took out two vials, then a rag to go with them. He only had two clean ones left, at this rate he¡¯d run out.

    ¡°What are your intentions, child?¡± the bishop asked.

    ¡°I am a physician,¡± Tristan lied. ¡°I have taken oath to help those who suffer, even darklings. Let me treat his wound.¡±

    Dionne looked taken aback. The hollow she had already good as cast out turned a pleading look on her, so she ended up nodding her head with open bemusement.

    ¡°You may proceed.¡±

    ¡°Sit down,¡± Tristan ordered the man.

    Drenching the rag in alcohol, he cleaned the wound and exined to ¡®Alin¡¯ that he could not risk taking out the lead ball inside his leg lest he be at risk of bleeding out. Instead he cleaned the burns and wrapped the wounds with thest of his bandages before offering the man vial to drink.

    ¡°It will kill the pain for half a day,¡± he said. ¡°It will also taste foul, but drink the whole thing anyway.¡±

    The hollow gratefully nodded and downed it, almost retching at the taste. He handed back the vial and Tristan rose to his feet before helping him up.

    ¡°It is all I can do,¡± the thief said. ¡°I can only wish you good luck.¡±

    ¡°You have done much already,¡± Alin, his Antigua faintly guttural. ¡°My blessings go with you, son of the Radiance.¡±

    Now there was something to trouble a man¡¯s sleep. Tristan smiled back anyway. Bishop Dionne approached, giving a weighing look, and leaned close.

    ¡°I thank you for the kindness, child,¡± she said. ¡°It is almost a shame that you are all already dead.¡±

    Somehow he suspected she had not be a bishop because of her bedside manner, but that was fine. He had not done a kindness at all. Their groups parted ways with fewer res than there had been a moment ago, though no one from either side had loosened their grip on their weapon. Thest Tristan saw of them was the wounded warrior being encircled by the others, a chant beginning on the priest¡¯s lips, and then they were hurrying away. Not long after they were out of sight he was pulled to the fore.

    ¡°Why did we just waste time watching you pretend to help that darkling?¡± Yong bluntly asked.

    ¡°Pretend?¡± Ferranda said, surprised.

    ¡°He is out of painkillers,¡± Sarai told her. ¡°What did you actually make him drink, Tristan?¡±

    ¡°Volcian yew,¡± the thief said. ¡°My entire stock.¡±

    Sanale let out a hard bark ofughter.

    ¡°A poison?¡± Yong frowned.

    ¡°Only for spirits,¡± the Mni grinned. ¡°Clever man.¡±

    ¡°The airavatan is going to be eating our friend soon enough,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And when it does, it will also be eating a bellyful of poison.¡±

    The heliodoran beast ate the corpses it impaled inside its own maw. It must, for there had been no trace of the first wave of trial-takers there when he had seen inside the mouth yesterday. The thief suspected that they were kept impaled so long as they lived to suffer and were consumed when dead. That was his bet: that the hollow would die quick enough inside the maw for the poison in him to matter.

    Now all that was left was to run and hope the roll of the dice went their way.

 Chapter 18

    Chapter 18

    Tristan couldn¡¯t quite believe it when they broke the treeline.

    ¡°It¡¯s the right ce,¡± Sarai fervently told him. ¡°The hills are in the right arrangement.¡±

    She had to be right, she was no fool and she had the map tucked away inside her mind through a Sign, and yet the thief felt no relief. Before them a great clearing in the forest was stretching out, rolling hills and a stretch of gleaming grass. Miles of opennd, with trees on all sides save the north ¨C where the raviney, and the bridge to cross it. Tristan spat to the side, for his mouth taste of iron after all the running, and looked behind. The others were catching up, the fit and the not. The former clustered together, keeping the same exhausted but unrelenting pace, while thetter trailed behind.

    Yong, Sanale, Ferranda, Lan. All these were mere moments behind he and Sarai.

    It was they others they waited for until they came out one by one. It took nearly ten minutes: Vanesa had not got quicker for the evening¡¯s exertions and Francho was barely ahead of her. As for Felis, it had been only a matter of time until his lick of dust¡¯s feverish burst of energy passed ¨C and once it had, he¡¯d be a shambles. That Aines stayed with him was as much a result of her poor shape as loyalty to her hanging rope of a marriage, Tristan suspected. She was barely faster on her feet than the greyhairs now, evidently not used tosting exercise. And yet they were catching up, all of them.

    They had all made it.

    ¡°I thought we¡¯d lose at least one of the elders,¡± Yong admitted. ¡°It is a bruising pace we have kept.¡±

    ¡°Tough,¡± Sanale appreciatively said.

    ¡°Desperations is a kind of strength,¡± Lan said. ¡°And even the old girl wants to live, deep down.¡±

    The thief caught her eye and dipped his head in agreement. Vanesa had not given up. She might not expect to live through this, but neither was she ready toy down and die. It was worthy of respect, as much as the freely gifted kindness. As theggards entered the light of thentern, Tristan saw how worn down they had be. Expectedly so: it had been punishing work moving through the woods even with theirnterns now wide open.

    They had followed the edge of the ravine to avoid getting lost, following it east until the treeline broke. They¡¯d passed to more rings of raised stones as they did ¨C one intact, the other shattered ¨C and the second they had passed not even a half hour ago. Whatever they might once have been used for, they now made for usefulndmarks. When thest of them, a sweaty and dishevelled Vanesa, caught up the lot of them shared a brief rest.

    ¡°We¡¯re close, then?¡± Felis raggedly asked.

    Sarai pointed slightly to the northwest, past two high hills.

    ¡°The bridge is there,¡± she said. ¡°There can be no doubt.¡±

    Far be it from him to argue with the woman who had a used magic to memorize the map. Even the most exhausted of them picked up the pace at her words, tion and relief limbering slowing feet. Even Tristan found a smile tugging at his lips. It seemed they had reached salvation before the monster caught up with them, after all. He crested a hill, then another, and saw the dirt pathid down before him. Then the relief caught in his throat.

    Lemures.

    Lupines, a whole pack of them. Though Aines and Yong were standing at his side within moments, not a single of the beasts nced their way: they were too busy tearing hungrily into corpses. Slowlying down the hill, hand on his knife, he took a closer look at the bodies. Hollows, Tristan recognized. Less than half a day dead, and as the light of thentern reached the bridge beyond the lupines he remembered the bishop¡¯s smiling curse: <em>you are all already dead</em>.

    The corpses being eaten had been crushed and stomped, as if by a great beast.

    These were, he realized, the losses Bishop Dionne had talked about. The priestess herself might have been here mere hours ago. One after another, he fit the pieces together. Standing there alone with closed eyes, he painted the picture the way Abu had taught him to.

    By the time the Bluebell hade ashore, the cultists had already been stirred up from the debacle that woke up the airavatan. The warbands split, some roving thend while thergest imed the western and eastern bridge. The morning after Ju was murdered the trial-takers split into bands of their own, but their story was not Tristan¡¯s trouble: what he cared for was the bridges. After Inyoni and her fellows fought their way through the western bridge, the airavatan went mad from whatever had confused it and copsed the bridge. What, then, were the hollows to do?

    Everyone headed east. So, eventually, did the airavatan.

    The monster slew a few warbands and some went into hiding, but what Tristan and the others had deduced when they firstid their ns was still true: the cultists did not help each other, they were rivals. And so no one went to warn therge warband holding the eastern bridge ¨C led, he now believed, by Bishop Dionne - that a monster was on the prowl. The cultists were taken entirely by surprise when it attacked them.

    That warband had been hit <em>tonight</em>, mere hours ago. It was why the tracks Sanale had found earlier were fresh: the cultists been fleeing the beast by going east into the woods, away from this deadly clearing. After finishing up here, the airvatan had followed in their direction but been lost ¨C perhaps because of the rain, which would dampen how it smelled. It had still moved east somewhat, though, and been close enough to immediately smell the lodestone extract when Tristan used it.

    Which brought them to here and now: the cultist camp of a rival warband destroyed, their own crew running for the bridge before the heliodoran beast turned on them.

    And now they came to the reason Bishop Dionne had called them dead. Tristan opened his eyes as the light of thentern carried by Yong passed the corpses and lupines. To the bridge, through which some cultists had tried to flee and where the monster caught up to them. And when it struck them down, in its rage it must have copsed the wooden bridge: now only shattered edges on both side of the ravine remained, the rest long fallen into the river below. There would be no crossing here.

    They were stuck on this side, with the beast and the hollows.

    ¡°<em>No</em>,¡± Aines shouted.

    The lupines did not even care enough about the noise to abandon their meal. Despair trembled in the air, not one of them denying its sting. It was too long for a jump across, Tristan thought. And they did not have a rope long enough to attempt another kind of crossing. Even Sarai¡¯s face fell, though she was the first to gather herself.

    ¡°If we go west, the river grows wider and stronger but there is no ravine,¡± she said. ¡°Swimming through there is the only way left.¡±

    Half of them wouldn¡¯t make that swim, the thief thought. Neither of the elders, probably not Aines either and he was not so sure of Lan. Gods, he was not so sure of himself. He was fit but no great swimmer and the Watch had built bridges on the ind for a reason. But it was all that remained, so he put away his doubts and breathed in. He let out his breath and his fear with it.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said. ¡°No time to waste.¡±

    If they waited for too long theirpany was sure to fall into arguments and backbiting, which would eat into their chances of losing the airavatan. So he began setting out, nudging Sarai to do the same. She gave him a long look, then nodded and followed. Behind them he heard Felisfort his wife and yell something out at Yong, but Tristan met the Tianxi¡¯s eyes and the soldier snorted. Ignoring Felis, he joined them in walking away. After that, the simple pressure of people leaving forced the rest to make a decision: stay or follow.

    Enough followed that the rest feared to stay.

    It was not a solid foundation, the thief knew, but the worst had happened and so he must adjust his expectations. There could be no more sentimentality. Ferranda sought him out at the front, having surprised him when she and Sanale stuck with them.

    ¡°You have a scheme in mind,¡± she said. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Going west,¡± he tly replied. ¡°If we live through the day then we can revisit how we will cross.¡±

    She grimaced.

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Ferranda replied. ¡°We will stay with you for now, but make no promises for tomorrow.¡±

    He shrugged. The pair were far from dead weight, and he¡¯d given due thought to Sanale¡¯s offer, but trackers were no longer needed. It would be hard to get lost now that they had found the river: all that remained was to find a way to cross it. It had earlier taken most of an hour for them to get to the bridge, and now they squeezed out much the same hurrying through the hills. In a few miles west the woods would begin again, continuing until they broke for another in at the heart of the ind where the other bridgey.

    Past that, at least a full day west, was where Sarai was suggesting they attempt the crossing.

    Only when they were out of breath did they call their first halt. The pretence that they were all in this together had worn thin: both the greyhairs had beengging behind again, the same for Aines and Felis, and no one moved to help them. They would catch up exhausted to the remainder of the group only by the time it set out, the thief estimated, and so be forced to continue without rest. It was a slow death sentence, but Tristan hardened his heart.

    He no longer had the luxury of caring about anything but survival.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Yong said. ¡°Unusual.¡±

    Panting and on his knees, Tristan turned to follow the Tianxi¡¯s gaze. Further along the ravine ¨C it was wider here, likely why the bridge had been built further east ¨C there were rings of raised stones. Two of them, rather close, and in near perfect state. Whoever the builders had been, they had made them tost. It was not long after this second ring the forest began again, the clearinge to an end. After entering those woods it ought to take at least half a day until they found open grounds again, which he did not look forward to.

    It was vicious kind of irony that Tristan and his fellows were to see twice as many bridges anyone from the Bluebell yet all of them would be broken.

    And now remembering, the other bridge¡¯s fate ¨C which he had known of for an entire day! - he cursed himself for not having considered the same might happen again. It was in that the ckcloacks had not built bridges strong enough to withstand the lemure, that they had expected the airavatan to remain sleeping. He¡¯d had the right knowledge in his pocket all along and never thought to put it to use.

    ¡°The others were further apart,¡± Yong breathed out.

    The thief blinked for a moment before realizing Yong was still talking of the stone circles.

    ¡°Maybe we¡¯re near the middle,¡± Tristan shrugged.

    Francho believed they followed the length of the river, from east to west, but he might have been wrong. The thief got back on his feet, meeting the Yong¡¯s eyes. A nod was shared and they began to move again ¨C setting out at a pace that was not quite a run but far from walking. This was to be a trial of endurance, not a quick race.

    Tristan forced himself not to think about the fact that Francho and Vanesa had not yet caught up.

    Half an hourter they were slightly past the second of the rings, not even a quarter hour away from the woods resuming to the west. The thief slowed for a heartbeat, convinced he¡¯d seen a light inside the stones, but it was nothing: only a stone smoothed by rain reflecting the stars, however. He breathed out, not sure whether he was relieved or disappointed. The answer was soon settled, however, as the little he had turned was enough for him to catch sight of something that froze his limbs.

    Behind them, to the east, mist was billowing past the crest of the hills

    His breath caught. If the mist was close enough for him to see without evenntern light, then there was no outrunning the monster. The heliodoran beast had caught up, and what could the likes of them do against such a creature? He was going to die here in the dark, surrounded by strangers. He- Tristan breathed in, breathed out. <em>Remember your lessons.</em> What he could not do did not matter, so what <em>could </em>he do? If the monster could not be fled from, it must be tricked.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± Sarai called out, but then she turned to follow his gaze and her voice went out like a candle in the wind.

    The thief did not answer, eyes staying fixed on the heliodoran beast. In the distance he could see the white fog slowly but surely gaining on Vanesa, ever thest of them. She had yet to notice. Sarai pulled at his arm, fingers squeezing hard at his flesh.

    ¡°We need to go,¡± she hissed. ¡°I know you-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re letting fear do your thinking for you,¡± Tristan said, tone even. ¡°We had at least an hour on it, running on open grounds while it was in the woods. We cannot flee from it, Sarai: we¡¯re simply not fast enough.¡±

    He straightened his back.

    ¡°As our good friend the bishop said, we must outwit the god or earn the honour of its teeth.¡±

    Sarai loudly swallowed.

    ¡°You said to stick close to you, if this went bad,¡± she said.

    ¡°I can perhaps keep us alive, and another as well,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I am not sure how long.¡±

    It would be a gamble. While they were covered in magic feathers reeking of sleep the beast should not eat them, but they would be unconscious and he would have to hope the lemure kept chasing the others instead of taking the time to stomp them out of spite. By the way her breathing grew uneven, Sarai was panicking. He did not me her.

    ¡°You¡¯ve just good as said we¡¯re going to die ¨C how are you so fucking calm?¡± she demanded.

    Did he seem that way? He did not feel it. There was a wild animal wing at his insides, even if it had yet to break the cage.

    ¡°I am terrified,¡± Tristan honestly told her. ¡°My limbs are trembling and my mind is mush. But it doesn¡¯t matter, because I know where we are.¡±

    ¡°<em>Where</em>?¡± she snarled.

    ¡°In a grave,¡± the rat grinned. ¡°We have nothing left to lose, Sarai: either we buy our way out or we stay buried. Fear only matters if it can still get <em>worse</em>.¡±

    She let out a hup that was half indignation and halfughter.

    ¡°Gods,¡± she croaked. ¡°No wonder the masks want you.¡±

    Masks - did she mean the Krypteia? No, now was not the time. There would be time to ask what one of the Circles of the Watch might want with him if they lived. Instead he pped her shoulderfortingly and his eyes went back to theiring doom. By his count Vanesa was a quarter hour behind them, to the east, and the beast would catch up to her around the time she reached the first ring of stones. Indeed, now that the mist was spreading further across the wet grass he could make out the airvatan¡¯s silhouette in starlight. The monster was following her doggedly.

    Vanesa had noticed the monster atst and broken into a run that slowly curved north towards the ravine ¨C her eye again, Tristan thought with a sliver of grief ¨C and the beast had followed the adjustment exactly. Almost, he frowned, too exactly.

    ¡°Sarai,¡± he said, ¡°is it me or is the airavatan running strangely?¡±

    Afraid or not, the blue-eyed woman had not fallen to pieces. They stood there in silence for a long moment, gaze following the same great beast.

    ¡°It¡¯s not moving across the hills well,¡± she murmured. ¡°It keeps almost tripping on the slopes. Why?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s blind,¡± Tristan breathed out, excitement rising. ¡°It wasn¡¯t enough poison to kill it, but it went blind.¡±

    He suspected the beast have been blind when it began following them across the ins ¨C surely it would not have been able to<em> hear</em> them from so far away - but now the volcian yew had taken its sight. It could still get around somehow, and track them, but the way it kept walking on things instead of over them was telling.

    ¡°It¡¯s still following Vanesa,¡± Sarai said. ¡°The impact of feet on the ground? No, then it would feel the slopes and the stones when its footsteps make them shake. It must be the sound, it is listening to her run.¡±

    ¡°Then hiding would be pointless,¡± Tristan noted. ¡°If it can hear her from that far away, there is no way to hold our breath for long enough it won¡¯t hear us.¡±

    ¡°We need protection,¡± she said. ¡°Something to hide behind. We could try going down the side of the ravine?¡±

    Tristan grimaced, shaking his head, and even Sarai looked unconvinced. The beast would be able to reach them with its tentacles. Gods, the monstrosity was longer than the ravine wasrge. But there was one detail that he¡¯d had in the back of his mind since earlier, an oddity about how the monster had attacked the cultist camp.

    ¡°I think I have something,¡± Tristan admitted. ¡°But there will be no way to tell if it works until it¡¯s on us.¡±

    Blue eyes met his and she hesitated. He was, in practice, asking her to bet her life on his hunch. They had known each other for mere days, and spent much of these hiding secrets from one another and - her expression hardened and she offered her arm. She had, he sensed,e to a decision. Not just about the needs of the moment, but deeper things still. Gently, almost reverently, he sped the proffered arm.

    ¡°Maryam,¡± she said. ¡°My name is Maryam Khaimov. If I am to trust you with my life, I should trust you with that.¡±

    He swallowed.

    ¡°Tristan Abrascal,¡± he said, lips gone dry.

    It was the first time he¡¯d said his surname in years and he shivered at hearing it.

    ¡°Let¡¯s live, Tristan,¡± Maryam smiled. ¡°After that, it would be embarrassing not to.¡±

    He grinned back, minutes away from death and terrified and somehow more alive than he¡¯d been since he was a boy.

    --

    They went back to the first ring of stones. This was madness, so naturally even after the others noticed they were no longer running and turned back to ask few were inclined to follow.

    ¡°This is madness,¡± Ferranda Vizur tly informed him.

    As always, the infanzona caught on quickly.

    ¡°I am aware,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It might, however, be the useful kind of madness.¡±

    The fair-haired noblewoman studied him for a moment, then shook her head. Her in face was drawn with exhaustion, but her expression remained steadfast in a stolid sort of way.

    ¡°I wish you well, but I will not risk my life so recklessly,¡± Ferranda told. ¡°We part ways here.¡±

    Or so she said, but then she nced at Sanale ¨C who nodded after a heartbeat. Reassured, her face firmed. Their decision was made.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± Tristan said, and was surprised to find her meant the words.

    ¡°You too,¡± Sanale said, offering his hand. ¡°Keep your knife close. Better to die quick if can.¡±

    It was said with such friendly concern that the thief could not even find it in himself to be offended at the presumption they were all about to die, shaking it. They were not truly friends, though perhaps in time they could have be something close to it, but the pair had been more than tolerable to work with. It was already better than he had ever expected to think of an infanzona. When Lady Ferranda offered her hand he shook it as well. The two hurried away after rushing through goodbyes, heading west for the woods. Lan followed behind them, offering only a cheerful wave before legging it.

    The three had lost some time doubling back, but likely expected to make it back while the airavatan murdered everyone staying behind.

    Yong watched them go, then grimaced.

    ¡°Now would be a good time to tell me you put some lodestone in their bags,¡± the Tianxi said.

    ¡°s, I used the full stock,¡± Tristan easily replied.

    ¡°I was afraid you¡¯d stay that,¡± Yong sighed. ¡°Is the n really to hide inside the stone rings and pray they keep the monster out?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t intend to pray,¡± Sarai informed him.

    He red at her.

    ¡°You two are a bad influence on each other,¡± he said, then turned to spit on the grass.

    He sighed and began to load his musket.

    ¡°I think this might be the most idiotic n I¡¯ve ever followed,¡± Yong said, ¡°and I¡¯ve served with militia officers from Mazu.¡±

    Tristan cocked an eyebrow. He knew little of that republic save that it was one of the foremost naval powers of the Trebian Sea.

    ¡°Half their promotion examination is about poetry,¡± Yong scathingly said.

    ¡°What I choose to take from this is that my insight matched that of trained military officers,¡± Tristan proudly replied. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go hide in the rings.¡±

    Theirpany had spread out. Ferranda and Sanale had pulled ahead to the west and were minutes away from the woods, a surprisingly quick Lan a notch behind them, while further back Aines and Felis were getting close to the first ring of stones. A few minutes behind them Francho was limping, and even further beyond that Vanesa struggled to catch up. Tristan worried his lip, evaluating the distances. He had the time, narrowly.

    ¡°We have twonterns,¡± he said. ¡°Let us put one in each ring.¡±

    It was as clear a signal he could risk considering that shouting would likely attract the beast. Seeing antern in the eastern ring might induce the others to try going inside it.

    ¡°Soft touch,¡± Yong chided, but it was without heat.

    The Tianxi stayed in the second ring while he and Sarai brought antern to the first, running back when they saw how close the airavatan was getting. They left just as Aines and Felis arrived, the pair looking baffled as the entered the ring. Even from there they could see Yong waiting in the other, his silhouette clear in the otherntern¡¯s light, so though the wedded pair shouted questions that Tristan did not turn to answer they stayed inside in mimicry of the Tianxi. The surprise was that, by the time they got back to the western ring, Lan was running towards it as well. When she stumbled past the circle of raised stones, falling on her knees in the grass, she gave them a blue grin.

    ¡°Decided to bet on you this time,¡± Lan exined.

    It was just as likely she had realized she was not as physically fit as the pair in front of her and was likely to get eaten while they kept running, but Tristan decided not to be unpleasant. It was not impossible they were all about to die. Instead he went for the edge of their circle of stones, leaning against the tall stone and watching as the airavatan closed thest of the distance to the eastern ring. Francho had made it inside, falling to his hands and knees before the other two as they held each other, and that left there was only Vanesa. She went straight for the ring, as quick as she could, while behind her mist followed. <em>Make it</em>, Tristan encouraged. <em>Come on, you can make it.</em>

    Mist spread past her and the shadow loomed tall, the ground shaking silently beneath its feet, but she was there. Fingers biting into the palm of his hand until they bled, Tristan watched as the old woman got three feet away from the edge of the ring ¨C and slipped.

    ¡°<em>No</em>,¡± he breathed out.

    She fell, face forward, and a third of her body made it into the ring. The airavatan¡¯s leg, tall andrge as pir, rose and came down ¨C but Felis, in a burst of courage, left his wife and caught Vanesa¡¯s arm. He dragged her forward.

    It was not enough.

    Vanesa screamed, one of her legs snapping like a twig. But she lived. Felis had pulled quickly enough that it had been a leg instead of her body up to the ribcage, and as the airavatan stomped furiously around the ring of raised stones the dust fiend finished dragging her inside. And though he¡¯d just seen a woman¡¯s leg be a ruin of bone and broken flesh, Tristan eyes widened in tion at what he saw: the beasts¡¯ mist did not enter the ring of stones. It refused to, that was the reason they had been able to hear Vanesa scream at all. Yong cursed softly in Cathayan as the heliodoran beast¡¯s tentacles felt out the stones, trying to reach through them but sliding as if against ss.

    It had done the same thing, back at the cultist camp, but the ring there had been broken.

    ¡°You were right, you little madman,¡± Yong said. ¡°You were fucking right.¡±

    Sarai ¨C Maryam, though he did not yet think of her that way ¨C found his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back.

    ¡°My wisdom is being followed as well,¡± Lan smugly said. ¡°Just look at them run.¡±

    He followed her gaze, finding that Ferranda and Sanale were doubling back. They must have seen the rings truly were a protection, and realized their safety was the best chance for them to live through the nigh. The situation had changed the moment the monster was kept at bay by the stones: now the airavatan might well abandon the prey beyond its reach for easier kills, and the pair were the only two on the table. Yet their earlier advantage, how quickly they had run, was now turning against them. They were too far.

    With rising horror, Tristan turned to see the airavatan striding away from the other ring: it had heard them doubling back.

    The coolness in the back of his mind, the part that had been trained, measured the spans and the speeds. The airavatan, rushing from west to east. The pair, rushing from east to west. Ferranda and Sanale were closer to the eastern ring than the airavatan was, but the beast moved almost twice as quickly and would not tire. It was a done deal and it became terribly obvious within a minute of the ugly race beginning that the pair would not get there in time. The truth of that sunk in them like rain, soaking them to the bone.

    Sarai closed her eyes in grief. Lan smiled in poorly hid relief at how close she had cut it. Yong clenched his teeth and strode to the edge of the ring to shoot his musket at the airavatan, which had gotten close enough for it. The lemure turned one of its eyeless heads their way, but otherwise ignored them. The Tianxi might as well have shot at a fortress wall. The lovers saw it as well, though the realization hit them in waves. First fear spurred them to drop theirntern and all their bags and save one, sprinting as fast as they could.

    It was a straight line east to the ring, for them, but already the beast was of a height with it. It would be standing between them and safety within moments.

    Tristan watched as fear was reced by despair, by anger. Ferranda slowed, taking out something from theirst bag and trying to strike a match. She failed, even after trying thrice. The mist kept killing the me. Sanale had stayed with her, and now their fate was in: the airavatan was between them and the stone ring. Yong shot at the monster¡¯s back again, but it didn¡¯t even twitch. The lovers¡¯ stride faltered, for a moment, and then Sanale said something before pressing a soft kiss against the side of Ferranda¡¯s neck. Before the infanzona could finish turning to see his face, the Mni swerved away.

    South, away from the ring, and screaming at the top of his lungs in Umoya.

    Both the beast and the woman hesitated for half a heartbeat. Face ashen, eyes tearing up, Ferranda Vizur resumed sprinting for the ring. It was out of her hands now, she must know that all she could do was try not to waste his sacrifice. And the airavatan, well, it did what all hungry and spiteful lemures did when denied getting everything they wanted: it went to vent its anger on the most insolent of the prey, the Mni provoking it. Tristan did not remember walking to the edge of the ring or taking out his knife, or his fingers closing around the cithara in his bag.

    And as he watched Ferranda Vizur approach salvation, he saw how Sanale had not yet abandoned the thought of survival. He¡¯d taunted the lemure, got it to head further away from the ring, but now he had cut a sharp turn and was printing for it himself. The airavatan was too close. Tall legs swallowed the distance, unerring on the grass, and though the Mni was swift as cat he was so much smaller.

    ¡°Please,¡± Ferranda Vizur shouted, not even yet in the ring. ¡°Please, if you can do anything, I beg you-¡±

    Tristan looked away. Fortuna was leaning against the stone opposite his, eyes unreadable. Flicking a wrist, she twirled a coin between her fingers. Unearthly in the thin starlight, a slice of blood and gold cutting into the grey and green of the Dominion. His bet to make, she did not need to say. It always was.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± the thief cursed.

    It was foolish, it was going to get himself killed and he wasn¡¯t even going to get anything out of it. He ripped the cithara out of his bag, smashing the pommel of his knife into the belly. It cracked and he hit it again, twice more until it was open and a single lucent blue feather came drifting out. Dropping the knife, he ran out of the ring. Mist waspping at the bottom of the stones and he hurried through, finding it thick as smoke but easy to breathe in. Grabbing the edge of the cithara, he inclined it so the feathers wouldn¡¯t spill out and silently screamed his terror into the stillness.

    Ten strides, twenty, and the airavatan¡¯s long legs caught up to Sanale: the ground trembled and the sure-footed huntsman tripped. It was now or never, Tristan knew, and he threw the cithara. He hesitated, for the barest of moments, to pull on his contract. But the price¡­ when the stakes were so high, only certain death moved him to use it. So he only threw.

    The moment he did, he knew he had failed.

    The arc was too short. He could still... But he did not, for in the end Tristan was yet a rat. It would surely get him killed, so instead of pulling at the power inside him he watched as the cithara flew up only to drop half a dozen feet short of Sanale just as he was grabbed by heliodoran beast. Tristan turned without stopping to look at what would follow.

    The silence was a mercy.

    Heart thundering in his ears, the thief felt the ground shake behind him and the beast gain ground. He¡¯d gone too far, or he¡¯d not gone far enough, but whatever the truth of it Tristan knew in his bones that he was going to die. Thentern trembled ahead of him, inside the ring, carving out the silhouettes of the others. One came closer than the rest. Sarai? No, too tall.

    ¡°Roll,¡± Fortuna hissed.

    He obeyed without hesitation, feeling a tentacle grab behind him. He rose into a run as the airavatan struck at the ground in anger. In front of him the silhouette grabbed at something he could not make out. A match cracked, the heartbeat of light revealing red-eyed Ferranda, and she lit something in her hands. The ground shook behind him and Tristan almost tripped, stumbling into a sharp turn to the left instead, but the game was up. He¡¯d slowed, the beast had him.

    ¡°You need to-¡± Fortuna began, but he never heard the rest.

    Something went flying above his head, something Ferranda Vizur had thrown, and after a heartbeat instead of death Tristan felt heat licking at his back. There was a detonation and burst of light as he ran, ran as fast as he could ¨C and he heard the airavatan scream in pain even through the lemure¡¯s own mist. He threw himself in the grass past the ring of stones,nding painfully on his arms but too wildly relieved to care. Behind him the world shook, the beast furiously stamping the ground around the raised stones.

    But he¡¯d gotten through, gods. By the skin of his teeth but he still lived. Rolling his belly up, panting, he found the infanzona¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he got out.

    Her lips thinned.

    ¡°You tried,¡± Ferranda simply said, and looked away.

    He had no answer to that, and so instead he dropped his head back in the grass and waited for his limbs to cease shaking. When they did, Sarai was there to help him up while he caught the tail of talk between the others.

    ¡°-was that?¡±

    ¡°Zhentianlei,¡± Yong said. ¡°A grenade. Though one filled with more than powder.¡±

    ¡°Phosphorescent salts,¡± Ferranda quietly said. ¡°It is a Mni trick.¡±

    Tristan would have shared in the sliver of the grief he saw in those eyes, had he the time. Knowing he owed his life in part to the man he¡¯d failed to save was a humbling thing. But sentiment would have to wait, for the beast lingered. This was the part where nning stumbled, for how could he know what the monster would do?

    The answer, it turned out, was throw a tantrum.

    It stalked around in the silence of its mist, smashing at the ground and trying to wriggles its tentacles around the protection of the stones. The ancient work did not fail, but the heliodoran beast did not tire: what Tristan thought might be it leaving ended up being the creature heading back to the other ring. It kept venting its fury there, terrifying the four inside clustering around their tremblingntern light.

    ¡°We have food and water enough for two days,¡± Yong said.

    ¡°No cultists will get anywhere near us while it¡¯s here, there is that,¡± Sarai sighed. ¡°But if it does not leave we may well be stuck here until we starve.¡±

    ¡°It may fake leaving,¡± Lan said. ¡°It¡¯s what I¡¯d do: let us get far enough from the rings, then attack.¡±

    Lady Ferranda took no ce in the talks, out of what the thief thought to be grief, but he had underestimated her: she was crouching by the edge of the ring, staring at something. He joined her there, following her gaze. The grass had split a dozen feet away from them. His heart clenched at the sight.

    ¡°It could be only the one crack,¡± he quietly said.

    ¡°The cultist camp was about this far from the ravine, when part of the cliff came down in the storm,¡± the infanzona evenly replied. ¡°And that was the work of wind and water, not a giant stampeding around.¡±

    Much as he wanted to deny her, Tristan could not. She was right: if the airavatan kept stomping about, the slice of the cliff on which their ring stood was at risk of copse. They were too close to the edge and it seemed that erosion had dug under their feet. Was the eastern ring also at risk? <em>Doesn¡¯t matter</em>, Tristan chided himself. <em>There¡¯s no way for us to move there while it¡¯s prowling the grass.</em>

    It seemed they did not have two days after all, but instead hours ¨C or less, if they were unlucky. Tristan rose and walked away, leaving to Ferranda the unpleasant task of breaking the news to the others even. It was unkind, when she was in fresh grief, but he could not bring himself to care. Instead he went to the northern edge of the ring, the one overlooking the ravine. He could not make out the water at the bottom, it was too deep for that, but he could hear it.

    It was not the depth but the length that¡¯d kill them: the ravine just long enough that neither jump nor rope would work, though he thought that if the heliodoran beast took a long enough run-up it might make it across.

    Staring at the dark below, he found himself empty of ideas. Part of him still believed that given long enough theirpany would figure out a way to get across, but what did that matter when the beast would send them tumbling down long before that? It needed to be- exmations of surprise from the others drew his eye. The beast had been striking at the bottom of the raised stones of the other ring and some piece of rubblee loose: the airavatan charged it without missing a beat, furiously attacking the ground until the shard was nothing but powder. It turned back to besieging the ring after, which mercifully held even missing a piece.

    For now.

    The thief worried his lip. Had it been this aggressive before? He thought not. It had liked the fear, to make them run and cower. Now it struck to kill from the start.

    ¡°Yong,¡± he said. ¡°I need you to do something for me.¡±

    The Tianxi cocked an eyebrow but let himself be drawn into the scheme. It was a simple thing, after all, the testing of a guess. The former soldiers loaded his musket, aimed and fired at the ground to the east ¨C as close as he could to the heliodoran beast while keeping a strong impact. The monster turned immediately, abandoning the other ring to charge at where the ground was shot and stomp the spot thoroughly<em>. It¡¯s not thinking anymore</em>, Tristan decided. <em>That grenade angered it beyond reason.</em> That was¡­ it was a fool¡¯s notion, but what else was left save the likes of these?

    He took Sarai ¨C Maryam ¨C aside.

    ¡°What can you do with Signs?¡± he quietly asked.

    She grimaced.

    ¡°I know nine but have mastered only three,¡± she admitted. ¡°All of them Autarchics.¡±

    His confusion must have been in, for she borated without prompting.

    ¡°Contained within my own mind,¡± Sarai said. ¡°The Sign I used to keep the map within me, for example.¡±

    ¡°You made an orb of darkness when we encountered the gravebird,¡± he said. ¡°To keep Vanesa from being swept by the river.¡±

    ¡°It is a Sign I learned,¡± she warily agreed. ¡°But it is demanding and I cannot maintain it for long. The consequences would be¡­ unpleasant.¡±

    He acknowledged that with a nod, but pressed on.

    ¡°Does it need to be anchored on something like water, or can it hang in the air?¡±

    ¡°It needs no anchor,¡± she replied. ¡°It is an exercise of shaping raw Gloam. Tristan, what are you scheming?¡±

    ¡°Maybe nothing,¡± he admitted. ¡°Maybe something. It depends on how long you can maintain it.¡±

    She searched his eyes for something. Whatever it was, she found it.

    ¡°How long do you need?¡±

    --

    If it were not in to everyone by now that they would not survive another hour of the airavatan stomping around their ring, Tristan figured some of them might have called him a fool. The same people likely thought him one in private still, but with death looming so tall at the end of theirmon road none were willing to spit on even a fool¡¯s chance of living through this. Yong caught his shoulder as he prepared to go. He hesitated, breath now smelling of drink in a way that was impossible to mistake even if Tristan had not seen him sneak a lick from his sk.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± the Tianxi finally said.

    ¡°And you,¡± Tristan replied, and on a whim pressed his hat into the man¡¯s hands.

    Hopefully he would being back for it. If not, well, why waste a perfectly good hat?

    Swallowing his fear, the remembrance of the monsters¡¯ tentaclesing within breaths of seizing him, the thief stepped out of the ring. He did not even need to shout: within two heartbeats the airavatan stopped tormenting the other stone ring and turned west. The difficult part, Tristan had known from the start, would be getting the angle right.

    There were fixed points and objects in movement.

    A ring to the east, from which the airavatan wasing as he headed west: towards the other ring, and Tristan who had just stepped out of it. To their north the ravine, to their south miles of grass and hills until distant woods were reached.

    Tristan headed south, away from the ravine and onto the grass. The airavatan charged, eager for violence. Heat pounding in his throat, Tristan fought down the primal urge to run back to the safety of the ring and continued moving south as the creature approached. It was angling away from the ravine and straight towards him, charging blindly as it had for the stone and shot. Breathing ragged, Tristan waited as long as he dared before breaking into a run. Back north towards the ravine, not so far from the same ring he¡¯de from.

    The moving parts he had sketched out in his mind came to be, one terrifying heartbeat at a time. Himself, nearing the edge of the ravine to the north ¨C when he did, the ring where the others waited would be directly to his side to the west. Sarai would be there, his death or salvation. The heliodoran beast, on the other hand, took the angle he¡¯d led it into. By going south he¡¯d drawn it southwest across the span between the rings, and now to catch up to him as he ran north it was turning northwest. Adjusting its angle he got closer and closer to the edge of the ravine.

    He''d begun running too early out of fear, he realized, so he had to fight down his instincts and slow his steps as the mist billowed past his feet and the beast approached. He felt the ground shiver beneath his feet and hurried, the airavatan charging after him. It was only mere feet between him and the ravine now. Thirty, twenty, ten.

    ¡°It¡¯s close,¡± Fortuna whispered into his ear. ¡°Behind you, to the right.¡±

    There was only one way to live now that he¡¯d got his far: trusting Sarai. And so, screaming into the silence at the top of his lungs, Tristan leapt off the edge of the cliff.

    For a hideous moment he flew, until just ahead of him an orb of darkness formed and he smacked right into its surface. Scrabbling desperately against the Gloam ¨C it was neither rough nor smooth, but his weight had him slipping the surface nheless ¨C he balled up around the orb and hoped. It was the best he could do, too afraid to try to turn and look back, but he still made himself see it in his mind¡¯s eye.

    The airavatan was blinded, by both poison and rage, and it was a massive creature on the run. It had been but a heartbeat or two behind him, much toote to turn. Which meant¡­

    The mist might have covered the grass and smothered sound there, but when the airavatan tumbled past the edge of the ravine he heard it scrabbling against stone. Thunderous bellows erupted from its maw as it slipped, desperately struggling, and a frenziedugh escaped his throat. He¡¯d done it. The fucking monster had heard him going north as he leapt and tried to intercept him right into ravine, which it could not see any more than it had seen the hill slopes. The orb of Gloam shivered beneath him and the thief let out a yelp.

    Now he needed to get out of here before Sarai was forced to release the Sign.

    Limbs shaking, he slowly began to wiggle around the orb so he could face the cliff. Every movement sent a thrill of terror up his wrists, the distant roar of the river beneath a reminder of what would happen to him if he slipped. When he finally turned to face the others he saw they had prepared as he¡¯d asked. Yong had tied his wrists to his musket, extending it as a perch, and the others ¨C save Sarai - were holding on to him. Beneath him the orb wobbled again. The more he let himself think about it, Tristan knew, the deeper the fear would bite.

    So instead he crawled atop the orb, standing in a crouch as his teeth bit into his lips, and with what little footing he could muster he leapt back towards the cliff.

    The butt of the musket caught him in the eye. He shouted in pain and terror, his cursed sweating hands slipping against the weapon, but his fingers caught on the lock. The piece of flint cut into his flesh but he held on for dear life, Yong and the others shouting as they hoisted him up. Only it wasn¡¯t enough, his grip was too weak, and he half-sobbed as the musket slid through his fingers.

    He pulled at his luck.

    The ticking began but for a searing moment nothing at all happened ¨C until he realized that above him Maryam has slipped on the grass, falling down: belly on the ground, but her torso hanging past the edge of the cliff. <em>Line of sight</em>, he thought, a second before she let out shout and something solid formed beneath his feet, catching his fall. Another orb. It immediately began breaking apart, but the brief moment had been enough for Yong to grab him by the cor. With a heave the former soldier hoisted him up, enough that the others caught him too and he was dragged over the edge. They dropped him face down in the grass and Tristan almost wept.

    He¡¯d bought his way out of the grave again.

    He stayed lying there, panting and listening to his heartbeat slow. Clenching his teeth in anticipation, he released the luck he¡¯d borrowed.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Sarai said, ¡°Tristan you-¡±

    The thief wriggled like a worm, for his feet were on fire. Or so it felt like: when he looked strands if Gloam were eating away at his right boot through the bottom. He tried to get it off but the pain was¡­ Yong tackled him, ripping it off, and once the leather was away from his skin the burning stopped. Tristan pulled the sole of his feet close after Yong released him, finding the skin was red and raw, already blistering. Gods, that was going to hurt. Still better than falling to his death. He waved away Sarai¡¯s apology, something about losing control of the Sign, and let himself fall into the grass again.

    Someone set something down on his belly, and he reached to find it was his tricorn. Grabbing it, he fanned his face and found Yong smiling down at him.

    ¡°Lan¡¯s going to get the other four,¡± he said. ¡°We can all set out together.¡±

    It was the only way Vanesa would get anywhere, now. Her leg was a ruin.

    ¡°The beast?¡± he asked.

    ¡°See for yourself,¡± Yong replied, offering a hand.

    Tristan took it, rising to finally take a good look at his handiwork. He half-hopped on one foot, leaning against Yong. He¡¯d been right, the thief thought when they got close: the airavatan might have made the jump, with long enough a run-up. It must have still gotten close, because it was hanging to the other side of the ravine by its heads and tentacles. Its back legs propped it up against their side of the ravine as it writhed and tried to climb out, but it was too heavy for the tentacles and a little legwork to be enough. Undone by its own weight, the airavatan was stuck between the sides of the ravine like a cork in a bottle. And the sight of that struck another spark of madness, because sometimes a problem was a solution. His boot was doneing apart and Sarai told him it was safe, so he tore into his pants and made strips to wrap around the bottom of the boot. A temporary solution, but better than going barefoot.

    Yong asked what he was doing when he limped away, avoiding resting on his bad foot, but he did not reply as he headed back into the grass. Where Sanale had been taken after he missed his throw. The citharay broken on the green, stepped on out of spite, and translucent feathers had spilled all over. Tristan took off his hat and knelt by them, stuffing what he could inside the tricorn. He doubled back after, returning to the monster writhing between the cliffs.

    The airavatan struggled and raged, shaking the earth as it tried to drag itself out of the trap with its tentacles. Theplete silence lent the sight a touch of the surreal, as if this were a waking dream, but Tristan¡¯s mind felt alight. Hat in hand he limped to the edge of the ravine, the raging heliodoran beast, and overlooking the great expanse of pale flesh he smiled a cold smile.

    He emptied the feathers on the beast¡¯s back.

    They fell down in a rain, scattering in a wind that did not exist, and the monster shivered. Its limbs heaved again, then slowly they dropped. It went still save for the slow rising of its breath, remaining stuck between the cliffs from sheer size. Slowly the mist faded, thinning into nothingness, until Tristan could hear someone walking up behind him. Yong came to stand at his side, a veiledntern in hand.

    ¡°Why bother?¡± the Tianxi asked. ¡°It was already trapped.¡±

    ¡°What is it you see in front of us, Yong?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Waste,¡± the Tianxi shrugged. ¡°What would you im is there?¡±

    ¡°A bridge,¡± Tristan Abrascal replied.

    He went back and took his cab, slinging it onto his back with a word, and as he reached the edge of the cliff he pressed his hat down onto his head. Looking down at the airavatan, the thief took a limping step forward. Then another and another, until he was all the way across.

    The beast did not wake.

    Not when Tristan did it, and not when all the others followed after him either.

 Chapter 19

    Chapter 19

    It was a long and narrow road.

    Past the woods, where the crags met the mountains, a tunnel dove into the rock. Angharad was too bone-tired to do more than stumble forward through it. There werenterns and stairs, the winding of the road taking them back outside ¨C on the side of the mountain, with only a ramshackle wooden railing in the way of the precipitous drop below ¨C before going up in a jagged zig-zag. In the distance she saw an ind darkened, a realm of monsters and darklings with the stars fixed far above in firmament¡¯s crown. The wind moaned intively, shaking the railing, and never had she felt more like she¡¯d reached some edge of the world.

    Was that what it had felt like, for Mother?

    No, it couldn¡¯t be. Angharad felt no wonder, no joy. Only blood drying on her face, the cut on her scalp itching and the smell of the filth and dirt she¡¯d squirmed against. Her limbs were made of lead, her head spun around like a weathervane. There had been no discovery here, no horizon reimed from the Gloam. She had just cut and been cut until she was made to crawl through shame and corpses. She had won in honour, or as close as her saber had been able to reach to that, but now it felt like such a passing thing. Angharad forced herself up the stairs, their hypnotic back and forth of angles going up the mountainside, but time slipped through her fingers like sand.

    How long had she been walking?

    Everyntern, every step felt the same and there was no sign of the promised sanctuary. Had Song not promised to wait for her? Yet here she stood alone. Angharad licked dry lips, but all it did was salt the bloody cracks. One more step, she told herself. Always one more step, until she reached the yellownterns and their promise of safety. She slipped,nding on her knees, but was too exhausted to let out more than a moan of pain. The wind echoed her, mocking. She turned to chide it, to let out something of the scream stills tuck in her throat, but her vision swam.

    She felt her knees give and there was a burst of pain, then nothing.

    --

    Warmth and cool. A nket above, but beneath her was stone digging at her back.

    ¡°- should be fine, she hasn¡¯t lost so much blood she would die from it.¡±

    Eyes fluttering open, Angharad let out a hiss of pain at the bright burn of thenterns. She shaded her vision with her hand, finding her hand slow ¨C as if she¡¯d just gone through a great exertion. In many ways, she had.

    ¡°Ah,¡± a voice she recognized said. ¡°Back with us, Lady Tredegar.¡±

    Grey eyes looked down at her, the apprentice physician ¨C if he was truly that ¨C Tristan meeting her gaze as he wiped his hands with a dirty rag. He had, she noticed, a swollen ck eye.

    ¡°I-¡± Angharad tried, but found her mouth felt full of cotton.

    She swallowed, which helped a little.

    ¡°Where are we?¡± she got out.

    ¡°On the stairs to sanctuary,¡± Tristan informed her. ¡°Where you fell unconscious. I had a look at you, however, and there is nothing to worry about. That cut on your head could do with stitches, but your wounds are rather minor.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°I assume your statees fromck of sleep or contract overuse,¡± the Sacromontan said. ¡°Either way, given some rest you should be back on your feet after a day or two.¡±

    <em>I do not have a day or two</em>, she thought. The longer she gave Augusto Cerdan, the better the chances he would somehow wriggle away out of this. And what if he tried to call their duel while she was unfit to fight? None of this, though, was Tristan¡¯s concern.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Angharad croaked. ¡°For the help.¡±

    ¡°Thank Yong,¡± Tristan shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s his <em>herbero</em> I used to disinfect your wounds and wash your face. It¡¯s the cheap stuff from Estebra District, so it¡¯s halfway to grain alcohol.¡±

    The Pereduri sniffed at the air, brow knotting. Was that peppermint she smelled?

    ¡°Foul stuff,¡± Tristan sympathized. ¡°But I¡¯d rmend a swallow or two from the sk to get you fit to walk anyway.¡±

    Angharad was beginning to reconsider her assumption that he was a physician. Or at least a proper one. He might have been like one of those shipboard doctors she¡¯d heard about, whose only two remedies were maize beer and rum. Smiling, the man withdrew and was reced by a familiar face: Lady Ferranda Vizur, looking ragged and red-eyed. The noblewoman offered her a hand.

    ¡°Up, Lady Angharad,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°The faster we reach sanctuary, the faster we can rest.¡±

    She took the hand but wriggled around to keep the nket on her, adjusting it over her shoulders after Ferranda hoisted her up. Though clothed, she felt cold. Her vision swam for a moment, but a long breathter she was fine. Enough so that she could take in the sight of the people gathered further down the stairs. A ragged pair of middle age were the furthest down, the man of the pair holding up an old woman with a mangled leg on his back. Above them an old man leaned against the wall, and then there were a few she knew by name: Lan, the remaining twin with blue lips, and Yong, the soldier who she must thank for the use of his drink.

    There was no sign of Sanale, an absence that had her heart squeezing in sympathy for Ferranda, and thest then should be - Angharad froze, then began reaching for a saber she no longer had. A hollow, they had a hollow among them. Had they made a pact with the cultists like Tupoc? Half the others immediately pointed weapons at her.

    ¡°She is not a darkling,¡± Yong said, tone even.

    ¡°<em>She</em> can speak for herself,¡± Sarai ¨C for it could only be her ¨C firmly told the Tianxi. ¡°I believe your family are seafarers, Lady Tredegar, so you ought to know the name of Triu.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s shoulders lost some of their tension.

    ¡°The northern colonies,¡± she slowly said. ¡°You are of the peoples below the Broken Gates.¡±

    ¡°Not so broken, before your people came,¡± Sarai coldly replied. ¡°Like many other things.¡±

    Angharad coughed into her hand, embarrassed. In truth she knew little of the Triu, for her mother¡¯s travels had been to the east and not the north, but she did know a few things. For one, Triu was the name for the endless petty chiefdoms of thatnd as well as the people themselves. Unlike the people of Mn, they had never grown past their tribal roots.

    ¡°I apologize for the discourtesy,¡± Angharad awkwardly said. ¡°I assure you, not all of the Isles believe very without evil.¡±

    ¡°Splendid news,¡± Sarai replied with a politely savage smile. ¡°Why, near half the Mni I¡¯ve ever met have assured me the same. No doubt the ve trade will be ending any day now.¡±

    There was a long, barren stretch of silence. Then Tristan snorted out augh, which was shoddily turned into a cough.

    ¡°I¡¯ve just seen to her wounds, Sarai, don¡¯t murder her right afterwards,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s very inconsiderate of my time.¡±

    ¡°Time we are wasting,¡± Lady Ferranda mildly said. ¡°Shall we get moving instead of chattering like magpies?¡±

    ¡°Fucking finally,¡± the middle-aged man below bit out. ¡°How light to do you think she is?¡±

    He gestured at the old woman on his back, who Angharad only now noticed had a bandage-covered eye under broken spectacles.

    ¡°<em>Felis</em>,¡± the woman by him chided.

    ¡°I have been eating a lot of croquetas,¡± the old woman admitted.

    Amusement spread, the earlier unpleasantness thinning. Tristan and Sarai took the lead ¨C she only now noticed that the Sacromontan was limping, and one of his boots was wrapped with bandages ¨C to begin the climb. Angharad was tugged forward by Lady Ferranda. The other woman leaned close.

    ¡°Stay on Sarai¡¯s good side,¡± she murmured. ¡°She¡¯s joined to the hip with Tristan and he was Yong¡¯s favorite even before we all came to owe him.¡±

    Angharad slowly nodded. She then hesitated, not sure whether she should ask. Ferranda noticed and her face tightened.

    ¡°Sanale was caught by the airavatan,¡± she curtly said. ¡°We nearly all died to it as well.¡±

    ¡°My condolences,¡± the dark-skinned noblewoman said.

    A titude, but she meant every word. Retainers that had been with you for long were as family, and Lady Ferranda was obviously taking his loss hard. Ferranda nodded, a tad shortly.

    ¡°What happened for you to end up alone and unconscious on the stairs?¡± she asked. ¡°I thought you were to stay with the others.¡±

    ¡°Augusto Cerdan murdered his valet to flee from lupines faster,¡± Angharad tly said. ¡°Naturally, I challenged him to an honour duel.¡±

    Ferranda¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°Naturally,¡± she repeated, though her voice was a little strange.

    ¡°As a consequence, when weter encountered an ambush by Tupoc Xical and the cult of the Red Eye he betrayed us in an attempt to rid himself of me while running away,¡± she continued. ¡°In doing so, he also threw away the lives of Isabel, Master Cozme and his own brother.¡±

    Their conversation was interrupted by Tristan butting in, abandoning Sarai at the front as he slowed to stay just ahead of them.

    ¡°All these were caught by the cultists?¡± he asked, sounding surprised.

    Though Angharad was miffed at both the presumption he could force his way into the conversation and the tacit admission he had been eavesdropping, she bit down on a sharp reply. She owed a debt for his treatment.

    ¡°No,¡± she replied. ¡°As far as I know only Briceida, one of Lady Isabel¡¯s handmaids, was captured. I fought to slow down the enemy before shaking them off but took some wounds in doing so. The others fled ahead and I lost blood. You then found me in the stairs.¡±

    It was not reasonable, Angharad reminded herself, to feel abandoned by this. She had good as ordered them to leave her behind. And yet. <em>Don¡¯t be childish</em>, she ordered herself. Both Tristan and Ferranda looked skeptical at the implication of her minor wounds having undone her so, but as both deduced the fuller truth had to do with a contract neither pressed the matter.

    ¡°You are not the only one who fought Tupoc and his men,¡± Lady Ferranda told her. ¡°Lady Inyoni lost one of her own to him as well.¡±

    That was sad news, but not without a silver lining. She would not be short on allies when she urged for them to string up the traitor and his brood.

    ¡°He betrayed one of his own subordinates,¡± Angharad said with open disgust. ¡°He sold out Leander Gtas to the hollows when theyined too few had been delivered into their hands.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s brow knotted at the news. Had he been friends with the man?

    ¡°He is burning too many bridges,¡± the scruffy Sacromontan said. ¡°He must still have something up his sleeve to think he¡¯d get away with it.¡±

    ¡°Then let us end him before that,¡± Angharad said. ¡°He should be made to stand before a tribunal of the rest of us the moment he steps out of sanctuary, do you not agree?¡±

    The reactions were the opposite of what she had expected: Tristan¡¯s face disyed some enthusiasm at the notion while Ferranda¡¯s closed. She had thought the infanzona bolder than this and the man more cowardly. Why else would he have only browbeaten those weaker than him?

    ¡°It may not be that easy,¡± Lady Ferranda said. ¡°The Trial of Ruins may well force our hand otherwise.¡±

    <em>I look forward to working with you in the second trial, Lady Tredegar</em>, the pale-eyed traitor had smiled down at her. Angharad¡¯s belly clenched in rage. Had he done it all knowing he would be able to wriggle his way out of consequences?

    ¡°How?¡± she asked.

    How was he to trick his way out, and how could she make him choke on his trickery instead?

    ¡°That is a conversation that can wait until we reach sanctuary,¡± Ferranda firmly replied. ¡°The next step can wait until this one is taken.¡±

    Angharad grimaced but did not contradict her. Tristan returned to the fore, and after the Pereduri saw the look of grief Ferranda¡¯s face when she asked about how theirpany had crossed the river she let the matter drop. Instead she inquired as to what stilly between them and the yellownterns, a change of subject the infanzona eagerly seized upon. It turned out, embarrassingly enough, that that Angharad had copsed less than an hour away from the end of the trial. They went up the jagged stairs, then into another tunnel of bare stone that headed deep into the mountain.

    The supports keeping the ceiling from copse were made of wood or iron, but unlike the earlier railing they were in a fine state. The Watch kept them in good order.

    ¡°The maze is within a cavern, then?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°It is that in the same way that Vesper is a cavern,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°You will see.¡±

    Before long, Angharad did. The tunnel ended abruptly into a precipitous flight of carved stairs, but she hardly spared a look for those. Blowing wind threatened to put out theirnterns, but there was no need of those to see: from the ceiling of the gargantuan underground chamber hung great pieces of gold giving out a ghostly glow, slowly moving as if the world¡¯s greatest crib mobile. Below it ¨C and them -was spread out the Trial of Ruins in all its glory.

    First a fort surrounded by yellownterns, dpidated bastions guarding over a massive iron gate set in pir of stone that rose all the way to the ceiling. But it was whaty beyond that had her breath catching in her throat: a city of broken shrines. It was as if some mad spirit had stolen a thousand ancient temples and mausoleums and tossed them into a haphazard pile that filled the entire chamber, making a mountain-maze of the lost and sacred. Angharad could see no path above, no more than if she were trying to climb a mountain within the mountain. They would have to go through thebyrinth to get on the other end of the chamber, not around it.

    Behind her there were gasps and she was almost stumbled into, the toothless old man gazing at the sight with open wonder. He looked the most alive she had seen of him yet.

    ¡°It is true, then,¡± Francho breathed out. ¡°Shrines from inds halfway across the Trebian Sea, all drawn here by some god¡¯s hand.¡±

    ¡°This ce is known?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°In some circles,¡± the old man evaded. ¡°It has long been said the Watch locks away on the Dominion gods that are too dangerous to let loose, but the rumour is dubious in provenance.¡±

    The old man sucked at his gums thoughtfully. Angharad was polite enough not to wrinkle her nose in distaste.

    ¡°The scope of this does seem beyond even them,¡± Francho said.

    Angharad could only agree, for there must be hundreds and hundreds of ruins here: how could any assembly of men bring these inside a hollow mountain through those narrow stairs they had earlier climbed? It would not do to block the way so the Pereduri began her way down the stone stairs. They were mercifully dry, but the slope steep and utterly without railing. Angharad took care in climbing down, until finally she reached t and solid ground. She waited there with the vanguard until the rest of thepany caught up, eyes peeled on the even stretch of stone ahead of them leading straight to the old fort encircled by yellownterns.

    Sanctuary.

    The proceeded only after everyone had gathered, the mood growing buoyant with safety just in sight. The fort was a sprawling thing, shaped as a square of tall walls with pointed bastions peeking out of the corners. It was also half a ruin, parts of the walls copsed and only two of the bastions still whole. There werenterns on the ramparts beyond the yellow ones outside, and in their glow the silhouettes of ck-cloaked men armed with muskets could be seen. The ¡®gate¡¯ was a copsed wall, guarded by a pair of bored watchmen who betrayed little interest when theirpany came in sight.

    One of the two, a tall woman of Sacromontan look, counted them out loud.

    ¡°Ten, huh?¡± she mused. ¡°Maybe it¡¯ll not be aplete loss this year. With the others inside, you should have the numbers for the maze.¡±

    The other watchmanughed at her words.

    ¡°Head in,¡± he told them. ¡°You are now formally under sanctuary after havingpleted the Trial of Lines. Congrattions.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°There¡¯s warm food and supplies ahead.¡±

    No amount of rudeness could have prevented a swelling a joy after being told that.

    ¡°If you want to withdraw under our protection,¡± the watchman said, ¡°find Lieutenant Wen.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Yong replied.

    After a polite nod the Tianxi was the first to take the slender ¡®gate¡¯, the rest lining up to follow behind him. Angharad was fifth in line and went with a spring to her step: she was eager to see how herpanions had fared without her. Yet as she made to enter the fort the watchwoman of the pair stopped her ¨Cid a hand on her arm. Angharad frowned at her for the presumption.

    ¡°Angharad Tredegar?¡± the tall Sacromontan asked.

    ¡°Correct,¡± she coolly replied.

    The watchwoman¡¯s expression brightened.

    ¡°Good, we were getting afraid you wouldn¡¯t make it,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s going to be an unreasonably pretty Mni by the cooking pots, Sergeant Mandisa. You¡¯re to go to her.¡±

    Angharad blinked.

    ¡°May I ask why?¡±

    ¡°Because we all like brandy,¡± the other woman drily replied. ¡°Go on, then.¡±

    Mystified at the nonsense reply, Angharad obeyed and caught up to Franchi as he entered a great courtyard. It was, she saw, the beating heart of this ruined fort. A wide open space of cracked paving stones led up to the rampart at the back and the massive iron gate set into it. Most everyone seemed to have made a home there, including the Watch: the ckcloaks had imed an old barracks on the left side, its windows barred and stripes of dark paint marking it as off-limits. Besides them stairs went up to one of the still still-standing bastions, atop which greatnterns hung and someone appeared to have set up astronomical equipment.

    On the opposite side of the courtyard the Watch had built out of old stables a series small ¡®rooms¡¯: stalls with nks for roof and curtains hung as doors. It would be a thin illusion of privacy but still more than Angharad had been graced with in weeks ¨C months, even, moving between ships and inns since leaving the Isles. Further back stood what looked like a cross between a lumberyard and smithy, used only by a thick watchman chopping wood, but what drew Angharad¡¯s eye was not at the sides of the courtyard but the very heart. Tables were set in a loose circle around a makeshift kitchen, with a shoddy brick oven and cooking hearth.

    And rising from one of the tables to the right, abandoning steaming bowls of stew, were thepanions she had parted ways with.

    ¡°Angharad!¡± Isabel called out, running forward.

    The dark-haired beauty shot past Tristan and Sarai, barely slowing as she half-leapt into Angharad¡¯s arms. As surprised as she was delighted, she caught the infanzona by the waist and held her up to avoid the both of them being bowled over. Isabelughed as she was spun and set down, grinning all the while.

    ¡°I knew you¡¯d make it,¡± she said. ¡°I just knew.¡±

    ¡°It was a close-run thing,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°Had I not been found by our friends here I might have died on the stairs.¡±

    ¡°Then I must thank them most earnestly,¡± Isabel said.

    She got on the tip of her toes to peek over Angharad¡¯s shoulder, beaming at those standing there ¨C now most of the crew she had arrived with ¨C and noticeably not moving out of being held by the waist. Noticeably to Angharad, anyway. She reluctantly extricated herself from Isabel only to be crowded by the others. Master Cozme shook her hand,plimenting her on a ¡®daring escape¡¯ and even Remund spared the sneer to tell her he was d she was still with them. Brun contained himself to a nod but he was smiling, and Song went around inspecting her and sighing.

    ¡°You looked like you¡¯ve crawled through dirt,¡± the Tianxiined.

    ¡°I did,¡± Angharad tly replied.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you take my ce in the line for use of the washtub, then,¡± Song told her. ¡°It would be criminal to do otherwise.¡±

    Recognizing that for the affection it was, Angharad let go of the sliver of irritation that¡¯d been rising. Song was, if perhaps not yet a friend, then at least a goodpanion. She was not to be begrudged a bit of fussing. Her gaze strayed, for she had yet to see Beatris, and she found the other survivors from the Bluebell arrayed around the tables. Some had risen to greet people she hade with, but other simply looked on with interest. Tupoc and his surviving traitors, Acanthe Phos and Ocon, sat away from the others.

    As did Augusto Cerdan, who rose to his feet face with an ashen face when she found his eyes.

    ¡°All right, all right,¡± a voice cheerfully called out. ¡°Enough of that, mymbkins. We are no longer feeding the fire under the pot, so that stew¡¯s only going to get colder.¡±

    Angharad wrenched her gaze away from Augusto to the new speaker, finding a woman who must be Sergeant Mandisa. The sergeant¡¯s green eyes were set in high-cheeked face with lustrous dark skin, standing even taller than Angharad -who was taller than most. Neither her ck cloak nor the uniform beneath managed to hide the voluptuousness of her curves, which seemed most irrepressible. Unreasonably pretty indeed. Angharad would have expected to see such a beauty at court, not in the depths of this cursed ind.

    ¡°Sergeant Mandisa?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I am,¡± she easily replied. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°I was told by the watchwoman at the gate that-¡±

    She was interrupted by a maning passing her by and brusquely setting a wooden chest on the nearest table, the mming sound making those closest start in surprise. He then set down a bottle of green grass by the chest and nced at Sergeant Mandisa. She straightened, then mmed her palm against the table.

    ¡°<em>Silence</em>,¡± she shouted. ¡°Silence for the officer.¡±

    Given her previous air of cheer, the sudden turn had them all settling down within moments. The noblewoman¡¯s eyes moved to the man who must be the officer in question and was taking them all in silently.

    He was a big man, Tianxi in looks and nearly of a height with Angharad but with a massive belly barely tucked into his ck coat and gilet, distending the fabric over waist-high trousers. Many watchmen bore criss-crossing bandoleers, but he wore his as straps instead. He should have lookedical, a fat man in a tight uniform, but the confidence in the way he held himself smothered that notion in the crib. The officer went fishing through his coat, taking out a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles that he carefully unfolded and put on. His gaze swept through them, more than a few straightening their backs.

    ¡°My name is Lieutenant Wen,¡± he said. ¡°I sharemand of the Old Fort¡¯s garrison with Lieutenant Vasanti, who if you are very lucky you might once see in passing. She¡¯s not particrly interested in people when there¡¯s fleshy bits left on the bones.¡±

    He smiled, though there was little friendliness to it.

    ¡°Most of you will have met Sergeant Mandisa,¡± Lieutenant Wen said, gesturing to the woman at his side. ¡°Remember her face, for she has been charged with seeing to your needs and deciding if any of you need to be shot for breaking our very, very simple rules.¡±

    Sergeant Mandisa, still incongruously pretty in her own ck cloak and coat, waved at them with a smile so charming it should make flowers bloom. The Tianxi lieutenant raised three fingers, then slowly folded one.

    ¡°One, stay out of left side of the fort. That is to say the barracks, the bastion and the supply depot,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°If you do not, you will be immediately¡­¡±

    ¡°Shot,¡± Sergeant Mandisa cheerfully finished, branding her fingers like a pistol and shooting it at Tupoc.

    The Azn had the gall to wink back.

    ¡°Two,¡± Lieutenant Wen continued, folding a second finger, ¡°should any of you contract with a god within the ruins, you must immediately report having done so upon returning to sanctuary. If you do not¡­¡±

    ¡°Shot,¡± Sergeant Mandisa helpfully provided, smacking her fist into her palm.

    Had they practiced this, Angharad wondered? They must have.

    ¡°And three,¡± the fat lieutenant said, taking his hand away, ¡°there is to be no killing of each other within the bounds of the yellownterns. As a particr extension of this, should any of you choose to retire from the trials ande under the Watch¡¯s protection any attempted violence against them will be met with as slow and inventive a death as we can figure out.¡±

    He smiled again, even less friendly.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a tinker from the Umuthi Society around and it does get dreadfully boring out here,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°So you can bet it¡¯ll be a spectacle.¡±

    The ckcloak then pped his hands, startling a few of the faint-hearted among theirpany, and slid his thumbs into his belt.

    ¡°Simple rules, as I said, but let it not be said I am not an amodating man,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°Are there any questions?¡±

    Angharad cleared her throat, unsure whether or not she should raise her hand. The Tianxi turned an amused eye on her, as if able to read her thoughts.

    ¡°And you are?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Lady Angharad Tredegar,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Ah,¡± the lieutenant said, tone turning gregarious, ¡°Captain Osian¡¯s niece! Good, good. I put ten arboles on your reaching the Trial of Weeds, so do try not to die.¡±

    ¡°I will¡­ do my best?¡± Angharad hesitantly answered.

    The man chuckled.

    ¡°Go on, girl.¡±

    Rallying, the Pereduri cleared her throat again.

    ¡°Am I to understand that the Watch does not care if a killing takes ce beyond the lines of sanctuary?¡± she asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re free to butcher each other all you like out there in the maze,¡± Lieutenant Wen agreed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t rmend it, given how it works, but we¡¯re not here to hold your hand.¡±

    The Tianxi was only half paying attention by the end of the sentence, popping open the box on the table and riffling within. He produced a cigar, which he brought close and smelled with obvious relish. Angharad hid her distaste ¨C Mother had enjoyed these as well, but she shared her father¡¯s opinion that the smell was simply foul. Someone else cleared their throat. Lord Ishaan, the chubby-cheeked man from the Imperial Someshwar. He looked pale, and his hair sweaty. Neither he nor hispanion Shalini had been sitting at the same table as Lady Inyoni and her nephew, even though they hade together.

    ¡°Wow does the maze work?¡± he asked. ¡°We have yet to be told.¡±

    ¡°We sent out a detachment when the first of you arrived to check which passages are open this year,¡± Lieutenant Wen replied. ¡°They¡¯ll be back sometime during the night, barring disaster. You will all be summoned to an assemblye morning so the practicalities of the trial might be exined.¡±

    Tupoc Xical stepped forward then, drawing many eyes ¨C and few of them friendly.

    ¡°Are we allowed to begin the trial early if we wish?¡± the Azn asked.

    Lieutenant Wenughed.

    ¡°There¡¯s a cliff around here you can jump down from instead,¡± he said, ¡°that¡¯ll at least save us having to retrieve your corpse. But sure, Izcalli, you can start early.¡±

    He pointed past the walls, to another hole in the rampart.

    ¡°Head that way, the Lion Shrine opens almost every year,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°And shout for help when you get caught, would you?¡±

    He beamed at the Azn, the cheer having a vicious tinge to it.

    ¡°We won¡¯t being, but it¡¯ll draw other gods so you might die quicker.¡±

    Angharad was beginning to suspect there might be a reason Lieutenant Wen had been assigned to garrison duty under a mountain on argely inhabited ind in the middle of nowhere.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Tupoc replied, looking entirely unperturbed.

    Angharad was learning to hate how nothing shook him. Her hand was itching for a de to hold.

    ¡°Any other questions?¡± the lieutenant asked.

    There were not, so he reminded them they could ask Sergeant Mandisa for supplies and invited them to rest until tomorrow ¨C or had begun thest part, at least, when Angharad moved. The questions were finished, so courtesy had been observed. She brushed past a confused Shalini and a grinning Lan, ignored Ocon as he raised his fists in a fighting stance and then Augusto Cerdan was facing her. Not a scratch on the man, save for his broken arm now in a sling.

    He sneered, opening his mouth, and Angharad socked him in the stomach.

    He folded, letting out a wheeze of pain, and there was a ripple in the crowd as people made room for them. Angharad sought out Remund Cerdan in the crowd and caught his gaze, giving him a slight nod. After a heartbeat of hesitation he returned it. As for Master Cozme, who stood by the younger brother¡¯s side, his face was conflicted. She would have to trust that Remund¡¯s orders and the earlier betrayal tipped the bnce of loyalties the correct way.

    She chose not to look for Isabel.

    ¡°As I did not strike you in the face, you may choose to consider yourself as not having been challenged to a duel,¡± Angharad told Augusto.

    She would not turn down an opportunity to strike him a third time.

    ¡°You <em>bitch</em>,¡± the infanzon hissed.

    ¡°Augusto Cerdan, for the betrayal of myself and three others to cultists of the Red Eye I call you to answer de in hand,¡± Angharad imcably replied.

    She had given her word to Cozme Aflor that she would not pursue her challenge of Augusto until the end of the second trial, but she was following those words exact. Let the Fisher say what he would, Angharad would not bend her neck to the ways of the world: she could survive without carving away at her own principles, and if there were prices to pay for that so be it.

    ¡°You don¡¯t even <em>have </em>a sword!¡± Augusto protested, taking a step back.

    There was a snort from behind them.

    ¡°She may havbe mine,¡± Song said.

    The infanzon¡¯s eyes dted with fear as he swept the crowd and found no support there. The Cerdan brothers had made few friends and Augusto burned bridges with even those. He reached for his sword, giving Angharad an excuse to dart forward and hit him in the belly again, catching his wrist and mming the de back in the sheath. She caught him by the cor and began dragging him towards the entrance to the Old Fort.

    The t grounds there were not within the span of the yellownterns, and so not sanctuary.

    Augusto struggled, but his broken arm was in the way and she was stronger than her.

    ¡°Watchmen!¡± Augusto shouted. ¡°This is murder, she breaks the spirit of the rules - you <em>must </em>intervene.¡±

    Angharad paused there, for if the Watch intervened she would have to give way. Lieutenant Wen, still standing by the table, took a look at them and scratched a match on the tabletop. He pressed it against his cigar, pulling at it until the end burned cherry red. The Tianxi then breathed out a stream of smoke, cocking an eyebrow over his spectacles.

    ¡°I¡¯m not seeing anything,¡± the watchman said. ¡°Are you seeing anything, sergeant?¡±

    Sergeant Mandisa, pulling off the cork on the bottle the lieutenant had earlier brought, began pouring herself a cup of the amber liquid within the green ss.

    ¡°Not a one, sir,¡± she prettily smiled. ¡°And I¡¯m trying real hard.¡±

    Lieutenant Wen rested his hands on his bulging belly, offering a wide friendly smile while beaming at them both.

    ¡°Do give Captain Osian our regards when you next see him, Lady Angharad,¡± the Tianxi mused. ¡°The brandy and cigars have made garrison duty<em> much </em>more tolerable.¡±

    Sergeant Mandisa raised a silent toast to his words. Angharad was split between horror and gratitude. Her uncle¡¯s doing was freeing her to deal out justice, but he had also quite obviously bribed these people. Even back on the Bluebell, he¡¯d had a friend watching out for her in the crew. How many strings had Uncle Osian pulled ¨C and how many of them were crooked?

    When it sunk in that no help wasing, Augusto let out a noise that was whimper trying to be a scream.

    ¡°How dare you,¡± he babbled as Angharad dragged him forward. ¡°House Cerdan will-¡±

    He tried to get his de out again so she twisted his broken arm and forced the steel back into its sheath while he screamed.

    ¡°They will hunt you like an animal,¡± Augusto hissed, ¡°to the ends of the-¡±

    Mere feet to the break in the rampart now, she could already see the yellow glow of thenterns outside. The entrance to the fort was well-lit,nterns hanging from the ramparts, so there was no missing it when a shadow caught up to her. Cutting across the floor it slithered, warning her of the arrival before Tupoc Xical ever came to stand before her.

    Between Angharad and the way out.

    Augusto began struggling again, so she stomped down on his foot.

    ¡°What is this, Xical?¡± she coldly asked.

    ¡°I am,¡± the Azn grinned, ¡°defending the weak.¡±

    The sheer absurdity of what he¡¯d just said gave her pause. Enough that Augusto was able to wriggle out of her grasp, and though she kicked him down to his hands and knees she saw Tupoc hefting his segmented spear and she was yet unarmed. She was not, however, alone. Behind her a pistol was cocked as Song came to stand at her left, and to her right Brun pressed something into her hand ¨C a straight sword, Song¡¯s own. The Sacromontan held his hatchet, and tough he smiled reassuringly his eyes were cold. Angharad¡¯s fingers closed around the de, weighing it.

    It was a little lighter than she¡¯d like, but it would do.

    ¡°Move,¡± Angharad Tredegar told her enemy, ¡°or be moved.¡±

    Augusto crawled towards his protector and she let him, for it would not matter. From the corner of her eye, the Pereduri saw that Ocon was moving to nk them. The crowd looked reluctant to intervene, but the esction was losing her support. No one wanted a full-on skirmish.

    ¡°s, I think we will have to save that dance for another day,¡± Tupoc wistfully told her.

    A heartbeatter there was a sharp crack and stone went flying as a shot was fired on the ground between them. Above them, on all sides, ckcloaks were pointing their muskets. Lieutenant Wen, looking irritated, strode past her and pivoted to turn a re on everyone. Sergeant Mandisa followed him, levelling their way thergest blunderbuss Angharad had ever seen. It was already cocked and the Mni looked a little too eager to use it forfort.

    ¡°Enough,¡± he ordered. ¡°Weapons down, all of you, or I¡¯ll have you strung up.¡±

    Angharad gritted her teeth even as Tupoc made a show of dismantling his spear, pale eyes smiling at her all the while. Brun¡¯s hatchet came down, though, and Song¡¯s muzzle dipped.

    ¡°It¡¯s over, Angharad,¡± the silver-eyed Tianxi sighed. ¡°They get away with it for now.¡±

    Lieutenant Wen stared her down until she lowered her sword, then nodded in satisfaction. She watched Augusto offering grovelling thanks to his saviour with disgust. Walking away, the bespectacled lieutenant stopped to p her shoulder and lean in. His sergeant was but a step behind.

    ¡°Sorry, Tredegar, but Xical¡¯s not just<em> yiwu</em> trashe here for bragging rights,¡± he told her. ¡°He¡¯s to be one of us, like you, so it¡¯s out of my hands. We can only y favourites so much.¡±

    He left her standing there, rooted to the ground and facing the Mni sergeant¡¯s cheerful face.

    ¡°Don¡¯t lose heart,mbkin,¡± Sergeant Mandisaforted her. ¡°It¡¯s <em>really </em>easy to murder people in the maze, so you¡¯ll still have plenty of chances!¡±

    Angharad wondered what it said about her that the perky madwoman¡¯s words did, in fact, cheer her up a bit.

 Chapter 20

    Chapter 20

    The constion prizes for being denied her duel were several.

    Sergeant Mandisa sent a Watch surgeon to stitch the cut on her head and she sat down for a hot meal afterwards. Little more than stew and bread, but both were warm and after days on the run she would have been delighted by even a warm rock. She polished both off and Sergeant Mandisa even offered her a thimble of brandy, which she had not anyone else, before pping her shoulder.

    ¡°There¡¯s a few swords in the armoury,¡± she said. ¡°Have a look when you¡¯re done.¡±

    A pause as the beautiful sergeant looked her up and down.

    ¡°Wen said I should remind you there¡¯s clothes as well, if you want something to take something, but that shirt-and-coat look you went with is pretty ravishing,¡± Sergeant Mandisa praised.

    Angharad went still as a statue, thimble in hand.

    ¡°It is shockingly fashionable,¡± Isabel agreed, eyes smiling. ¡°I could see it taking in salons with the right adjustments ¨C perhaps a silk sash around the waist or an open vest?¡±

    ¡°Coloured breast bindings,¡± the Mni sergeant suggested. ¡°That way you can make them out through the shirt.¡±

    ¡°Scandalous,¡± Isabel appreciatively said.

    Angharad hunched over and drank her thimble of brandy, as sadly it was impossible for her to disappear down it from sheer mortification. Perhaps a vest was in order, if the Watch kept any. Her coat needed mending again anyhow. Sergeant Mandisa strolled away after pping her on the back again, leaving her to embarrassment.

    ¡°There¡¯s a well for drinking water and another for the washtub,¡± Brun informed her, perhaps taking pity. ¡°I¡¯ll show you where so you can clean up.¡±

    ¡°That would be a fine thing,¡± Angharad admitted.

    Tristan had done good work getting rid of the blood, but he had not been interested in the filth beyond what might get into her wounds. She was surprised Isabel could stomach to sit across from her given how she must smell.

    ¡°I have the first ce in line after the Watch is done using it,¡± Song told her. ¡°As I said before our interlude, you can have it.¡±

    ¡°That is kind of you,¡± Angharad said, nodding her thanks.

    ¡°It the least we owe,¡± the Tianxi meaningfully said.

    Her gaze turned to the end of the table, distracting Angharad from reminding her she owed nothing at all: Song had saved her life on the Bluebell. The silver-eyed woman was staring at the two sitting near the edge, Master Cozme and Remund Cerdan. Both were keeping silent, looking ufortable. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, both were wrestling with the reality that they had surrendered Augusto Cerdan to her de. It was Cozme Aflor who broke first, shaking his head.

    ¡°It is as she said,¡± he admitted. ¡°And you kept your word to the letter: it¡¯s another duel you tried to fight.¡±

    There was a coolness to the way he beheld her now, a wariness. Had he guessed using the precise wording was her intention all along? Remund Cerdan, on the other hand, looked more tired and angry than anything else.

    ¡°Would that you were able to end him,¡± he said. ¡°Cozme would not hear of my seeing to it myself-¡±

    ¡°I have explicit orders otherwise,¡± the soldier tly said.

    ¡°- else he would not have reached sanctuary alive,¡± Remund continued, teeth gritted. ¡°He tried to murder us with that shot, to murder <em>me</em>.¡±

    ¡°I would have struck him down if Song had not stopped me,¡± Brun admitted. ¡°Before we all ran, I mean.¡±

    ¡°Thest thing we needed was to start fighting each other,¡± Song tly replied. ¡°All it would aplish was help the cultists.¡±

    Cozme nodded at her gratefully, then hesitated when looking Angharad¡¯s way.

    ¡°Augusto Cerdan is no longer under my protection,¡± he finally told her. ¡°I ensured he reached sanctuary and had the opportunity to withdraw from the trials, I owe nothing more.¡±

    ¡°He will stay, then?¡± Angharad said, honestly surprised.

    Remundughed unkindly.

    ¡°He must,¡± the younger Cerdan said. ¡°He will be disgraced when Isabel and I return to Sacromonte, perhaps even cast out of our house.¡±

    ¡°Unless Lord Cerdan seeks a feud with House Ruesta, he will most certainly be cast out,¡± Isabel coldly stated.

    ¡°You believe he will try to kill you,¡± Angharad slowly said. ¡°To prevent word getting back.¡±

    ¡°Not prevent, that would be too difficult. But it is understood between the houses that deaths on the Dominion are to be left on the Dominion,¡± Isabel exined. ¡°Conflict has urred before, you understand. He would be stretching the bounds of tolerance, of course, but if he returns and we do not¡­¡±

    ¡°Any heir is better than none,¡± Remund said, face pulled tight. ¡°Our father is not a sentimental man.¡±

    Angharad nced at Cozme, who seemed to be treating this as none of his affair. He avoided her gaze, which was confirmation enough. The Pereduri hid her disgust at the thought that a kinyer might be weed back into one¡¯s family after the deed. It was absurd that Sacromonte might call itself a civilized nation without answering such a foul crime by being throwing the kinyer down a cliff.

    ¡°But such talk can wait until tomorrow,¡± Isabel said. ¡°Shall I ask Beatris to mend your coat again?¡±

    Her smile as she said that was sly, a joke between only the two of them. Angharad was ufortable sharing in it before Remund Cerdan, however, who still seemed to be expecting these trials to end in a marriage.

    ¡°Please,¡± Angharad said, casting a look around.

    Where was Beatris, anyhow? She had seen neither hide nor hair of Isabel¡¯s sole remaining handmaid since she reached sanctuary.

    ¡°She is resting,¡± Isabel said, answering an unspoken question.

    Song scoffed.

    ¡°She is catatonic,¡± the silver-eyed woman harshly corrected. ¡°She came close to dying too many times for her nerves to keep holding and should not be on this ind to begin with.¡±

    Song matched Isabel¡¯s cold look with one of her own. Angharad went still in surprise, for never before had the Tianxi been this bellicose with one of the infanzones ¨C not even Augusto after he murdered Gascon. More surprising still, she gave no sign of backing down even in the face of Isabel¡¯s open displeasure.

    ¡°We are all tired,¡± Angharad said. ¡°And my coat can certainly wait.¡±

    She rose to her feet, almost hastily.

    ¡°There was talk of a washtub, I believe?¡±

    The two tore their gazes away from each other. Her request snuffed out the fuse for now, Song and Brun rising to help her as they had promised, but a line had clearly been drawn in her absence.

    The washtub was little more than a barrel with a fire underneath,rge enough for her to fit her body up to her neck in the water. The water was hot and it felt like being born anew to wash away all the filth and blood. She almost fell asleep inside and did notst long after getting out. The Watch had set out bedrolls in the small chambers made from the stables, so she simply imed the one by Song¡¯s and closed the curtain before crawling under the covers.

    She was out in moments.

    --

    Angharad woke early, among the first to do so, and shambled out of her bedroll for a meal. Only a few had preceded her, among them Lady Acanthe and the Tianxi veteran called Yong. The two avoided each other and herself, and as the watchman charged with distributing the morning porridge ¨C a horrid slop that tasted vaguely salty ¨C did not feel like conversation either she ate in silence. By the time she was halfway through Song joined her, the two of them soonmiserating together about the fare. Conversation remained light.

    ¡°Your braids areing undone,¡± Song told her.

    She had suspected as much but could not be sure without a mirror.

    ¡°And the hair is gone dry,¡± Angharad sighed. ¡°The rainwater did more damage than the bath, I think.¡±

    At least her stitches did not sting even when she smiled.

    ¡°I cannot do anything for that, but I could help you with the braids,¡± Song offered. ¡°I used to do my little sister¡¯s.¡±

    Angharad started in surprise.

    ¡°You have siblings?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I am the third of five,¡± the silver-eyed woman smiled. ¡°My parents were very orderly: two boys, then three girls.¡±

    ¡°I am an only child myself,¡± Angharad shared. ¡°I had some cousins from my mother¡¯s younger brother, but I believe them to be dead.¡±

    Uncle Arwel and his two boys had been in the manor when it was set ame. None hade out.

    ¡°Your uncle in the Watch?¡±

    ¡°No, Uncle Osian is the elder of a pair,¡± Angharad said. ¡°My mother had two younger brothers.¡±

    Unlike Father, who like her had had been without siblings. She had never met her grandparents on that side of the family either, both having passed years before her birth. Talk of their families cast a pall on a conversation, so Angharad epted the offer of help with her braids to tack on a different wind. Song took a bench and the Pereduri sat before her, finding it soothingly pleasant for someone to y with her hair. Both their moods improved and they sat there as the rest of the fort began to wake around them.

    ¡°Ishaan¡¯s still looking sickly,¡± Song murmured.

    Angharad¡¯s eyes found the chubby-cheeked Someshwari in question, who like many among them was looking down at his bowl with a distinctck of enthusiasm. He did look wan, she thought, and his elegant saffron tunic was touched with old sweat.

    ¡°It is not a good time to fall sick,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°I do not believe he is, at least not in that sense,¡± Song told her. ¡°Inyoni¡¯spany arrived an entire day before the rest of us, but they ran into the heliodoran beast on the way. One of them used a contract on it to get away, and now Ishaan Nair looks sickly even though he had a day more to rest than the rest of us.¡±

    It was, she would admit, a detail of significance. They spoke no more of it, however, for something else caught their eye. The old woman Angharad had journeyed with for a few hours, Vanesa, was being helped into a seat by Tristan. He then went to fetch them both porridge.

    ¡°Words is that the Watch physician advised they amputate the leg,¡± Song said. ¡°She refused, but they won¡¯t keep her on pain draughts forever ¨C those are expensive, and if she cannot do the trial what do they care?¡±

    ¡°Did you learn how she was wounded?¡± Angharad asked. ¡°It does not seem like Xical¡¯s work or a darkling¡¯s.¡±

    She had not wanted to hurt Ferranda yesterday by prodding the fresh wound of Sanale¡¯s death, but surely others of that group must have talked. Song chuckled.

    ¡°It¡¯s a story worth hearing and they have not been shy in sharing it.¡±

    Angharad listened intently at the tale, with every word more amazed any of them had lived at all. No doubt the events had been exaggerated, but to use an outwitted monster as a bridge was too livid a detail to have been entirely invented.

    ¡°<em>Tristan </em>did this?¡± she asked.

    ¡°And Sarai,¡± Song reminded her. ¡°Signs are an art of great power.¡±

    That much Angharad would not dispute, but she had a hard time believing that the same man who had beaten a nigh helpless woman for a pistol that had caught his fancy would take such risks for others. Song was nearly done with her braids by the time everyone was awake, and as the conversation ebbed low the noblewoman considered her way forward. Tupoc Xical must be made to pay for his actions, though not through some squalid murder as the sergeant had implied. A trial ought to take ce, with crimesid out and witnesses swearing oaths.

    He had made enough enemies that Angharad liked her odds. The only questions was who she should approach first, Lady Inyoni or- her musings were cut short by a sunny Sergeant Mandisa walking out of the makeshift kitchen with arge copper pot, mercilessly beating it with a wooden spoon. She had the closest table, Yaretzi and Ferranda, wincing at the noise.

    ¡°Assemble, assemble,¡± the Mni sergeant called out. ¡°An officer requires your attention.¡±

    Most rose to their feet immediately, a handful inexplicably finishing the rest of their porridge first, but by the time Lieutenant Wen emerged from the barracks even those were standing. The Tianxi already has his gold-rimmed spectacles on and was tearing stripes off what looked like a piece of fresh bread. Once he finished thest, standing in front of everyone, he cleared his throat. The noise did not sound all that apologetic about making everyone wait while he ate.

    ¡°Our scouts are back,¡± Lieutenant Wen announced, ¡°so as promised we will now go over the particrs of the second trial.¡±

    Sergeant Mandisa came to stand by his side, still wielding the fearsome pot and spoon.

    ¡°The Trial of Ruins is just as simple as the first one was,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°See how someone miid a pile of shrines behind me?¡±

    It was hard to miss it, given that the vast majority of the great cavern had been swallowed up by the ruins. There was a general murmur of agreement, though no onemitted so far as giving a legible answer. Already everyone had grasped that putting your foot forward with the lieutenant was a lot more likely to result in being made a figure of fun than garnering a reward.

    ¡°There are paths in there,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°At the end of them lies a gate with a god trapped inside it: get there, cross the gate, and that¡¯s it. That¡¯s the entire trial.¡±

    Someone cleared their throat. Cozme, Angharad recognized after a moment.

    ¡°So a maze requiring an offering at the end,¡± the mustachioed soldier stated. ¡°Full of perils, one assumes?¡±

    The corpulent watchman grinned at the other man, though there was much teeth to it and little amity.

    ¡°You¡¯re an infanzon dog, Aflor, let¡¯s not pretend you didn¡¯t read up on everything before setting foot on the ship,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°It¡¯s a little like pretending your virginity mysteriously grew back after you set foot in the brothel.¡±

    Master Cozme¡¯s lips thinned and his mustache trembled with anger, but he held himself back from answering. Sergeant Mandisa cleared her throat. The Tianxi turned to re at her but she just cleared it again, louder. Lieutenant Wen sighed.

    ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°I will be respectful of your delicate maidenhoods and ease you into this adventure with a proper, loving introduction.¡±

    Angharad wondered whether politely requesting him to abandon that line of metaphor would make things better or worse. Worse, she decided. Almost certainly worse.

    ¡°Wee to Trial of Ruins,¡± Lieutenant Wen said with caustic cheer. ¡°We do not know who put those shrines in there and can¡¯t be sure why, but we do one thing: they¡¯re full of dead and dying gods.¡±

    Spirits, he meant. Angharad was uncertain why a dead spirit¡¯s existence should matter much ¨C perhaps traces of power would remain, but surely no more than that? - yet such a creature trapped and dying was certainly to be nothing to trifle with.

    ¡°Now that may sound like a bad thing,¡± Lieutenant Wen said, allowing a pause.

    ¡°Because it is!¡± Sergeant Mandisa helpfully provided.

    ¡°But it¡¯s also how you¡¯ll get through,¡± the Tianxi said, sliding his thumbs into his belt. ¡°See, our friends out in the ruins can only get so far eating each other ¨C diminishing returns, you know how it goes. Eating <em>people</em>, though? Now that¡¯ll stave off extinction a decade or two. So they¡¯ll let you into their shrines.¡±

    ¡°So they can eat you,¡± the Mni added, in case anyone had forgot.

    ¡°Not all shrines will open,¡± Lieutenant Wen warned them. ¡°Some gods are sated, or too close to death or gone so mad they don¡¯t remember how. In practice, that means you¡¯ll be navigating a maze to get to the gate at the other end of the cavern.¡±

    ¡°Seems like a lot of gods to kill,¡± Shalini Goel skeptically said. ¡°Could watchmen even do it?¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t,¡± Lieutenant Wen approvingly said. ¡°But not for the reasons you think. If any of you are idiots or blind, you might have missed the giant spinning gold sky.¡±

    To Angharad¡¯sck of surprise, no one stepped forward to name themselves a blind idiot by admitting that they had. Not that even the most unobservant of men could miss it: the only reason the cavern was not a pitch-ck pit broken up only by the asionalntern was the soft glow given off by the great machine hanging from the ceiling.

    ¡°We haven¡¯t been able to get up there and confirm it¡¯s Antediluvian work, but it seems likely,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°Which is probably why it¡¯s not just a very vainntern: it¡¯s also an aether machine cing restrictions on all gods within its area of influence.¡±

    Angharad breathed in sharply and she was not the only one. It was one thing to walk the ruins of the First Empire, the worn and broken works of stone, another to walk in the light of one of their miraculous devices. No one had tamed Vesper the way the Antediluvians had, not even Liergan at its height.

    ¡°We have observed two restrictions,¡± Lieutenant Wen told them. ¡°First, no god can do violence on anything but another god directly. Second, gods are bound to their shrine or seat of power. As a consequence of these, the Watch developed a method.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to make you bind your souls to boxes and bet them,¡± Sergeant Mandisa enthusiastically announced.

    Angharad choked at the words, not quite believing what she¡¯d just heard. She was not the only one. The bespectacled Tianxi red at his sergeant.

    ¡°I was building up to that,¡± he reproached.

    Notably, he did not contradict Sergeant Mandisa. The expression on Lieutenant Wen¡¯s face might have passed for a pout if not for his inborn amount of spite making any application of the word unsuitable.

    ¡°Fine, the fun¡¯s gone now anyway,¡± he sighed. ¡°See, so long as terms are agreed on between mortal and god beforehand ¨C and observed during - the aether machine does not consider what follows violence. So everyone has a chance at getting what they want: the god gives you a test, a game with rules, and if you fail or die during they get to eat your soul. If you win they let you through their territory, sometimes even throw in a prize.¡±

    ¡°Only the nice ones do that,¡± Sergeant Mandisa said. ¡°There¡¯s not a lot of those left, those that aren¡¯t nice tend to eat them.¡±

    ¡°Should we have brought our own soul boxes, or will they be provided?¡± Shalini sarcastically asked.

    ¡°You can use ours,¡± Lieutenant Wen smiled. ¡°It¡¯s nothing all that sinister, Goel ¨C a forged ironntern sshed with your blood to serve as a mark on your presence in the aether. You¡¯re technically gambling the marker, not your soul. It¡¯s just so happens the marker¡¯s enough for it to get at you.¡±

    ¡°You use aether seals?¡± Tupoc Xical asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

    And pleased, for some reason. That did not bode well.

    ¡°Keep it in your pants, Leopard Society,¡± Lieutenant Wen replied, rolling his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s just a temporary mark. We¡¯re not exactly burning souls to keep our candles lit, so don¡¯t you start looking for a vige or two to abduct.¡±

    ¡°This is vile calumny, lieutenant,¡± Tupoc replied with a friendly smile. ¡°The Leopard Society¡¯s purpose is the pursuit of criminals who flee beyond Izcalli borders, nothing more.¡±

    The pair from the Someshwar loudly scoffed and Yong¡¯s face might as well have been carved out of stone.

    ¡°Of course, of course,¡± Lieutenant Wen agreed.

    A secondter he gave the Azn the most exaggerated wink Angharad had ever seen.

    ¡°And the gate at the end?¡± Lady Inyoni called out. ¡°Nothing else is simple, I will not believe <em>that</em> is.¡±

    ¡°Simple enough,¡± the bespectacled lieutenant said. ¡°The god at the gate will not open unless ten or more of what it calls ¡®victors¡¯ ¨C that is to say, those who bet their soul and won ¨C are standing in front of it.¡±

    Angharad bit the inside of her cheek. And there the nature of the trial changed again, Lieutenant Wen ripping the carpet out from under their feet. There were only twenty-five of them left, and of these several were no longer fighting fit. The Pereduri could not simply bet her soul ten times and gain victory enough to open the gate on her own, others needed to triumph as well. <em>And if they lose even once, then or afterwards, that is the end of the line.</em> That was why Tupoc was so certain he would get away with it: killing him was good as throwing away a victor. <em>And he¡¯ll kill some of us before we execute him, further slimming our odds.</em>

    Angharad considered her chances of simply killing him, without trial or verdict, the moment they stepped out of sanctuary. Alone she gave herself better than even odds, but it would not be quick and that meantplications. Ocon seemed likely to side with him in a fight, Augusto for certain and perhaps even Acanthe Phos. Angharad was not without allies of her own and Tupoc had certainly made enemies enough to be buried, but it would be a skirmish and not a duel. In that chaos, how many would be wounded or in?

    The costs would be too high.

    Even if she gathered enough vengeful souls to strike with her, others would object: more afraid of the deaths ahead than angered by the deaths left behind. The moment Tupoc gathered someone to stand with him, showed it would be a fight and not an execution, her support would turn to mist. The trial she had wanted to arrange was good as buried. Angharad breathed in, let the indignation and the surge of rage ¨C he¡¯d been right, the smiling monster, he was going to <em>get away with it</em> ¨C sink deep into her bones and let them simmer there as she calmed the surface of her.

    Throwing a fit would serve no purpose but making her look unstable, unfit for alliance. Already she had attempted to kill Augusto yesterday, if she now had a tantrum because she would not be allowed to preside over the hanging of another trial-taker she would look like a bloodthirsty lunatic. For now her reputation was solid and Tupoc¡¯s was as a full chamber pot: too foul for others to want to get close enough to throw it out, but that did not mean anyone was fond of the smell. She could not, would not set aside the demands of honour but Angharad was capable of biding her time. She would win oaths and allies, then get thest word. The dead were ever patient and she would not give any less than they.

    By the time she had fully mastered herself, the conversation had moved on and the bespectacled watchman was speaking again.

    ¡°You¡¯re a lucky bunch,¡± Lieutenant Wen jovially announced. ¡°Three of the first row of shrines are open this year, so you¡¯ve got plenty of paths to choose from.¡±

    Lan raised her hand.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the lieutenant invited.

    ¡°Is that good?¡± she asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± Lieutenant Wen agreed. ¡°It means dead ends are a lot less likely to force you through a shrine whose test will kill half of you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s never the ones you expect either,¡± Sergeant Mandisa mused. ¡°The Riddler-Teller¡¯s usually such a sweetheart.¡±

    Angharad made a firm and immediate decision to avoid any shrine whose spirit was named thus. When it became evident Lieutenant Wen would no longer speak unless prompted, the crowd began to disperse. Some of them had known of what was toe, at least part of it, but most would need time to digest the trialying ahead. It was a man she believed part of the former that made his way towards her as others moved out of the way, making room. Space spread around them, out of either fear or manners. Angharad breathed in, back straight, and faced her enemy.

    Tupoc Xical hade out of the Trial of Lines with nary a scuff on him.

    There was a small rip in the long white skirts going to his ankles, already mended, but his cored green shirt and the dull breastte he wore over it did not have so much as a stain. Angharad, who had only bathed once in several days and whose braids were not in the proper style, could only envy the way his long hair shone. Even the round earrings hanging from his ear had been freshly polished, shing copper-gold whenever they caught the light. Her gaze must have lingered there, for Tupoc flicked one with a finger and gave her a smile.

    ¡°Like them?¡± the Izcalli asked. ¡°They were a gift from my teacher when I dered my intention to enter the Watch.¡±

    ¡°So you are not a deserter, at least,¡± Angharad coolly replied.

    The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

    ¡°I was offered help in that endeavour, Angharad Tredegar, not censure,¡± Tupoc informed her. ¡°We hold the rooks in high esteem: they, too, understand the lessons of the Fifth Loss.¡±

    It was a concession to manners and not the man that Angharad did not roll her eyes. She was in no mood to indulge the famous Azn superstitions, which the Kingdom of Izcalli had enshrined as dogma tacked on to the teachings of the Orthodoxy ¨C the myth of some ancient lost war against the sky, ending in defeat and an exile that could only be turned back by triumphing over the Circle Perpetual. That the way to this triumph involved the Kingdom of Izcalli invading its neighbours at every opportunity had not endeared the preaching of Izcalli priesthood to anyone.

    ¡°And what would that be, Tupoc?¡± she said. ¡°By the ount of your deeds, I would suppose selling us out to cultists.¡±

    ¡°That the lights are fading,¡± Tupoc seriously replied. ¡°That there can be no evil in any act undertaken to keep them on even a breath longer. What do you think the Watch <em>is</em>, Lady Tredegar?¡±

    ¡°The watchmen of Vesper,¡± she replied. ¡°The keepers of the Iscariot ords.¡±

    ¡°They are the lid on a very deep well,¡± Tupoc Xical said, shaking his head. ¡°Only when they seed in that duty can they spare the breath to be anything more.¡±

    The too-perfect Azn smiled, utterly convinced of his words. Angharad might have spared some pity for him, for the way he must believe this to be able to look at himself in the mirror, were he not one of the vilest men she had ever met. No amount of paper-thin charm would make her forget the scream of terror that had ripped itself out of Briceida¡¯s throat. Tiring of this yacting, of having to offer the monster manners, she sought his gaze and held it.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± she bluntly asked.

    ¡°I will be leading warriors down a path,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°Be one of them and I will deliver to you the man whose death you seek.¡±

    She bared her teeth.

    ¡°Only one of them,¡± Angharad told him.

    ¡°Greedy,¡± the Azn chided, more amused than offended. ¡°But it seems you are not yet ready to bargain.¡±

    ¡°Nor will I ever be,¡± she replied.

    After a curt nod she turned her back on him. In the wake of Lieutenant Wen¡¯s oration most of the trial-takers had dispersed but there was nowhere to go save the great courtyard: none had gone all that far, beyond the distance courtesy dictated she be given for a private conversation. People clustered in pairs and small group, eyeing their fellows, but before Angharad could consider what she ought to do about this she found Isabel approaching her. The infanzona offered her soft smile and her arm with it.

    ¡°Walk with me,¡± Isabel Ruesta asked.

    Who was Angharad to deny her? There was little to do but go around in circles in the courtyard if they did not want to leave the safety of the fort, so it was that they settled on.

    ¡°The second trial,¡± the dark-haired beauty told her, ¡°is where most people are said to die. My family knows little about the Trial of Weeds, save that it ends in a port on the other side of the ind, but it does not seem as dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Spirits are never to be trifled with,¡± Angharad agreed.

    ¡°We must make allies, then, else we will be at the mercy of others,¡± Isabel said, then paused.

    The infanzona snuck a shy nce.

    ¡°That is, if you still want mypany,¡± she said. ¡°I would not presume, now that I have no guard left and only a single maid that-¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Angharad hurried to answer her. ¡°You must know I would not abandon you now, Isabel, not when peril has reached its height and you are all but alone.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Isabel feelingly said. ¡°Remund and Master Cozme are worthy friends, of course, but I cannot rely on them as I do you.¡±

    ¡°Cozme has his duty,¡± she conceded.

    And it was Cerdan lives he was sworn to protect, not anyone from the House of Ruesta.

    ¡°The four of us ¨C five, when Beatris recovers ¨C make a respectable backbone for an expedition,¡± Isabel said.

    ¡°Five will not be enough,¡± Angharad replied.

    Not when neither Isabel nor Beatris were any good at fighting.

    ¡°Then recruitment is in order,¡± the other woman agreed. ¡°It would be best, I think, for you to take the lead in this.¡±

    Angharad cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°You might not have noticed, but your reputation rose to new heights after your battle with the Red Eye and their traitor allies,¡± Isabel told her. ¡°Tupoc rted how you faced an entire warband by yourself, when he arrived here, and that he believed you would live.¡±

    The infanzona squeezed her arm.

    ¡°You will be sought after,¡± Isabel said. ¡°Doors that would remain closed to me will open for you.¡±

    Angharad frowned. Besotted she might be, but she could still see whaty behind what Isabel had said: the star of the infanzones was fading while her own had risen. On the Bluebell, Lord Remund and Isabel would have picked their allies and Angharad been expected to nod. Now the bnce had swung the other way: it would be they who nodded, whatever her choices might be. That would take some getting used to. A lifetime of holding the least consequential title in every room had done little to prepare her, for all that Father had been readying her for the rule of nw Hall.

    ¡°Then I shall see about opening them,¡± Angharad replied with forced cheer.

    After finishing another round of the courtyard they parted ways, Isabel reminding her that she was always there if Angharad felt the need for advice. By happenstance they had ended near an old acquaintance, which made the first step obvious enough for Angharad: Brun was kneeling by a bench, setting out his supplies and putting order to them. He was also, she saw, keeping a roving eye on the rest of the courtyard while working. He turned to her when she approached, slowly rising to his feet.

    ¡°Lady Angharad,¡± he said, pulling back at his sleeves. ¡°Done talking with Ruesta, I see.¡±

    A touch of embarrassment.

    ¡°It does make my purpose rather obvious, I suppose,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°A tad,¡± Brun shrugged.

    She did not make the request and he did not volunteer, which already told her all she needed to know about how the conversation would go if she did. It showed on her face and Brun passed a hand through his blond locks before grimacing.

    ¡°I would have liked to stick with you,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I will not go with infanzones again, not after what it was likest time.¡±

    ¡°Augusto will not be with us,¡± Angharad said.

    His lips thinned.

    ¡°And how much did his brother do, when Gascon got a knife in his back?¡± he asked. ¡°Did Remund Cerdan try to help Briceida when she was taken, or run like a rabbit the moment he could?¡±

    Brun had been fond of the redheaded maid. They had been courting, or near enough. Her death was not something he was taking lightly. Angharad looked away, ashamed that she had nothing to say. Neither of the Cerdans had covered themselves with glory on the Dominion of Lost Things.

    ¡°I hate that you must have that look on your face because of them,¡± Brun quietly said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you are, Angharad Tredegar, but no infanzon is it. They will use you until you break, the same they do everything else, and after they¡¯ll not shed a tear. It¡¯s just what they are.¡±

    ¡°There is more to them than that,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Brun said. ¡°Sometimes one man out of thousand does get rich riffling through the dung heap, it¡¯s true. But even then, Angharad, all the rest just got shit on their hands.¡±

    The phrasing was crude, but she understood the meaning: he was not going to take on the chance on either Remund or Isabel after what he had seen of them. It was, much as she disliked admitting it, entirely understandable. And it was not Brun¡¯s duty to convince himself of the worth of the nobles ruling over him ¨C <em>if the sheep sought the shepherd¡¯s crook, there would be no need for it</em>, the High Queen had once said.

    ¡°I understand,¡± she said. ¡°I wish it were otherwise, but what is that save noise?¡±

    Brun worried his lip.

    ¡°I owe you for the way you drew the cultists off us,¡± the Sacromontan said. ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten that.¡±

    ¡°I did not do it for reward,¡± Angharad dismissed. ¡°We werepanions, fighting to keep us alive is nothing more than what was owed.¡±

    He looked frustrated, for reasons she did not understand.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think the diving crews will stay the same,¡± Brun told her. ¡°We can talk again after a day or two, see if there¡¯s something to be done.¡±

    She smiled, appreciating the intention more than a prospect she doubted would evere to pass.

    ¡°I will still see you at camp,¡± Angharad told him. ¡°We need not be strangers.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he muttered. ¡°I suppose not.¡±

    ¡°Then take care of yourself, Brun,¡± she said. ¡°Perhaps the third trial will bring us side by side again.¡±

    He jerked a nod, looking embarrassed.

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye out for you,¡± the Sacromontan promised. ¡°See you around, Lady Tredegar.¡±

    They parted ways with an undertone that was almost bittersweet. Angharad had spent only a few days with thepanions she made on the Bluebell but the ties felt older than that. Thicker. She began to understand why it was that Mother said a captain who fought with her men need never fear mutiny. Facing death together was no small thing. Walking away as the blond man returned to his work, Angharad breathed out. Her crewcked strength, she saw it in. Brun had made his decision in and she would not disrespect him by trying to convince him otherwise, which now left one name at the top of her list.

    Song was cleaning her musket when the Pereduri approached her, carefully checking every part underntern light.

    ¡°May I sit?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°There is no need,¡± Song replied without looking away from her weapon.

    Angharad felt a sting of betrayal at the other woman¡¯s words, however undeserved.

    ¡°Two more fighters,¡± the Tianxi continued. ¡°If you want me toe along, that is what you need to secure. Anything less is throwing our lives away.¡±

    She let out a breath or relief. Not a sundering of their rtionship, then, but a requirement she could only call reasonable. Song owed none of their crew anything, certainly not her life.

    ¡°Will you desist from epting other offers until then?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I will not go with Tupoc Xical,¡± Song said, tearing away her gaze from the musket only to look past her. ¡°Anything else I will consider ¨C waste no time, Angharad. Thepetition is not dallying.¡±

    She turned to follow where the Tianxi was looking, seeing Lord Ishaan and Shalini Goel conversing with Lady Ferranda. Angharad pushed down her dismay. She had not thought Ferranda would be poached so quickly, half-hoping that after gathering more strength she could talk the other noble intoing with them despite her distrust of the other infanzones. By the way the blonde infanzona was nodding at the words of the other two, she would not have that opportunity. Teeth clenched, her gaze swept the courtyard for other possibilities. Tupoc was talking with the married pair, who disyed hesitant looks.

    Even the desperate knew better.

    Yong was speaking with Tristan and the toothless old professor. She was not sure thetter two would qualify as fighters in Song¡¯s eyes, so she pushed that talk further down thedder. Of those fit to fight a pair <em>did</em> stand alone: Lady Inyoni and her nephew Lord Zenzele. Angharad grimaced. She had avoided the Mni pair because of the man¡¯s strange behaviour, thinking they might be assassins, but they had paid her no attention since the Bluebell docked. It seemed her suspicions had done them disservice. They were standing by the great iron gate, talking quietly as they beheld it, and Angharad made to join them.

    ¡°-er seen its like before,¡± Lord Zenzele was saying. ¡°It must be some kind of stone from the far south.¡±

    Her arrival was caught by the elder of the two.

    ¡°Lady Angharad,¡± Inyoni half-turned to greet her.

    ¡°Lady Inyoni,¡± she returned, then nodded at the nephew. ¡°Lord Zenzele.¡±

    The grizzled older woman snorted.

    ¡°My sister¡¯s the one who got the title,¡± she said. ¡°There is no need to spare me one as well, Tredegar.¡±

    ¡°Then you may take it as a mark of respect instead,¡± Angharad replied.

    The older woman blinked in surprise. Her nephew seemed amused, though only shallowly. His eyes were as watchful of her now as when they had been on the ship.

    ¡°We¡¯ve not much had the pleasure of yourpany, Lady Angharad, so forgive her for not knowing of your respect,¡± Zenzele wryly said. ¡°Are youe to join in our wonder at this strange stone?¡±

    She did not answer the unspoken reproach, for she had no good answer to it, and instead followed the other man¡¯s invitation. Though the grand iron gate ¨C not a simple b of metal but a mass of intricate gears and mechanisms - was set into the massive pir, the side and hinges were covered with a fine border in another kind of stone. It was deep blue, not unlikepis in colour, but a simple rap of her knuckles confirmed her suspicion: it was soft stone, a kind she did know.

    ¡°This is Savuri marble,¡± she told them. ¡°Polished.¡±

    Lord Zenzele eyed her dubiously.

    ¡°You seem very sure of that,¡± he said.

    ¡°I had a piece in my bedchamber mere months ago,¡± Angharad amusedly told him. ¡°A gift from my mother.¡±

    Distaste flickered across the Mni¡¯s face.

    ¡°Of course you did,¡± he scorned. ¡°A least try a more believable lie, Tredegar. Who is your mother, then ¨C Her Perpetual Majesty or Captain Maraire? The crown has a monopoly on Savuri marble and only Maraire ships may carry it. Every lord in Mn knows that, though perhaps word did not reach as far as Peredur.¡±

    She met his scorn with a ck stare.

    ¡°My mother¡¯s name was Rhiannon Tredegar,¡± she replied, ¡°though like all peers of Peredur she did have to register a Mni name on the rolls: Lady Sizani Maraire.¡±

    She leaned forward.

    ¡°As for the piece of marble I refer to, it was the first ever dug up in Savuri after the colony was founded,¡± she coldly continued. ¡°The High Queen was presented the second, you see, for its blue was deeper and it had a beautiful crack of gold going through it.¡±

    Zenzele swallowed loudly. There was a long, awkward silence, then Inyoni let out snort.

    ¡°Well, you had that oneing,¡± the grizzled woman said. ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive my nephew, Lady Tredegar, grief has addled his mood.¡±

    At the reminder that the young woman with them was taken by the cultists, her expression sobered.

    ¡°I was very sorry to hear what happened to Ayanda,¡± she quietly said.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know that she¡¯s dead,¡± Zenzele said.

    He sounded like a man trying to convince himself.

    ¡°Pray to the Sleeping God that she is,¡± Lady Inyoni tly replied. ¡°It is the kindest of the fates before her.¡±

    The Mni clenched his fists.

    ¡°If Ishaan has just agreed to pursue, then-¡±

    ¡°Then we may well have lost more than one,¡± Inyoni sharply interrupted. ¡°Or died at the bridge because he had already overused his contract.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Zenzele insisted. ¡°And we¡¯ll never know, because they fucking refused to try to rescue <em>the reason I came to this fucking ind in the first ce</em>.¡±

    His voice was halfway to a shout by the end of the sentence and he was panting. Angharad did not need to look to know they were drawing attention but she could not bring herself to feel embarrassed, not looking at the raw grief on his face. It would been too petty. Inyoni sighed, then turned an eye on her.

    ¡°I can guess at why you came to us, Lady Tredegar,¡± she said. ¡°As you can see, we will not be makingmon cause with Ishaan Nair again.¡±

    ¡°I did seek you out to make alliance,¡± Angharad admitted, ¡°but such talk can wait. I have disturbed you in your grief.¡±

    Zenzele scoffed, though the anger did not feel directed at her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll still be grieving her in fifty years, Tredegar ¨C what difference could a few hours possibly make? Out with it.¡±

    His bluntness bordered on rudeness, but patience came easy when she saw the look in his eyes. Much could be forgiven of a man when he had a knife in the belly.

    ¡°Crews are forming to delve into the maze,¡± Angharad said, matching frankness with frankness. ¡°I would have the two of you in mine.¡±

    Inyoni grunted, eyes considering.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got the Ruesta dead weight and her maid, also dead weight, then the younger Cerdan ¨C any truth to him having a contract?¡±

    Angharad hesitated, then nodded. It was nothing they could not learn by asking around.

    ¡°Slightly better,¡± Inyoni conceded. ¡°Cozme¡¯s no slouch, but it¡¯s not us he¡¯ll be keeping an eye out for. Your roster is not a strong sell. Did you get that pretty blond boy or the Tianxi with the trick shots?¡±

    ¡°Song will join if you do,¡± Angharad said.

    She could have turned a phrase to hide the detail, but why bother? It had been tiring, the game of twists and turns with the Cerdans, and she would dly be rid of it. Best not to weave rope now she mightter hang herself with. Inyoni met her nephew¡¯s eyes, cocking an eyebrow, and Angharad knew her to be amenable. She would be, since they could not join the diving crew forming around Lord Ishaan and the other rising prospect was Tupoc. It was Lord Zenzele that looked unconvinced.

    ¡°You spent the entire trip to the ind avoiding us,¡± Zenzele said. ¡°What has changed?¡±

    There she drew a line.

    ¡°Did you seek me out anymore than I sought you?¡± she evenly asked.

    He conceded that with a grunt.

    ¡°I broke a betrothal toe here,¡± Lord Zenzele abruptly said. ¡°With a house of no small means and a famously vengeful disposition. Keeping away from anyonee of the Isles seemed safer.¡±

    On the ship, she recalled, his eyes had always been moving. Seeking out dark corners. It was why she¡¯d thought he might be an assassin in the first ce, and now the realization that he had been looking for the same knives she thought him to bear startled augh out of her. Zenzele¡¯s face moved through surprise and then anger.

    ¡°I know not what-¡±

    ¡°I am thest of my house, save for my uncle in the Watch,¡± Angharad cut through. ¡°I fled to Sacromonte pursued by assassins.¡±

    She had not seen Father or her cousins die with her own eyes but there could be no doubt. The man¡¯s face turned incredulous.

    ¡°You saw we were from Mn, and you thought¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Angharad admitted.

    ¡°And we thought¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Angharad repeated.

    A moment passed, then Lord Zenzele let out a bitter chuckle.

    ¡°Sleeping God, that¡¯s fucked,¡± he admitted. ¡°Funny, in a horrible sort way.¡±

    His aunt put a hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°We can band together,¡± Inyoni said. ¡°But something must be made clear: we do not take orders from you, and certainly not from the infanzones. This is alliance, not servitude.¡±

    ¡°I would not ask otherwise,¡± Angharad told her. ¡°It is all I have pledged.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Lady Inyoni said, then nced at her nephew.

    Zenzele let out a long breath, then nodded.

    ¡°We can deal,¡± he said. ¡°If we had earlier, then¡­¡±

    He grimaced.

    ¡°I could dig for a year and still find further mistakes were made,¡± the Mni said. ¡°I will spare you the talk, Lady Tredegar. We will go fetch our packs and set them besides yours.¡±

    As in a statement about who they stood with as Angharad might ask for. It ought to be enough to convince Song, whose presence would turn their crew into a respectable force. The noblewoman nodded her thanks at the pair, watching as they left speaking in low voices. She allowed some of the tension to bleed out of her now that that they were no longer looking. Already her crew numbered eight, nearly a third of those who had made it to the Trial of Ruins, but she still felt vulnerable.

    She stood there before the great iron gate, resisting the urge to fiddle with the buttons of her new vest as she wondered whether she should still be recruiting.

    Soft footsteps on the stone had her ncing back, finding a familiar tricorn and crow¡¯s nest. Tristan¡¯s ck eye was now a vivid purple, but the swelling had gotten better. As had the rest of him: not only had he clearly taken a bath but his most ragged clothes had been reced. He now wore a ck cloth kirtle over loose trousers tucked into a new pair of boots, the physician evidently having availed himself of the Watch¡¯s stocks. There was even a pistol tucked into his belt, though Angharad could not ever remember seeing him fire a shot.

    Though they had not parted on good terms and only reunited withplicating nuances, the grey-eyed man did not seem unfriendly. As he idly came to stand by her, facing the iron gate as well, Angharad came to suspect she was the only one feeling ufortable. It made her uneasy, to not know where the two of them stood. She had used him, perhaps unjustly, and done so for reasons that now shamed her. Yet he did not seem to be keeping a grudge and had seen to her wounds when they encountered each other on the stairs to sanctuary.

    Much as it embarrassed her to revisit their conflict Angharad knew it would be the only way to clear the air. Best to get it over with.

    ¡°I was wrong to use you after the twin died,¡± Angharad evenly said.

    It was not an apology, she would not apologize for thinking he might have been involved when he had beaten the woman killed but a day before, but neither would she shy away from the fact that she had used him for the wrong reasons. Feeling cheated by the good impression he had made on her and how harshly it had been revealed to be wrong was not an honorable reason to use him. She had been heeding the sting of her pride, not truly attempting to find out whether he had killed the Tianxi.

    ¡°I was the natural suspect,¡± Tristan acknowledged. ¡°I imagine that¡¯s half the reasons they aimed for Jun in the first ce.¡±

    Angharad shifted her footing, yet uneasy. It did not feel like anything had been resolved.

    ¡°I no longer believe you to have had a hand in it, whatever that is worth to you,¡± she offered.

    That, at least, won a reaction.

    ¡°Tupoc Xical, is it?¡± the Sacromontan asked with half a smile.

    ¡°He was already scheming to offer us to the cultists,¡± Angharad said. ¡°It seems consistent for him to have sown the seeds of us going our own way.¡±

    ¡°Ourpany came to the same conclusion while we ran,¡± Tristan told her. ¡°And yet now I wonder.¡±

    She started in surprise.

    ¡°It was only a matter of time until we split up, anyhow,¡± the Sacromontan continued, ¡°so what did Xical truly gain?¡±

    ¡°He was most ardent in pushing fault towards you,¡± Angharad pointed out.

    Not an umon thing for men to do when trying to avoid paying for their crimes.

    ¡°I¡¯ll not deny he leapt at the opportunity to stir the pot,¡± he conceded. ¡°But why do it whenplete surprise would have served him even better? We would not have be suspicious of him so soon if not for Jun¡¯s death.¡±

    ¡°If not him,¡± she asked, ¡°then who?¡±

    Tristan smiled at her, though it did not reach those grey eyes.

    ¡°I do not know, Lady Angharad,¡± he said. ¡°And that worries me more than the thought of some gods in a maze, because those will not follow us past the Old Fort¡¯s walls.¡±

    The noblewoman was not convinced, but neither would she dismiss his suspicions out of hand. That he would be so caught up chasing shadows when he was said to have been fearless in front of a great monster like an airavatan was just one more confusing contradiction. She looked away, gaze going back to the iron gate.

    ¡°Some of the people here are easy to ce,¡± Angharad finally said. ¡°You, however, have been a diforting man to try to fit anywhere.¡±

    He cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°I thank you for thepliment.¡±

    It had been no such thing, they both knew.

    ¡°What did you do, Tristan, if I may ask?¡± she pressed. ¡°I thought you a physician¡¯s apprentice, but Ferranda calls you courageous and you wield a debt collector¡¯s weapon as well as a knife.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never met someone who fit in a box without some parts first getting chopped off, Lady Angharad,¡± Tristan mildly replied. ¡°As for my upation, I did whatever would keep me fed that month. Some parts of that were pleasanter than others, as were the lessons the world doled out.¡±

    Seeing her unconvinced expression, he sighed.

    ¡°Some of those months were spent serving as a cutter¡¯s attendant,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I have been a messenger boy, a dealer in stolen goods, a smuggler and a dozen other things that were never so neat as to be called a trade.¡±

    A criminal, Angharad thought as her lips thinned. She had begun to suspect as much but it would have been a grave insult to assume. If this had been Peredur, if he had made the choice to break thew when there was a peer ruling over him and providing the opportunity of honest work, she would have held him in contempt. Only he was of Sacromonte, that rotting hive of a city, and how much choice did the souls in the belly of that beast really have? Angharad did not think she was wrong to try to ce people but there was so much of the world that she had yet to see, to understand.

    If a man did not fit in a box, she thought, the faulty with the box and not the man.

    ¡°Did that ease your mind any?¡± he asked.

    He sounded curious.

    ¡°The contrary, I think,¡± Angharad murmured. ¡°But that might be for the best.¡±

    To learn without difort was to fish only in shallow waters. She swallowed, dry-mouthed, then spoke impulsively.

    ¡°You could join us,¡± she said. ¡°In the maze, I mean.¡±

    Grey eyes considered her.

    ¡°I do not intend to venture out,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Not for now, at least.¡±

    She was not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

    ¡°You have done more fighting than most,¡± Angharad allowed. ¡°Rest was earned.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not why I want to stay here,¡± he smiled. ¡°See, I¡¯m not convinced that Lieutenant Wen told us the truth.¡±

    She blinked.

    ¡°About the maze?¡±

    ¡°About this trial being anywhere as straightforward as the Trial of Lines,¡± he said.

    He did not borate and she did not ask. Her path ahead was already set, and she could respect that the man had found his own even if she believed it would lead him nowhere. Tristan¡¯s eyes remained on the great iron gate, never straying.

    ¡°What is it about it that interests you so?¡± Angharad asked. ¡°It is the maze that will take us across, not the gate.¡±

    The man cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°Those mechanisms on the gate, the moving parts,¡± he said. ¡°What would you say they look like?¡±

    Angharad blinked in surprise, then took her first careful look at it all. The iron gate must be fifty feet tall and about half asrge, but it felt heavier for all the machinery it wasden with: cogs and gears and bands of metal, ques fitted like a grid and so many pistons and interlocked pieces it was hard to tell where the mechanisms began or ended. She had seen some drawn schematics of First Empire wonders, as a girl ¨C the famous towers of the Tower Coast, Izcalli candles and even the Broken Gate before the Triu broke it ¨C and the resemnce was striking.

    ¡°A lock,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°I thought that too, at first,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°Not anymore?¡±

    ¡°Not anymore, no,¡± he agreed.

    The grey-eyed man smiled.

    ¡°Right now, I¡¯d say they look like clockwork.¡±

 Chapter 21

    Chapter 21

    Angharad Tredegar walked away, leaving him to stand alone before the gate, and Tristan smiled.

    That had worked out better than he¡¯d hoped it might. The invitation to join her crew hade as a surprise to him ¨C and to her as well, he suspected ¨C but it told him his instincts had been correct. Tredegar liked for people to be good and bad, with little room in between, so now that he was not strictly bad her opinion of him was leaning the other way.

    ¡°That was nice of you,¡± Fortuna mused, chin resting on his shoulder as she held him tight.

    A pause.

    ¡°So why did you actually do it?¡±

    Tristan only kept smiling. That business with the airavatan had improved his reputation markedly, but while that may have some uses it also meant that his reputation was now worth something. It could therefore be used as leverage against him. So before Tupoc Xical came knocking with a smile and a threat to tell everyone that his medicine cab was truly a poisoner¡¯s arsenal it was best to cut the grass under the Izcalli¡¯s feet. Tredegar hated the man and was now likely to side with Tristan if he gave a halfway believable lie as answer, which would do away with most the damages.

    Ferranda Vizur would keep her mouth shut about the lodestone extract, they had an understanding, and even if the remaining infanzones wanted to make something it they could not. Augusto was a muzzled dog, unable to do anything without his master¡¯s permission, and the other two had to toe Angharad Tredegar¡¯s line now. The mirror-dancer might not have noticed it but without her Remund Cerdan and Isabel Ruesta were fairly fucked.

    Precious few people wanted to do anything with the Cerdan now that word had got around about one stabbing his own valet in the back and Isabel Ruesta was all but useless in a fight.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you know I love making friends?¡± he lied.

    Fortuna pressed her lips against the side of his neck and blew a staggeringly unpleasant raspberry in retaliation, which had him squirming enough he got a strange look from Inyoni. Fleeing the scene as the Lady of Long Odds¡¯ughter echoed behind him, he dipped by the kitchen table to help himself to one of theforts the Watch had set out: arge steaming pot of what, by the smell, must be dandelion tea. He imed a mug, thanked the watchman watching over the pot and proceeded to the next part of his n.

    Finding afortable nook to sit in with his warm drink.

    There he sat in silence, eyes unblinking, and began drawing a map. Not one of the maze, though in time there might be a need for that, but of something rather more important: crews. The nature of mankind was that if you dropped thirty strangers into a pit with nothing but the clothes on their back, within an hour there¡¯d be five factions and two of those would be looking for knives to pull on each other. It was simply how people were, no matter where they were born. Now the souls on disy here were from all over Vesper and the lives that¡¯d led them to this courtyard seemed just as disparate, so where they would fall was not easy to predict. This was not a curse, however, but a boon: looking at where people fell Tristan would be able to get some notion of what they actually wanted.

    Take Ocon, for example. Therge Azn legbreaker was sticking to Tupoc Xical and did not look like he¡¯d ever considered otherwise even though he would be wee in other crews. That was because Ocon most wanted to be on the same side of the beatings he was used to ¨C namely, the one doling them out. The only one sure to deliver on that was Tupoc, who had all the restraint of the animal emblem of his former society. Now contrast the Menor Mano bruiser to the other survivor from Tupoc¡¯s crew, Lady Acanthe Phos. Arguably the keystone of the Izcalli¡¯s strategy in the Trial of Lines with her tracking contract. She now avoided getting anywhere near Tupoc, talking with the Ramayan pair like someone try to get an in.

    That was because Acanthe Phos cared most about <em>safety</em>.

    She¡¯d been fine with Tupoc selling the rest of the Bluebell out if it made it any more likely for her to get to the second trial, but Tredegar has said he¡¯d sold out one of their own ¨C Leander Gtas, the sailor who¡¯d lost his arm on the ship. In her eyes, Tupoc had turned from someone dangerous to others into a man dangerous to<em> everyone</em>. Including his own crew. So she was abandoning ship, and with Angharad Tredegar more likely to stab her than take her in the best bet for safety was the Ramayans. Ishaan Nair and Shalini Goel had already got their hands on Ferranda Vizur, an auspicious start.

    Whether or not people realized it yet, they had begun to divide along the lines that Lieutenant Wen had implied: three shrines matched by three diving crews. Oh, for now it was more like half a dozen but Tristan had seen this sort of thing at work in the Murk. Small coteries ¨C gangs ¨C were fiercely independent when their corner of the mud went undisturbed, guarding their little kingdoms jealously, but that died the moment the bigger dogs came. When the Hoja Roja poked a nose in, all the petty kings swore brotherhood with the rivals they¡¯d tried to kill a month ago and began talking about sticking together in the face of encroachment.

    It was the same here, in a sense. The maze would do the work of convincing the smaller crews to let therger ones eat them, until only a handful of forces broadly in the same league were left standing. Even if the knowledge of the horrors out there did not turn out to be enough today, then tomorrow the bnce would tip: once bodies began dropping that strange sickness called tolerance for your fellow men had a way of spreading around. Tristan couldn¡¯t be sure, not yet, but after watching for about half an hour he believed he¡¯d figured out the three kingdoms that would end up the victors.

    ¡°So, what are we looking at?¡± Fortuna asked.

    She sat above him to his left, in a broken cleft of stone: the blood-red dress dripped down to the dusty floor, long past her feet, as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. She looked bored at a nce but Tristan knew better. She had always liked watching people, especially ¡®interesting¡¯ sorts, and many here qualified for the word in her eyes. He smiled and hid his mouth behind the rim of his cup.

    ¡°If we¡¯re naming crowns, Tredegar is the easy one,¡± he said. ¡°She¡¯ll end up with thergest crew too, mark my words.¡±

    Not that she had made it easy on herself. Given her record on the Bluebell and the rumours now going around that she¡¯d single-handedly cut through a cultist warband before fighting Tupoc Xical to a draw, there was not a single individual here who would turn down an alliance with her. Not even Tristan himself, had he intended to delve the maze.

    ¡°She looks a little harried,¡± Fortuna observed.

    ¡°That¡¯s because the leeches put her in charge,¡± he said. ¡°Not that they had a choice.¡±

    Tredegar¡¯s trouble was that she had inherited a pack of parasites from the first trial: Isabel Ruesta, the smarter of the Cerdan brothers and Cozme Aflor. Though not Beatris, whose absence was ring. Still, that early inheritance had raised Tredegar¡¯s numbers from the start bute at a cost in that everyone not a fool knew the infanzones would sacrifice them without hesitation if it kept them alive even a minute longer. Not the kind ofpany you wanted to keep in a maze full of deadly tests. Even in the face of that, though, Tredegar was picking up recruits.

    First came Inyoni and Zenzele Duma, the survivors of the Mni threesome from the Bluebell. Lord Zenzele had been looking all this time like he was either about to weep or bite someone¡¯s head off, not the stuff solid allies were made of, and both he and his aunt were avoiding the Ramayans they¡¯de with ¨C though not Yaretzi, the quiet Azn who once again glided through peril without drawing attention. Tredegar was the only safe port of call for the Mni, so she had hooked them without much trouble. With that many fighters on her side, she would now be able to pick up another member or two without nearly as much difficulty.

    The more there were under Tredegar, the less the infanzones were a millstone around her neck.

    ¡°Tupoc¡¯s one too,¡± Fortuna decided. ¡°He¡¯s already got two.¡±

    Tristan drank, then hid his lips again.

    ¡°His will be the weakest,¡± the thief said. ¡°He keeps Ocon and Augusto Cerdan has nowhere else to go, but it is only the desperate he will draw.¡±

    His reputation was too ckened for anything else, no matter how skilled the man was at fighting. People going to Tupoc would know they¡¯d be treated as expendable, so those who went anyway would do so forck of a better crew to fall in with. Tristan suspected that Angharad Tredegar might well ept every fearful soul pleading to hide in her shadow, but herrades would not be as amodating. They would not tolerate useless hanger-ons trailing them in the maze while they faced all the perils.

    ¡°He¡¯s getting Felis and Aines, at the very least,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Perhaps Francho as well.¡±

    He would have said as much even if the pale eyed Izcalli were not currently speaking to Felis, whose shoulders were hunched even though he was the one being sought out.

    ¡°It¡¯s the Ramayans that intrigue,¡± he continued. ¡°Their position is the most interesting.¡±

    Lord Ishaan Nair and his right hand, Shalini Goel ¨C who was visibly the most assertive of the two but still deferred to the nobleborn of the pair ¨C were in the right spot to have some ripe fruits fall straight into theirp: anyone who did not want to work with the infanzones but could not stomach Tupoc Xical. They¡¯d marked themselves as that option by recruiting Ferranda Vizur bright and early, forming a neat bundle of firepower andpetence that everyone must eye with consideration. On the other hand, they¡¯d failed to retain a singlerade from the first trial. The Mni survivors pointedly avoided them and Yaretzi had made herself scarce despite what Tristan believed to have been an attempt by Shalini to rope her in.

    There was a mistake buried somewhere in their wake, and if the thief had to bet he¡¯d say it had to do with the missing Mni. Ayanda, had it been? Tredegar had mentioned the Red Eye cult taking her with Tupoc¡¯s help but there must have been more to it than that. Considering how unmoored Zenzele Duma acted and how closely he and Ayanda had kept together on the Bluebell, the thief had some suspicions about where things might have gone wrong. It also told him that Inyoni¡¯s nephew had cared more about Ayanda than about passing these trials.

    That might end up useful to know, before everything was over.

    ¡°They¡¯re picking up Phos,¡± Fortuna replied with open distaste. ¡°That seems more desperate than interesting.¡±

    ¡°No, it is very clever,¡± Tristan disagreed. ¡°It¡¯s not about if she is useful now, it is about opening a door.¡±

    ¡°For other traitors?¡± the goddess asked. ¡°The big man won¡¯t drop Tupoc and they wouldn¡¯t want the rest.¡±

    ¡°It is about the precedent,¡± the thief said. ¡°Acanthe Phos acted against others, treacherously so, but she was still taken in.¡±

    ¡°So they¡¯re forgiving,¡± Fortuna shrugged.

    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Tristan murmured behind the cup. ¡°And when tomorrow or the day after someone in Tredegar¡¯s group cuts an ally¡¯s throat to live and flees our honourable friend¡¯spany, there is another home for them aside from Tupoc Xical¡¯s collections of bastards and sacrifices.¡±

    Even if all Acanthe Phos ended up being was a warm body with a sword when they walked the maze, her real value was in what her presence represented. The thief suspected he would enjoy a conversation with whichever of the Ramayans hade up with the scheme. A shame that even when he ventured out it would not be with their crew, as the men he intended to kill were among Tupoc and Tredegar¡¯s followers. Draining thest of his dandelion tea, long gone from lukewarm to cold, Tristan set down the cup. Fortuna gracefully leapt down from her perch, dress trailing behind her as she adroitly came to stand before him.

    ¡°So, who are we joining?¡± Fortuna cheerfully asked.

    Tristan rolled his neck, getting up with a sigh.

    ¡°First,¡± he said, ¡°we begin by rigging the dice.¡±

    And that meant dealing with a fellow rat.

    --

    ¡°Smile,¡± Tristan suggested. ¡°We are having a pleasant conversation.¡±

    Lan beamed at him, tugging at her grey tunic as she tittered.

    ¡°What is it you¡¯vee to sell me, rat?¡± the dealer smilingly asked.

    ¡°I want us to run a game,¡± the thief replied just as smilingly.

    Sheughed, lightly pping his arm like he¡¯d just told a joke. Tristan rather admired the work: it¡¯d taken him years to learn tough at will and he still didn¡¯t look anywhere as convincing as the former Meng-Xiaofan frontwoman.

    ¡°Who on?¡±

    ¡°Everyone,¡± he said. ¡°This maze is meant to keep us looking forward. It-¡±

    ¡°- splits us up so one can have a good look at the whole and figure out what this show¡¯s really about, yes,¡± Lan impatiently said. ¡°Obviously. You think I don¡¯t know a front when I see one? The Watch is better trained at keeping secrets with knives than tricks.¡±

    It was Lan writ in a sentence that her talent for seeing through things was just a little more useful than it was worrying.

    ¡°We split up across the crews,¡± he said.

    ¡°And share information back at the fort,¡± she mused.

    It was hard to read what she thought of it, as Lan then let out a chuckle like they were having fun.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to get Yong in under the Ramayans,¡± the blue-lipped woman decided. ¡°He¡¯s the best fit. So you want me to join up with <em>Tupoc</em>.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t be alone, he¡¯s taking Felis and Aines,¡± Tristan pointed out. ¡°Fear¡¯s a fine leash but it won¡¯t beat your supply of dust.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need you to use it, Tristan,¡± Lan said. ¡°And you¡¯d be taking the nice cushy job by going with Tredegar.¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°I won¡¯t go with them,¡± he said. ¡°I mean to trade with Beatris for that.¡±

    Lan¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°I have not seen her since I got here,¡± she said. ¡°Not even for meals.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll find her,¡± Tristan shrugged.

    It was not sorge a fort he would struggle to if he put his mind to it. Lan studied him for a moment, then let out a low whistle.

    ¡°So it¡¯s the Watch you¡¯re thinking of spying on,¡± she said, looking him up and down. ¡°Look at the balls on you.¡±

    He did not deny it, which killed any talk of him taking the lesser risk. In truth, for all that she was posturing Lan was short on choices. She had no in with Tredegar¡¯s crowd and was not useful enough for Ferranda Vizur to vouch for her and get her under the Ramayans. Her way out would be tying herself to someone who <em>was</em> useful anding as a package deal, but that would be tricky to manage and she had no obvious candidate. She might well end up stuck with Tupoc anyway, they both knew, and without the benefits of having epted the terms he was offering.

    ¡°I want protection from everyone that¡¯s brought into this,¡± Lan finally said. ¡°It could turn sour on me.¡±

    Tristan nodded.

    ¡°Then you must offer the same,¡± he said.

    A symbolic gesture if it came to a brawl, but that was not where Lan¡¯s strengthsy. She nodded back then brightly smiled.

    ¡°Now we need to sell it,¡± she said. ¡°You demanded a fuck in exchange for protection?¡±

    It was, he thought, telling that she would suggest that first. The Meng-Xiaofan did not deal in flesh-peddling, but that was business. Inside the coterie¡¯s own ranks¡­ The sisters had been twins, too. That would draw some sorts. He let no pity touch his gaze, for there was none of that to be had under the Law of Rats: it was for finer folk than they to extend the boundary of victory beyond survival.

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± he simply said.

    She did notment aside from a blink of surprise. He considered for a moment.

    ¡°You asked for the relic pistol back, now that I have another weapon,¡± he said. ¡°I refused.¡±

    ¡°Do you even have the scraps left?¡± she asked.

    He shrugged. He did not, he¡¯d thrown the useless weight away, but what did it matter? Even if someone thought to sneak into his pack and look she could simply say she had not believed him. After a moment she nodded, conceding to the unspoken answer. They both shifted their footing, turning to face each other properly, and mirth was reced on her face by ck anger. She pped him, hard enough the sound carried, and said something that sounded like ¡®she died for it¡¯ before striding away angrily. Ignoring the many eyes now on him, Tristan cradled his stinging cheek and sighed.

    She¡¯d put her back into the p knowing he¡¯d have to let her away with it.

    He first busied himself returning his cup to the makeshift kitchen, keeping an eye out for the people he needed to have a talk with now. Yong was not hard to find, and looked rather amused when their gazes met, but there was no sign of Sarai. A few others were missing as well, gone to talk or rest out of sight ¨C Yaretzi, Brun, Song. And Beatris, of who there was still no sign. That was beginning to worry him. He went to sit by Yong, who had imed one of the tables around the kitchen to clean his musket and pistol.

    Given how many people were doing that, Tristan began to wonder if he should as well.

    ¡°Should I ask what you did to deserve that?¡± the Tianxi asked.

    However sly the smile, it did not quite hide the slight slur to the words. <em>He¡¯s drunk</em>. Too drunk for this conversation? Tristan decided not, after an appraising look. For now it was only slurring. The closest person to them was Remund Cerdan, who was at a table on the other side of the kitchen and eyeing Tredegar speaking animatedly with Zenzele Duma and Isabel Ruesta. The look on his face was somewhere between hate and desire, both dark enough that Tristan shivered in disgust. Still, the two of them should be safe to talk without being overheard.

    ¡°The same thing I am about to ask you,¡± the thief replied. ¡°Have you given thought to which crew you want?¡±

    ¡°We agreed to stick together for the second trial,¡± Yong evenly said. ¡°I have had offers but epted nothing.¡±

    ¡°Ishaan Nair?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°Goel did the talking for them,¡± the former soldier replied. ¡°Xical tried as well, but he can burn.¡±

    ¡°You should take Shalini¡¯s offer,¡± the thief said.

    Yong stared at him a long moment, frowning. The drink slowed his thoughts some but not all the way.

    ¡°Me,¡± he slowly said, ¡°but not you. Are you ending our alliance?¡±

    Surprise, Tristan thought, and perhaps a hint of hurt. He shook his head.

    ¡°No,¡± he murmured. ¡°See, Lan took my offer. She pped me so-¡±

    ¡°Xical wouldn¡¯t think twice about taking her in,¡± Yong muttered, now caught on. ¡°You¡¯re trying to nt spies in the diving crews.¡±

    His eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Or saboteurs.¡±

    ¡°No point in that,¡± Tristan dismissed. ¡°There¡¯s something off about this trial, Yong. And I do not think that going into that maze like good little soldiers is going to help us find out what¡¯s really going on ¨C at least not if that¡¯s <em>all </em>we do.¡±

    ¡°That is dangerous talk,¡± the veteran warned. ¡°You think the rooks will just let you sniff around?¡±

    ¡°I think that there¡¯s a telescope set up on one of the bastions, with more astronomy equipment,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°And that not knowing <em>why</em> is more likely to get me killed than trying to find out.¡±

    Yong hesitated.

    ¡°I need to get to the third trial,¡± he finally said.

    Tristan breathed in sharply. It was not quite a refusal, but close enough. He would have liked to say that it surprised, that he had not been sloppy enough to expect agreement, but it would be a lie. And it was unfair to do this when the man had drunk, but when if not now?

    ¡°Why did they send you here, Yong?¡± Tristan asked. ¡°What do they have on you?¡±

    The Tianxi¡¯s face closed and his hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for his sk but had stopped himself. Only the aborted gesture wasn¡¯t an answer, not really.

    ¡°You like a drink,¡± Tristan acknowledged, ¡°but if it had eaten you alive you wouldn¡¯t be able to fight like you do ¨C or shoot, or run. Did you kill someone?¡±

    ¡°That is not a small question,¡± Yong said.

    It was not, and rats paid upfront.

    ¡°I did,¡± Tristan admitted. ¡°Someone on contract for the Hoja Roja, a Watch deserter. I didn¡¯t set out to but it happened - and after that it was either the Dominion or getting my hands chopped off before they hung me upside down.¡±

    <em>Rios llorando</em>, they called it. The weeping rivers. It didn¡¯t take too long to die, not like some of the other ways coteries killed you, but they would hang you from up high so the red got everywhere. It was impossible to miss, which was what the Hoja cared most about: making an example. Reminding everyone that raising hands against them would cost the hands and then see you spill out everything inside you until there was nothing left at all.

    Yong breathed in deeply, then rested a hand on the back of his head. Cursing in Cathayan, he reached for the inside of his coat and got his sk out. His fingers trembled as he undid the cork, taking a long swallow.

    ¡°I am surprised there is any left,¡± Tristan frankly said.

    It did not smell like herbera, either, which had been all but finished anyhow.

    ¡°I brought three,¡± the Tianxi said.

    The thief cocked an eyebrow. He¡¯d seen the man drink often and smelled it even more frequently on his breath.

    ¡°And bought refills in their garrison rotgut,¡± Yong admitted.

    The touch of levity was too light to really do more than skitter at the edge of their mood. Yong took his time, almost beginning to talk several times before closing his mouth. He drank twice more.

    ¡°Before leaving Caishen,¡± he said, ¡°I stabbed a general five times.¡±

    Tristan choked. He had not been sure what to expect, but it had not been that.

    ¡°I¡¯d won decorations after the killing fields at Diecai,¡± Yong abruptly said. ¡°They sent us across the in, Tristan, with the Kuril cannons reaping us like wheat. I wanted to run, like anyone else, but we were halfway through and I knew the cannons wouldn¡¯t stop firing just because we routed ¨C so after a shot took off Old Rong¡¯s head, I picked up the standard and told them to keep moving forward.¡±

    Yong set his hands on the table, finger syed against the wood, and red down until they ceased shaking.

    ¡°And they trusted me, after our years together, so they did. General Qi sent four thousand men charging across the field at Diecai, all Caishen militia,¡± he said. ¡°About half survived. The wings routed, but the center held and I was right in the middle of it.¡±

    He let out a bleak, uglyugh.

    ¡°Mypany had it <em>worse</em> because we didn¡¯t rout,¡± Yong said. ¡°They turned the full batteries on us so we¡¯d break, ignored the runners.¡±

    He breathed out, slowly, as if he were forcing out a ghost.

    ¡°We never reached their lines,¡± he said. ¡°The battle was over before that. We¡¯d been a <em>distraction</em>, see. Meant to rout and draw the Kuril regrs down the hills in pursuit so the mercenaries hidden in the woods could hit the left nk and flip their battle line.¡±

    ¡°But you didn¡¯t rout,¡± Tristan quietly said.

    ¡°And didn¡¯t end up mattering a fucking thing,¡± Yong said with cold fury. ¡°The Kuril cavalry was out sacking a vige an hour away instead of watching the left nk, so when the mercenary captains saw there were no guards and the enemy was watching the in they attacked without waiting for the signal ¨C took thempletely by surprise, routed the entire army right off the field.¡±

    <em>Oh</em>, Tristan thought, for words failed him.

    ¡°The greatest victory against an imperial army in thirty years,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°General Qi was the finest general in all the Republics, they told us, the most brilliant military mind of her generation.¡±

    ¡°So you killed her,¡± the thief said.

    ¡°It took two years to get close enough,¡± Yong said. ¡°But she liked to keep us militiamen close because we¡¯d been such an important part of her victory. Called us her bravest men, the backbone of Caishen. She liked to promote us when she could, make a show of it and have a meal between ¡®just us veterans¡¯ afterwards.¡±

    The Tianxi grasped at the back of his head, avoiding the bun, as if he wanted to pull off hair.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t nning to kill her, at first,¡± he said. ¡°But every night I dreamt about that fucking charge, Tristan, and when I got promoted to sima ¨C major ¨C she recognized my name. ¡®This man,¡¯ she said right in front of all those green boys, kids that¡¯d never even been anywhere a battle and didn¡¯t know she was <em>lying</em>, ¡®this man won me Diecai,¡¯ she said. ¡®My grand n would havee to nothing if not for the bravery of the Caishen militia¡¯.¡±

    Yong smiled.

    ¡°So when we sat for dinner, after the servant set down the roast duck I got up to carve it and shoved that knife right in her fucking throat,¡± he said, almost dreamily. ¡°I kept stabbing until she stopped moving. Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d get out alive, after, but no one went in the tent for half an hour and by then I¡¯d already stolen a horse.¡±

    He drank again, licking his lips after.

    ¡°I got to Mazu before the news did,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯d ridden that horse to death, then stolen another. Immediately bought a berth on a ship to Tenoch with thest of my coin.¡±

    The former soldier met Tristan¡¯s eyes, smiling sadly.

    ¡°And the dreams they stopped, for a time,¡± Yong said. ¡°I did killing for bad men, enough to earn a decent living, and when some Caishen folk came asking around about a deserter I bought passage to Sacromonte. I was smiling when I did, though, you know? Tenoch had always felt too close, but on a ship to the City I felt free.¡±

    ¡°But it didn¡¯tst,¡± the thief said.

    ¡°I thought it wouldn¡¯t, deep down, but it did. I went clean in Sacromonte,¡± Yong told him. ¡°No more dework, not even for the Guardia. I bounced around jobs at the docks for a bit until I found a genuine Fuxing teashop in Old Town. I knew the brewing and the ceremonies ¨C my grandmother was Sanxing stock, she taught me everything ¨C and they felt that having someone born back in the old country added authenticity.¡±

    ¡°And you kept your nose clean as a host in a teashop?¡± Tristan asked, almost skeptical.

    Yong shrugged.

    ¡°Dusted off my sword once when the Meng-Xiaofan came sniffing around, trying to make us a storehouse for butterfly powder, but I didn¡¯t even need to use it,¡± he smiled. ¡°It¡¯s where I met my husband ¨C Pietro was mad for white tea, came every week for a ceremony. He was younger than me, more than a decade, but neither of us cared. And things were <em>good</em>, they really were.¡±

    It was, he thought, a pretty story. But Yong was here now and so the thief already knew the end would not be.

    ¡°It was my sister-inw that was the start of it,¡± he said.

    A pause.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t her fault, I don¡¯t mean to say that,¡± Yong continued. ¡°She¡¯d borrowed some money from a lender when her husband broke his leg, to tide over until he got back to work, but when she returned to pay it was <em>her </em>the lender wanted. He invented some lie about the terms, said she had to pay with her body. She put him off and her husband beat the lender soundly when his leg got better. Knocked him out and left the coin owed. That should have been the end of it.¡±

    ¡°But he had coterie friends,¡± Tristan said, and it wasn¡¯t much of the guess.

    The coteries had their hands all over the moneylenders of Sacromonte, save those run by the infanzones themselves.

    ¡°A brother,¡± Yong said. ¡°Some middling crew called the Mice Men. They sent three to break his other leg and told him if his wife didn¡¯t go to ¡®pay back the trouble¡¯ next time they¡¯d slit his throat.¡±

    The thief winced. The smaller coteries were touchy about reputation, sometimes even more so than the real yers. They knew they wouldn¡¯t get anywhere if people weren¡¯t afraid of them. Still, it was bold of these Mice Men to try such a thing outside the Murk. The Guardia actually cared what happened in the Old Town. Not as much as the Orchard, where the infanzones and the wealthy lived, but the Old Town made up most of Sacromonte¡¯s districts and the crucial section of the canals that were its lifeblood. The redcloaks did not hesitate to shut down coteries that made trouble in that part of the city.

    ¡°That was overstepping,¡± Tristan said. ¡°The Guardia didn¡¯t get involved?¡±

    ¡°They brought in the lender for a talk, but there was no proof and he bought his way out,¡± Yong said. ¡°Said he was being framed because we didn¡¯t want to pay what was owed. Those two were terrified the Mice Men would take revenge for snitching and Pietro was the one who convinced them to tell the redcloaks, so he felt responsible.¡±

    ¡°And you felt responsible for him,¡± the thief said.

    ¡°That¡¯s what love is, Tristan,¡± Yong sadly smiled. ¡°Taking part. So I oiled my sword, cleaned my pistol and went to live with them for a few weeks.¡±

    It was easy enough to tell what had followed.

    ¡°How many came?¡±

    ¡°Four,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°The lender was with them.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°I shot him in the belly,¡± Yong mused. ¡°Never did learn if he died from that. But his brother went wild after so I had to kill him up close, sword to knife, and then another from behind when he tried to take a hostage. They ran after that, never came back.¡±

    Yong drank.

    ¡°Until that night, I had not killed in over ten years.¡±

    ¡°And the dreams came back,¡± Tristan softly said.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep a full night anymore,¡± Yong murmured. ¡°Kept waking up screaming, charging across that fucking field at Diecai with all my friends dying and General Qi right behind me smiling a skull¡¯s grin. Like she¡¯d finally caught up.¡±

    He pulled at the sk again, but it was empty.

    ¡°They warned me at the teashop that I looked too tired,¡± he said. ¡°It put people off. We tried everything, Tristan, but I only found one thing that let me sleep.¡±

    The Tianxi stared down at the sk, then flicked a finger against it. It let out a tinny ring, empty for now. But not for long, Tristan thought.

    ¡°Started just before bed,¡± Yong said. ¡°Like medicine. But it didn¡¯t stop there, and it got¡­ well, you don¡¯t need to know the details. We argued a lot. Pietro said I wasn¡¯t the man he¡¯d married.¡±

    The former soldier grimaced.

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t wrong.¡±

    They were already past the crest of the hill, Tristan thought. Down was the only way for this to go.

    ¡°Money wasn¡¯t great,¡± Yong admitted. ¡°I got demoted to the back after smelling like rum before a ceremony, which paid less, and their family shop had to change suppliers after the old one died ¨C prices were higher, profits slimmer.¡±

    He flicked a finger against the sk again, the sound like the ringing of a bell.

    ¡°We had to borrow to keep the house, we were months behind in payments,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°I took care of it: the Hoja Roja needed a man dead and I did the killing, so they lent us without interest.¡±

    <em>Of course they did</em>, Tristan thought. <em>You¡¯re everything they want in an enforcer: you need them more than the other way around, you have in weaknesses and you¡¯re a trained soldier.</em> They would have kept handing him rope again and again, waiting patiently until a leash came from it they would be able to pull. Even drunk, the rotgut deep in him now, Yong saw that thought inly writ on his face.

    ¡°They were looking to bring me in, I think,¡± he admitted, then looked away. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I was going to refuse, not that it ever got to that.¡±

    And now the ugly end. Yong¡¯s dark eyes were fervent when they returned to him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t me him, I want you to understand that,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m forty-three, Tristan. He¡¯s only thirty, he still has years ahead of him. So I don¡¯t me him for taking the money and running.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s heart clenched.

    ¡°But it was the Hoja¡¯s money,¡± he quietly said.

    ¡°But it was the Hoja¡¯s money,¡± Yong quietly agreed.

    What came out of the Tianxi¡¯s throat could not be considered augh: it was just a convulsion barren of joy.

    ¡°They found him in three days,¡± Yong said. ¡°Of course they did. What does he know about hiding? And then they told me they¡¯d forgive the whole thing, if I put the shot in his head myself. Water under the bridge.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t,¡± Tristan said.

    And there was much of that story that he had never believed a man like Yong might do, but that much he did not doubt.

    ¡°I love him,¡± Yong smiled. ¡°How could I? So instead I made them a deal.¡±

    And suddenly it made sense.

    ¡°That¡¯s your red game,¡± Tristan sharply breathed in. ¡°If you get to the third trial, they write off the money. They spare him.¡±

    The other man toasted him with an empty sk.

    ¡°So I have to get there, Tristan,¡± he said. ¡°Whatever it might cost me ¨C or anyone else - I will reach the Trial of Weeds. I owe my husband that much.¡±

    <em>You owe him nothing</em>, the thief thought. <em>He ran, and that makes him one of my lot: there can be nothing owed under the Law of Rats.</em>

    ¡°I understand,¡± he said instead.

    ¡°No,¡± Yong said, ¡°I don¡¯t think you do.¡±

    He grimaced.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help,¡± he said, ¡°because it could be what I need. I¡¯ll go with the Ramayans, who I liked most as a choice anyhow. But the moment this n of yours looks as if it might keep me away from the third trial¡­¡±

    ¡°You turn on me,¡± Tristanpleted. ¡°You tell them everything.¡±

    Who ¡®them¡¯ was did not matter. It could be the Watch, it could be the Ramayans or Tredegar of even Tupoc Xical. It would be whatever kept Yong safe so he would reach the Trial of Weeds, nothing more or less. It was a bittersweet thing, that in the same moment he came to understand the kind of man Yong was Tristan woulde to understand that there was a limit to how far they could share trust. But having said this at all, the thief thought, was a kind of gift. Even if the Tianxi was drunk. Because he had not held back the secrets but instead given them out as a warning, so that Tristan might not overstep so much that betrayal must ensue.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Yong quietly said, the slur thickening the words. ¡°But it is what it is.¡±

    Tristan straightened his back.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± he said. ¡°You promised all that you are free to promise. Asking anything more of you would be greed.¡±

    And he meant it, he did, but looking at the pathetic gratitude in Yong¡¯s eyes ¨C what the drink was making of a man he respected ¨C he had to look away. The bottle killed as many as sickness, down in the Murk. In some ways it was one. There was a reason Tristan never drank unless forced.

    ¡°We¡¯ll talk before you leave,¡± the thief said.

    Yong snorted, then waved him away.

    ¡°Go,¡± he said. ¡°It won¡¯t get any prettier.¡±

    Tristan did not know what he would have answered, but he bit down on it anyhow. It was not his ce to speak down to a man decades his senior, one who had lived through horrors he could not begin to imagine. Besides, that was one thing the bottle shared with sickness: once it was in your bones, it was not for you to decide when it left. Some got through it, got out, but most got ridden all the way down into the grave.

    Tristan left with everything he¡¯de to get, but somehow it did not feel like a victory at all.

 Chapter 22

    Chapter 22

    Tristan began fiddling with his cab like there was a point to it, keeping his hands upied so he wouldn¡¯t have to think about what he had just walked away from.

    When he saw her approaching from the corner of his eye, it was almost a relief. Shalini Goel was the shortest of all the trial-takers, barely five feet five by his guess, and though she was full-bodied the thief could tell it was not the result of idleness: there was muscle to her frame and calluses on her palms. The same kind Guardia sometimes got, thosee from shooting regrly. Her ck hair was long, kept in a braid going down her back, and she had a gold ring in her nose. The vivid shades of her clothes spoke of coin even for a Ramayan, a people whose love of colour was proverbial.

    A green kurta ¨C the corless tunic in the Someshwar manner ¨C ended above her knees, leading into striped trousers in white and yellow that were tucked into high boots. A blood red sash at her waist had two pistols tucked into while a leather bandoleer holding powder horns hung loose across her torso, connecting a shoulder to the opposite side. Shalini had the look of a soldier but did not hold herself like one, which spoke to Tristan of someone who had been trained but not taken to such a life.

    And while he¡¯d been studying her, he realized, she had studied him right back.

    ¡°Tristan, is it?¡± she smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t believe we have been properly introduced.¡±

    She had an easy smile, he decided, but it was not false. Shalini Goel struck him instead as one of those strange people Vesper had blessed with a general enjoyment of life. It must make her easy to like.

    ¡°It felt like a long journey here, but it ended up being so little time hasn¡¯t it?¡± Tristan smiled back, entirely practiced.

    She offered her hand to shake, which he did. Her grip was firm.

    ¡°I am-¡±

    ¡°Shalini Goel,¡± he said, then shrugged at her raised eyebrow. ¡°Word gets around.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it does,¡± she chuckled. ¡°And you even pronounced it right. Do you-¡±

    Shalini said something he did not understand in what he was pretty sure was Samratrava ¨C the mostmon of the Someshwaringuages. Tristan answered with the only sentence in thatnguage he had ever learned.

    ¡°The brothels are down the canal with rednterns,¡± he informed her.

    A flicker ofplete and utter surprise, then Shalini burst outughing. It was contagious enough that he found himself smiling as she pped her knee, holding her stomach.

    ¡°Oh gods,¡± the Ramayan wheezed. ¡°I guess that¡¯s an answer. How much did they pay you to tell the sailors?¡±

    ¡°Only three radizes a night, but it came with a meal,¡± Tristan said.

    He saw her pause, count in her head as she tranted from the currency Sacromonte and most of the Trebian Sea used to coinage she better knew. The Imperial Someshwar had a few but j ¨C <em>sheshaj, </em>in truth, but not even Someshwari used the full name - were the only one he¡¯d ever seen used at the docks. The private currencies of the rajas were rarely epted, given how regrly they got debased when thetest pce or campaign got a little too expensive.

    ¡°So not even two kupah,¡± she mused. ¡°I hope it was a good meal.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve had worse,¡± the thief shrugged.

    And taking the coppers had given him a reason to hang around Caballo Canal at night, letting him track theing and goings of a Meng-Xiaofan warehouse he had been sent by Abu to rob.

    ¡°I expect you have,¡± Shalini said, mood losing some of the humour. ¡°It seems to have hardened you in useful ways.¡±

    It was his turn to cock an eyebrow at her. She was the one who hade to him, after all, so it was her who should make the pitch.

    ¡°Tredegar is being run by the infanzones,¡± Shalini Goel told him, ¡°and we both know Xical¡¯s worse than a snake. A Leopard Society man through and through.¡±

    ¡°I have never heard of them before,¡± the thief admitted.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect a Sacromontan to have,¡± she said. ¡°Izcalli name their societies after animals from their homnd that embody traits they want to emte, Tristan, but there are no leopards in the Kingdom of Izcalli.¡±

    Tristan blinked in surprise.

    ¡°They¡¯re not a formal society,¡± Shalini said. ¡°When forced to acknowledge their existence the Grasshopper King will say they¡¯re charged with hunting criminals that flee outside Izcalli borders, but what they really do is <em>raid</em>.¡±

    She spat to the side.

    ¡°They go out with the candle-priests, hit undefended viges out in the Someshwar or the Republics and bring them back like cattle,¡± Shalini said.

    He grimaced in disgust, not faking it in the least.

    ¡°For the candles?¡±

    She nodded and he almost spat as she had. The Kingdom of Izcalli had been one of the strongest nations to emerge from the fall of the Second Empire, with fertile hearnds full of Antediluvian wonders and its strong military bent, but its unification was a bloody business. Izcalli was hardly alone in that, but what set the kingdom apart was that it was heavily dependent on First Empire lights to live and almost all of them were on the ground instead of set in firmament. During the wars many were damaged, which had unbnced the intricate system of devices regting light in Izcalli. Entire regions had begun to go dark for weeks, months even.

    Until the men now known as the candle-priests found their solution: feed the machines aether where they grew weak.

    Nowadays Izcalli imed the era of bloody sacrifices, of murdering men on altars to keep the lights from burning out, was long past. That it had been much exaggerated anyhow, a very rare happenstance, and that advances in modern understanding of aether now made such savagery obsolete. There were kinder ways to keep the ¡®candles¡¯ lit, needing no death and hardly any pain. It had not stopped flower wars from erupting at Izcalli borders, and such assurances from the Grasshopper Kings were taken with a heavy grain of salt. With good reason, if Shalini spoke the truth about the Leopard Society.

    ¡°They¡¯re expendable,¡± the Ramayan said. ¡°If they get caught, be an embarrassment, they will be called rogues or bandits and left to hang. Xical came by that ugliness honestly, whatever else may be said of him.¡±

    ¡°And there is much to be said,¡± Tristan drily replied.

    ¡°Figured you¡¯d agree,¡± Shalini grinned. ¡°You can see the same things I can: Ishaan and I, we¡¯re your best bet.¡±

    He smiled at her, saying nothing.

    ¡°That Yonges with is another point in your favour,¡± she acknowledged, ¡°but after the way Lady Ferranda talked you up I would have made an offer anyway.¡±

    ¡°You,¡± he said, ¡°and not Lord Ishaan. I find that interesting.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a slight,¡± Shalini assured him, ¡°it¡¯s just that he¡¯s a little scrambled at the moment. By now you¡¯ll have heard we ran into the airavatan before you did.¡±

    ¡°And that a contract was used to buy enough time for your crew to escape,¡± Tristan said.

    Ferranda Vizur had imed that something stupefied the beast long enough for them to run away. That it was contract work was not in doubt and he had already suspected it was Ishaan, but to hear it confirmed made the guess solid.

    ¡°There was some bacsh,¡± she said. ¡°Hard not to, beating back a monster thatrge. But he¡¯s nearly through it and will be back to form by tomorrow. He¡¯s just, uh, going to get confused easily until then. It¡¯s best for me to do the talking while he recovers.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°If your worry is that I make promises he won¡¯t keep, there is no need,¡± Shalini reassured him. ¡°He¡¯s not insensate, it just takes a while for him to understand things ¨C everything I say, I say with his approval.¡±

    It was tempting to keep stringing her along, see if he could get any more information out of her, but that was greed talking. If he took too much before declining, he would be salting the grounds. Best to end this now and add a little sweetness so they remained on good terms.

    ¡°It is a tempting offer,¡± he said.

    ¡°But,¡± Shalini said.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be going into the maze tomorrow,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Not with anyone.¡±

    She drummed her fingers against the side of a pistol.

    ¡°Hedging your bets is not unreasonable,¡± she grudgingly said. ¡°And we have had longer to rest.¡±

    But it was not the answer she had wanted ¨C and perhaps even expected ¨C so now for the sweetness.

    ¡°Yong will not refuse if you ask him again,¡± Tristan said. ¡°He does not want to wait.¡±

    Shalini eyed him with interest.

    ¡°Is that what you two were speaking about?¡±

    ¡°We are inclined to different strategies,¡± Tristan shrugged.

    She woulde out of it with another shot at apanion she had wanted more than he, but more important still she woulde out of their conversation with the feeling that she had ¡®won¡¯. Getting her hands on a source of tension between he and Yong was worth more than some talk about a suspected contract and idle conversation about the Leopard Society. Their conversation remained genial and Tristan suspected she might have stayed longer if she had not caught sight of something: Brun was approaching Ishaan Nair. Shalini made her excuses quickly after that, going to join them.

    <em>That¡¯s another one for their crew, then</em>, the thief thought. Brun was fit, loyal ¨C he had backed Tredegar against Tupoc - and came with no baggage attached. He was, in essence, a perfect recement for Yaretzi. Like her the blond Sacromontan had made few waves ande out of the perils with a solid reputation. And that made Tristan ufortable, because Fortuna had called the god he was bound to <em>loud</em>. It did not necessarily follow that a contractor must be alike in nature with their contracted ¨C he had little enough inmon with Fortuna ¨C but a loud god ought to be loud in their gifts yet no a single whisper had spread of Brun¡¯s contract.

    The other man had navigated the game of alliances with a deft hand: he¡¯d gotten in with the infanzones when the getting was good through the more influential of Isabel Ruesta¡¯s maids, then stuck closely to Tredegar. A woman who would bite her own arm off before raising a hand against arade, a category Brun had made certain to fit in. Now he was changing ship for the Ramayans, getting into a more stable crew, but carefully burning no bridges as he did.

    ¡°You are certain his god is the loud one?¡± Tristan murmured, feigning a yawn.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Fortuna tly replied. ¡°And he is being <em>incredibly</em> tasteless about it.¡±

    She did not deign to borate further and he knew better than to ask. <em>There¡¯s something off about you, Brun</em>, Tristan decided. No one genuinely following sentiment ended up making all the right choices all the time. The other man was running a game, had to be.

    But which, and for what purpose?

    No answers would be found standing here, the thief knew, so he tore his gaze away. Whatever it was Brun wanted, if his ambitions extended beyond survival, then it would be something to chase afterter. Tristan had more pressing matters to worry about, three of them to be exact. Francho was the most likely to have other offers, but Tristan still sought out Vanesa first. It was she whose expertise would determine whether his intentions were at all feasible.

    The old woman was sitting by herself in a corner, looking half-asleep. The Watch physician had her on poppy extract for the pain, but Tristan had checked the vials and the man was keeping the doses as low as he could. It was for the best: at her age, too strong a dose risked sending her into the kind of sleep she would not be waking from. Not much had been done about the shattered leg, aside from cleaning it and binding it, but that was notziness on the man¡¯s part. The airavatan had broken the limb beyond repair, bone shredding muscles and tendons as it shattered into pieces. Her kneecap was in three pieces and the swelling made it nearly impossible to operate and stem the internal bleeding. The physician had little choice but to rmend amputation.

    ¡°Either way,¡± the watchman had told her, ¡°you won¡¯t ever be using that leg again.¡±

    Vanesa had¡­ balked, at that. Tristan had spent long enough as a cutter¡¯s assistant to know that was not an umon reaction, but it had been startlingly ferocious. She went hysterical for a time, needing to be restrained until she calmed, and had been subdued since. The one-eyed clockmaker was awake enough to notice when he came to sat by her side, though her face betrayed her exhaustion.

    ¡°Is it time for lunch?¡± Vanesa asked.

    ¡°Not for a few hours yet,¡± Tristan said.

    No one would be leaving anytime soon, anyhow. He thought some of the crews might set out to have a look at the shrinester this afternoon but doubted anyone would begin the maze until tomorrow. First they would want to recover and organize.

    ¡°Ah,¡± she muttered. ¡°Sorry. My mind, it has been wandering.¡±

    ¡°Common enough when taking poppy extract,¡± he assured her.

    She nodded, looking thankful. As if he had not simply said the truth.

    ¡°A nice young woman from the Watch is making me crutches,¡± Vanesa told him. ¡°From an old oar, I believe?¡±

    He said nothing.

    ¡°Anyhow,¡± Vanesa continued, ¡°when they are finished I will be able to have a look at this maze. It seems an interesting enough ce.¡±

    Sometimes, Tristan thought, the line between kindness and cruelty was thin as a breath.

    ¡°You know you won¡¯t be doing that,¡± he quietly said.

    ¡°Perhaps not in one of thesepanies forming,¡± Vanesa said, ¡°but surely-¡±

    ¡°If you go into that maze, you will die.¡±

    He interrupted as gently as he could, but his voice did not waver. It was a statement of fact, not a guess. Tristan had little heard of the tests these gods of the maze would set, but a one-eyed old woman with a broken leg would be as meat on the table. Vanesa¡¯s lips pursed, then she looked away. He saw the emotions flicker across her worn face ¨C frustration, anger, fear. And at the end of the road, resignation.

    ¡°I am dead if I stay here,¡± she finally said. ¡°The physician says I have two weeks at most, with the bleeding inside the leg.¡±

    Much as he wanted to bring up the amputation again, it was not his ce. Vanesa knew the costs of her decision; they had been made in to her. If she thought a slow death better than losing her leg then it was her choice to make.

    ¡°There may be,¡± Tristan said, ¡°another way.¡±

    Her eye went to him, as if dragged by a hook. The hope he saw there burned, for there were no certainties in what he had to offer.

    ¡°Have you had a close look at the gate?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I have not,¡± she admitted.

    ¡°Then let us,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I think you will find it interesting.¡±

    He went about it methodically. First he took one the spare benches near the kitchen and moved it in front of the gate, then went back for Vanesa. She had to lean on him all the while, most of her weight carried for her, but he got her to the bench and helped her down. She was barely paying attention by the time he did, sole eye flittering across the span of the iron gate ¨C or, more precisely, the intricate mechanisms covering it.

    ¡°I cannot tell where it begins,¡± she murmured. ¡°Oh ¨C and some parts go <em>into</em> the gate. Pistons, Tristan, see those? That will be aetheric machinery, unless they have a steam engine on the other side that can run forever.¡±

    ¡°Can you make any sense of it?¡± he asked.

    ¡°The grids are the key,¡± Vanesa told him, eye still on the gate. ¡°See how the gears around them are all derivative? Those metal ques are the functional equivalent of levers, or perhaps more urately abination lock.¡±

    ¡°Moving them would have an effect,¡± Tristan said.

    Vanesa nodded.

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± she said. ¡°Mind you, there are few distinguishing marks on them and I do not see how anyone could easily get up there to activate them, but-¡±

    She paused, enthusiasm slowly bleeding out of her as she turned to him.

    ¡°It is an interesting puzzle,¡± Vanesa said, ¡°but it will not get either of us through the maze. I do not need a distraction, Tristan.¡±

    <em>Yes you do</em>, the thief thought. Else she would simply wither on the vine. Better yet that this was not a distraction at all.

    ¡°I disagree,¡± Tristan murmured. ¡°I think that gate is exactly how we get through the maze.¡±

    He gestured at the gate.

    ¡°The stone around it isn¡¯t the same as the fort¡¯s,¡± he said. ¡°And the scale of the structure it i set in is absurd.¡±

    While the stone the gate was set in a pir, as it reached all the way to the distant ceiling of the cavern, it perhaps ought to be called a tower instead for the sheer size of it. It was at least a hundred feet long from side to side, at the apex of the curve.

    ¡°So perhaps it is a First Empire ruin,¡± Vanesa shrugged. ¡°That is no surprise given the great machinery above our heads.¡±

    ¡°You are not paying attention to the right part,¡± Tristan chided her. ¡°The pir is in perfect state. This Old Fort, however, is falling apart.¡±

    The old woman stared at him, still uprehending.

    ¡°It was builtter, not by the Antediluvians,¡± the thief said. ¡°And to guard what, a gate it would take ten batteries of cannons to break through? I doubt it. And that leaves only¡­¡±

    ¡°The shrines,¡± Vanesa said. ¡°The maze. You believe it is also a recent addition.¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Tristan agreed. ¡°And now that begs the question: what is that pir for, then? Where does the gate lead?¡±

    The clockmaker¡¯s lone eye dipped upwards, at the pieces of gold slowly moving above them and giving out a ghostly golden glow.

    ¡°Even Antediluvians needed to maintain their machines,¡± Vanesa softly said. ¡°However fine the make, they fell apart eventually.¡±

    ¡°And they <em>would </em>need a way to get up there,¡± Tristan murmured. ¡°I believe we are looking at it.¡±

    Vanesa hesitated.

    ¡°There is no guarantee that up there waits a path across the mountains,¡± she said.

    Tristan could have said that even the Antediluvians must have brought the pieces in from somewhere, that if the maze of shrines was recent and a god bound to the gate on the other side then that very gate might be just as a recent an addition, but at the end of the day she was right: there was no guarantee.

    ¡°It is a bet,¡± Tristan admitted.

    He met her eye squarely.

    ¡°But I believe in it enough to hold off on the maze,¡± he said.

    Tristan was a rat: could there be a stronger endorsement from the likes of him than putting his own fortunes on the line? His life was the sole thing of worth he owned. He said nothing more, letting the silence do the talking. The Sacromontan knew she would agree, for as Lan had seen the truth was Vanesa did not truly want to die. She was resigned to it, perhaps, but if the choice was between the certain death of entering the maze as a lone cripple and rolling the dice on the gate they both knew what she would choose.

    Tristan did not hurry her, letting her make the journey at her own pace until she was staring down at her ruin of a leg. There was a bitterness to the cast of her face that came to it more often these days.

    ¡°Well,¡± Vanesa said. ¡°I suppose there is not much left for me to lose.¡±

    She sighed.

    ¡°Only the two of us?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I want Francho as well,¡± the thief immediately replied. ¡°And I have recruited outside helpers.¡±

    ¡°Of course you have,¡± the old woman tiredly smiled. ¡°You may count me as part of your cabal, then. I look forward to seeing whates of it.¡±

    He would have stayed longer, sitting with her, but she dismissed him. Wanted to look at the gate without distractions, she said, but if he wanted to be a dear he could see about getting her ink and paper. That would have to wait, he decided, until he had spoken with Francho. The old professor was speaking with Lan when he found him, the blue-lipped dealer departing in a huff when she saw him. Francho cocked a brow at the thief but Tristan rolled his eyes.

    ¡°I will ask no questions, then,¡± the toothless old man drawled. ¡°What may I do for you, young man?¡±

    ¡°Answer a few questions of mine, for one,¡± he said.

    ¡°Had I known all along that all it took was the threat of grisly death to seed curiosity in my students,¡± Francho smiled, ¡°I might have dabbled in it at Reve.¡±

    ¡°It might have shortened your career,¡± the thief amusedly replied.

    ¡°Oh, murder is the least of the offences one can get away with after tenure,¡± Francho said. ¡°The old Master of Music once ¨C ah, but I am rambling again. Please, do ask away.¡±

    Tristan was going toe back and get that story about the Master of Musicter, for it promised to be most amusing, but it would have to wait.

    ¡°I expect Lan was approaching you on behalf of Tupoc Xical,¡± the thief leadingly said.

    ¡°The Izcalli is most forthright about wanting cannon fodder,¡± Francho said. ¡°The honesty of the offer is somewhat admirable.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to be biting at the bait,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°I thought it unwise before finding out what it is you are plotting,¡± the professor candidly said. ¡°You do not seem to be joining up with anyone, which has me wondering what you do intend.¡±

    ¡°There is a mystery in the bones of this trial,¡± the thief said. ¡°I would dig it out.¡±

    Francho considered him, sucking at his gums thoughtfully.

    ¡°The gate,¡± he said. ¡°You want to open the gate.¡±

    ¡°An endeavour in which a historian might be of some use,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Especially one with fine ears.¡±

    The reference to his contract was not particrly subtle, but neither was it too telling. And he did want Francho on his side, if not strictly speaking<em> need</em> him. If the gate were easy to open, the Watch already would have. Having someone could listen to what had gone on around the great pir, to parse out the parts of the puzzle they unearthed, would be very useful indeed. It would starkly increase their odds of sess, in Tristan¡¯s opinion.

    ¡°An interesting offer,¡± Francho finally said.

    It was not agreement, but neither was it a refusal. Unlike Vanesa, the old professor might potentially survive delving the maze ¨C the risks were merely high, especially if he went in under the likes of Tupoc.

    ¡°Think on it,¡± Tristan simply said. ¡°I will not be going anywhere.¡±

    His odds, he thought, were good. He would know by the end of the day what kind of a crew it was he was working with.

    --

    Maryam only reappeared an hourter and avoided talking about where she had been. Of Beatris there was still no sign, which had him reconsidering how he would get eyes in Angharad Tredegar¡¯s crew, but before that question was answered there was another conversation he wanted to have.

    ¡°Not while people are around,¡± Maryam whispered. ¡°Especially the Watch.¡±

    So they waited for night to meet, even as Tupoc¡¯s crew and Ishaan¡¯s went to have a look at the shrines. Tredegar, by contrast, seemed to be preparing her own forbat: putting them into formation, preparing weapons.

    An hour before the Watch dimmed thenterns Francho approached him.

    ¡°If it leads nowhere, I will have to turn to the maze,¡± the old professor warned.

    ¡°I would not ask you otherwise,¡± Tristan replied.

    And like that, there were only two stones left to turn over.

    --

    Tristan considered night one of the more interesting lies people told themselves.

    It rested at a lively intersection between need, tradition and control. Men must sleep, they could only stay awake for so long, therefore there must be an end to the day: a night where rest was allowed. Yet in most of Vesper there was no natural boundary to delimit this, only a few old wonders of the Antediluvians underwriting such a cycle in fact. It was thus in the hands of men to delimit night and day, to make them, and there the lie got interesting.

    Was a stretch of hours to be called night because your parents had called it such? Tradition had weight, it was true. If you were raised to be awake at certain hours and asleep at others, you might not question it. But those hours were not the same for everyone, were they? Half the miners of the Trench lived during ¡®night¡¯, their little towns outside the walls of Sacromonte living askew in time from the rest of the City, and they were hardly the only ones. And it was not tradition that¡¯d made that decision, for who would ever <em>choose</em> to work in the hell of the Trench?

    It was those with power who had set the lines, the boundaries. It was they who decided when themplights dimmed and when they burned, when men worked and when they rested. Abu had once told him that about forty years ago, the Six ¨C the infanzones of infanzones - had tried to take an hour out of the night. They had wanted the docks and markets open longer, for those were the arteries of wealth in the City and sooner orter all of Sacromonte¡¯s wealth made its way into the hands of the Six.

    They¡¯d not announced this or trumpeted it about, instead sneaking it in as a natural thing: the lights had stayed on, the shifts been extended. The public clocks were tampered with or taken down for repairs, leaving people to measure time by the eye, and the scheming few had thought that if this went on for long enough without notice they could steal an entire hour from the many. It¡¯d not worked, Abu had told him. People with little always noticed it when you took something from them.

    Somewhere around three thousand people died in the Canario Riots, after the mob began storming noble mansions and the Guardia answered by wheeling out organ guns and firing them into the crowd.

    Afterwards, smelling disaster, the Six hung a dozen ringleaders after using them of having taken coin from the Republics ¨C it was all a foreign plot! ¨C and after that show of strength promptly backed down. The debacle with the ¡®stolen time¡¯ was med on a single family, House Agon, which was exiled as the Six once more protected the rights of the good people of Sacromonte. The hour went back, the clocks were all mysteriously fixed within a week, all the world was pleased.

    And the infanzones quietly began building worker¡¯s towns outside the city walls, where criminals and the indebted would agree that day and night were whatever their betters said they were.

    ¡°What was the lesson of that story?¡± Tristan had asked Abu.

    ¡°There is no such thing as night,¡± she¡¯d said. ¡°Yet look at the storm of violence that was unleashed when men tried to change the span of it. An old lie is a powerful thing, Tristan. Learn to use them.¡±

    To the boy he¡¯d been when they first had the conversation it had meant little. As he grew older, though, the words began to take meaning. It was not a secret or a trick Abu had been trying to teach him but a perspective: the things taken for granted, the foundations that Vesper rested on, should not be spared a skeptical eye. The chains that bound men most surely were those they never saw, never thought to strain against. Tristan was no <em>confederales</em>, to plot the bloody liberation of Sacromonte with a butcher¡¯s knife on hisp and a red circle sown over his heart, but he would not suffer being owned. So he¡¯d learned to keep his eyes open, to sniff out the lies.

    And this Trial of Ruins, it <em>reeked</em>.

    Enough that it was forcing him to look back at the entire Dominion of Lost Things and wonder what it was that the Watch truly wanted with this ce. He¡¯de here treading on a foundation of certainty: the ckcloaks used the trials to bring in skilled but irregr recruits while fattening their pockets by letting the nobles use them as proving grounds. Perhaps a little posturing thrown in as well, an unspoken reminder that at the end of the trials the infanzones used to set themselves above one another all that the victors qualified to be was the rank and file of the Watch.

    Only the numbers didn¡¯t add up.

    Even if Tristan was willing to dismiss the way trial-takers were chosen ¨C and he wasn¡¯t, not when he had to wonder if the ckcloaks would actually want half of the people who¡¯d paid to get on the Bluebell ¨C there was arger discrepancy behind it all: coin. How many infanzones, how many red games candidates were sent every year? Possibly enough to keep an old cog like the Bluebell and the other ship the first wave had taken afloat, their crews paid, but not much more than that. Then the Watch would have to pay and feed the garrison on the Dominion, to supply and maintain its forts, to defend them against the cultists of the Red Eye.

    In the most generous of suppositions, if a hundred people took to the Dominion every year and half of these survived to be Watch ¨C a <em>very</em> generous supposition ¨C then after the losses to sickness, gods and cultists were subtracted, the ckcloaks couldn¡¯t be getting more than a dozen recruits or so. And for those dozen recruits they¡¯d be drenching their ledger in red. He had thought this exined the seeds and trade goods he and Maryam had figured out at the docks: the Watch was trying to get some gold out of this ce and perhaps lower its casualties with bribes.

    But now here they got to the Trial of Ruins, a horror of dead and dying gods under a First Empire aether machine that had to be worth a small city. Why hadn¡¯t they stripped that thing out and sold it to make a fortune? If they feared the gods of the maze enough to threaten the execution of anyone contracting with one without reporting it, why not fill this ce to the brim with ckpowder and light a fuse? No, there was something going on here beyond the Watch running a seemingly sloppy recruitment operation.

    And instead of running around in the maze with the rest of them, Tristan Abrascal was going to find out what it was the ckcloaks knew the rest of them didn¡¯t.

    The first step to that, in an unusual turn, was not to be all that difficult. There was one person who knew more about these trials than she should and they were already set to talk. Maryam had promised, in the heat of the moment when the airavatan seemed set to kill them, that they were to have a conversation. It was a one best kept away from prying eyes, she had imed, so Tristan used an old lie in the very simplest of ways: they waited until night made everyone go to sleep. Not every trick had to be bold or brilliant.

    They met in one of the broken bastions under a ceiling half-copsed, surrounded by loose masonry. The ckcloaks didn¡¯t patrol, not really: they kept watch from atop the walls and sometimes went around the fortress to eye the courtyard but they had no interest in the nooks and crannies of the Old Fort. <em>They¡¯re not afraid of animals or lemures</em>, Tristan decided. Given Lieutenant Wen¡¯s enthusiastic oration about gods eating each other, he suspected there might not be any around.

    Maryam came in but a few heartbeats after him, hand on the knife at her side as her blue eyes scanned the dark. He pushed off of the stone he¡¯d been leaning against, passing under the broken ceiling and the rays of gold pouring down it. Her shoulders rxed.

    ¡°You know,¡± Maryam said, ¡°if someone else had asked me into a dark corner after everyone went to sleep, I might have assumed they had <em>intentions</em>.¡±

    He cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°But not me?¡±

    She rolled her eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m not blind, Tristan,¡± she said. ¡°You are about as interested in bedsport as I am in collecting butterflies.¡±

    ¡°A traditional hobby, ifrgely pointless,¡± he said.

    He had not specified which he was talking about, which by the look of her grin she had absolutely noticed. Much as he disliked sobering the mood after such a pleasant start, he had note here for the pleasure of herpany. Seeing the change in his expression, Maryam¡¯s own shed the mirth.

    ¡°And now I pay my dues, yes?¡± she said.

    ¡°I would not dig into your personal secrets,¡± Tristan said, ¡°but I have questions and you answers.¡±

    She dismissed his words with a wave.

    ¡°I made my choice out on the ins and will not walk it back now,¡± Maryam said. ¡°There are limits to what I may speak of, but within them I will not balk.¡±

    ¡°You said,¡± Tristan murmured, ¡°that this year was not like the others. That some of us were marked for more than simply joining the Watch.¡±

    Maryam slowly nodded, she was considering her words ¨C navigating promises, perhaps? ¨C and ultimately it was with a question she answered.

    ¡°What strikes you as strange about the Bluebell passengers?¡±

    He cocked his head to the side. He¡¯d given that subject much thought, now that he had time to spare and more information to chew on.

    ¡°You and Leander Gtas could both use Signs,¡± he said. ¡°And not the way some street witch would, the usual potions and curses. The real kind of Signs, those Navigators use. That is more than passing rare.¡±

    She nodded encouragingly.

    ¡°There are also much too many people with contracts,¡± he added after a moment. ¡°It seems like at least half the foreigners have one.¡±

    Zenzele Duma did, and Ishaan Nair. The same was likely true of Tupoc Xical and Tristan sincerely doubted that even a mirror-dancer could be as quick as Angharad Tredegar without a little help. Throw in Song, Acanthe Phos, Isabel Ruesta, Brun and Francho - then on top of that the rumor that Remund Cerdan had one as well? The numbers were troubling. Even if no one else was hiding a contract, which he had doubts about, then out of the thirty-three people on the Bluebell there had been at least twelve with contracts, counting himself and Marz. It was a staggering number even for individuals aiming to enter the Watch.

    Someone might well go their entire life without meeting that many contractors, much less all of them in the same room.

    ¡°All the rmended are being evaluated to see if they qualify for special enrolment,¡± Maryam told him. ¡°Yourself included.¡±

    ¡°Special enrolment?¡± he pressed.

    ¡°I cannot speak about it,¡± she admitted. ¡°I skirt the edge of breaking an agreement by even telling you this much.¡±

    As he¡¯d thought, her foreknowledge hade with strings. It only reinforced that he was speaking to the right person to find the thread he must pull at, because the most likely suspect for Maryam¡¯s interlocutor was the Watch or a least a member of it.

    ¡°You knew about this beforeing here,¡± he decided, studying her face. ¡°What is that makes this particr year different from the others?¡±

    ¡°Timing,¡± she quietly said. ¡°An opportunity that will note twice.¡±

    Tristan passed a hand through his hair, frustrated at how vague she was being but half-sure it was not on purpose. She has called it an ¡®agreement¡¯, what stilled her tongue, and that implied someone on the other end of the bargain ¨C it was not an oath, but a bargain struck with another. Someone who might care if she broke the terms.

    ¡°The Krypteia,¡± he said. ¡°The Masks, you said they wanted something from me. Do you know what it is?¡±

    There were a hundred name for the agents of the Krypteia, the most secretive of the Watch, and as many rumours for what their purpose might be. Spies and assassins, most said, though others imed it was the watchmen themselves they watched over. Whatever the truth, their reputation for ruthlessness and secrecy was no lie. It might not be a good thing at all that he had somehow drawn their eye. Maryam studied him for a long moment, blue eyes searching, before she let out a startled breath.

    ¡°So you really don¡¯t know,¡± she quietly said. ¡°It¡¯s not something they want, Tristan, it¡¯s <em>you</em>. They are the Circle that rmended you.¡±

    Did that mean <em>everyone </em>who¡¯d been rmended had ¨C no, that wasn¡¯t as important as the fact that for some reason he had apparently caught the eye of the fucking <em>Masks</em>.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± he got out.

    Maryam leaned forward, openly worried.

    ¡°Tristan, the other rmended all had a name with them,¡± she said. ¡°The person who gave the rmendation. All except you: yours was just a wax seal with the symbol of the Krypteia. I don¡¯t know high up their ranks you must be to be able to use that, but it¡¯s not <em>low</em>.¡±

    She grimaced.

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me you have no idea who did this?¡±

    ¡°I know who arranged for me to have a ce on the Bluebell,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I could never be sure she was part of the Watch. She has never imed so and I have never seen her in a ck cloak.¡±

    But how likely was Abu to put one of those on, if she was truly part of the Krypteia? The rest of the Watch announced themselves, the ck cloaks like a banner reminding everyone of what they stood for, but the Masks were spies. Thest thing they would want was to be announced.

    ¡°It could be she knows someone in the Krypteia,¡± Maryam said, be she sounded doubtful. ¡°Maybe she called in an old favour.¡±

    Old was the right word, for Abu was at least nearing seventy for all that she remained spry. <em>She could be retired</em>, he thought. <em>Could</em> Masks retire? He did not know. Tristan could feel his mind beginning to go in circles, picking away at all the many unknowns he had no way to shed light on, so he forced himself to keep speaking.

    ¡°Tell me about Song Ren.¡±

    It was half a guess,e of details he had noticed in that bracing debate about who should get lynched for Jun¡¯s murder, but the rueful surprise on her face told him he¡¯d struck true.

    ¡°I met her before the trials,¡± Maryam said. ¡°She is here for the same reason I am.¡±

    ¡°And what is that?¡± he asked, knowing the answer he would get.

    ¡°Not something I can speak about without breaking my agreement,¡± she replied.

    <em>The special enrolment</em>, he thought. That was the heart of the secret, for both she and Song. But in a way that was a disappointment for that was a particr, a temporary addition to the greater secret of the Dominion of Lost Things. It would not help him unearth the truth of this ce.

    ¡°How much do you really know about these trials?¡± he quietly asked.

    ¡°More than I should,¡± Maryam said, then grimaced. ¡°Less than you likely think. I can tell you that most people who contract with a maze god will get executed ¨C I was specifically warned against it ¨C and that the sanctuary past the ruins is a fort on the other side of the mountains.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow, inviting her to continue.

    ¡°My source was vague on the Trial of Grass,¡± she admitted. ¡°But it is meant to rid the Watch of the reckless and trouble cases.¡±

    Tristan bit at his thumb, thoughtful. First the rtive shallowness of what she had said, juxtaposed with the emphasis made on certain details. If he had to bet, someone with full information had given her a broad outline and emphasized dangers that might get her killed. <em>Has to be the Watch</em>, he thought. Infanzones wouldn¡¯t know anything about the third trial, or care about keeping whatever its purpose was intact ¨C the easy guess for why the information she¡¯d been given was vague. Good enough to help craft strategy, but not much beyond that.

    Second, he was now even more certain that the Trial of Ruins was the heart of this entire enterprise. Weeding out the reckless and the trouble cases? That sounded like filtering tacked on at the end of the road so that the ckcloaks would not be stuck with anyone they didn¡¯t truly want to enter their ranks. <em>Which means the parts that matter are here and within the Trial of Lines</em>, he thought.

    ¡°You¡¯re not interested in the maze at all, are you?¡± Maryam suddenly said. ¡°I thought you might just be leveraging your reputation, holding out for a better offer by one of the groups, but it¡¯s not them your eye is on.¡±

    ¡°I will have to go into the maze eventually,¡± Tristan acknowledged.

    If nothing else, it would be the most expedient way to get rid of Cozme Aflor and the Cerdans. He was not worried about being able to jointer, given that after casualties began to mount all the diving crews would be looking for fresh blood. It would not make him liked, but what did he care for that? Still, it was through the gate he intended to pass this maze ¨C and not the one the Watch had told him to use.

    ¡°Yet keeping my attention on it strikes me as missing the canal for the barge,¡± he continued. ¡°This ce exists for a reason and this game is not it.¡±

    ¡°That will be Watch business,¡± she warned him.

    ¡°Mine as well, so long as the Watch demands I take part in this trial,¡± Tristan replied.

    Maryam paced away, crossing her arms when she came to a halt. Light poured down from behind, gilding her silhouette as shadows obscured they of her face.

    ¡°You are not going to let this go.¡±

    Neither of them pretended that had been a question. Through the shadows he met her eyes with his own, neither blinking.

    ¡°Are you?¡± he challenged. ¡°What did the warnings help, when the airavatan hunted us? You¡¯re in the same game as the rest of us, Maryam. Their secrets are just as likely to get you killed.¡±

    For a long moment they remained that way, until finally she jerked her head to the side.

    ¡°There¡¯s another aether machine around,¡± Maryam told him. ¡°It can be used to look at parts of the ind on great panels of gold ¨C it¡¯s how they make their reports, though supposedly there are limitations. We will have to be careful.¡±

    <em>We</em>, she had said, and like that a weight left his shoulders. Maryam stepped away from the light, the gold sliding off her dress. It left the ghostly pit between them, painting the rubble. He saw the hesitation on her face but said nothing, letting here to the decision to speak in her own time.

    ¡°Your surname,¡± Maryam said. ¡°You keep it hidden for a reason.¡±

    It was, he thought, gently done of her. If he simply answered <em>yes</em> the conversation would end there, but the door was opened if he wanted to say more. And it was tempting to simply put an end to it, but the thief held back on the impulse. She had, the day before their group tried the bridge, implied she might help him with his revenge. Tristan had just decided to dig at the Watch¡¯s secrets because they might get him killed, which would make the hypocrisy of keeping Maryam in the dark here arge one to swallow. Not so much he could not, but he found he did not want to.

    Not after all she had told him, even if those secrets were not her own.

    ¡°I cannot be certain,¡± Tristan said, ¡°but I believe Cozme Aflor might recognize the name Abrascal.¡±

    ¡°It is umon?¡± Maryam asked.

    ¡°Only somewhat,¡± he said. ¡°But while we only met a handful of times when I was a child, he knew my father for two years.¡±

    The blue-eyed woman slowly nodded. She did not ask, which perversely enough made him want to say more.

    ¡°He is at the bottom of my list for a reason,¡± Tristan murmured. ¡°He pulled the trigger, in the end, but they¡¯d killed my father long before that.¡±

    ¡°House Cerdan,¡± she said.

    He nodded.

    ¡°Sacromonte is,¡± he began, then halted.

    It was hard to exin to someone not of the City.

    ¡°We do not have a king,¡± he said. ¡°And the Six, they are not different from other houses in principle. Most of their privileges are ceremonial. Yet it is the Six who rule us, have for as long as anyone can remember, and every noble house in Sacromonte craves to sit where they sit.¡±

    He passed a hand through his hair.

    ¡°Only a fewe close,¡± Tristan said, ¡°and the Cerdan are one of them. Only they can¡¯t seem to break in. Their blood is the right amount of old, they own enoughnd and make enough coin, but they don¡¯t have the <em>something</em> that lets the Six be on top ¨C like contracts for the Arquer, or the feracity chambers for the Calzada.¡±

    He thinly smiled.

    ¡°So they¡¯ve been trying to bridge the gap,¡± he said. ¡°Quietly, so the others don¡¯t notice, but <em>quiet</em> is just about the only line they drew in the sand.¡±

    ¡°What did they do, Tristan?¡± she quietly asked.

    He looked away, jaw clenching. Remembering how Father had seemed so grateful when Cozme pulled the trigger.

    ¡°Too much for me to forgive,¡± he said.

    They left it at that.

    --

    Maryam snuck back ahead, at his suggestion, because Tristan was not yet done with the night. It was not back to his bedroll he went but instead into the shadows of the Old Fort. And there, patiently waiting as he watched the movements of the patrols, he found out two things of some import.

    The first was Beatris,ing out of the Watch barracks and taking a short walk around the courtyard with an escort before returning within. Though she had a watchman with her, she did not seem a prisoner. <em>Protection</em>, Tristan thought. Unless he was quite wrong, Beatris had withdrawn from the trials and no one else yet knew of it.

    The second cameter, after he risked getting closer to the bastion with the astronomy equipment. It did not seem to be getting used, to his confusion, until his eye was drawn by a sh ofntern light. The bastion went slightly around the side of the great pir, but it was high above that he saw the light: an opening in the stone, from which someone was lowered a ropedder.

    He¡¯d just found the other lieutenant inmand of the garrison, Tristan decided, and why Lieutenant Wen had been so convinced none of them would see her.

    And with her he had found his first clue.

 Chapter 23

    Chapter 23

    One more joined their number.

    Yaretzi was thest, approaching her on the evening when Tupoc and Lord Ishaan¡¯s crews went scouting ahead. The Azn did not look any worse for thebors of the first trial, her tanned face without mark and her practical clothes ¨C a sleeveless stripe blouse above a long patchwork skirt, all of it under a thick sailor¡¯s coat ¨C barely scuffed. The earrings dangling from her ears were of the same copper-gold as Tupoc¡¯s, but they were set with blue stones. They drew attention to her sultry dark eyes.

    ¡°Turquoise?¡± Angharad asked, touching her ear as the other woman sat.

    Yaretzi looked surprised, even pleased.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± she said. ¡°I was part of the Turquoise Society before leaving Izcalli.¡±

    Angharad cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°I thought Izcalli societies were named after animals,¡± she said. ¡°Jaguars, eagles and the like.¡±

    ¡°Warrior societies are,¡± Yaretzi corrected. ¡°Izcalli cosmology separates the world into three spheres, one of which is war. As a diplomat I was part of the second sphere, culture, whose societies are named after precious stones.¡±

    ¡°And the third?¡± she curiously asked.

    ¡°Trade,¡± Yaretzi said. ¡°In the sense of upation, not the mercantile, though that is also covered. It is the third sphere and the least, though still above <em>okse</em> ¨C the other, that which is not in the spheres.¡±

    ¡°I will hazard a guess that this is where foreigners are counted,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°It is hardly our fault that they did not have the good sense to be born Izcalli,¡± she said, lips twitching.

    ¡°I can only apologize for the slight,¡± the noblewoman gravely replied.

    ¡°I will forgive you this once,¡± Yaretzi allowed. ¡°It is a difference in philosophy, the way the societies are named. A warrior seeks to embody the strengths of their emblem, but that is a personal distinction. A cultural society is named after precious stone because we seek for our service to Izcalli to be just as precious.¡±

    ¡°That is admirable,¡± Angharad said. ¡°One¡¯s honor is often found in service to that of others.¡±

    It was the fundamental t of honor in the Isles, whose root was the High Queen. She was keeper of the honor of all Mn, its beginning and end, and could not die so long as the people of the Isles remained honorable.

    ¡°Mostly it teaches us to think differently than warrior society thugs,¡± Yaretzi said. ¡°There are only so many flower wars you can start before you¡¯re drowning in enemies instead of war prizes. I think our¡­ friend Master Xical never quite learned that lesson.¡±

    Angharad eyed her spectively.

    ¡°But you did?¡±

    ¡°I have spent much of my life learning to read people,¡± the Azn smiled. ¡°Which is why I can tell you with a degree of certainty that Shalini is one of the loveliest people you will ever meet, and also that if she suspects someone might be slight trouble for her Ishaan she will fire a shot into the back of their head without batting an eye.¡±

    Yaretzi¡¯s smile never wavered, though it pulled tight around the yes.

    ¡°A strong crew, those two have assembled, but until they have decided whether they are siblings or lovers I would much rather be part of yours,¡± she said. ¡°It will do wonders for my nerves, if nothing else.¡±

    Angharad choked, both at the glimpse into the private affairs of the Someshwari and the suddenness of the request.

    ¡°You can fight?¡± she coughed out.

    Yaretzi stared tly at her.

    ¡°My dear,¡± she said, ¡°I was an<em> Izcalli</em> diplomat.¡±

    That was fair enough, and so theirpany added another. They spent the rest of the afternoon preparing supplies and drilling basic formations at Angharad¡¯s insistence, for a crew that did not know their ce would only trip each over each other in a storm. Or so Mother had always said. Come evening she was satisfied everyone had elementary understanding of each other¡¯s skill and would know where to stand when violence inevitably came knocking.

    Now all that was left was to venture out.

    ¡ª

    Come morning the divisions had be clearly visible.

    Three delving crews sat together for breakfast, and then the handful of spares who did not intend to venture out that day ¨C Tristan, Sarai, Francho and Vanesa. Some off-color jests were made by Remund about why Tristan and Sarai might want to stay behind with only dotards as witnesses, but they petered out in the face of her obvious disapproval. Save for that misstep, the mood was pleasant. Yaretzi got along well with the pair she had shared the Trial of Lines with, though she tread carefully around Zenzele, and while the air between Song and Isabel was yet frosty the Tianxi found much to speak about with Inyoni.

    That friendly air was shattered by Sergeant Mandisa, who made a round at every table with a wooden crate full of what Angharad finally saw to be small ironnterns. Nonerger than a fist, charming but quite identical. Some Tianxi workshop must make them in bulk. The sergeant showed them the small engraved circle inside where they must put at least a drop of their blood, about where a candle would be were this a realntern. Angharad pricked her forearm with a knife and smudged a drop inside as instructed.

    ¡°Why antern?¡± she asked Sergeant Mandisa.

    ¡°Same reason the Twenty Crowns used them,¡± Lady Inyoni idly cut in.

    Angharad stared at her nkly, to the other woman¡¯s confusion.

    ¡°Have you never read ¡®<em>The Empty Sea¡¯</em>?¡± she slowly asked.

    <em>Ah</em>, the noblewoman thought. That would exin it. It was the third of the Great Works and from what she recalled only marginally more interesting that ¡®<em>The Vainglory¡¯</em> and its iprehensible mythologies or the endless litany of deaths and disasters that was ¡®<em>The Dead Shore¡¯</em>. Angharad had stopped trying to read it after Father admitted that though it purported to recount how the nations of her ancestors had sailed away from the dying Old World and journeyed to Vesper it was argely philosophical book about the nature of mankind and its reflections on the eponymous Empty Sea.

    Lots of finding inds where the lesson was that men were the real monsters all along, she¡¯d heard.

    ¡°I began the Works with ¡®<em>The Ships of Morn¡¯</em>,¡± she admitted.

    And ended them with the following work, <em>The Madness of King Issay</em>, she refrained from adding. That she had only read two of the nine Great Works was asionally a slight embarrassment.

    ¡°Can¡¯t me her, I never read as anything half as depressing as <em>The Dead Shore</em>,¡± Sergeant Mandisa shared. ¡°I¡¯ve written up casualty lists that were more cheerful.¡±

    ¡°But you <em>did</em> read it, that¡¯s the point,¡± Inyoni grumbled. ¡°It is ourmon heritage, there¡¯s a reason it¡¯s mandatory.¡±

    The grizzled older woman squinted at her.

    ¡°The Twenty Crowns, Lady Tredegar, <em>our very own ancestors</em>,¡± she said with an usatory pointed finger, ¡°found that our perceptions influence the aether. We associatenterns with sight, with finding things, and so-¡±

    ¡°Gods will be able to use them to get at you,¡± Sergeant Mandisapleted. ¡°You know, for the eating.¡±

    Both of her gave her odd looks at the choice of word.

    ¡°I was raised Orthodox, they¡¯re not spirits to me,¡± the sergeant informed them.

    ¡°It is your prerogative to be wrong,¡± Inyoni conceded.

    ¡°Hey now.¡±

    ¡°It is not her fault, she was never taught any better,¡± Angharad ¡®excused¡¯.

    ¡°And I was going to give you hints about the maze,¡± Mandisa said.

    Inyoni raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Were you really?¡±

    A moment passed.

    ¡°No,¡± Mandisa confessed. ¡°Gods, it¡¯s like getting stared down by my own grandfather. Any moment now you¡¯ll be asking why I haven¡¯t found a husband yet.¡±

    ¡°And why<em> is</em> that, youngdy?¡± Inyoni asked.

    Sergeant Mandisa shivered, called the whole affair eerie and fled to another table. Angharad lost the war to keep her grin from showing, though she would admit she had not put up much of a fight. As breakfast slowly came to an end and it became clear that once more Beatris would not be joining them, Angharad¡¯s lips thinned. Isabel hadst evening admitted that she had not seen her maid in over a day, not even for meals, and that the Watch had refused to answer her questions. Since she no longer slept in the old stables like the rest of them and her personal affairs appeared to have been removed, it was suspected that she slept in the barracks with the ckcloaks.

    Angharad sought and found Isabel¡¯s eye. As they were all at the same table, amonpany, it was not breaking the oath she had given Remund and must still heed.

    ¡°She may have retired from the trials,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°And not even asked me for leave?¡± Isabel said, openly dubious. ¡°The barracks are also where that charming old woman was operated, so there must be a physician¡¯s office within. I expect she is simply sicker than anticipated.¡±

    How much of that was genuine belief and how much was saving face at possibly having been abandoned by her handmaid Angharad could not tell, and now was not the time to plumb the depths of the question.

    ¡°Regardless, she is not to be counted among ourpany,¡± she said.

    To that Isabel could only agree. They would be eight, then, and not nine.

    After everyone finished breaking thest of their fast, when her crew went to get their packs, Angharad found herself approached by a pair she had so far had little to do with: Lord Ishaan Nair and Shalini Goel. Save their asional cordial conversations on the Bluebell they had hardly spent a minute together, so this was unlikely to be a social call. Movement drew her eye and she found Song, ready and armed, already on her way. Isabel was behind her, talking to Remund with a faint air of irritation on her face. Pleased with the prompt reinforcements Angharad turned to meet the Someshwari pair with a polite smile just as Song came to stand at her side, mirroring Shalini.

    ¡°Lady Angharad,¡± Ishaan greeted her.

    ¡°Lord Ishaan,¡± she replied. ¡°Good morning to you.¡±

    ¡°And you,¡± he easily said.

    He looked better now, not at all wan or feverous as he had the days before. The unpleasantness brought on by his contract must have passed.

    ¡°Shalini.¡±

    ¡°Song.¡±

    Their tones were strangely amused, given the banality of the situation. Were this another situation Angharad would have engaged the others in small talk, as her station demanded, but they had more pressing duties to attend to.

    ¡°May I be of assistance to you, Lord Ishaan?¡± she asked.

    ¡°It urred to me that while we will part wayster,¡± the chubby-cheeked man said, ¡°we could journey to the shrines together.¡±

    The tone was casual, the implied offer was not. Angharad decided to set it out inly.

    ¡°Mutual defense against Tupoc¡¯s group on the way seems agreeable,¡± she said. ¡°And it would be diplomatic to keep some distance in order to¡­ avoid arguments.¡±

    Zenzele Duma was a lord of Mn, he would no more break a truce than he would shoot a child out of the ck, but temper were best left untested if possible.

    ¡°Brisk business,¡± Shalinimented.

    ¡°We left our tea and silks at home,¡± Song replied.

    They both ignored their seconds.

    ¡°Against Tupoc¡¯s group or other third parties that are not the Watch,¡± Lord Ishaan counteroffered. ¡°And I would extend the same terms to amon return, should we leave the maze around the same time.¡±

    Angharad could see the attraction in amon return, as they would be the most weak then ¨C tired, wounded, possibly carrying corpses. The first part she hesitated about, for it was unpleasantly open-ended. Third parties could mean a great many things, even if their cooperation was limited to mutual defence.

    ¡°Third parties that were not intentionally provoked,¡± Angharad finally specified.

    She would not let her crew be dragged into disputes like a reeve tricked into siding with some Uthukile n. She had heard the stories, the reeve always ended up shot and then the ns promptly made a peace-marriage so they could begin raiding their other neighbors for cattle instead.

    Being appointed a royal reeve on the Low Isle was not what a wise woman called a reward.

    ¡°Cautious,¡± Shalini said.

    ¡°Last time my people weren¡¯t, it took four Cathayan Wars to get you out.¡±

    ¡°Savage,¡± she praised.

    Angharad traded a look with Ishaan, sharing in the kinship of being faintly embarrassed of the person they had brought along. They shook on it, as much to avoid more of that than because there was nothing left to quibble over. As they parted ways the Pereduri tried to look for what Yaretzi had mentioned, but mostly she saw that Shalini was protective of the man ¨C which was hardly a revtion.

    She informed the others of the bargain struck as they assembled to move out, to mostly approval. Zenzele¡¯s face darkened but even he saw the sense in a protection pact. They set out without further dallying, through openings in the ramparts at the back of the Old Fort. The Watch kept an eye on them from above as they moved across the rubble and onto the uneven bare rock of the cavern floor. It was not so smooth here as it had been before they entered the fort.

    Withoutnterns and the pale golden glow from above it would have been trouble to walk: not only were there crevices and clumps but also stretches of some sort of coppery moss that was highly slippery. Lord Ishaan¡¯s crew was waiting ahead, nearly arrayed, while ahead of them bothnterns made it in that Tupoc Xical and his five had taken the lead.

    The journey was uneventful, though the atmosphere was stilted from nerves and tension. It was about a quarter hour from the fort that the slope of broken shrines began, Lord Ishaan informed her. After they left behind the great pir the Old Fort was nestled against, it wasrgely open grounds between them and the ruins. Only a few jutting rocks, usually covered in that copper moss, broke up the barrenndscape.

    The beginnings of the maze were not clear, for though every piece of this ce had been built by men the ce itself had not ¨C whatever haphazard spirit had seen fit to cast everything down in a pile cared not for gates and paths. Rubble and loose stones, sometimes entire slices of structures like arches and pirs, rose in a soft slope that inch by inch turned into a mountain within the mountain. So many temples and shrines and pavilions had been thrown atop one another that she could not tell where the ruins of one ended or began, leaving her with the impression that she truly <em>was</em> looking at a mountain.

    There were dozens of half-open shrines that might have served as a gate, Angharad saw, but only three whose entrance was open beyond the first few feet. The three shrines the Watch had told them of: one marked by a lion, another a dove and thest a serpent. Tupoc¡¯s crew was already slipping in a narrow crevice between two walls along which a broken mural of a serpent slithered. It felt a little on the nose for the Azn to choose the Serpent Shrine, in all honesty. Her musings were interrupted by Lord Ishaan, who offered her his hand to shake. She did.

    ¡°We explored the Lion Shrine yesterday,¡± the dark-eyed man said. ¡°We will again today.¡±

    ¡°Good luck,¡± Angharad replied.

    ¡°And you.¡±

    Theirs was, then, to be the Dove Shrine. It was in the middle of the three between a painted and sculpted arch to the left, adorned by roaring lionhead, and the narrow winding path that Tupoc was leading his fellows through. The way into their own shrine was broad stairs half-covered in dust and rubble, going up twenty feet into a copsed arch ¨C which would easily be climbed over, leading into yawning open gates whose sides were covered with intricate bronzes of doves at y. A hall continued into what she thought might be the shrine proper, while above the gate the mountain of ruins continued to rise.

    A mere half a foot above a column had toppled backwards, stuck between twoughing monkey statues, and above those heads was a window where a yellow light trembled that ¨C Angharad shook her head. She could spend a lifetime finding new paths here and barely scratch the surface. She would have to trust in the explorations of the Watch. She turned to nce back at herpany, finding it grim-faced and ready.

    ¡°Forward,¡± she simply said. ¡°Let us see what the shrine has in store for us.¡±

    The stone here was unsettlingly dry, she noticed, not at all like the natural cavern floor they had walked on. It was as if the spirits of this ce had licked up even the dew. Though Angharad went forward with antern, after passing the broken arch and entering the hallway she found it was hardly needed: lights burned on the walls at regr intervals, small trembling mes inside eggs of ss. It was surprisingly beautiful, especially when the light shone along the edge of the bronze reliefs adorning the walls: they showed feathers, the Pereduri thought, though some of them bent folded strangely.

    They went down the corridor into arger chamber, whose dusty floor was touched with old footsteps. The Watch, she decided. A flicker of movement at the corner of her eye had Angharad reaching for her new de, a solid saber that was not at fault for not being the sword she wanted, but when she looked it was only an empty ss egg in a corner. The bare stone of this ce was unsettling, so she pressed on without waiting longer.

    This was, the Pereduri knew within a heartbeat of entering, the heart of the Dove Shrine. The chamber was thergest yet, at least thirty feet wide and as long, with borate decorations. The first few feet of the floor were bare stone, but beyond that a tiled floor in blue and bronze led all the way to another bare stretch and a cramped door at the back ¨C but it was the walls that drew the eye. They were covered in dizzying murals of bronze tiles, painted so that great swirls of dark colors would envelop eyes and feathers, and exquisite perches of bronze extended at irregr intervals.

    Angharad moved aside from the entrance but was careful to stay on the bare stone. The spirit of this shrine would reveal themselves soon enough: the only way out of this room seemed to lead into a much smaller chamber, perhaps the way out. Her instincts told true. The moment thest of them, Zenzele, entered there was a small flutter. Eight pairs of eyes turned to the same perch, where the spirit had deigned to reveal itself.

    It looked like a dove, but now finally Angharad understood the strange gilding from earlier: every single feather was made of intricately folded paper, patterns within patterns, and she was careful not to look at them too long. If the powerful storm painted on the mural was any hint, there may be danger in staring. The dove spirit flicked its paper-fathers, eerily bird-like.

    ¡°Supplicants,¡± it spoke in a voice like fluttering paper, ¡°you enter the shrine of-¡±

    Angharad winced. That had not been a word, at least not in a way a woman¡¯s ears could hear. Herpanions seemed to have fared no better.

    ¡°By ancient ord,¡± the dove spirit continued, ¡°for a wager you may take my trial and win right of passage.¡±

    ¡°And what is to be your trial, spirit?¡± Lady Inyoni called out.

    The dove rustled with anger, paper feathers inting. Spirits often enjoyed the unearned deference that was being called a god, but Inyoni had done no wrong. The sole god was the Sleeping God, they who would one day wake.

    ¡°Cross the tiles of my shrine,¡± it said, ¡°without standing on water.¡±

    Angharad eyed the tiles, seeing no water. Did it mean the blue tiles instead of the bronze? That would be easy enough since they alternated, which meant there was likely some sort of trap. Given how singrly well suited her contract was to avoid making such a mistake, however ¨C it was nothing glimpses ahead would not see her through ¨C then she ought to begin. It would be a good example, besides. Only before Angharad could so much as say a word she was interrupted.

    ¡°Let me,¡± Isabel said, stepping forward.

    Surprise, Angharad¡¯s among them.

    ¡°There is no need to-¡± she began, but the dark-haired beauty shook her head.

    ¡°There is,¡± she replied. ¡°I am not unaware that my skill at arms isckingpared to most here. I must then be ready to risk my life on tests of cleverness topensate. It is only fitting.¡±

    There were many approving faces at that, enough that Angharad curbed her instinct to insist that someone else should take the very first trial. It would be disrespect twice over: first of Isabel herself, who was acting with honor, and then of everyone else in this crew for implying that their lives were not of equal worth. She kept her worry off her face.

    ¡°Be careful,¡± she said instead.

    ¡°Of course, darling,¡± Isabel smiled back.

    She then stepped forward, gathering her skirts, and approached the edge of the tiles straight-backed.

    ¡°God of thend, I ask you for terms,¡± she called out.

    The dove spirit shuffled on its perch, what looked like feathers shivering at first nce in truth an intricate dance of paper folding and unfolding.

    ¡°I already gave them,¡± the spirit replied, its voice like pages being strummed.

    ¡°Then there will be no imposition in speaking them anew,¡± Isabel firmly insisted.

    The spirit flicked its paper-feathers irritably, likely irked at having been robbed of starting another game entirely without telling anyone.

    ¡°There are sixty-four tiles on this floor,¡± the dove spirit said. ¡°You must cross from one side to another without ever standing on water or leaving the tiles.¡±

    ¡°God of thend, I would ept these terms,¡± Isabel said. ¡°I offer for my wager thisntern.¡±

    She presented the small ironntern touched with a drop of her blood.

    ¡°What offer you in return?¡±

    ¡°Peaceful passage unhindered through my shrine for all who stand in this room,¡± the dove spirit said. ¡°Until your death.¡±

    ¡°God of thend,¡± Isabel replied, bowing respectfully, ¡°I ept these terms and wagers.¡±

    ¡°Then you may undertake my test,¡± the spirit allowed. ¡°Begin.¡±

    Only Isabel did not immediately step onto one of the tiles. Instead she went looking through the bag she had carried, taking out a long and thin rod of metal ¨C almost like a hollow fishing rod. The dark-haired beauty paced along the length of the tiles as everyone made room for her, eyes considering, before she pressed the tip of the metal rod on a blue tile ¨C the fourth from the left on the first row. After nothing happened, she stepped onto the tile. Angharad¡¯s heart stammered, but after a long moment it became in Isabel was safe.

    Methodically, Isabel began prodding other tiles.

    Angharad was not sure of the rhyme or reason to it, for she tried not only tiles ahead of her but also the one to her left ¨C only for that one to immediately crumple. Like a flower closing, the thin covering of paper of the tile bunched up and revealed the painted river underneath. Several of them breathed in sharply. There was the mentioned water.

    ¡°No supplicant you,¡± the dove spirit hissed, its voice like paper ripping. ¡°Thief, thief, <em>thiefthiefthief</em>-¡±

    Halfway across the board, one of the tiles shivered. In the heartbeat that followed it was no longer a tile but a gaping hole of shimmering darkness. Gloam, Angharad realized. A pit of Gloam. Nothing but death coulde of stepping into that.

    ¡°It never promised to leave all the tiles,¡± Lord Zenzele noted. ¡°We should have thought of that.¡±

    ¡°It is angry,¡± Song evenly replied. ¡°And might never have acted such had Lady Isabel not been so obviously forewarned of this test.¡±

    It was, Angharad admitted, likely she had been. The blind groping around seemed instead to have been Isabel looking for a particr pattern ¨C perhaps there were several and she was trying to find out which she was dealing with? Certainly, after moving twice in a diagonal to the right and revealing two more paper tiles she moved with much more certainty. Only the dove spirit was angry, hissing its spiteful usation of thief as it sowed another Gloam pit every minute or so. It was trying to box her in a corner, cut her path across, but though Isabel¡¯s slightly shaking hands revealed fear her eyes were steady. It took bravery to take such a test, Angharad thought, even forewarned. Unlike her, the infanzona had never been trained for peril.

    It was rather attractive to see that Isabel Ruesta <em>was</em> the kind of woman capable of gambling with her life, if it came to it.

    For all the dove spirit¡¯s anger, its tricks and test were no match for the stratagem plied against them. Within ten minutes Isabel set foot on the bare stone, victorious in the challenge posed to her. All eyes turned to the spirit, whose spitting anger was no great augury.

    ¡°Thief you are,¡± it screeched, paper twisted and bent. ¡°Thief and victor. <em>Get out of my sight</em>.¡±

    They hurried across careful to avoid the lingering pits of Gloam, which the spirit pointedly did not remove. Isabel¡¯s nerves were soothed by the time Angharad joined her but her cheeks were still fetchingly reddened. There were some congrattions from the others as they left therge chamber for the smaller one behind it ¨C little more than a dark room with arge bronze dove within it, which all took care not to touch. It felt like the idol of the shrine. Beyond that a hole in the wall led into a slice of golden light, a small barren garden where the glow from above cast shadows on the dusty ground.

    They all breathed easier out there, away from the spirit and its anger at being beaten.

    The garden was quite petty, for all that it was deste and the earth covered in ayer of dust, but as they took the time to look around Angharad found why it was the Watch called this ce a maze: there were easily three paths they could take, perhaps four. On the other side of the garden, beyond an elegant arrangement of stones a short, curved bridge over a deep crevasse led into what must be another shrine. To their left a slender path circled around what looked to be a forest of columns jutting out from a raised temple ground, while to their right arge slice of toppled stairs served as the first of a series of tforms to climb past the garden wall to what looked like a winding path.

    ¡°The columns look like the path that most advances,¡± Remund Cerdan pointed out.

    He had been quiet today, almost withdrawn. It was unlike him, but then he was surrounded by strangers that were not beholden to him. Master Cozme had not left his side even once.

    ¡°It also looks like arger temple,¡± Inyoni told him. ¡°Could mean a stronger spirit.¡±

    ¡°If we take a test every hundred feet none of us will live to reach the gate on the other side of this cavern,¡± Song noted, ¡°so I would argue against the shrine beyond the bridge.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Zenzele grunted. ¡°Unless Lady Ruesta¡¯s¡­ luck would extend there as well?¡±

    Isabel shook her head.

    ¡°I have never heard of this garden,¡± she said. ¡°The end of the Dove Shrine was described to me asrge courtyard with copsed sections revealing tunnels.¡±

    ¡°It would not be much of a maze if it could so easily be mapped,¡± Master Cozme said. ¡°Lady Tredegar, your opinion?¡±

    ¡°The broken stairs intrigue,¡± she admitted. ¡°It seems to be that from up there we may well see the temple grounds anyhow, soe worst we could advance there better informed.¡±

    ¡°It is the most difficult path,¡± Remund Cerdan objected. ¡°If any of us should miss a jump¡­¡±

    ¡°Sweat is good for the soul, Lord Remund,¡± Inyoni snorted. ¡°I agree with Lady Tredegar.¡±

    Most, if not all, did. They set out for the path to the right. Climbing atop the toppled slice of stairs was not difficult, neither was the leap atop what looked like the roof of a ruined stone gazebo. From that roof to the top of remarkably fat column was trickier, given the smaller size of where they might leap, but after Angharad stayed behind to help Yaretzi make the jump the others followed suit and theirpany was lucky enough no one fell. The Pereduri was not certain the height would be enough to break a leg, unless one fell at a very bad angle, but it certainly would have hurt.

    The edge of the garden wall was thest jump, going into a slightly lower stripe of tiled roof that swiftly got covered by the edge of a copsed rotunda. It was easy enough, if you were careful not to slip on the tiles, and after that the path needed no jumping at all: they circled around the edge of the rotunda, seeing the temple under it and worrisome flickering lights, before climbing up an angled walkway past a series of arches. It seemed that had cut above many trials, which was good news if they could find a way down. Unfortunately the paths kept going up. They doubled back after stairs heading down led to a barred iron gate, then shimmied along the side of ziggurat while strange shapes prowled in the too-pale grass below. Yet for all that they kept rising, they also kept advancing ¨C and without tests!

    Their luck came at an end when the fallen-but-whole aqueduct they were using as a road crossed a gap to bring them straight at an open gate, nked by two waterfalls with no other path in sight. They gathered near the gate ¨C it was pitch ck inside ¨C and shuffled awkwardly. It must have been at least an hour and change since they took the first test, it felt as if they had begun anew.

    ¡°Nowhere to go but forward, it seems,¡± Song muttered.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that,¡± Lady Inyoni replied.

    She was, Angharad saw when she turned, kneeling by the waterfall to the left.

    ¡°The current is weak and the water shallow,¡± the older woman told them. ¡°We could get around the test through the waterway, if we are not afraid to get wet.¡±

    There was some debate, but at the end of the day they preferred shuffling leg-high in the wet with their bags held above their heads than trying their luck with another spirit. It was as exhausting to wade in the water, even against so light a current, but the dimly lit waterway eventually led to a luminous series of pools nestled between shrine walls so high they might as well have been cliffs. The water was deeper in the pools so they kept to the sides, and it looked like a dead end until Song found handholds carved in the side of a cliff. They led about twenty feet up, to a cleverly hidden nook that was the entrance to a tunnel.

    There was not much space up there, so after Angharad and Zenzele joined Song there they had to shout down to talk with the others. Song was convinced the tunnel was not a god¡¯sir, insisting there was no shrine mark, and she was convincing enough the others agreed. It helped that no one wanted to go back through the waterway if they could help it.

    The tunnel turned sharply to the left through what felt like solid stone, eventually reaching open air and revealing arge domed temple in the distance, atop series of airy stairs. To get there, however, they must make their way along a thin ledge that faced an elegant red mosaic on one side and a precipitous drop on the other. Looking down, Angharad saw only mist and the sound of distant water. It did not look like a fall one would survive.

    ¡°It does not seem impossible, if we take our time,¡± Remund Cerdan said. ¡°There is space between the stone and the mosaic to hold on.¡±

    Taking a second look, Angharad saw he was right. More than enough to hold on to the top of the mosaic. The infanzon did not offer to make handholds with his contract and she did not ask ¨C there was not yet a true need to reveal the details of his power, not with an alternative at hand.

    ¡°It would be a waste to turn around now,¡± Lord Zenzele agreed. ¡°We are almost a third of the way through, I believe. Even if we cover only half as many grounds this afternoon, at this pace by tomorrow we would have a path to the end of the maze.¡±

    There was some excitement at that idea. If they had a path, well, the need for ten ¡®victors¡¯ could be seen to more leisurely. They could choose the tests undertaken, aim for those giving the best chances of survival. With most in agreement, they got to crossing. Only Song seemed less enthusiastic, and Angharad held back to speak with her.

    ¡°Nothing practical,¡± the Tianxi told her before she could even ask. ¡°It¡¯s the mosaic that trips me. It clearly was part of a shrine at some point, but it no longer is.¡±

    ¡°The Watch mentioned some of the shrine spirits die,¡± Angharad reminded her.

    ¡°That is a dangerous thing, Angharad,¡± Song murmured. ¡°When a god returns formless to the aether, they leave behind an impression of themselves. It is rarely a kind thing.¡±

    The Pereduri was tempted to dismiss this as Republican superstition but Song had earned better than such talk.

    ¡°I will keep an eye out,¡± she promised.

    For once she chose to stay in the middle of thepany instead of taking the lead, before Zenzele and behind Yaretzi. Rising on the tip of her toes, she took a look at the space above the mosaic but it was empty save for old dust. She still kept a firm hand on her contract, pulling at a glimpse before she began moving across. Nothing. Again when Inyoni had crossed all the way, Isabel right behind her, but still nothing. <em>Once more</em>, she told herself when halfway through, and-

    (Teeth and ws and a blood-curling scream, between Yaretzi¡¯s hands, and she slipped)

    -she was already moving by the time the spirit popped out, catching Yaretzi by the cor of her coat and forcefully pressing her against the mosaic as she trembled.

    ¡°STEADY,¡± Angharad shouted over the screaming thing. ¡°Remember it cannot directly hurt us.¡±

    It was not even touching Yaretzi¡¯s hands, she saw, its ws carefully avoiding any contact.

    ¡°Lords,¡± Yaretzi gasped, shivering as she clutched the stone. ¡°Oh, Lords.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s eye stayed on the spirit, whose screeching began to lower in pitch. It looked like a hound eaten up by wriggling worms, half rotten, but the worms did not move and neither did its eyes. After a few seconds the screeching cut out entirely and the creature went still as a stone. <em>That is not a living spirit</em>, Angharad thought. It was not as¡­ aware, orplete. After another few heartbeats it began to crumble from the inside, copsing into clumps of dust. The stink of them was atrocious, like a rotten corpse. The noblewoman cast glimpses ahead a few more times as they crossed, but there was no second ambush. They made it across without deaths.

    The other side was a broad walkway leading up into the airy stairs they had seen earlier. At the end of the steps stood arge domed temple, whose crumbling stone gates were cracked open. Though they were surrounded on all sides by walls so high as to feel as cliffs, there was a sense of open air to the walkway ¨C helped along by the golden light falling from above ¨C that she found enjoyable. She was not alone in that opinion. When Angharad suggested they stop for a meal, as it should be nearing noon, the notion was popr. After that excitement during the crossing all could use the time to settle their nerves.

    The fare obtained from the Watch was simple but filling, but there was little conversation. The looming silhouette of the temple was too stark a reminder of what they must soon do.

    When they set out Angharad felt sharper for the rest, taking the lead as her crew began climbing the stairs. This particr temple, she saw, was not so ruined as others they had crossed. At the top of the stairs the entrance boasted a floor of elegant turquoise patterns ¨C she shared an amused nce with Yaretzi at the coincidence ¨C and though the gates were broken the antechamber beyond them was a splendid thing. The walls were tiles of moonstone and serpentine, touched with streaks of gold and iron as if someone had painted with the liquid metals.

    Age and use had worn a slight groove in the floor that led out into a massive chamber, at the threshold of which Angharad cautiously slowed. Isabel, right behind her, softly gasped at the sights. Not without reason.

    The temple was as a single segmented chamber under the great dome they had seen from outside. A polished ck marble floor ¨C so polished it seemed a mirror ¨C reflected the exquisite insides of the dome above, a riot of ticking golden gears as an enormous clock. The machinery there connected to the lower chamber on golden threads and pulleys, a hundred mechanisms of gold and iron moving in a strangely harmonious disharmony. Several of the machines on the ground were sorge they effectively segmented the room, casting moving shadows on the marble as goldennterns whirled above. Not a single part of it made a sound.

    Angharad slowly stepped onto the marble floor, others following behind.

    ¡°Well,¡± Lady Inyoni said, ¡°at least there¡¯s no need to ask where the spirit is.¡±

    She followed the other woman¡¯s gaze and found that, in her study of the room, she had somehow missed the silhouette sitting cross-legged at the center of it all. It looked like a man, at first nce, but only that for though the contour of the silhouette was perfect, the inside was a madness of copper ¨C gears and wheels and twitching pistons.

    ¡°Wee,¡± the spirit said, voice like ringing brass.

    It seemed much friendlier than thest, so Angharad returned the manners in kind.

    ¡°We thank you for your wee, honored elder,¡± she said.

    The spirit twitched, though there was nothing animal about. It twitched like a clock losing a gear, a carriage tumbling off the road.

    ¡°Manners,¡± the spirit said, surprised. ¡°It <em>has</em> been long.¡±

    There were no eyes inside that silhouette, but somehow she felt the weight of its attention anyway. She came no closer, for politeness did not mean harmlessness, and the others stayed close but behind the invisible line her presence had drawn.

    ¡°You seek to cross my temple, yes,¡± the spirit said. ¡°This can be done, but there must be a test.¡±

    ¡°I would hear the terms of it, honored elder,¡± Angharad said.

    The clockwork spirit twitched again, but this time there was a grinding metal sound and it spit out something. A small golden gear tumbled against the floor, rolling until came at a halt.

    ¡°Everything,¡± the spirit said, ¡°must be measured. Must be earned. Two or more, hold my gear for the agreed amount of time.¡±

    Angharad frowned. That sounded much, much too simple. It twitched.

    ¡°And live to the end,¡± the spirit added. ¡°Victory so long as one survives.¡±

    It was with a fresh eye that Angharad considered the machinery all around them. She now grasped that every part might be used to try and kill her. The Pereduri politely asked for rification, learning from the spirit that the more of them agreed to take the trial the shorter the time that must be survived would be. Time where the gear was not being held by a living participant would not count towards the total. For all its friendliness, she thought, it was looking to feed.

    ¡°Manners,¡± the spirit approvingly repeated. ¡°I will give reward, good terms. Only they who hold the gear will be in direct peril.¡±

    Angharad blinked in surprise, thanking the spirit before going to confer with the others. Opinions varied.

    ¡°Best to go around, I say,¡± Remund Cerdan said. ¡°It is arge temple and not so ruined, which I cannot trust.¡±

    ¡°If we do not go through here, we may well have to go back through the waterway to find another path,¡± Zenzele said. ¡°I will not say the test is without risks, but which would be? We will have to take one sooner orter.¡±

    ¡°We can choose who goes in,¡± Cozme mused, stroking his beard. ¡°It makes the business more manageable, I agree.¡±

    ¡°I would rather take another swim than try this,¡± Yaretzi frankly said. ¡°Never trust a well-fed god.¡±

    ¡°It seems a test of skill,¡± Inyoni noted. ¡°Dangerous, yes, but in some ways the fairest kind we may undertake.¡±

    The split was slightly in favor of the attempt. Two against, three for. Isabel desisted from expressing an opinion since she would not be taking the test, saying it would be unseemly, and that left Song as well as Angharad herself. The two shared a look, Song grimacing but not advising against. Dangerous, then, but not impossible to her all too seeing silver eyes.

    ¡°Let us attempt it,¡± she said. ¡°Volunteers only.¡±

    That Angharad should participate was not in doubt and neither were Zenzele and Inyoni¡¯s addition. Master Cozme received Remund¡¯s hesitant permission, but Yaretzi was the true surprise. The Azn shrugged at her inquiring look.

    ¡°If it must be done, then I would tilt the odds in our favor as much as I can,¡± she said.

    Angharad smiled back, charmed by the sentiment. She was rather pleased Yaretzi had joined their crew. Five of them would need to survive five minutes, beginning the moment one of them picked up the golden gear from the ground. The Pereduri cautiously made certain that thenterns illuminating the temple would not be snuffed out, which the spirit agreed to speak in the terms. It was, for all its hunger, inclined to fair y. The wager was simple enough: there would be nontern on the line and a victory would grant all present safe passage across the temple until all who took the trial were dead. Though five would participate, only the individual holding the gear when the test ended would be considered a ¡®victor¡¯.

    ¡°Let us make sure the minutes mentioned are the same we know,¡± Inyoni prudently suggested.

    The spirit proved this, counting one with them and agreeing that all minutes would be the same length. With thatst precaution out of the way, Angharad agreed to the terms.

    ¡°Good,¡± the spirit said, twitching. ¡°Begin when you would.¡±

    But instead of moving, she remained frozen. For a moment, when the spirit had twitched, she had thought she glimpsed something inside its neck. Teeth and red flesh, swallowing. Only she saw nothing of it now, only the clockwork spirit, and she ignored the beating of her heart. Staring too long at spirits was never for the best. She had volunteered to be the one to first take the gear, so she slowly approached it. Slowly enough she could risk more than a glimpse. Angharad thought of dark waters, of the coolness enveloping her, and sunk deep.

    (Angharad Tredegar picked up the gear and the chamber came alive.

    A forest of cylinders rose from the seamless floor, golden edges like des turning so quick they were a blur, and a tapestry of golden thread twitched above. Scythes began to fall like pendulums, sharp wheels shot forward and though Angharad danced across the danger she was cornered. She passed the gear to Inyoni after a minute, but the spirit had been methodical: it was cornering them, leaving obstacles in the way. Inyoni passed to Zenzele to avoid a narrow death, who took three steps before he was crushed by a weight. Yaretzi lost her head trying to take the gear from his corpse and-)

    She broke the foresight and let out a wet gasp, body shivering as if she had been drenched in ice. She could feel wetness against her eyes but knew it was not tears. Discreetly as she could, she wiped the beads of blood before they could trail down. A flex of her power told her she could still glimpse but that already she was nearing her limit for the day. It had been worth it, to learn that the spirit was not only using the machines but would be <em>leaving</em> them there: every attack on her was an obstacle afterwards, and it would be very easy to get cornered were she not careful.

    ¡°Ready?¡± she called out.

    ¡°Ready,¡± Inyoni shouted back.

    She took the gear.

    By the time her back straightened the clockwork spirit was gone and the whirling golden des rising from the mirror-like floor. Breathing out, ignoring the shouts of surprise from her allies, Angharad kept an eye on the machinery around her. A twitch of thread told her the scythe would being down a heartbeat before it did, but instead of fleeing she stepped behind one of the risen cylinders. The golden scythe from the ceiling mmed into the whirling des, the two traps scrapping each other with cacophonous noise. A glimpse told her it would be the wheels next.

    Some kind of clockwork engine on the other side of the chamber twitched, shooting out a sharp iron wheel towards her ¨C and then simr machines did the same from three other sides.

    ¡°Steady,¡± Angharad murmured.

    The longer she stayed in the center, the harder it would be for the spirit to corner them. Like in her vision, the purpose of the wheels was to force her to leave cover and the moment she stepped away from the scrapped cylinder scythes began to fall one after another. <em>Left</em>, she caught as she stepped around a spinning wheel and a de filled the space between two whirling cylinders. <em>Right</em>, she saw as a pulley tightened and a bar of solid iron swung through where she had just been standing, rising back up to the ceiling as the arc went all the way through.

    A cylinder utched itself from its base and wildly went spinning, lethal golden des scrapping at the floor, and as Angharad fled back towards space filled by a scythe she realized she had been caught. Above her arge mass of gold was being aligned, enough to crush twice over. Thankfully, the others were not far. She chose her sessor.

    ¡°Zenzele,¡± she shouted, and threw the gear.

    The Mni lord almost fumbled the catch but caught it against his coat. His aunt stayed close, ready to bail him out at moment¡¯s notice, while Angharad breathed in relief and circled around. The test had gone on long enough all had noticed the danger of letting yourself be driven into a corner, so the grisly ends she had seen need note about. Master Cozme had prudently moved around the scrapyard she had made in the center, positioning himself to have much ground to give when his turn came, so it was Yaretzi that Angharad came close to. She was counting under her breath.

    ¡°Over halfway there,¡± the Azn told her.

    They stayed together for a while longer, as Zenzele struggled and passed the gear to his aunt ¨C who promptly passed it back to the better-prepared Cozme Aflor. There the spirit struck relentlessly, smashing weights and pistons and scythes after the soldier with a fury Angharad never not seen even in the vision. It wanted a kill. Pieces of machinery went flying, another danger to keep an eye for. She had to pull back Yaretzi when a broken piece of wheel almost took her in the side, though the Azn fumbled on her feet and almost tripped her into a spinning cylinder.

    ¡°Careful,¡± Angharad chided, steadying them both.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± the diplomat murmured. ¡°This is¡­ out of my experiences.¡±

    <em>You and I both, </em>she thought. Cozme saw his death writ ahead, so he passed the gear back to Inyoni. Yaretzi, perhaps shamed by the fresh mistake, darted close so the older woman could toss it. She broke into a run, scythes falling in her wake, and as they all felt the trialing to a close they neared the corner where it would all end. The spirit lost all subtlety, dropping weights not to kill but to close off paths, and Yaretzi handed the gear to Zenzele. Angharad staked out good open grounds to finish thest of the time, then dipped close to the Mni.

    Only he did not pass it, did not have the time to look for that: all four of the cylinders around him utched in quick session, at the right moment in the spin to converge towards him. Angharad cursed, unsheathing and striking at the closest but finding herself too weak to even slow it. Yet Zenzele, impossibly, threw himself down between whirling des and emerged with only his coat and back cut up as the cylinders violent collided. Already a weight was being aligned above, but his aunt stole the gear out of his extended hand and stepped away.

    ¡°TEN,¡± Yaretzi shouted.

    They had it, Angharad saw. Inyoni had an open stretch ahead of her, leading straight into a corner but so long as she did not run too quickly ¨C and the cylinders around her <em>stopped</em>. Angharad glimpsed ahead, ignoring the heat in her veins, but it was a second toote.

    ¡°<em>Duck</em>,¡± she shouted.

    Inyoni tried. But every golden de set in the cylinder came flying out, like a spray of shrapnel, and she could not avoid them all. Two in the leg, one in the torso, and still Angharad held out hope until the older woman stumbled back and fell ¨C revealing the golden de splitting her skull in half, dug deep between her eyebrows. The corpse toppled down less than a foot again from Zenzele, bloodied and weeping, whose hand wed as his aunt. He ripped the gear out of her hand, and a heartbeatter machines went still.

    The test hade to an end, Zenzele Duma its victor.

    ¡ª

    After, when the grief and the recriminations and the weeping had ebbed low, they gathered themselves and began the trek back to the Old Fort, carrying Inyoni¡¯s mangled corpse.

    Thus ended Angharad¡¯s first effort against the Trial of Ruins

 Chapter 24

    Chapter 24

    ¡°So?¡±

    Vanesa frowned down at the papers with the gate mechanisms drawn on them, idly picking at the edge of her missing eye wound. Maryam was a deft hand with charcoal.

    ¡°It is not a lock,¡± the clockmaker said. ¡°It is much tooplex for that. That it is a machine is not in doubt, but the manner of machinery it is trips me up.¡±

    Tristan, crouched at her side, hummed as he nced at the papers. He taken looks at Maryam¡¯s drawings as well but gotten little out of it. He was a lockpicker, this was several miles past his area of expertise.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    The old woman bent over as she leant on her crutches, letting out a small hiss of pain, and tapped the set of metal tiles above the center of the gate.

    ¡°See these?¡± she said. ¡°Their surroundings are full of cogs that would move only if we press the tiles, not unlike an boratebination lock, but the section does not connect to most of the mechanisms on rest of the gate.¡±

    ¡°So we are not seeing the whole mechanism?¡± he ventured.

    ¡°Almost certainly,¡± she said. ¡°I believe that, under all the misdirection, the gate is best understood as three concentric circles.¡±

    She tapped the tiles again.

    ¡°First this section, whose tiles will require pressing.¡±

    She then drew a finger in a vague vertical oval shape around the tiles.

    ¡°Then this area, which has the most moving parts but no obvious trigger or purpose ¨C my guess is that it connects to something unseen, possibly an aetheric engine.¡±

    To end she drew a circle that swallowed up most of the gate, near the edges.

    ¡°We end with a broad ring that bears an underlying circr structure. I should be able to make it rotate when I grasp what makes it move,¡± Vanesa mused. ¡°It is not a puzzle, Tristan, because the machinery is clearly meant to have some continuous movement. Yet neither is it akin to a clock: it does not seem to be using a fixed unit of measurement.¡±

    ¡°And if you had to guess what the mechanisms do, all used together?¡± Tristan pressed.

    ¡°Whatever it is those tiles decide it should,¡± Vanesa replied without batting an eye, moving her finger back to them. ¡°Beyond that I could not say without having a look at the hidden parts.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°If you lend me Sarai as eyes and legs,¡± Vanesa added, ¡°I think I could make out the purpose of the outer ring. It is after that we shall hit a dead end.¡±

    ¡°I will ask her,¡± Tristan said. ¡°As for the dead end, let me worry about it.¡±

    He had already begun nning how to get up in the pir, through that opening he had glimpsedst night. The hidden parts that Vanesa was thinking of must be in there. Movement caught his attention, revealing that Maryam and Francho had returned from their bted walk to the shrines, so he parted ways with the old woman. He met Maryam halfway as the old professor kept going, leaving the two of them behind.

    ¡°Any trouble?¡± he asked.

    ¡°There is not a soul out there, everyone is in the maze,¡± Maryam told him. ¡°It was safe enough, though it would be wise not to let him go unescorted anyhow.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And thanks.¡±

    ¡°He is an interesting man and free with conversation,¡± she shrugged. ¡°It was not much of an imposition.¡±

    ¡°Thanks anyhow,¡± the thief said. ¡°Vanesa would have your help, if you are willing to lend it.¡±

    ¡°Progress on the gate?¡± Maryam asked.

    ¡°She believes with your help there could be,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Though I will need to venture in a few dark corners before we get our full answers, I think.¡±

    ¡°Work suited to your nature,¡± the blue-eyed woman drily said. ¡°You are a natural skulker, Tristan.¡±

    ¡°That is most unkind of you,¡± he gravely replied.

    A beat.

    ¡°I took me years to learn such splendid manners of skulking, do not discredit my efforts.¡±

    Maryam¡¯s lips twitched, as did his own. They parted ways without need for anything more, brushing elbows as they went in opposite directions. Francho, looking tired but beaming, had obtained a cup of water and was dutifully sipping at it on one of the kitchen tables. Tristan joined him.

    ¡°You look in a fine mood,¡± the thief observed.

    ¡°I have found answers,¡± the professor said. ¡°That is always a fine thing.¡±

    ¡°You have willing ears as well, should you be inclined share,¡± Tristan easily replied.

    The old man nodded, eyes bright.

    ¡°As we suspected, my young friend, it was the Antediluvians that built this ce,¡± Francho said. ¡°That is, the earliest parts of it.¡±

    ¡°The iron gate and the pir,¡± Tristan guessed.

    And the great golden machine above, though that was not in doubt. Who else built could build the likes of that? The old man nodded, sipping at his cup.

    ¡°My surprise,¡± the professor said, ¡°was in learning it was not men who built the maze and fort.¡±

    The thief breathed in sharply.

    ¡°You mean the Watch didn¡¯t bring in all these shrines?¡±

    ¡°Oh no,¡± the toothless old man grinned. ¡°This is much, much older than the Iscariot ords ¨C the shrine adorned with a lion head, for example, was brought here during what I believe to be the Century of Loss.¡±

    Tristan counted in his head. The ords were signed in eighty-one Steel so that was all of Loss and Crowns on top of those eighty-one years. Almost three centuries from a date that was now over three centuries ago. The thief¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°Darklings built this?¡± he asked.

    It was not impossible, he supposed. Hollows were hardly incapable of great works, for all that they tended to be decades - if not more - behind the great powers of Vesper. The Century of Loss was not so long after the copse of the Second Empire either, they would still have wielded some old wonders.

    ¡°Devils built this,¡± Francho corrected.

    He broke out into a wet cough, leaving Tristan to digest the strangeness of what he had just heard. <em>Devils</em>? They were months away from Pandemonium by sail, and though Hell was hardly the only dwelling ce of their kind Pandemonium was their only city. But then the maze was not meant to be inhabited, was it? This was merely a kind of outpost, not so umon a thing.

    ¡°Both the fort and the maze?¡±

    ¡°The fort all at once, from what I can hear, but the maze is the work of centuries,¡± Francho said.

    ¡°And then the Watch took it over,¡± Tristan muttered. ¡°Why? Why build this ce, and why <em>take</em> it?¡±

    ¡°A fascinating mystery,¡± the old professor enthusiastically said. ¡°I cannot make out devil¡¯s voices as clearly as men¡¯s, especially the young, but I do believe further journeys to the maze will yield some answers.¡±

    ¡°I will be getting word about what lies deeper inside it from of our friends,¡± Tristan said, absent-mindedly nodding. ¡°That too should be of use.¡±

    ¡°I shall look forward to it,¡± Francho cheerfully said.

    He left the old man to his rest.

    It would be hours yet before the maze crews returned, but Tristan did not have time to idle. He had ns for tonight, but to be feasible they first required to Old Fort to be cased. The ckcloaks were generally disinclined to let him onto the ramparts but after some wheedling a sergeant let him under escort for a minute or two. He had not gotten anywhere near the parts of the fort that were off-limits ¨C the barracks, supply depot and northwestern bastion ¨C but now he had a decent idea of where the patrols on the walls would be looking from.

    There were quite a few dead angles, if you timed yourself right, which he could. That was the downside of patrolling carryingnterns, anyone could see youing.

    Getting to the bastion stairs should not be all that difficult, given how many nooks and crannies to hide in he had already found, but once on the stairs it would be difficult. There was always a guard on the wall above the stairs and even if he snuck up onto the bastion there was no cover there: he could be seen from all over the fort. Snuffing out thenterns was usually his answer to that sort of thing, but this was not the Murk and these weren¡¯t bored street toughs: if antern went out, the Watch would go there and look. <em>Besides, there is no way for me to get up that ropedder quickly enough that I would not be noticed.</em>

    Which was a problem, since up thatdder was where he needed to go.

    ¡°Make a distraction,¡± Fortuna suggested. ¡°Like fire.¡±

    ¡°You always suggest fire,¡± heined. ¡°What are you the goddess of again?¡±

    ¡°Second-rate thieves, apparently,¡± the Lady of Long Odds savagely replied.

    Tristan mimed taking an arrow to the heart, to her peal ofughter. Her n would not work for the same reason that snuffing out thenterns would not. These were professionals, if he made a mess the section of the fort they wanted to keep hidden was the very first part they would lock down. Her suggestion was useful, however, in a way he had learned to cultivate as a child: always consider the very opposite of what Fortuna was advising. ¡®Go loudly, using thedder¡¯ would thus be ¡®go quietly, not using thedder¡¯.

    He stared at the pir, then swallowed.

    ¡°You look a little sick,¡± Fortuna noted.

    ¡°Remember when we robbed that printer who¡¯d walled himself in?¡± he murmured, feigning a yawn.

    Gods, the smell. He would never forget that. The golden-eyed goddess looked gleeful.

    ¡°You almost knocked yourself out on a gargoyle climbing the tower,¡± Fortuna remembered with relish.

    ¡°This is going to be worse,¡± Tristan sighed.

    Having a closer look at the massive pir the gate was set in only confirmed his fears. Prying at it with a knife revealed that the surface only looked perfectly smooth because the building stones were covered in a thinyer of that First Empire ster that didn¡¯t decay ¨C the same from the Alfonsan Baths in Old Town, which stayed pretty no matter how many times they had to wash graffiti off it. That was good news, because that ancient ster was no harder than the imitations Vesper had sincee up with. Picking at the stone beneath he found that the almost seamless junctures had a little give.

    Wall hammers and some spikes might be enough, then. The trouble would be how to get them without making it obvious. He went to find Sergeant Mandisa, the tall Mni that was charged with care of the trial-takers, but she was nowhere in sight. When he asked a watchman, he instead found himself dragged before her superior. Lieutenant Wen was eating again, some sort of jerky baton that even the Tianxi¡¯s perfect pearly white teeth seemed to be struggling with.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sharing, so stop staring,¡± the lieutenant bluntly told him. ¡°What do you want Mandisa for?¡±

    ¡°I would like a look through the supplies,¡± Tristan said.

    The lieutenant nced at his clothes ¨C a long-sleeved ck tunic that stopped above his knees, trousers of the same color and standard-issue Watch boots ¨C then cocked an eyebrow. It was quite evident Tristan had already had a look.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Lieutenant Wen asked.

    ¡°Tristan.¡±

    A spark of recognition in the Tianxi¡¯s dark eyes.

    ¡°You know,¡± the corpulent man said, pushing back his sses, ¡°when I first enrolled in the Watch the argument of the day was whether or not the Krypteia should be folded into the Academy.¡±

    Thergest of the Circles, Tristan knew. The Academy trained officers, the Stripes, which was not so mystical or exciting as Navigators or Militants but significantly more useful in running something asrge as the Watch.

    ¡°Why?¡± he asked.

    He was, after all, being invited to.

    ¡°Because there¡¯s as almost as many Stripes as there as other people in all the other Circlesbined while the Krypteia¡¯s by far the smallest,¡± Lieutenant Wen idly said. ¡°It was a prestige thing, too ¨C there are two guilds in the Guildhouse and three societies in the College. Why shouldn¡¯t the Stripes bring a second Circle under the Academy banner?¡±

    Therge Tianxi smiled.

    ¡°It got as far as them talking about what the new name for the Stripes would be, since they wouldn¡¯t be the whole Academy anymore, before the scandals starteding out.¡±

    Tristan swallowed a smile. Predictable.

    ¡°Turned out those officers were skimming off Conve funds, contracting off the books or fucking someone they shouldn¡¯t,¡± Wen said. ¡°Every single one of them. Funny, that. You¡¯d think at least <em>one</em> was clean.¡±

    ¡°Life is full of coincidences,¡± the thief ndly said.

    ¡°That and shallow graves,¡± the lieutenant smiled. ¡°I dug a little into the archives at the Rook¡¯s Nest, boy, and found out this happens about every fifty years or so ¨C the Academy starts making noises, then there¡¯s a pointed rash of scandals and idents.¡±

    Tristan blinked.

    ¡°And they have not considered simply¡­ stopping?¡± he slowly said.

    ¡°I figure it¡¯s too big a beast to learn, nowadays,¡± Lieutenant Wen replied. ¡°The Masks only cut off one of the hydra¡¯s heads at a time, so the others keep biting. That¡¯s not the point of this little story, though.¡±

    ¡°I am all ears,¡± the thief said.

    ¡°The point is that Krypteia¡¯s a bunch of shifty assholes not above fucking their brothers and sisters in the ck even when they don¡¯t deserve it,¡± the Tianxi coldly said. ¡°And that if whatever you¡¯re up to hurts any of mine, I will find a way to keep you awake and alive while we hammer our entire supply of nails into your body one at a time.¡±

    The bespectacled lieutenant tapped a finger right between his eyebrows, still smiling.

    ¡°Pop,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°One at a time, Tristan.¡±

    The Tianxi searched his face, carefully kept nk, then nodded in satisfaction.

    ¡°Good,¡± he said. ¡°Now let¡¯s have a look at those supplies.¡±

    The depot was much the same as when he hadste: half a Watch armory, uniforms and arms included, and the rest piles of arms and clothes from those who had died in the trials. The ckcloaks did not appear to have wall hammers ¨C unsurprisingly, given that it was equipment used mostly by explorers and thieves ¨C but Tristan took from their stock a pair of leather gloves that fitted him well. After that he went fishing through the piles of dead men¡¯s possessions while Lieutenant Wen apathetically resumed struggling with his jerky. Though he found a hammer, it was toorge. More a war hammer than a work one.

    There was, however, a war pick in a pile with horseman¡¯s leathers. A little heavy, but it had the right parts ¨C beak and hammer ¨C and by the short length of the handle it had been forged for someone shorter than him. It would serve.

    ¡°Done?¡± Lieutenant Wen asked.

    ¡°Done,¡± Tristan lied.

    --

    Their forge was in the open and its grounds more often used for woodcutting than smith¡¯s work, so it was not difficult to wait until the guards and patrolmen were otherwise distracted and get his hands on a few things. A small hammer, much easier to work with, and a set of twelverge steel bolts likely meant as spares for the oven. He stashed it all away in one of the broken bastions.

    --

    As afternoon stretched towards evening and Tristan finished his nap, the crews started to return.

    Tupoc Xical¡¯s first and in a fine mood. They came strutting back in without a casualty with the only wound cuts on Felis¡¯ leg which the man boasted of, as he¡¯d got them in the process of beating a god¡¯s test. Two victors, they imed, Felis and Tupoc each having triumphed over a test. Maryam sat with Lan to get a report, learning that their crew had taken the Serpent Shrine. That god¡¯s test, to cross a room full of snakes, was beaten when Tupoc walked through and shrugged off getting bit a dozen times. Lan had checked and he¡¯d suffered no consequence save some sweat. More than that, there was now no trace of any snakebite on his skin.

    That, Tristan thought, looked like quite the troublesome contract.

    The crew had then spent a long slice of the afternoon breaking their way through a crypt unguarded by any god, taking turns with Ocon¡¯s hammer to smash through ster walls. It led them to some kind ofrge arena littered with nonsense weapons where another test awaited, seemingly a simple test of strength against a bear but in truth some kind of riddle ¨C Felis, who it turned out was fond of these, ¡®slew¡¯ the bear with a sort of paper fan whose name could also mean honeb. He took a sh to the leg getting close, but a shallow one. Lan thought he had gotten very lucky already knowing the riddle and insisted he had beenpletely insufferable since.

    They had hit the equivalent of a dead end when they were presented a choice between a broken bridge and a temple whose test was too brutal ¨C a god demanding they y some kind of game of chance where every loss would mean losing a finger or toe. They were now preparing equipment, ropes and hooks, to try to cross the broken bridge on the morrow.

    The crew under the Ramayans stumbled in an hourter, haggard and a collection of wounds. Ishaan Nair had a disfiguring cut going up through both his lips, Ferranda Vizur was limping on a bandaged leg, Brun and Acanthe¡¯s faces were red as if brushed too close to me and Yong¡¯s topknot had been sliced off ¨C his hair fell in uneven disorder. Only Shalini Goel looked unscathed, but at least they did not seem to have lost anyone. Tristan himself sat with Yong for the report.

    ¡°The Lion Shrine was easy enough,¡± Yong told him. ¡°One of us was to run a gauntlet of ten duels against the shades of increasinglyrger beasts ¨C and could withdraw, but only at the price of a pint of blood. Goel breezed through, finished almost every fight within the first three breaths. Never seen anyone so fast with pistols.¡±

    Another likely contract.

    ¡°And after?¡±

    Yong grimaced.

    ¡°We found a shortcut, a narrow overpass that went on for half a mile,¡± he said. ¡°No railings and high up, but not so difficult if we took our time. Only it was older than we¡¯d thought.¡±

    ¡°It copsed,¡± Tristan guessed.

    ¡°We got lucky,¡± the Tianxi sighed, confirming with a nod. ¡°We fell into water, some kind of shallow canal, and the only one to get hurt was Ferranda. We followed the current, as it was headed the right way, but it led to some kind of waterfall facing furnaces.¡±

    ¡°Brun and Acanthe Phos look burned,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°A tongue of fire red out, came close to catching them when they were looking over the waterfall¡¯s edge,¡± Yong said. ¡°It was a dead end so we had to double back against the current. The canal was fed into by some kind of stormdrain, so we went up that and reached a crossroads with four shrines.¡±

    The dark-haired man let out a long breath.

    ¡°We agreed we needed to secure a way back first, so we tried the one leading back towards the Old Fort,¡± Yong said. ¡°It seemed straightforward enough: a test of skill with pendulum des to avoid in order to reach the other end of the room. The terms were generous, even ¨C nontern bet, only it must be at least two of us taking the test.¡±

    ¡°You and Ishaan,¡± the thief said.

    Yong grunted in agreement.

    ¡°It was a trap,¡± he said. ¡°The chamber itself began spinning and more des came out of the other walls. Nothingrger than a mouse could cross that room without losing limbs, not with so many moving parts. Even just getting out got us cut.¡±

    ¡°So how did you return?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We went over the shrine, climbed up the sides,¡± Yong said. ¡°Which the god took offence to: it copsed its own shrine¡¯s ceiling. Two heartbeats quicker and it would have killed Ferranda.¡±

    They had doubled back to the Old Fort after that, the Tianxi borated, and avoided taking any more tests. It had meant taking long and exhausting detours that further chipped away at everyone¡¯s mood. With so many wounds and a single victor to show for it, their first day did not feel like a sess. The mood of the Ramayan crew was downcast and stayed that way as they patched their wounds and nned the following day¡¯s expedition while Felis strutted about, loudly telling others of his cleverness in the test he had beat.

    It was only when Angharad Tredegar came back carrying a corpse that perspective set in.

    Inyoni Duma had been butchered by some sort ofrge cutting implement, by the looks of it, and her wounded nephew was walking a ragged edge. His eyes were red and the glint in them wild, just itching for something tosh out at. Much as Tristan wanted to find out what had happened to their crew, Zenzele Duma¡¯s look warned him off it. His instincts were proved right when within half an hour the Mni ended up smashing Felis¡¯ face in after the man boasted a little too mockingly. They were pulled off each other by their crews, but the thief decided to steer well clear.

    The only angle he could see for getting eyes in that crew was Yaretzi, and he would not risk that without first getting a better read on her.

    Perhaps aware that the day¡¯s course did little to strengthen her crew¡¯s position, Shalini did not approach him at dinner for recruitment again. Tristan sat with the other homebodies, only half paying attention to the conversation as he watched the undercurrents of the rest of the table. A corpse being brought in had settled the mood in the Ramayan crew somewhat, but it was still shaky. Ironically enough, Tredegar¡¯s ownpany seemed more united than they. Whatever the nature of the death, it did not seem to have shaken their faith in the Pereduri.

    As for Tupoc, his unambiguous victories were propping up his position. Already his crew looked less like they were waiting for the gallows and tough the Izcalli himself was still disreputable the others under him were not being treated as if they carried the gue anymore. That tentative thaw would notst if the streak of sesses broke, Tristan thought, but if it continued¡­ Something to keep an eye on. After the meal and some huddled talks between the crews after it, most headed for bed. It had been a long and bloody day, with tomorrow promising to be much the same.

    For Tristan, however, night was the beginning of the work.

    He had napped through the afternoon for a reason: there was precious little sleep ahead of him.

    --

    There was no curfew in the Old Fort, so it was a simple matter of timing.

    Beatris had gone on a walk around the courtyard at two past midnight, the previous evening, so a little before that Tristan snuck out of his bedroll and slipped into the kitchen. When she came out with her ckcloak escort, same asst night, he came out of the shadows and sat down at a table facing her. He made sure that his hands would be t on top of the table and there were no visible weapons on him, making it clear he was no threat.

    He was still faced with a naked sword within moments.

    ¡°Back to your bed,¡± the watchman tly ordered.

    Tristan ignored the armed man, instead seeking Beatris¡¯ eyes. She hesitated for a moment but ended up nodding.

    ¡°It is fine, Sergeant Chabier,¡± Beatris said. ¡°Tristan is an old acquaintance, this is not an unpleasant surprise.¡±

    The watchman hesitated but she smiled.

    ¡°I would talk with him a moment, if you please,¡± Beatris said. ¡°We can resume our walk afterwards, yes?¡±

    The man sheathed his sword, but his eyes were still hard.

    ¡°Say the word if you need me,¡± Sergeant Chabier said. ¡°You are under the Watch¡¯s protection now, to harass you is a breach of sanctuary rules.¡±

    Ah, confirmation that Beatris had withdrawn from the trials. He had been nearly certain, but it was good to know for sure. The watchman stepped away, far enough he would not be able to listen in but hardly a step further than that. Tristan ignored his ring. He hade here for answers and he would have them.

    ¡°Do you still have the ruby?¡± he idly asked.

    Beatris¡¯ jaw clenched.

    ¡°I promise to keep an ear out for you,¡± she acknowledged. ¡°I¡¯ll not go back on that. What do you want to know?¡±

    First something he had been itching to know, however marginal the use of holding that information.

    ¡°Why is Isabel Ruesta still taking the trials?¡± Tristan asked. ¡°The cousin she wanted to pursue is dead.¡±

    Beatris softlyughed.

    ¡°She fucked herself,¡± the other rat told him. ¡°Lord Ruesta only let her risk the Dominion because she told him she was trying to choose between the Cerdan brothers. She argued that danger would let her see the true face of them.¡±

    ¡°Only she does not want to marry either,¡± the thief slowly said.

    Unusually sensible of the infanzona.

    ¡°She despises them,¡± Beatris snorted. ¡°She goaded the Cerdans into following her because they are so awful she would lose no sleep over sacrificing them.¡±

    Tristan hummed.

    ¡°But now she is stuck,¡± heid out. ¡°Her way out was seducing the cousin, but the man is dead. Worse, Augusto was revealed to be unsuitable so if she withdraws from the trials then she will be married off to Remund.¡±

    That was why you needed to be careful with cover stories: sometimes you ended up having to live up to them. Tristan had got off light pretending he was deaf for a month.

    ¡°She would rather cut her own feet off than marry the shit,¡± Beatris confidently said. ¡°She has dozens of better prospects wriggling on her hooks back in Sacromonte.¡±

    And the simplest way out of her blunder was hardly difficult to figure out.

    ¡°So she must stick around to ensure our friend Remund has an ident,¡± Tristan mused.

    One had tomend Lady Isabel for her industriousness: not yet married and already she was arranging the divorce. It appeared that the issue ofcking eyes and ears among Angharad Tredegar¡¯s crew would not be so unsurmountable a problem after all. The infanzona should be quite willing to pass information in exchange for a little help on the path to preemptive widowhood.

    Why, he was almost beginning to approve of Isabel Ruesta: what rat would not apud a snake intent on eating others of her kind?

    ¡°Tell me about Brun,¡± he asked.

    Beatris looked surprised.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you cared much about him and Ren,¡± she said, then worried her lip.

    She spent a little while in thought.

    ¡°He decided early on that Tredegar was the ally to secure and he went after it straightforwardly,¡± Beatris said. ¡°He was also courting Briceida, but¡­¡±

    She hesitated. Tristan leaned in.

    ¡°But?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I buy it,¡± Beatris admitted. ¡°He¡¯s Murk, I could tell even if she couldn¡¯t, and she was never shy about her opinion of rats.¡±

    Oh? That was interesting. Tristan had suspected the man to be, for he did not act like some shopkeeper¡¯s son, but that had been only a guess.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± he asked.

    She nodded.

    ¡°Tredegar mentioned his parents were Trench miners,¡± Beatris said.

    More than decent odds, then, as not even the foremen of the Trench could im to live well.

    ¡°It¡¯s strange, though,¡± the former maid continued. ¡°He got restless when we began to run out of food, even Lady Isabel noticed.¡±

    And a rat should be used to a little hunger, Tristan finished. That <em>was</em> unusual.

    ¡°Contract?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Something that allows him to feel when people get close,¡± Beatris shrugged. ¡°He stayed vague about it.¡±

    Some kind of detection contract? Not what he would have associated with a god that Fortuna called loud, but the goddess did not think the way a human might. ¡®Loud¡¯ to her could very well mean a different thing entirely. Perhaps the means of detection were loud to other gods, or somehow garish. <em>Or he is acting odd because his god sticks closely to him</em>, Tristan considered. He too acted in way that seemed strange from an outside eye because of Fortuna¡¯s foibles. Brun might simply be a skilled operator making the best of his circumstances and nothing more nefarious.

    Time would tell.

    ¡°Song Ren,¡± he asked.

    ¡°Hates Lady Isabel¡¯s guts and isn¡¯t all that good at hiding it,¡± Beatris said. ¡°It got worse as we travelled together.¡±

    ¡°Yet she is sticking with the remains of your old crew,¡± Tristan informed her. ¡°Including Isabel Ruesta.¡±

    That clearly surprised the other Sacromontan.

    ¡°She was tight with Lady Angharad,¡± Beatris slowly said, ¡°or at least trying to be.¡±

    ¡°In a bedsport way?¡±

    The dark-haired woman shook her head.

    ¡°I would say sisterly, but that¡¯s not quite it either,¡± Beatris said, biting her lip. ¡°It was almost as if she was humoring Tredegar by letting her take the lead. I do not believe she saw herself as subordinate the way Brun did.¡±

    Maryam had never said why it was she had gone with the leftovers during the Trial of Lines. A demonstration of Signs or even just the map she had memorized would have seen her added to Inyoni¡¯spany in a heartbeat. Yet instead she had stuck with him, much as Song was sticking with Angharad Tredegar. <em>Special enrolment</em>, the thief thought. Maryam had admitted that she and Song were there for the same reason and the way they acted was telling. They were making allies not for just for these trials but for what woulde after, the secret opportunity that would be afforded to the rmended.

    Maryam had picked him and Song had picked Angharad Tredegar.

    ¡°You put something together,¡± Beatris said, eyes intent.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Tristan demurred. ¡°I cannot be sure.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± she softly said. ¡°But you are anyway.¡±

    The thief hid his irritation at being seen through. He was losing his touch ofte.

    ¡°Who are you really, Tristan?¡± Beatris asked. ¡°You¡¯re not just some boy from the Murk.¡±

    She stared him down.

    ¡°Those don¡¯t murder hardened killers twice their size and make it look like an ident within hours of meeting them.¡±

    It seemed boldness was making an appearance now that the protection of the Watch made her all but untouchable. She was overying her cards, however. He could not touch her, but neither could she touch him. That would be interfering in the trials and the moat she was hiding behind went both ways. So instead of answering he rose to his feet, ignoring the wariness on her face to offer her his hand to shake.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± he said, ¡°in Sacromonte.¡±

    Her face tightened.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    He shrugged.

    ¡°What else should there be?¡±

    They were rats keeping to theirmonw and with this conversation all their debts were settled. Tristan would keep no grudge over their dealings, which had been fairer than not, but a choice had been made before they ever left the Bluebell: they were bound by transaction and nothing more. She was not Maryam, who had chosen him and been chosen in turn. Beatris stared at him, gaze searching for something, but whatever it was she did not find it. Her eyes strayed away.

    ¡°Goodbye, Tristan,¡± Beatris said.

    She did not shake his hand and he did not offer it again.

    --

    What was the best way not to be caught?

    It was, sometimes, to be caught for something else entirely. When people were certain of where you were and why you were there, they put you in the box of affairs that were settled. Tristan, for example, had been out at night but his purpose was obvious: he had been trying to speak with Beatris. So when he trudged back to his bedroll afterwards and closed the curtain behind him, he shed the suspicions of the Watch. They had ounted for him, he went into the box.

    That made it much easier to sneak out a second time a little over an hourter.

    The timing was careful. Like the previous night a light appeared high on the pir, above the bastion with the astronomical equipment, and a ropedder was lowered. Six watchmen came down, all of them heading straight for the barracks, and in their wake a seventh followed. Unlike the others she did not head down the bastion stairs, instead setting down a sheath of papers on a table and busying herself with the telescope. She was, Tristan saw, looking at the machinery above ¨C the one whose golden moving parts mimicked the sky, stars and moons moving around.

    Pressed close in the shadows below the bastion, Tristan waited until Fortuna returned from having her look. She strutted back as if she had single-handedly won a war, which in truth was not all that different from her usual walk.

    ¡°She looks Someshwari,¡± the goddess confirmed. ¡°Thirties or very kind forties.¡±

    Tristan smiled. There was a decent chance, then, that as deducedst night he had found the missing Lieutenant Vasanti. He had not been able to find out during the day how many watchmen there were in the Old Fort, as from a distance their ck cloaks made them very difficult to tell apart, but he doubted there could be many posted up there. The practicalities of food and shit would dictate otherwise: even a chamber pot needed to be emptied eventually. He must make the climb now, though, for eventually the soldiers that hade down would be reced or themselves return.

    Getting out of the Old Fort was not all that difficult, as the Watch kept an eye mostly on the openings in the walls. Climbing down the side of the northeastern bastion with his tools wrapped in a nket was slow work more than strenuous. It was after that, when he stood outside the fort in one of the blind angles of the ramparts, that the real work began. Taking out the work hammer and a few spikes, he began to hammer himself a way up. The way to do it without noise was to hammer the spike through cloth, to kill the echo, but that made precision difficult.

    Tristan had long been trained out of any fear of heights ¨C it would be too much of a disability for a thief ¨C but he still found his nerves thinning as he rose up the side of pir. His boots rested on spike after spike while he nailed one above, at the precise intersection of the building stones under the ster so the length of steel would slide in securely. His work slowed further when he got halfway up and began pulling every third spike with the side of the war pick, for otherwise he was sure to run out before the end. His muscles ached and his limbs began to tremble from the tension, but by the time he¡¯d got to the right height he saw that he had been blessed with a stroke of luck.

    Lieutenant Vasanti had left the bastion with the telescope, going to the supply depot, which left him an open path.

    Thest stretch was the worst. It was the easiest to hammer in, for now that he had gone up the pir he was following the curve of the stone towards the entrance where the ropedder led, but he was exhausted and ufortably aware that all it would take for a ckcloak to see him was someone shining antern in his direction. Below he could see a few watchmen spread across the walls, a few walking around the ramparts. None cared to look up so he remained safely hidden in the shadow of the great pir, shielded from the golden light of the aether machine above.

    He was careful not to leave a trail, removing every spike he did not stand on, and about an hour after he had begun Tristan found himself about a foot below the opening in the pir from which dangled the ropedder. Pressed into the shadows below that slender opening, he was hidden from below ¨C and needed to be, for Lieutenant Vasanti and another ckcloak had returned to the bastion. They were talking, discussing charts by the telescope, but if the ropedder began to move they were sure to notice. Instead Tristan stretched up from the spike, hoisting himself onto the stone, and wriggled inside. <em>Scorch marks</em>, he noticed as he crawled on the floor. <em>They blew their way in.</em>

    And then he¡¯d made it in.

    There was no telling what the chamber had been before the Watch moved in: the walls and ceiling were bare stone, with only small marks betraying that at some point weighty objects had been dragged across the floor. It had since been turned into an outpost that could not quite decide what it was mean to be: a handful of bedrolls were propped up against the left wall, a rack of swords and muskets the right one, and in the back there was some kind of office. Stacks of papers were piled up everywhere around a wooden desk and the small cab nking it. There was only one seat, a broad chair behind the desk, and that was where Tristan¡¯s eyes stayed.

    There was someone sleeping in it.

    An old woman in a ck cloak, white-haired and wrinkled. She snored away, cheek pressed on top of the desk, and slightly drooled on the wood. Given the Someshwari look of her and the seniority implied by age ¨C she had to be in her sixties at least ¨C Tristan realized that he had been wrong after all: it had not been Lieutenant Vasanti on the bastion, because he was looking at her now. She looked frail, but there was a pistol atop a pile of papers that would make that point moot.

    His climb had been quiet and he had not woken her by entering the chamber, but he still felt stomach clench: there was almost no cover in the room to hide behind. He could not stay out in the open, he was sure to be caught, so the thief smoothed out his breathing and looked for the exit. There was bound to be one, no one would set up in this eagle¡¯s nest without a reason. As he¡¯d thought, tucked away besides the bedrolls was a discreet opening of the wall through which he glimpsed stairs in the flickering light of the chamber¡¯s solemp. There was, despite sweeping the room twice, no sign of anywhere leading <em>down</em>. An isted chamber?

    The size of this room was no more than a third of the great pir¡¯s length, at a look, so there might be others carved inside the stone. Regardless, up the stairs was the way he must head. He would find no answers here, only get caught by the Watch.

    Creeping across the floor on all fours, careful not to make a sound as he moved towards the bedrolls and the stairs, the thief kept an eye on the sleeping officer. One foot after another, until he was halfway through the row of bedrolls ¨C and then the snoring stopped. Tristan pulled at his luck before he even turned to look, only realizing his mistake when he saw Lieutenant Vasanti had not moved. Her eyes were still closed and she stilly on top of the desk. Shit, he had borrowed luck for nothing. That was¡­ no, best get up the stairs before releasing it. It was too dangerous out here.

    He began to move again, only to be given pause when he heard someone pulling at a stuck drawer. He hurried to his feet only for Lieutenant Vasanti to curse, snatching the pistol atop her desk and firing a shot right into his chest. A plume of smoke came bursting out, and as he threw himself down to the right the thief only spared a moment of incredulity at this being<em> luck</em> ¨C only for the explosion of pain he was awaiting not toe.

    ¡°Ovya,¡± the old woman cursed. ¡°Gods, girl, but I will have you caned until you learn to <em>load your pistol properly</em>.¡±

    There had been, he realized, no ball to go with the powder.

    Tristan released the luck, preparing himself for disaster, and still missed it: the weapons rack fell onto his back as he began to rise, a mass of wood and a dozen swords crashing down onto him. He wriggled free, hearing the sound of a drawer forced open, but by the time he got onto his knees with a few bruises to show for it a cool muzzle was pressed against his forehead.

    Lieutenant Vasanti¡¯s rheumy green eyes were cold as the steel she held in her hand.

    ¡°Move and die,¡± the old woman said. ¡°Understood?¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Tristan replied.

    Could he get free of this? Pulling on the luck again, most likely. It was what came after that worried him. There was a witness to him being inside the pir. He was not, strictly speaking, breaking the rules by being here. The pir was not off-limits, the way the barracks and bastion were. Yet it was impossible for him to havee here without having broken the rules, an offence Lieutenant Wen had made clear would earn summary execution.

    ¡°You¡¯re one of the kids from the trials, yes?¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said.

    He did not answer, so she pressed the muzzle forcefully against his skin.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said.

    He could not see a way out of this without killing the watchwoman, which would not be an act without consequences. <em>And a shot was fired, we are bound to have been heard.</em> Other ckcloaks would be on their way. Was all already lost? Would killing her be pointless?

    Either way, Tristan must make his decision soon.

    ¡°Name?¡± she pressed.

    He hesitated, but saw her hand begin to clench.

    ¡°Tristan Abrascal.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re one of the Cryptic prospects,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti grunted. ¡°One of the two died, I heard, so which are you?¡±

    He blinked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he slowly said.

    A moment passed and he settled into the decision. He saw only one way to survive, and though it might see him dieter it was always better to breathe than not. He would strike when she got distracted.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± the old woman feelingly said. ¡°You¡¯re too calm. You¡¯re Nerei¡¯s pet project, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°Abu?¡± he ventured.

    ¡°Grandmother,¡± she tranted, disgust rippling across her face. ¡°Gods, that¡¯s sick.¡±

    A sigh and the pistol went up.

    ¡°On your feet, boy,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said. ¡°I should shoot you for sneaking in here, but you¡¯re not worth a feud with Nerei. There are too many ways to make it look like an ident at my age.¡±

    Tristan, disoriented by the realization that he was not going to have to kill his way out of this after all, hesitantly rose to his feet. He flicked a worried nce backwards.

    ¡°There¡¯s no oneing,¡± the watchwoman told him. ¡°This entire construction swallows noise: the Makers did not want the machinery noises to echo around the cavern.¡±

    Lieutenant Vasanti stepped away from him, going to sit atop her desk after pushing aside a few papers.

    ¡°So you got curious and decided to go sniffing around our work, did you?¡± she said.

    Tristan weighed his options, trying to get a read on her face and finding that there was little there to find but steel.

    ¡°The maze can¡¯t be the only way through,¡± he decided to risk. ¡°The pir is much older, and the Antediluvians would have needed ess to the machinery in the ceiling.¡±

    ¡°Been a while since a trial-taker figured that out,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti noted. ¡°We try to keep them looking forward instead of up.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s something wrong with this ce,¡± Tristan quietly said. ¡°This was not built to be a trial, even if the Watch turned it into one.¡±

    The old woman considered him coolly.

    ¡°Best you keep that tongue in your mouth, boy.¡±

    She tapped the side of her pistol against her fingers thoughtfully.

    ¡°What to do with you now?¡±

    Punishment, even if he was not killed, but the thief could not afford that. It would alle falling down on his head if he was made an example of now, even if he got away with a mere caning or flogging. <em>She¡¯s the key</em>, Tristan thought as he watched Lieutenant Vasanti. So what did he have to move her? Nothing, at a nce, but that was never true. What did he know? <em>Old but still a lieutenant</em>, he thought, which was unusual. She knew Abu, or imed to, and had Maryam not said that the seal Abu used to rmend him was the mark of a high rank? She had also implied that she had seen more than a year of trials being taken.

    Lieutenant Wen had said there was a tinker from the Umuthi Society at the Old Fort, when going on one of his grisly rants.

    The pieces came together.

    ¡°How far did you get in finding the way up?¡± he asked.

    Lieutenant Vasanti stilled.

    ¡°Definitely one of Nerei¡¯s,¡± she said. ¡°You have the same unpleasant nose for secrets.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re here, isn¡¯t it?¡± he said. ¡°For the aetheric machine above. I¡¯ll bet you even took a demotion so you could stay assigned at the Old Fort.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes it can be hard to tell,¡± the old woman said, ¡°whether you¡¯re digging out of a grave or digging it deeper. Would you like me to tell you which it is you¡¯re doing, boy?¡±

    ¡°Lieutenant Wen said there was a tinker,¡± he said. ¡°<em>A</em> tinker. This isn¡¯t a Watch study, you would have a team for that. It¡¯s yours.¡±

    ¡°Clever,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti acknowledged. ¡°But cleverness does not impress me. What does that matter?¡±

    Tristan straightened, put a confident smile on his face.

    ¡°I<em></em>have a team for you,¡± he said. ¡°A clockmaker, a historian with a contract, a Sign-user and even eyes in the maze for those things the Watch won¡¯t led you send people to look for.¡±

    The old lieutenant went still, studying him with unblinking green eyes.

    ¡°You think I¡¯ll let you dig at our secrets just because you have some tools for me to use, boy?¡±

    His fa?ade of calm did not waver. <em>I think you have less than a decade to live and you chose to be here, eating bad food on this misbegotten ind with none of your old friends. I think that telescope isn¡¯t Watch equipment at all, that you had it brought in, and for you to do that you must have been here for years now.</em>

    ¡°Yes,¡± Tristan simply replied.

    A heartbeat of silence, then the old womanughed. She set down her pistol on the table and it was an effort not to let out a breath of relief.

    ¡°I can¡¯t help but notice you didn¡¯t put yourself in the list,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said. ¡°But that¡¯s fine, Tristan Abrascal.¡±

    Her grin was neither pretty nor friendly.

    ¡°I have a use for you too.¡±

 Chapter 25

    Chapter 25

    It was a grim supper.

    After the day¡¯s bloody price none were in a chatting mood and Angharad discreetly asked Song to stay close to Zenzele, lest he lose his temper and strike another again. Felis had been acting tastelessly enough that none had made a fuss over the brawl, but if the Mni had to be dragged out of another scrap she suspected sympathy would wane. Isabel, who sat by her side as they dug into their tes of salted pork, biscuits and peas, leaned close.

    ¡°Only one victor for Lord Ishaan¡¯s crew,¡± she murmured. ¡°And there appear to be some recriminations over the results.¡±

    She was right, Angharad saw. Lady Ferranda and Acanthe Phos were arguing, however quietly, while Ishaan Nair attempted to y peacemaker. The others only watched.

    ¡°We have our own troubles,¡± Angharad finally said. ¡°Best to leave them to their own.¡±

    She was the only leader to have brought back a corpse as well as victors, which would make her singrly unsuited to poaching even if she were of such a mind. Which she was not.

    ¡°Not so great as that,¡± Isabel said. ¡°Lord Zenzele is grieving, as is only proper, but who has spoken to you of leaving?¡±

    No one, so far, but they had not been back for long. They would see. It was draining, to have to consider all that. Life had been so much simpler when she was but a duelist on the circuit, her rule of nw Hall a distant thing Father still had decades to prepare her for. Her mother had been ady and a captain, so authority was in her blood, but she did not think is came as naturally to her. Would Mother have always taken charge if she found it out as exhausting as Angharad did? She had her doubts.

    Someone staring at her, but when she turned Remund was speaking with Cozme. Strange.

    After the meal they lingered at the table a little longer, expectant looks sent her way, but Angharad had no clever n to dazzle them with. She told them to rest and prepare, receiving only nods in return, and they went their own way. Cozme Aflor, however, sought her out after the others were gone. He made small talk at first but kept pulling at his beard and hardly met Angharad¡¯s eyes. Eventually he came out with the reason he had approached her in the first ce.

    ¡°Lord Zenzele is not so wounded that he cannote tomorrow,¡± he said. ¡°The Watch physician said the cuts on his back required no stitches, only thorough cleaning.¡±

    ¡°Flesh is not what was cut deepest today,¡± Angharad replied.

    The older man smoothed his mustache, which had been entirely pristine.

    ¡°I feel for Lord Zenzele, I truly do,¡± Cozme Aflor said. ¡°Yet his grief cannot see him withdraw from the crew in all but name.¡±

    ¡°He is a victor,¡± she pointed out.

    ¡°So is Lady Isabel,¡± the older man said, ¡°and if one stays so will the other. What is left of us then?¡±

    Not much, she had to admit. Herself, Song, Yaretzi, Cozme and Remund. They would be the smallest of the crews, if not necessarily the weakest, but size was what concerned Master Cozme. A crew of five was certain to force Remund Cerdan to take a trial, which his protector was trying to avoid by keeping their numbers high ¨C even it meant taking Zenzele Duma back into the maze. It was good and loyal service to House Cerdan, this conversation. Angharad bade herself to keep that in mind, for otherwise she might grow angry.

    ¡°I am not certain what it is you wish of me, Master Cozme,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°He respects you, Lady Angharad,¡± he replied. ¡°You held the cog the longest of us and almost saved her life at the end. If you request that he continue with us tomorrow, he may well listen.¡±

    For the barest of moments, she felt like striking him. What had Cozme Aflor given in these trials, that he had earned of her the right to ask that she wade through a man¡¯s grief to make demands for another¡¯s benefits? Only Cozme was not asking for himself, and that let her swallow the anger. It was not selfishness that drove the request but duty.

    ¡°I would not see our crew sunder,¡± Angharad stiffly said.

    Tacit agreement. She, too, could see how victors remaining behind could be the beginning of the end for their band. For the remainder the temptation would grow to seek refuge with Lord Ishaan instead of remaining on a sinking ship.

    ¡°I make no promises,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°Nor would I ask one,¡± Master Cozme hurried to say.

    He looked relieved. Perhaps he had reason to be. Dimly left with the sense that she was doing another¡¯s dirty work, Angharad walked away from the man and sought out Zenzele. The Mni was alone, sitting in his ¡®room¡¯ with the curtain open, for though Song was close and keeping an eye on him she had not gone to speak with him. At a nce, Zenzele Duma looked fine. He had bandages wrapped around his torso but his back was straight and he seemed in no great difort. His hair was too short to have the capacity to be disheveled and even his hat ¨C brimmed, pinned and feathered as was the current fashion in Mn ¨C was set at a jaunty angle.

    It was the eyes that gave him away.

    Red-rimmed and raw, like a wound had been drawn around two pits of bleakness. Angharad¡¯s steps almost faltered, for what might she possibly say to a man with eyes like these, but she forced herself to keep moving. The nce he flicked her way when she came to stand before him was disinterested.

    ¡°May I sit?¡± Angharad asked.

    Zenzele gestured wordlessly. She lowered herself onto the stone, leaning back against the partition between his stable stall-turned-room and what she suspected had been Inyoni¡¯s. Twice she almost began to speak before biting down on the words. They felt fake, hollow. The kind she would have raged to hear in the days fresh after the massacre of her family. It was him that broke the silence.

    ¡°You told us,¡± Zenzele said, ¡°that you are thest of your house.¡±

    ¡°Save for my uncle in the Watch,¡± Angharad quietly agreed.

    Not that it meant anything. Uncle Osian had renounced any im to nw Hall by bing a ckcloak, just as she would. There was no longer a im left to press, anyhow: House Tredegar had been struck from the rolls of nobility. Thend would be the possession of the High Queen, who would grant it to another family at her pleasure.

    ¡°How did it happen?¡±

    Her fingers clenched.

    ¡°They came in the night,¡± she said. ¡°Steel and powder, before they put our very hall to the torch.¡±

    Her cousins had been but boys, but sometimes she hoped they had been put to the sword. Better the steel than being barred inside their rooms, burning alive as so many of the servants had. Not until her dying day would she forget the sound of those screams on the wind.

    ¡°And you fled,¡± Zenzele said.

    ¡°My father had a riverboat stashed away,¡± Angharad murmured. ¡°He died distracting them long enough for me to reach it.¡±

    Had Father known what would find her on that dark river, rowing alone on a trail of ink? Sometimes she thought he might have. He had been a learned man, keeping to old ways. Unknowing of her mind, the Mni breathed out deeply.

    ¡°My mother has four other children,¡± he abruptly said. ¡°I am the thirdborn, which means marrying for advantage.¡±

    The same fate Uncle Osian had gone to the Watch to avoid. It was considered imprudent to marry the secondborn out of the family, but any child beyond that number was fated for the marriage market. Angharad would likely have wed a thirdborn daughter before she reached twenty, arranging in the marriage contract for a son of that family to stand in for their daughter when she decided to conceive an heir for House Tredegar.

    ¡°Mother never really gave a shit beyond ensuring I would be a decent prospect,¡± Zenzele confessed. ¡°I used to think I had disappointed her, but looking back she simply never really saw me as a Duma. I was born to marry out.¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°Sometimes I think she didn¡¯t even notice when I left to attend the <em>isikole</em>,¡± he said. ¡°It was Aunt Inyoni who saw me off, rode with me on the wagon.¡±

    He trailed off.

    ¡°Is it there you met Ayanda?¡± she asked, prompting him to continue.

    A spasm of grief. Best that wound benced now, lest whaty within fester.

    ¡°Under the red roof there are no titles,¡± he quoted. ¡°For four years it didn¡¯t matter that she wasn¡¯t nobly born, only that she was lovely and funny and so fucking clever. It felt like a dream she even wanted to be with me.¡±

    ¡°Then the four years ended,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°And out in Mn, nothing else matters,¡± Zenzele bitterly said. ¡°I had not even taken off my traveling cloak before Mother told me I was betrothed.¡±

    She winced.

    ¡°Arafa Sandile,¡± he said. ¡°Only two years older than me. Pretty, they said. But even if she had looked like a seal I would have been promised to her, because the Sandile silver mines are prettier to my mother than any girl could ever hope to be.¡±

    Even Angharad had heard of House Sandile. In southern Mn they were a byword for extravagance, the main line having once thrown a feast on a ship being carried through the countryside by elephants imported from the Imperial Someshwar. It had been the talk of the Isles for years afterwards. No wonder Zenzele had run after breaking his betrothal: the Sandile had deep enough pockets to bury him neck deep in swordmasters after such a slight to their honor. Zenzele chuckled.

    ¡°That¡¯s about the face Aunt Inyoni made when I told her I was going to run,¡± he said. ¡°She said I wouldn¡¯t make it ten miles out, much less as far as a port. Then she said she couldn¡¯t just let me get myself killed.¡±

    His face tightened.

    ¡°She was more a mother to me than the woman who spat me out into the world,¡± he said. ¡°Then and now. And how did I repay it?¡±

    Angharad knew that rage in the man¡¯s eyes, the urge to strike something stoked all the higher by the way there was nothing around worthy of being struck. The first time an assassin hade for her, it had been as much a relief as a thing of dread. Finally she had been able to <em>hurt </em>someone for what had been done to her, someone deserving of her hatred.

    ¡°Sleeping God, but when we set out it felt like an adventure,¡± he hatefully said. ¡°Terrifying, we were leaving it all behind, but I was with Ayanda and the only family I cared to im. Aunt Inyoni¡¯s friends in the Watch were interested in our contracts, enough to rmend us, and all we needed was to win some trials and we would be forever beyond anyone¡¯s reach.¡±

    His jaw clenched.

    ¡°I thought I could get it all,¡± Zenzele said. ¡°Instead I killed them both.¡±

    Angharad could have told him that he was not to me, that both the dead had made choices and he had not decided for them, but she knew it would mean nothing. It had not to her when she heard the same truths, for they held the ring of titude.

    ¡°When a shot is fired,¡± she said, ¡°who is to me ¨C the bullet, the powder, the flint that struck the spark?¡±

    His eyes moved to her.

    ¡°me the finger that pulled the trigger, Zenzele Duma,¡± Angharad said. ¡°You did not run away on a whim, you were made to.¡±

    To marry for the good one one¡¯s family was duty, but to be treated by cattle by the head one one¡¯s house ¨C not even consulted during the negotiations, never meeting the other party before the betrothal ¨C was undeniably a wrong. A nobleborn child had responsibilities to their house, but that house also had responsibilities to them and the Duma had failed Zenzele before he them. It did not make running admirable, but it was enough for Angharad not to look down on the man for it.

    ¡°So I should take my revenge on them, is that it?¡± the Mni snorted. ¡°Make myself a kinyer, maybe wipe out House Sandile?¡±

    Angharad Tredegar did notugh, did not so much as twitch a smile. There was no jest here.

    ¡°One day,¡± she said, voice soft, ¡°I will find out who it was that murdered my family, who ended my house.¡±

    That man¡¯s name, the owner of all her grief.

    ¡°And when I do, Zenzele,¡± she continued. ¡°I will kill them all. <em>Everyst one of them</em>.¡±

    Her fingers clenched, nails biting into her palm.

    ¡°No matter how far they run, how high they stand, how many armies stand between them and my de. I will drag their screaming souls to the ashes of nw Hall and let the wailing reach all the way across the fucking Circle Perpetual to my kin.¡±

    Let it be the first thing her parents heard as they were born anew, let those screamse thundering out their lungs as their souls wiped clean and avenged returned to Vesper for another life.

    ¡°This,¡± she said with utter calm, ¡°I have sworn. And I will live long enough to carry out that oath, no matter what this pit of horrors sets in my way.¡±

    Zenzele stared at her, still as a statue.

    ¡°So that¡¯s what it is,¡± he said. ¡°An oath.¡±

    She blinked, taken aback.

    ¡°I can see connections,¡± Zenzele Duma admitted in a murmur. ¡°Between things, people, concepts. You are tied to Isabel Ruesta and to Song Ren, but there is a chord deeper and more vivid than both.¡±

    He met her eyes.

    ¡°It is red,¡± he said. ¡°Red like blood, like me, like ruin. That may well be what it brings you.¡±

    ¡°They were already brought to me,¡± Angharad Tredegar gently replied. ¡°I am simply to return that gift in kind.¡±

    The Mni wrenched his gaze away as if burned.

    ¡°Live to take revenge, huh,¡± he said. ¡°Somehow I expected something nobler of you, Angharad.¡±

    ¡°Fire is not a kind thing,¡± she murmured. ¡°But it does keep the night away, Zenzele.¡±

    The Mni stayed silent for a long time.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I have it in me to live like that,¡± he said. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    His jaw firmed.

    ¡°I will not suffer her body to be abandoned in some pit, her affairs pawned off to some other trial-taker in the years toe,¡± Zenzele Duma said. ¡°Ayanda is beyond my reach, but I will see my aunt¡¯s ashes spread on the shores of the Isles one day.¡±

    Angharad felt a sliver of grief on his behalf, that he would never get so much as a pinch of ash to spread from the girl he had so deeply loved. No one would go fight the hollows for those taken prisoners, not even the Watch. Even if the three were still alive to be saved, the ckcloaks would not sacrifice their own assaulting the cult of the Red Eye in its hidden strongholds ¨C not when they stood to lose so many more souls than they might possibly rescue.

    ¡°That is worth getting to the end of these cursed trials, if nothing else,¡± the Mni quietly said. ¡°I refuse to just stay here and <em>sit</em> as her ashes cool.¡±

    She had never asked, in the end, for him to stay with them tomorrow. It had been her mistake and Cozme¡¯s to believe him the sort of man who would need to be talked into it. She did not flinch away from the shame of that realization, for it was well deserved. They sat together for a while longer, neither feeling the need to speak a word. When an uncharacteristically unsmiling Lieutenant Wen fetched Zenzele an hourter, telling him the body had been cleaned and a pyre raised, she went with him. No one else would.

    The pile was outside, drenched with oil, and the body alreadyid atop it. Angharad stood by his side as heposed himself, struggled to keep his face calm, and finally took the torch the lieutenant was offering.

    ¡°It is tradition to speak,¡± Zenzele rasped, ¡°but I have no words to give, aunt. Even an apology would ring hollow.¡±

    He swallowed.

    ¡°Maybe one day I will have earned the right, but not today.¡±

    He raised the torch.

    ¡°We who do not stray are eternal,¡± Zenzele said. ¡°I will see you again, for there are no strangers across the Empty Sea.¡±

    He threw the torch and the fire roared. Those had been Redeemer words, she thought, but not untrue for it. All who did not stray from the Sleeping God would meet again in time, born again and again until all had learned from their mistakes. Angharad watched the mes devouring Inyoni¡¯s corpse, thinking of another fire, and her jaw clenched. Let eternity wait.

    She yet had ounts to settle in this life.

    --

    They rose early and gathered for the meal, as was bing habit.

    Angharad was surprised to see Isabel had risen before her this time, and more surprised still to see Tristan sitting with her. The grey-eyed man had shown no inclination of joining any crew, not that she would have dared to ask again after bringing back a corpse, but she supposed that did not mean he wanted to be withoutpany. Perhaps if the day went well, Angharad thought, she should spare some time to find out what it was he was up to with the others who remained behind. That aged pair would do so was no great surprise, but Sarai? She was fit enough to delve the maze.

    Whatever it was the two were discussing, they settled it before Angharad arrived. Tristan gave her a smile, then rose to his feet.

    ¡°I should grab Vanesa¡¯s porridge while it is still warm,¡± he told her. ¡°Good morn, Lady Angharad, and good luck on your venture.¡±

    He paused, then inclined his head.

    ¡°Lady Isabel.¡±

    ¡°Master Tristan,¡± Isabel amusedly replied.

    He took his leave after that under Angharad¡¯s bemused gaze. She sat by Isabel¡¯s side after making certain that others were seated at tables, making the kitchen a public ce and allowing her to skirt the edge of her oath to Remund.

    ¡°You know,¡± the dark-haired beauty mused, ¡°I do believe that man might not even have a surname.¡±

    ¡°He seems too well educated for that,¡± she replied, startled.

    Only the poorest ofmoners were bereft ofst name, at least in Peredur.

    ¡°Why else avoid giving it so carefully?¡± Isabel asked. ¡°No matter, it does not make him any less interesting.¡±

    ¡°He had business with you?¡± Angharad idly asked.

    Isabel smiled at her, the full weight of her attention a little dazzling.

    ¡°He was giving me news of Beatris,¡± she said. ¡°She appears to have had a fit of nerves that left her unfit to try the maze, so I have sent her my permission to withdraw from the trials.¡±

    ¡°That is kind of you,¡± she replied, pleased at the good treatment.

    Kindness to one¡¯s servants was the responsibility of the nobly born. They were joined by the others one after another, the table going silent for a moment after Lord Zenzele came until he gave a toothy grin.

    ¡°The funeral wasst night,¡± he said. ¡°Do cheer up.¡±

    No one was so awful as tough, but it broke the ice. Quiet conversation resumed and after the meal ended they prepared to set out together. As the previous day, Tupoc¡¯s group had gone ahead. Keeping to their bargain, they moved with Lord Ishaan¡¯s group. The chubby-cheeked Someshwari had picked up a wound across the lips, an oddly fearsome sight on a face that otherwise screamed of harmlessness, and it made it difficult for him to speak. They remained quiet, though neither Song nor Shalini offered them such mercy.

    The pair spent half the walk to the shrines arguing about whether Tianxi or Ramayan tea was superior while the other half was reserved to agree that Izcalli xoctl was ¡®too disgusting to inflict on even Someshwari¡¯ and ¡®there should be aw against its export, maybe make a mob vote on it¡¯.

    ¡°It is good to see Shalini making a friend,¡± Ishaan happily told her, breaking their silence as they neared the shrines. ¡°Her sense of humor sometimes drives people away.¡±

    ¡°I am surprised to hear it,¡± Angharad replied, speaking very exactly.

    A wry look from the Someshwari told her that perhaps it had not gone unnoticed. They parted ways cordially at the shrines, returning to their previous paths. The dove spirit¡¯s grounds were eerily silent, the holes in the floor still there ¨C though they now looked like simple pits ¨C and the entity itself not deigning to appear. They hurried through, dimly unsettled, and took the same upwards path as before. It was more tiring than dangerous to retrace their steps now that they knew there would be no ambush waiting for them.

    When they climbed up from the pools into the tunnel again, ready to shimmy across the edge to the stairs of the temple where Inyoni had died, they did it knowing that a dead thing would attempt to scare them into falling. All ignored it, as for all its loudness it could not hurt them, save for Zenzele ¨C who pped the remnant spirit on its head with augh, though it did not cease shrieking. Not enough thought remained inside, she suspected.

    The gesture was to be an augury of continued recklessness, Angharad realized when he did not wait for everyone to be ready before climbing the steps to the clockwork temple. Cursing under her breath she hurried, finding him standing along among the great room with the polished floor and the ticking machines.

    ¡°Not a trace of anything broken,¡± he said when she caught up. ¡°Like we were never here at all.¡±

    The spirit of brass and cogs did not show, this time, perhaps uninterested now that it had fed and they could not be pressed into another of its tests.

    ¡°You are a victor still,¡± Angharad said. ¡°That remains.¡±

    ¡°It was a victor as well,¡± Zenzele mildly replied. ¡°That is the part I find difficult to forgive.¡±

    They had not ventured beyond the clockwork temple yesterday, so it was fresh grounds they broke as the crossed the machine-strewn chamber. There was a hall leading out, a thing of moonstone and serpentine as the one that had led them in, but here the streaks of iron and gold painting the walls were not so wild. There were clear patterns, beginning circr and bing increasingly angr as the hall continued. It made Angharad¡¯s eyes tear up to look at them too long so she yanked her gaze away. That the spirit had not appeared did not mean its hand could not be felt.

    At the end of the hall half-shattered stairs led down to what she thought to be walls at first but soon realized were the sloping seats of an arena. It was why her boots creaked against sand as she took the lead and why the structure was so curved ¨C though she could not see the whole of it, as it continued around the side of the clockwork temple and mixed into masses of rubbles with jutting columns. The grounds were ruins, not a shrine, and as they walked on the sand they found that there were three ways out of the arena.

    The first was in a straight line, through the front gates, and appeared to be a tangle of stairs going both up and down. Another was through a rusted grate, going down into the ground in a spiral, and thest began atop the highest seats to their right: some sort of bridge leading into a structure that seemed to be a broad tower.

    ¡°That tower has shrine written all over it,¡± Lord Remund opined.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Song said. ¡°The stairs perhaps?¡±

    ¡°I do not like the look of that grate,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°Let us try the stairs.¡±

    There were no strong opinions against it, so to the stairs they went. It was worse than she had thought at first nce: the stairs led up and down, left and right, and crisscrossed each other as if painted by a madman. Going up a few flights let her catch sight of a structure at the end of the mess, what looked like a highway with raised steles wedged in between tworge walls, but the stairs themselves were a death trap. They were falling apart, sometimes on each other, and after Zenzele kicked a loose stone on a whim an entire section copsed. The Mni apologized, but the words were a little too blithe for her taste.

    Angharad stared him down until he looked away, conceding with a jerky nod. He was allowed his grief but not to risk their lives with it.

    Yet disinclined to the high bridge and tower, they headed for the rusted grate. Yaretzi and Master Cozme kicked it off the hinges and then went down the narrow tunnel. It spun in a spiral, ufortably narrow, and dug into the stone beneath. There were no steps, only a slope, and they had to be careful not to slip. After what had to be at least ten minutes of heading down they emerged into a dark crypt. Rectangr tombs of bare stoney open,ntern light revealing they were filled only with dust, and at the other end of the chamber the wall was made from a darker kind of stone. They crossed, wary of an attack that never came, and then stepped into a hall that ended after three feet in a strange circr chamber lit by some kind of hangingntern.

    There were four gates inside the room, but all were closed and barred.

    Angharad saw no lock or knocker, nor any other way to open them, so her gaze strayed to the strange contraption that filled almost the entire room. It looked like a wheel, she thought, though one without a rim. Four spokes of solid brass jutted out, each going from slightly above her midsection to the floor, while the hub they jutted from was tall as a man and broad as three ¨C and not small men, either. The mechanism¡¯s floor was dull brass, rough and unpolished, but unlike the hallway bore no dust.

    ¡°It does not look like a shrine,¡± Song noted. ¡°There are no marks and symbols, only bare stone and brass.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps we are meant to push the spokes of the wheel,¡± Remund Cerdan suggested. ¡°To raise the gates like a portcullis.¡±

    ¡°Could be,¡± Angharad mused. ¡°Though that would be a great weight and we might not be enough.¡±

    ¡°No, we will be.¡±

    She nced back, seeing Yaretzi bush past Isabel with a grim look on her face.

    ¡°I have seen this before,¡± the Izcalli said. ¡°Some of my people¡¯s candles are locked the same way.¡±

    ¡°You know how to open it?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°If I am right,¡± Yaretzi agreed.

    The dark-haired woman made her way to the edge of the hall, kneeling by the threshold to the wheelroom to rap a knuckle against the brass floor. The sound, to Angharad¡¯s surprise, was hollow. As if there were nothing under a smallyer of brass. Yaretzi repeated the same gesture until her hand was near the center of the space between the two spokes, where atst the sound turned solid.

    ¡°As I thought,¡± the Izcalli said, rising to her feet. ¡°It is weight-locked. Enough of us will need to stand on the tform to lower the hidden part and trigger the mechanism.¡±

    ¡°And then what?¡± Master Cozme asked.

    There Yaretzi grimaced.

    ¡°I am uncertain,¡± she admitted. ¡°I have never seen one with more than a single gate. It should open the doors, but beyond that I cannot say.¡±

    ¡°Sounds fun,¡± Lord Zenzele carelessly said. ¡°Let¡¯s give it a whirl.¡±

    Angharad nce at him warningly but did not speak otherwise. For all that the Mni was being reckless the in truth was that activating the device was the only way through this room.

    ¡°There might be some danger falling upon us before the doors open,¡± Isabel said. ¡°It would be best for us to split with such an eventuality in mind.¡±

    The Pereduri noblewoman thought that sensible enough. They separated ordingly: Isabel with her, Cozme with Remund, and after Zenzele insisted on standing alone Song and Yaretzi. When Isabel joined her at the center of the space some mechanical part clicked beneath their feet, the floor descending by the barest of fractions, and then they watched as the others spread around the wheel by climbing over spokes. The very moment Zenzele took his ce, ast click resounded across the small room and they all felt something shifting beneath their feet.

    A long moment passed.

    ¡°Perhaps we are to push after all,¡± Lord Remund drawled.

    He went to ce his hand against the spoke before him, but before he could there was a sudden shiver beneath their feet. Angharad glimpsed ahead and-

    ¡°<em>Brace yourselves</em>,¡± she shouted.

    Half of them were still knocked down when the wheel abruptly began spinning. She caught Isabel by the waist, bringing her close and trying not to wonder at how even in this nightmare of an ind the infanzona¡¯s hair still smelled ofvender, then held them both in ce by snatching at the top of the spoke with her other hand. Cozme cursed virulently as he smacked into the brass and Zenzele let out a whoopingugh as he held on for dear life. All thenterns save Yaretzi¡¯s went flying, smashing against stone or brass.

    And the wheel kept spinning, faster and faster.

    Isabel would have slipped her gasp had the dark-haired beauty not begun clinging to the spoke on her own, the two of them struggling to keep upright as the air howled against their faces and the sole burning light above whipped them with shadows.

    ¡°The gate,¡± Song shouted. ¡°The gate is opening.¡±

    Angharad risked a nce and saw that the Tianxi was right: one of the gates was slowly rising, as if being dragged up an inch at a time. Were they meant to jump out when it opened up enough? It would be difficult, she thought, but hardly impossible. They held one for another ten breaths, the gate opening up just enough for a man to be able to get through on their knees, and Angharad pushed herself up. Hopefully the others would not argue the need to jump, for speaking would be difficult.

    ¡°We-¡±

    Before she could finish the sentence, she turned weightless. Or so it felt for the barest fraction of a moment, before she realized that the wheel had just abruptly changed directions. Shouting as she was thrown back against a curtain of brass ¨C ancestors, that was going to bruise - and Isabel¡¯s back smacked her in the face a heartbeatter, she heard other shouts.

    Two of which abruptly cut off.

    <em>No</em>, she thought, rising to her feet as she pushed off the infanzona. It was as she feared: Song and Yaretzi were missing while the once-open gate had mmed shut. <em>It is no gate mechanism</em>, she thought, <em>it is a trap. One meant to separate us</em>.

    ¡°Seek each other out on the other side,¡± Angharad shouted. ¡°We must not remain-¡±

    Unlike thest, the gate that opened this time did so in a heartbeat and Zenzele threw himself in the opening with a wildugh before wheel even changed directions to force his hand. They were all better prepared for the turnabout this time, all staying on their feet save Remund ¨C who Cozme caught by the arm and held in ce. The third gate opened, the pair tossed through it, and for the first time Angharad got a glimpse of whaty past it. Some kind of stony slope. They both went tumbling down.

    Now there were only the two of them left.

    ¡°Ready yourself,¡± she told Isabel. ¡°Better to jump than be thrown.¡±

    She had not closely looked at the infanzona before but now that she did, she saw the terror writ there. Isabel¡¯s fair face had gone pale, her eyes wild and she was worrying her lip so hard it looked fit to bleed.

    ¡°Please,¡± Isabel said. ¡°Together. I do not know if-¡±

    How striking her teary gaze was Angharad thought, a little dazed. She tended to prefer women of harder character, but perhaps on asion being needed would not be so ¨C no, not the time.

    ¡°Together,¡± she agreed.

    They barely had three heartbeats to ready themselves before the fourth gate began to open. The timing seemed to be shorter every time, as if the machine fed on its own momentum. Angharad glimpsed ahead twice to gauge the timing, a trick she was bing increasingly fond of, and almost winced when she saw herself hit the bottom of the gate with her front teeth on the first attempt. It was a good thing she did not feel what she saw, as she could do without intimate knowledge of what it felt like to shatter half her mouth.

    When they leapt, Isabel trembling in her arms, it was straight into the dark.

    Blinded by the sudden change in lighting Angharad blinked even as the ground gave beneath her feet ¨C it was a slope, like she had seen in the others ¨C but after two steps her boots slid against wetness and Isabel screamed in fear. They tumbled forward, Angharad¡¯s belly flopping on shallow water while her chin raked against the stone below it, and she felt Isabel¡¯s fingers slide through hers.

    ¡°No,¡± the infanzona shouted. ¡°Angharad, you-¡±

    She was interrupted by a loud thump, smacking into something. For a heartbeat Angharad believed her dead, the thought like a burn, but then she heard Isabel shouting as she bounced off into water. Distant water, as if they were being separated. Without antern to see Angharad was blind, but even as she fell her fingers groped ahead and she found rising stone ¨C there had been a fork just beyond the gate, she realized, and they were falling down different sides of it. Heart pounding with fear for the infanzona, she tried to hurry her way down. The water was shallow but it helped her slide faster, her clothes drenched and hair turning slick.

    She went down a canal for what felt like an eternity until she fell into a pool.

    It was deep enough she had to swim up and when she broke the surface she saw there was finally light again,ing from ss orbs hung on the ceiling. Making for the shore, she got out onto a stone floor before taking a better look around. This looked to be a cavern, though one with tworge pools ¨C both being fed by small canals, one of which she hade through. There were half a dozen openings in the wall ahead, none of them looking carved and all rather narrow. Angharad waited a little longer to see if Isabel was toe down the other canal, but after a few minutes of dripping onto the floor to no sign of the infanzona she reluctantly got moving.

    A few glimpses told her there were no traps no matter the opening, so she took the rightmost and headed in.

    The lights were dimmer in here, small ss orbs burning dirty yellow, but she could still see just fine. Twice she faced forks and took a right, the second time leading her to a precipice. The tunnel ended abruptly in a deep ck abyss facing wall of rock, faint wind like a breath rising from below. She shuddered, about ready to double back when she saw a flicker of movement ahead. She had not noticed, but on the other side of the precipice there was an opening in the rock with light flickering ¨C almost like an eye. She saw a pool through it, and another precipice someone was standing by. Their hair was long and dark.

    ¡°Isabel,¡± she shouted, and it echoed endlessly in the abyss.

    The silhouette across did not react, hesitating a little longer before moving out of sight. There was no telling if it was truly the infanzona, Angharad reminded herself. Where spirits held dominion the wise did not trust their eyes.

    She returned to the tunnels, intent on pushing forward since it was unlikely there was a way across the abyss. Everywhere seemed the same, bare stone coated in flickering light, and after a while it felt as if she had no idea where she¡¯de from. Angharad began scratching the walls with her sword under the orbs, but she had begun toote and it only prevented her from going in circles. After long enough that her clothes had gone from wet to damp, the Pereduri finally stumbled onto the end of the tunnels. It was a striking enough sight it gave her pause, impatient as she was.

    It was as if someone had raised a hall entirely out of cloudy, silvery crystals.

    They shone with light from somewhere unseen, each perfectly smooth surface reflecting itself as a house of mirrors. It was strikingly beautiful, Angharad thought, enough that she was distracted from immediately noticing the entrances. There were three of them, going into a hall that must be sprawling for she saw no end to it, but one was closed by a solid b of crystal. She approached for a closer look, eyes widening when she saw that someone had darkened the threshold of the entrance around the b with what must have been an open me. Two letters: S and Y. Yaretzi, she recalled, had kept herntern from breaking when the spin changed directions.

    Angharad breathed in deeply,forted at the thought that at least two of herrades had made it this far. That it might be only two was an upsetting prospect, but there might well be other entrances to this ce. There had been four doors, after all. At the very least there could be no doubt that this hall must be her path, or as to what its true nature was despite its beauty. Angharad straightened her back, then offered a low bow.

    ¡°I implore the attention of the honored elder who dwells in this temple,¡± she said.

    The air shivered, but this was subtler a spirit than the kind she had encountered in the maze until now. There was no great manifestation, no eye-catching totem tomand attention. Only traces of silver light facing her in the b of crystal, suggesting the shape of a face.

    ¡°Robber. Or. Supplicant.¡±

    Angharad hid her pained wince by lowering her head. It was as if the words were made of the sound of crystal cracking, just a little too high and sharp to be anything but daggers to the ear.

    ¡°I would be a supplicant to your temple, honored elder,¡± Angharad said. ¡°If you would tell me of the terms of your test and the wager therein.¡±

    ¡°Wager. Lantern.¡±

    Not unexpected. She waited for the terms.

    ¡°Win. By. Reaching. End. Hall.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°Or. Take. A. Life.¡±

    Painful as it was to the ear, she sought rifications. The prize would be crossing the temple unhindered for she and anypanion. To die within the hall, however, was to surrender your soul to the spirit. It remained vague about whose life might be taken within its test, however, simply calling them ¡®opponents¡¯. She had her suspicions, especially when it was made in that to take another¡¯s life would see you led to the end of the hall safely<em>. It means to keep us in its hall of mirrors until we grow desperate enough to kill our own</em>, Angharad thought. The Watch had implied nothing lived out here save for ravenous spirits, so the only lives for them to take were each other¡¯s.

    She had no intention of ying herpanions or allowing them to be in, but that still meant taking the test.

    ¡°I ept your test and terms, honored elder, and would undertake supplication,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°Good. Luck.¡±

    To ascribe emotion to the spirit would be as trying to read the intonation of a razor de, but as it spoke Angharad somehow felt as if she was being mocked. And though it was but a glimmer of cold light, she could not shake the impression that she had looked at something living ¨C convulsing, red and wet, like a throat swallowing. A second look told her it was but tiredness working away at her mind, the spirit unchanged. Hiding her unease, the Pereduri headed for the entrance to her right and settled her breathing. Hand on her saber, she took a firm step past the threshold and into the shining hall.

    A heartbeat after, a b of crystal hammered down and closed the entrance.

    There would be no going back.

 Chapter 26

    Chapter 26

    It was as an endless gallery.

    The crystal walls fed into each other, promising infinity in a thimble as the mirroring went on and on. The heights were not all the same, the angles askew and there were even slight slopes to the ground to further muddle the senses. Th effect was strong: Angharad had barely taken ten steps before she became uncertain which way she had entered. A pale and silvery glow hung in the air, lighting the way, but there was no visible source for it. Boots whispering across the smooth floor, she boldly stepped forward ¨C after learning that her sword could not cut into the crystal, anyhow. There would be no marking of her path, the opaque rock surprisingly hard for something that looked so delicate.

    The first attack came from behind just as she turned a corner.

    Her saber came up to parry the blow, but she was hacking into air. The figure on the mirror, which she now saw was her own face distended into something <em>other</em>, smirked before walking out of sight. <em>Sleeping God</em>, Angharad thought. It was going to be even worse than she had thought if the spirit could paint illusions on the mirrors. This ce might well be a tomb if she could not even trust her eyes. Her hackles stayed up as she pressed on, thrice more ambushed by nothing. Yet she could not lower her guard, begin to ignore the attacks. It was what the spirit wanted, for her to stop guarding before a real de came for her neck.

    The Pereduri kept to the right as much as she could, asionally forced to detour, but after how long only the spirit knew ¨C less than an hour, surely? ¨C she began encountering dead ends. After the third in a row she stopped, biting her lip as she met the eyes of her horrid reflection on the wall. Should she leave the edge of thebyrinth? She had thought it sensible to try to keep to the border in the hopes of circling until she found an exit, but now she was beginning to fear she would reach a wall and be forced to backtrack blindly.

    ¡°No,¡± she murmured. ¡°Carry it out to the end, you fool. Half measures are coffin nails.¡±

    She must keep to the n until she knew for sure it was all dead ends. Walking away from the dead end, she returned to the broader corridor behind it and caught sight of a flicker of movement ¨C another mirror ambush, she thought, but raised her de anyway.

    Steel ground against steel, a clumsily wielded knife mming down onto her saber¡¯s guard.

    Sheer surprise quickening her hand, Angharad pushed back her opponent ¨C a shrieking monster, hideous and twisted ¨C and drew back three steps. She ignored the hundred reflections blooming over every wall, floor and ceiling to keep her eye entirely on the enemy. It looked like no lemure the Pereduri had ever seen, nor cultist: its skin was rotten and its teeth as yellow coral. It wore rags that clinked, as ifden with hidden coins, and held the knife in a guard that Angharad did not recognize. Some ancient art of war, perhaps?

    ¡°We need not fight,¡± Angharad clearly enunciated.

    The monster shrieked back and the noblewoman frowned. It seemed intelligent. Perhaps a corpse taken over by a puppeteer lemure? It was when the creature attacked that it came together. It struck by iling blindly with no stance, care or even understanding that her reach was much longer than its own. <em>That was no strange guard, it simply does not know how to use a knife.</em> And that told her the hidden truth behind the monstrosity. Angharad stepped into the other¡¯s guard, pping the blow aside with her elbow and smoothly sliding her arm around their neck. They struggled desperately but they were weaker than her, so she squeezed and lowered them to the ground as she kept the knife iling aimlessly at their back.

    After a minute or so the illusion broke, revealing the weeping face of the woman called Aines.

    ¡°-please, I don¡¯t-¡± she was saying, the shrieking turning into Antigua.

    Admittedly sometimes the difference between the two was academic. Aines, looking wan and with a purpling ck eye on her face, went still in her arms.

    ¡°Lady Tredegar?¡± she croaked.

    Angharad released her.

    ¡°The maze veils our faces to make us y each other,¡± she said, extricating herself and rising to her feet. ¡°This spirit would feed on our bones.¡±

    ¡°I,¡± the woman began, then bit her lip. ¡°Yes, mydy. May I¡­ may Ie with you?¡±

    ¡°You must,¡± Angharad agreed. ¡°Are all of yourpanions also in the maze?¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°It was the only way forward for us,¡± Aines said. ¡°Though the god made us wait before letting us in.¡±

    And so the spirit¡¯s scheme wasid out inly. It wanted Tupoc¡¯s crew and her own to butcher each other under veil of illusion. <em>I might have seen through the trick were I facing Song or Cozme, for I know the look of their height and weapons, but I know little of those who went with Tupoc.</em> The spirit had waited until her ownpanions were at the gates of its hall to let in the other group for that very reason, she was sure of it.

    ¡°We must find the others quickly,¡± Angharad grimly said. ¡°Else there will be blood.¡±

    Tupoc Xical was not the sort of man to think twice at ying any who stood in his way. Aines freely admitted to having been lost ¨C she had brought chalk and tried to mark the walls but it did not seem to take ¨C so they continued her approach. As if irked by being denied a corpse, the spirit set another in their path within minutes. An ogre dripping red pus roared at the other end of the hall, reflections just as fearsome flickering every which way, and it raised its hammer. This one Angharad recognized.

    ¡°Ocon,¡± she stated.

    Whatever the man heard through the veil of illusion, it was not his name. He roared again and charged. Behind her Aines whimpered, taking steps back, but Angharad breathed out and loosened her stance. The big man was strong and startlingly quick, she knew that from her never-fights with him in her visions, but he fought without polish. At a guess, he had never been formally trained.

    Angharad had been and would teach him the difference.

    Thirteen paces away she tapped her de against her left shoulder in a duelist¡¯s salute, gauging the distances carefully. <em>Eight paces</em>. Angharad darted forward a step, startling Ocon into swinging early at her, but she had stopped a single step in. The hammer swung before her and once it passed she stepped into his open guard. He was a big man and rushing forward like a bull, but the hammer was heavy and had been strongly swung so his stance was off ¨C training, training, those bad habits were removed only through training. A pivot around his attempt at tackling her, then a boot to the back of the knee.

    The big man went down, his weight smashing into the crystal floor.

    Angharad leisurely turned around as he rose into a crouch, flicking azy cut his way that had him flinching away and swinging blindly at her. She stepped back at that, as if afraid of the blow, and he took that opening to rise back to his feet just as she¡¯d wanted ¨C only for her to dart forward and kick him in the buttocks, back down with his belly t on the floor. Further back, Aines let out a sound halfway between a giggle and a hysterical fit. Ocon, still looking like some deformed creature, flipped onto his back only to find the point of her saber at his throat.

    ¡°Stay down,¡± Angharad mildly said. ¡°The illusion will dispel.¡±

    Whatever it was he heard it made him flinch, but he was more afraid of the de a single hair¡¯s breadth away from piercing his throat: Ocon did not move. Twenty secondster the Azn¡¯s broad face reced the ogre¡¯s, sudden understanding lighting up those dark eyes.

    ¡°Tredegar,¡± Ocon grunted. ¡°I should have known, who else-¡±

    She pressed the tip of the sword against her throat and he fell silent. No mercy for this one, who had been Tupoc Xical¡¯s right hand since they first mademon cause on the Bluebell.

    ¡°You will follow me,¡± Angharad said. ¡°You will obey my orders. You will not, under any circumstances, kill inside thisbyrinth.¡±

    The big man snarled.

    ¡°If you think-¡±

    This time the point drew a drop of blood. She met his eyes, letting every inch of her indifference to his continued existence show in her gaze.

    ¡°You seem under the misapprehension that this is a negotiation,¡± Angharad mildly said. ¡°It would be best to correct that mistake.¡±

    The tattooed man then decided he was willing to take her orders, after all.

    Fancy that.

    --

    Their next encounter was not a fight.

    ¡°Angharad!¡±

    Isabel was in her arms a heartbeatter, wrapped closed and tight. Over the infanzona¡¯s shoulder she saw Song rolling her eyes at them. She smiled at the Tianxi, seeing she was unharmed, and it was returned. She drew back from Isabel to examine her for wounds, finding that she had been struck. Her lip was bloodied and a little swollen, like someone had punched her in the face.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± she worriedly asked. ¡°You were attacked?¡±

    ¡°Mistress Song struck me before the illusion was broken,¡± Isabel told her. ¡°Naught but a trifle.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s eyes flicked to the other woman, whose empty expression must be hiding embarrassment. It must be a powerful illusion the spirit had woven to fool even her silver eyes.

    ¡°We getting a move on?¡± Ocon grunted. ¡°This is sickening.¡±

    <em>Sometimes</em>, Mother had taught her<em>, a crew gets a man that is simply a bad seed. If you cannot get rid of them, there is only one thing for it.</em>

    ¡°Ocon,¡± Angharad very mildly said, ¡°it sounds as if you are trying to tell me what to do.¡±

    She half turned, Isabel still loosely in her grasp, and met the big man¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Surely you would know better than to do such a thing.¡±

    There was a long moment, then the tattooed Azn looked away.

    ¡°I was just saying,¡± he muttered. ¡°Meant nothing by it.¡±

    <em>Step on them</em>, Mother had said. <em>Hard and often, so that the seed will never sprout into a weed.</em> When she turned back, Angharad found Isabel looking at her with wide eyes and the slightest of flushes to her neck. She swallowed, meeting the infanzona¡¯s green gaze, and would have lost herself in it if not for the inconvenient awareness that they were far from alone. Clearing her throat, the Pereduri released the other woman and straightened her coat.

    ¡°Let us go forward,¡± Angharad said. ¡°The others might be in danger.¡±

    They did, and immediately it made a stark difference to have Song with her again.

    ¡°Yaretzi and I were split when a b fell between us,¡± the Tianxi told her. ¡°I came across Ruesta after and mapped out what I could - I believe the hall is broadly a square and we have gone around the entire right half of thebyrinth. It would mean we are now following the edge of the left half.¡±

    ¡°Then it is only a matter of time until we find the end,¡± Angharad mused. ¡°It must be at <em>some </em>extremity.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Song murmured, ¡°and that worries me.¡±

    The Pereduri almost asked why, until she thought twice of it.

    ¡°You believe we were guided towards each other on purpose,¡± she said.

    The other woman nodded.

    ¡°You have proved able to subdue others without shedding blood,¡± she said. ¡°And as for me¡­¡±

    She discreetly tapped her left temple, meaning the eyes. Yes, Song¡¯s ability to see through some of the trickery would be most unwee. The Tianxi¡¯s spection that they were being guided towards the way out of the maze so they could not help anyone else seemed entirely believable.

    ¡°Then we must keep a careful eye out for any attempt to herd us away from a passage,¡± Angharad murmured. ¡°There may well be others behind such a thing.¡±

    Another tense few minutes treading mirroring halls followed, their fears proving more and more true: now the fake reflections were not only attacks but also feigned to be walls or dead ends. The spirit was trying to keep them on a path and would have entirely seeded if not for Song¡¯s quiet directions. It came to an apex after Angharad turned a corner only for the Tianxi to go still, then raising the butt of her musket and smashing at a wall. There was a crack, to theirmon surprise, and three strong hitster a small sheet of crystal that had seemed a wall fell to pieces.

    ¡°New walls are growing,¡± Song tly told them. ¡°I am beginning to suspect that this ce is no shrine: it is the god¡¯s own body.¡±

    A disquieting thought for all, but when Angharad announced that the hallway the spirit wanted them to avoid must surely be explored none argued. Their curiosity led them to three turns nearer to the heart of the mirrored hall, where horrid noises echoed. The noblewoman hurried ahead, de out, and found two false monsters savaging each other. One seemed a lupine horror of scarred flesh and smoke, the other an automaton of rusted bronze dripping green oil ¨C the smoking thing was hitting the other in the stomach, its knife on the floor.

    ¡°Stop,¡± Angharad shouted.

    Neither turned or seemed to hear her. <em>An illusion of nothing at all</em>, she thought. Four more steps and the bronze creature traced a circle of burning light on the other¡¯s skin, drawing a bloodcurdling scream out of it, and staggered a step back before raising its de. She shouted again but went unheard, the monster that could only be Remund striking ¨C only for the de to be shot in the side as Song¡¯s musket thundered. It shattered.

    Not before an inch of it went into the other man¡¯s belly.

    The veiled Remund let out a sound like metal being ground, turning towards them in what she knew was fear even through the illusion. The other man staggered back clutching at his wound, and this was no time for carefulness. Angharad barreled between them, pushing the wounded down and pping away the knife Remund tried to sink into her side. She struck him the belly, as she had done his brother, and as he folded shouted for someone to help the hurt man. Remund, still letting out that infernal noise, feinted low. She let it whisper near her leg, then harshly mmed the top of her head into his nose.

    She felt something break.

    They backed away from each other after that, the veiled Remund clutching at a nose she could only assume was bleeding, and Angharad slowly moved her saber to be pointing his way. The man paused. Just as slowly she ced the saber on the ground even as she heard Aines and Isabel helping move the wounded man behind her. Remund exaggeratedly put away his knife and she let out a sigh of relief, finally allowing her fingers to loosen.

    A heartbeatter both illusions broke, leaving her to look at Remund Cerdan clutching a nosebleed with eyes still wild and wide.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± he said, finding her face. ¡°I should have known from the saber it was you, <em>fucking fucker gods</em>.¡±

    The cursing was particrly virulent by the end of the sentence.

    ¡°I wish I could have done it without hurting you,¡± Angharad said, which as close to an apology as she would give.

    A momentter Isabel was brushing past her ¨C sparing a smile as she did ¨C and making a fuss over a pleased and surprised Remund. She took the opportunity to look back, finding that the wounded man was Aines¡¯ own husband. Felis, for that was his name, looked badly off. Not only did he have old cuts from yesterday but he was still bruised from Zenzele¡¯s rage and now he had a gut wound. Rtively shallow, to Angharad¡¯s eye, but gut wounds were always a nasty business.

    ¡°No,¡± Aines was insisting. ¡°We must leave the de in or the wound will bleed you out. We¡¯ll get you back to the fort, then the doctor-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can walk that far,¡± Felis moaned. ¡°Not like this. Is Lan-¡±

    ¡°Not here,¡± Aines sharply said, the worry in her voice thinning. ¡°Come on, up on your feet.¡±

    Angharad looked away, finding Songing to stand by her side. They shared a grimace.

    ¡°We must get him out of here as quickly as possible,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°That wound may kill him otherwise.¡±

    She had known that without needing to be told, but it went against her instincts to leave when she would be abandoning others. Tupoc was out there, ready to kill if he had not already, while Yaretzi, Master Cozme and Zenzele were yet to be found. Of Tupoc¡¯s crew the surviving twin, Lan, would still be out there as well.

    And Augusto, though<em></em>that<em></em>one dying<em></em>would hardly be a loss.

    The Pereduri closed her eyes, trying to find a way through. She could think of none that did not involve reaching safety and then doubling back through thebyrinth to the Old Fort so that the Watch physician might see to Felis¡¯ wound. If Tristan were with them it might be different, but¡­ <em>I must speak with him again</em>, Angharad thought. <em>Surely he has had long enough to rest by now.</em> The dilemma ate away at her. Condemn Felis to death or abandon some of herrades to the possibility of that very same fate? Angharad shivered, a coolness calm and patient spreading through her veins.

    The Fisher was watching. Waiting. Where would honor lie?

    ¡°We must go soon,¡± Song murmured. ¡°Felis will only get worse and it is a long way back to the Old Fort, especially if Aines is the only one going back with him.¡±

    Angharad had not even considered that Ocon might abandon hisrades, though perhaps she should have. There seemed to be little enough affection between them. Would the spirit even consider thempanions under the writ of the bargain? Their like always tried to- Angharad stilled. There it was, her third path.

    The Pereduri opened her eyes as the Fisher¡¯s presence withdrew. Disappointed.

    ¡°We head for the end of thebyrinth,¡± she said. ¡°As fast as we can.¡±

    Song¡¯s silver eyes considered her a moment.

    ¡°As you say.¡±

    --

    It was not even ten minutes before they reach the end of the crystal hall.

    The spirit wanted them out: by thest stretch there had been no false reflections trying to lead them astray, as if the entity was encouraging them to leave. The wounded Felis trailed behind, helped to move by his wife and Isabel¡¯s kindness, but not so far as to ever be out of sight. The final part of the mirrored hall was a straight line leading to a glittering arch, a glimpse of a strange cavern lying beyond. Angharad put a spring to her step, ensuring she was the first to leave thebyrinth, and gestured for the others to stay behind after she did.

    Traces of silver light shone on the arch, the spirit revealing its presence.

    ¡°Honored elder,¡± Angharad said, ¡°I have reached the end of your hall.¡±

    ¡°Victor,¡± the spirit said. ¡°Leave. Unhindered. With. Companions.¡±

    Then she gestured for the others toe out, which they hesitantly did. The silvery glints faded but Angharad cleared her throat.

    ¡°You are going back on your bargain,¡± she said.

    The lights returned, ring bright.

    ¡°Lie.¡±

    ¡°You are hindering mypanions as we speak,¡± Angharad evenly said. ¡°Those yet within the hall.¡±

    ¡°LIE. NOT. COMPANIONS.¡±

    The sound was like crystal being smashed, ice cracking under your feet.

    ¡°If I im them such, who are you to gainsay me?¡± she said. ¡°I give you their names: Cozme Aflor, Zenzele Duma, Tupoc Xical-¡±

    ¡°LIE. LIE. LIE.¡±

    ¡°-Yaretzi of Izcalli, Lan of Sacromonte and¡­¡±

    She paused. Tupoc Xical was as far as she was willing to stretch the boundary of truth, mostly so he could not stay in the hall and kill others. Augusto Cerdan she would not im as apanion even by the loosest of definitions.

    ¡°¡­ and that is all,¡± Angharad finished. ¡°I expect them led out of the hall without trouble.¡±

    ¡°YOU WILL NOT DENY ME,¡± the spirit hissed.

    The lights disappeared and silence followed. The world breathed in, stillness hanging by a thread, and then there was a thundering crack.

    In the distance, a span of the crystal hall¡¯s ceiling copsed.

    It was the first stone of an avnche. Thebyrinth began falling apart as if someone had ripped out its seams, walls tipping over or bursting into pieces. It did not turn to rubble, it was not so widespread as that, but what had been a neat hall turned into a yawning ruin over what could not have been more than thirty seconds. Angharad felt gazes burn into her back as onest bit of ceiling plummeted down.

    ¡°Lady Angharad,¡± Remund delicately said, ¡°did you just anger a god so deeply it broke its own shrine out of spite?¡±

    More than that, if Song¡¯s assertion about the crystal hall had been true.

    ¡°It appears the hall is no longer breaking,¡± Angharad said, strategically ignoring the infanzon¡¯s words. ¡°Are there volunteers to look for survivors with me?¡±

    Isabel quickly agreed, predictably joined by an irritated Remund. Song stayed behind to keep an eye on the others. The three of them went into the ruins, scaling rough-edged crystal to wade through the destruction. It was dangerous and exhausting work, for now sharp pieces littered everywhere, but it must be done. For all that their help provedrgely unnecessary: Master Cozme found them before they him, having bruised from a falling chunk of crystal but otherwise fine. Next came Zenzele and Lan, thetter having been cut shallowly across the arms by a de.

    ¡°The illusion did not cover blood,¡± Zenzele told them. ¡°I saw it must be a person and not some monster.¡±

    ¡°And a good thing he did, if I had kept running I would have been under <em>that</em>,¡± Lan tacked on.

    She pointed a length of ceiling twenty feet long and three feet thick. Death would have been instant. Isabel escorted them back through the ruins, leaving Angharad with Remund. The youngest of the Cerdan brothers had been quiet since Isabel¡¯s departure, but he eventually gathered his courage and spoke.

    ¡°Should we find Augusto,¡± Remund said, ¡°something will need to be done. Preferably without others around to interfere.¡±

    Angharad studied him for a moment, then nodded.

    ¡°I never finished my duel with him,¡± she said. ¡°Honor can be made to wait, but never abandoned.¡±

    ¡°Then we have an understanding,¡± the infanzon smiled.

    Only it was not Augusto they found but the other two. Tupoc and Yaretzi were both wounded, but he the heavier of the two. She had a shallow wound on the upper arm, but he had a very thin cut across the cheek and a b of crystal seemed to have fallen on his foot. Both had weapons in hand, he his segmented spear and Yaretzi a long knife.

    ¡°The test is at an end,¡± Angharad called out. ¡°Lay down your arms.¡±

    Tupoc smiled, but not at them.

    ¡°You first, <em>Turquoise</em>,¡± he said, drawing out the word mockingly.

    ¡°Now,¡± Angharad insisted.

    ¡°Or don¡¯t,¡± Remund casually said. ¡°I rather like our odds.¡±

    Even in the face of their threats Tupoc did not waver. It was Yaretzi who lowered her long knife.

    ¡°Peace,¡± she said. ¡°There is no need for violence.¡±

    ¡°You have,¡± Tupoc mused, ¡°the most delightful sense of humor.¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Let us leave this ce, there may yet be peril.¡±

    Tupoc put down his spear.

    ¡°Have my boonpanions all survived, then?¡± he asked.

    ¡°There is one yet missing,¡± Angharad ndly replied.

    ¡°I wonder who it might be, for you to have such an expression on your face,¡± Tupoc drily said.

    He rubbed his chin.

    ¡°Still, best to tend to my surviving flock for now,¡± he said. ¡°I shall leave you to it, Tredegar. For a time.¡±

    He strolled away, only slightly limping despite what must be cracked if not outright broken toes, and left them standing in the ruins. Angharad would have admired the gall, were he not so vile a man. Yaretzi thanked them for the help but had no intention of staying to look for Augusto. She waited until Tupoc was ahead enough she would not have to walk with him and left. The Pereduri continued tob through the ruins with Remund, but after ten minutes she was forced to admit that there was no sign of Augusto Cerdan.

    ¡°He might have died in the copse,¡± she finally said.

    Remund shook his head.

    ¡°Cerdan do not die easy,¡± the infanzon said. ¡°I will believe him dead when I see a corpse, not a moment before.¡±

    Whether that was sentiment or fear she knew not, but either way she cared not to argue against it. Despite their efforts they could not seem to get close to where she had entered, anyhow, for the way the hall had copsed had closed off entire sections in practice if not in the absolute sense ¨C it might be possible to topple great crystals or clear sharp fields, given enough time andbor, but both were in sharp supply.

    ¡°I cannot see a way back,¡± she admitted.

    ¡°We could scale some of the crystals using my contract,¡± Remund mused. ¡°But not all the way, it would take too many rings and for too long.¡±

    The only way was forward, then. They could have looked further, but aware there was only so much time to waste here in the ruins Angharad gave in to the practicalities of their situation and they headed back to the others. There she found the crews had split again, Tupoc smiling widely.

    ¡°Lady Angharad, we were just speaking of you,¡± he said. ¡°Have you found path backwards through the hall?¡±

    ¡°There is none,¡± she said. ¡°Perhaps given time and effort we might be able to make one, but even then for some of us that passage would be¡­ unfeasible.¡±

    She did not need to nce at Felis for him to hear what she was saying.

    ¡°We will have to go around, then,¡± Tupoc casually said. ¡°As I am told you set out to safeguard our lives through bargain with the god, I would return the courtesy. Shall our crews makemon cause, at least until a path back to the Old Fort is found?¡±

    It was her instinct to deny him, to insist on their crews going separate ways, but she tempered the urge to answer in haste. The cavern spread out before them was poorly lit, what little light there wasing from pits where translucent blue crystals glowed, but from what Angharad could see there was only one way out. Regardless of her desires she might well be forced to share a road with Tupoc¡¯s crew, so it would be best to settle the rtionship between them first.

    ¡°I would agree to a truce until we find a path back to the Old Fort,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Extended to all now present.¡±

    Tupoc nced at his followers, their exhausted mien and eagerness to avoid confrontation, and snorted.

    ¡°s, poor Augusto,¡± he said. ¡°I ept your terms, Lady Tredegar.¡±

    They lingered a little longer in the cavern, preparing to leave, until Felis snapped at his wife. Many looked away in difort, Angharad catching only that the man believed histest wound to be shallow and insisted he would be fine. She was joined by Zenzele, who discreetly drew her attention to a quiet conversation between Tupoc and Ocon.

    ¡°Are you any good with a musket, mydy?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Passable at best,¡± she admitted.

    She was not untutored, that would have been a graveck in a noble, but had never taken to it the way she had the sword.

    ¡°Shame,¡± Zenzele mused. ¡°Someone really ought to put a shot in that man¡¯s skull.¡±

    ¡°We are under truce,¡± Angharad tly reminded him. ¡°By my own word.¡±

    ¡°We are,¡± the Mni agreed. ¡°Until we aren¡¯t. The weeds that we do not pull up in this trial may welle to haunt us in the next, Lady Angharad. It might be best to act rather than be acted upon.¡±

    She met his eyes squarely.

    ¡°If such a thing is to be done,¡± the Pereduri said, ¡°it will be after the truce is finished. I will brook no chicanery in this.¡±

    Zenzele Duma hummed, then looked away.

    ¡°We still have time,¡± he said. ¡°For now. Keep it in mind, that is all I ask.¡±

    It was arguable whether to n on an attack immediately following the end of the truce, as Zenzele had been implying should be done, would be a breach of honor. It was a fine line, for in some sense to plot was to act, but it would not be going against the words exact. Yet these were a hiltless sword and not one she wanted to grow used to wielding. If there was to be war upon Tupoc Xical, she thought, let it be done the right way. Not cloak and dagger business, barely keeping to the finest lines of honor. Unsettled, she sought out Song so the two of them might take the vanguard.

    She found the Tianxi leaning near the opening in the cavern wall, cloak pulled tight around her as she kept an eye on Felis and Aines. The married pair had, at least, ceased arguing.

    ¡°What is it you look for?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°Trouble,¡± Song replied. ¡°But it is toote to avoid, I think.¡±

    ¡°It has been a long day already,¡± she tiredly agreed.

    ¡°We may have to pass the night out here, if we do not find a good path,¡± the Tianxi told her. ¡°It would be wiser than to force a trip back when we are all tired and making mistakes.¡±

    ¡°I would avoid sleeping out here if we can,¡± she muttered. ¡°There was something about that spirit, Song, that unsettles me still.¡±

    ¡°So you noticed as well,¡± the other woman approvingly said.

    ¡°There was something wrong with it,¡± Angharad said. ¡°You said the hall might be its own body, I recall. Why would it wound itself so, however much I angered it?¡±

    The Tianxi¡¯s face was grim.

    ¡°I begin to wonder if it was not <em>a </em>body instead,¡± she replied.

    Did she perhaps mean a corpse?

    ¡°A dead spirit, like the screeching thing we encountered?¡± the noblewoman skeptically asked. ¡°It seemed too cogent for that.¡±

    ¡°The Watch told us that the gods in the maze eat each other,¡± Song said. ¡°What if it not so simple as devouring, though? What if instead of consuming the vanquished, the victor¡­ hollowed them out, so to speak.¡±

    ¡°A puppet,¡± Angharad slowly said. ¡°You mean to say that this was a dead god¡¯s shell with another yacting through it.¡±

    ¡°That would make it well worth to copse the hall for a chance at of one of us dying,¡± Song said.

    ¡°But why feign to be another?¡± she asked. ¡°I see no gain in it when it could simply ce its own test instead.¡±

    ¡°I do not know,¡± the Tianxi admitted. ¡°There is something off about the Trial of Ruins, Angharad. The way it is built, the rules of it. For there to be multiple paths for us to take but the requirement of ten victors at the end? It encourages us to go into smaller groups, fewer than ten, and take risks.¡±

    ¡°What would the ckcloaks gain by seeing us dead?¡± she asked. ¡°The Dominion of Lost Thing is a method of recruitment, they would not want to throw away lives aiming to swear themselves to the Watch.¡±

    ¡°That is what bothers me most about it,¡± Song said, brushing back a strand that hade loose of her braid. ¡°But it is not in here we will find answers.¡±

    ¡°Victory makes a moot point of that mystery,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Best to triumph first and then spare the time to turn over the stones.¡±

    She could see Song disagreed but they did not argue the point. They fell in together, taking the front as was bing their habit. Their assembledpany left behind the eerie cavern, heading into a broad tunnel whose walls asionally sprouted the same translucent crystals. A few minutes saw their presence thinning, however, until they were entirely gone and the natural stone of the walls turned ornate. Every inch of them was sculpted, faces snarling and grinning. Beasts and men and devils, hundreds of eyes leering at them from every direction.

    Every slice ofntern light revealed bared teeth and unblinking stares, as if their advanced was being spied upon.

    ¡°I¡¯ve felt less threatened by people threatening to cripple my legs and leave me to die,¡± Lan noted. ¡°Are we sure we want to keep going this way?¡±

    ¡°There is no other path,¡± Song replied. ¡°Unless you want to try your luck with the ruins?¡±

    ¡°Hint taken,¡± Lan cheerfully replied.

    She heard Zenzele snort. Setting aside her own misgivings, Angharad put a spring to her step. Song at her side, they sped through the tunnel until it narrowed so much they had to go in a line instead. Squeezing just past the narrowest point ¨C so tight she had to suck in her breath ¨C she stumbled out into great temple grounds. A rounded chamber spread out before her, its bottom floor a disy of iridescent pools and stone gardens while slender steps led up to levels circling around the chamber that were filled with Someshwari prayer cells. The pools were fed by waterfalls, the same iridescent waters falling and casting many-colored light around them.

    Stonenterns hung from the walls, all sculpted to look like a beast¡¯s mouth and filled with a trembling light.

    ¡°Gods,¡± Song gasped out, emerging behind her.

    ¡°It is beautiful,¡± Angharad admitted.

    But it might prove dangerous even if a spirit had yet to make an appearance. They got out of the way so the others could follow them in. When Tupoc squeezed through, the noblewoman noticed with a start that the shallow cut on his cheek was now nothing more than a scratch. His limp remained, but it did not seem as bad either. What manner of contract was this? Felis and Aines followed behind, the man batting away his wife¡¯s help ¨C though, in truth, he did not seem in such dire straits as believed. While obviously in pain, now that the de shard had been removed and a makeshift bandage put in ce by his wide he seemed in no danger of bleeding out.

    He had been lucky, then, or Remund had struck poorly.

    Ocon was thest through, and after a minute of struggling against the walls it became in he was toorge to pass. To Angharad¡¯s muted amusement he had to take a hammer to the sculptures before he could squeeze through and even then it was a narrow fit. Song had her musket in hand while the shrine entrance was taken a hammer to ¨C and Angharad kept her saber close ¨C but no spirit deigned to show.

    ¡°It might be abandoned,¡± the Pereduri mused. ¡°Though that seems strange, for it is hardly a ruin.¡±

    ¡°There is more than one way for gods to die in this maze, Lady Tredegar,¡± Tupoc nonchntly said. ¡°It seems to me the god of this ce might have been better served by a fortress than a pce.¡±

    ¡°We are deep in the maze,¡± Angharad conceded. ¡°It seems likely the strife between spirits would be harshest here, where fewer of the trial-takers reach.¡±

    If the spirits could not feed on the ensouled, they must feed on each other.

    ¡°Best to keep our guard up anyhow,¡± Master Cozme said. ¡°There is little safety to be found outside the Old Fort.¡±

    They agreed that drinking of the iridescent water seemed a poor idea and that it would be best to avoid touching it at all. Avoiding the bottom floor, they held close to the sides and went up the stairs. The prayer cells were adorned with stone mats, with exactly one relief carved into the wall of rooms of otherwise bare stone. Not a speck of dust in sight. The way out of this temple must be further up, Angharad decided when it became clear there was nothing but cells on the first level. They had gone underground quite a bit since the clockwork temple.

    Tupoc gestured for them to halt just before they reached the second floor, already reaching for his spear.

    ¡°Something ahead,¡± he murmured. ¡°Prepare.¡±

    Though she resented how close to an order his words wereing, Angharad did not deny the sense in them. Sword in hand she crouched on the stairs, pricking her ear as she heard footsteps approach. Breathing out, she glimpsed ahead.

    (Tupoc pulled the blow before it took her in the throat but Shalini shot him twice in the eye, hands like lightning.)

    ¡°Wait,¡± Angharad eximed, getting to her feet. ¡°They are not enemies.¡±

    The muzzle of a pistol peeked past the corner, followed by Shalini¡¯s surprised face.

    ¡°<em>Tredegar</em>?¡± she asked, then looked past her to the rest. ¡°Huh.¡±

    The Tianxi soldier Yong, sword in hand, joiner her a momentter as Tupocid his spear on his shoulder. Their entire crew was there, she realized. She sheathed her sword.

    ¡°Peace,¡± Angharad called out. ¡°It seems we have matters to discuss.¡±

    --

    Tensions ran high, but with no crew inclined to fire the first shot a truce was established. Lord Ishaan revealed they had found an easy path deep into the maze, past a trial of illusions that saw Acanthe Phos cheat copiously with her contract, but that after that a series of dead ends had kept them on a road straight to this very temple ¨C though they came in through the fifth level. They had been here for hours now and it took little prompting for the Someshwari to show Tupoc and Angharad why.

    ¡°This is it,¡± Lord Ishaan said. ¡°We thought them the only way out of the temple but we must have missed your entrance.¡±

    ¡°It is now a dead end anyhow,¡± Tupoc told him. ¡°The god copsed its own shrine for spite of failing to take our lives.¡±

    Angharad only half paid attention to their talk, eyes on the gates Ishaan Nair had led them here to see. Three great circles of stone, looking almost like man-sized Azn calendars with all theirplex radians and concentric circles. Around the rim of every gate was an borate stone contraption, each bearing a single needle pointing inwards and moving so slowly around the gate it seemed still if you did not pay close attention.

    ¡°- waiting until it opens,¡± Lord Ishaan said. ¡°The fourth floor is the most luxurious, so we prepared to camp there.¡±

    ¡°You believe the gates will open, then?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°They will,¡± Tupoc replied in his stead. ¡°This is a cyclical calendar, though I do not recognize the god it is dedicated to. Regardless, the engravings give clear time of prayer.¡±

    He tapped the first gate with a finger.

    ¡°The seventh hour,¡± he said, then moved to the others. ¡°The tenth. The fourteenth.¡±

    ¡°We came to simr conclusion,¡± Lord Ishaan evenly said.

    ¡°Odd hours,¡± Angharad mused. ¡°The sequence does not seem obvious.¡±

    ¡°Numbers dedicated to the god, I assume,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°Whichever that might be.¡±

    A second look at the speed of the needle and the hours the Izcalli had spoken of allowed her to gauge how long there was left, which was not until tomorrow.

    ¡°It seems we will all need to spend the night here,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Ishaan Nair said. ¡°A more borate truce seems in order.¡±

    It was not a difficult bargain, as none were inclined to fight. Lord Ishaan was given right to take the earliest gate in exchange for allowing them to share the fourth floor with his crew ¨C the Someshwari admitted there were water wells and genuine sleeping chambers on it, a luxury they all desired ¨C while Tupoc offered to take the third gate in thanks for her ¡®invaluable help¡¯ through the crystal hall. She misliked the ironic tint to his words, but not enough to refuse the offer.

    After that, they all settled in for the night.

    --

    The room on the fourth floor were much preferrable to the prayer cells, as Ishaan had said.

    There were wooden beds ¨C without sheets, but Angharad had her own bedroll ¨C and her chambers had a stone basin that she filled with water from the closest well. Most lovely of all was that every room had doors, which could not be locked but could at least be closed. Sleeping chambers were imed in clusters, all three crews sleeping close and away from theirpetitors, so she saw little of the others save for a smile shared with Brun. At once tired and energized, she retired early to her room and found herselfying on the bed while looking at the ceiling.

    The air was oddly warm here, enough that even in an undertunic and underclothes she could not decide whether she wanted to be inside the bedroll or not. The dim lighting from a small hole in the ceiling did not help, tracing by shadow the silhouette of everything in the room. Rolling around restlessly, she tore her gaze away from the disturbing mosaic on the ceiling that showed ck birds falling from the sky like rain and closed her eyes. Surely if she kept at it long enough sleep would ensue. Angharad did not want to approach tomorrow tired and- she reached for her de the moment she heard the level lock of her door begin to move.

    Unsheathing the saber silently as she padded across the room on bare feet, Angharad pressed against the wall toy in ambush. The scabbard she propped up against the wall, breathing in shallowly when the door to her chambers opened and then just as quietly closed. The assassin took one step, a second and Angharad struck ¨C only for her de to halt a hair¡¯s breadth away from the throat.

    Isabel Ruesta looked down at the steel and swallowed.

    ¡°Angharad,¡± she whispered.

    Isabel, she realized, wore nothing but a pale sleeping shift. Sleeveless and with a low neckline that pulled taut at the breasts, pressing them up to draw the eye. The dark-haired beauty¡¯s cheeks were rosy and there could be no doubt as to why another woman whoe into her rooms at this hour so dressed. A night visit, and the tension went out of her shoulders ¨C she was not unfamiliar with this game. She took away the de.

    ¡°Isabel,¡± she replied, then hesitated. ¡°We cannot.¡±

    There was no telling who might be watching, in this strange temple, and too many potential eyes. Tupoc would be looking for anything to hold over her head, and she was not sure Lord Ishaan would refuse an opportunity to sunder their crew. Which a shared bed between them might well achieved, however unfair it might be: Remund would be livid, and if he left Cozme would go with him. Isabel¡¯s eyes widened with surprise, and something altogether colder before the infanzona wiped it away.

    ¡°I had not thought you so cowed by House Cerdan,¡± she evenly said.

    Wounded pride bled out every pore. Angharad would have fared no better, had she been refused after sneaking in dressed so tteringly.

    ¡°If this were the Old Fort, I would take the risk regardless,¡± the Pereduri admitted. ¡°But it would be too easy to get caught here, the doors so close, and there are no sanctuary rules to keep des out of hands should it happen.¡±

    ¡°We would be twice as likely to get caught at the fort,¡± Isabel sulked. ¡°The ckcloaks are everywhere.¡±

    She had looked pleased, though at the admission. And soon followed with a sly look, stepping close and pressing her cheek against Angharad¡¯s corbone. Awkwardly, still holding the sword, she wrapped her arm around the infanzona.

    ¡°It would be dangerous to return so quickly to the hall,¡± she wheedled. ¡°Surely you would not want to risk that.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s eyes strayed down a slender neck, to the rounded valleys pressed up by the cut of the shift and felt the test of her resolve.

    ¡°It would be too risky,¡± she allowed, swallowing.

    Isabel pressed a kiss against the side of her neck, hiding her face as she whispered.

    ¡°And a few kisses, would you deny me that?¡±

    There she held firm.

    ¡°It would not stop at that,¡± Angharad said. ¡°We both know that.¡±

    Isabel snickered against the crook of her neck, a sensation that had her shivering.

    ¡°Perhaps not,¡± the infanzona admitted. ¡°But hold me a while, at least. I would feel your skin against mine before you send back into the cold.¡±

    And Angharad could not find it in herself to again argue against something she wanted so very much.

    To that request, she eded.

    --

    Angharad woke to shouting.

    <em>We were caught</em>, she thought for a heartbeat, but there was now warmth besides her. Isabel was gone. Relief warred with disappointment over that, though both were scattered by the continued mor. She stumbled out of her rooms, scabbard in hand, and in the hallway found a dozen from every crew on their feet and armed. usations and denials were heatedly exchanged, but she only saw why after a few more steps forward. At the center of themotion, Ainesy on the temple floor.

    No longer breathing, for someone had cut her throat.

 Chapter 27

    Chapter 27

    A secret, Abu had taught Tristan, always whispered twice.

    The first was the secret reaching your ear, the hidden thing unearthed. The second was the whisper of what a man had thought worth wielding a spade to bury, what it said of them they would keep away from prying eyes. He thought of that, as Lieutenant Vasanti called up her soldiers and introduced him as their fresh meat, a new helper in their work to unearth the tower¡¯s secrets who would soon be joined by three more. He thought of it and smiled at the strangers, because the ckcloaks were bringing him to find out the pir¡¯s secrets but it was not them he truly wanted.

    He was going to find out what that Watch had buried here and why they¡¯d buried it.

    And once he had had, once he heard the second whisper and he saw the whole of the mosaic instead of a hundred pieces, then he would decide where to slide the knife.

    --

    The first act he tooke morning was sowing the seed Beatris had given him.

    ¡°And she told you this in person?¡± Isabel pressed.

    ¡°Last night,¡± he said. ¡°And as a parting gift to us both, Lady Ruesta, she told me we share a trouble.¡±

    The dark-haired infanzona smiled, and Tristan wondered how long it had taken her to craft this one: friendly but not overly inviting, just a touch cheerful and na?ve. Even without the contract Tredegar would have tripped all over her boots around Isabel Ruesta.

    ¡°And what would that be?¡±

    Tristan feigned wiping his lips, enough to hide how them from watchers.

    ¡°Remund Cerdan,¡± he said.

    Isabel¡¯s smiled widened.

    ¡°It is very kind of you to be so concerned,¡± she said, ¡°but though taken with me he has not been-¡±

    ¡°My sister lost her hands to his contract,¡± Tristan lied. ¡°He¡¯s a shit and you don¡¯t want to marry him any more than I want him to make it through this trial.¡±

    <em>Oh</em>, the thief thought as he watched Isabel Ruesta¡¯s face shift seamlessly from slightly touched to cool pleasantness. A schemer¡¯s face, but he would wager not her true one. It was just another sort of y she put on, changing role for every stage. She was the most dangerous sort of the snake: the kind that did not announce the venomous fangs with bright colors.

    ¡°I did think you were just a little too convenient to simply be a rat,¡± Isabel mildly said. ¡°Revenge, however, is an expensive business. Which coterie sponsored you?¡±

    ¡°What would that matter to you?¡± Tristan shrugged.

    ¡°Won¡¯t you indulge me?¡± she asked, batting her eyes.

    Was she using her contract? He could not tell if she was. The thought angered him regardless.

    ¡°No.¡±

    She looked more amused than miffed.

    ¡°So we share a trouble,¡± Isabel acknowledged. ¡°What do you propose to do about it?¡±

    ¡°Poor choice of words,¡± Tristan noted, to a quirk of her lips. ¡°And today? Nothing. I have business here in the Old Fort. I need two things from you: a recounting of the venture in the maze and for you to find a ce where I might corner him.¡±

    ¡°You want me to spy for you,¡± Isabel lightly said.

    ¡°Spy is such an ugly word,¡± the thief noted. ¡°Which is fitting given that we are arranging your fianc¨¦¡¯s murder.¡±

    The mask of pleasantness cracked. That, atst, had touched a nerve.

    ¡°We are not,¡± Lady Isabel Ruesta coldlyid out, ¡°engaged.¡±

    ¡°Nor will you ever be, if we help each other,¡± Tristan smiled back, all charm and friendliness.

    From the corner of his eye he saw Angharad Tredegar approaching their table and he cocked an eyebrow at the infanzona. They could not speak long without suspicion, or easily again without causing the same.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Isabel murmured.

    Would she betray him, Tristan wondered? Too early to tell, but only a fool would discount the possibility when faced with such a snake. More likely, though, she would keep this secret in her pocket in case it might ever be of use in getting her home to the life she did not want to leave behind. The thief waited until Tredegar joined them, then made quickly his excuses to leave. He now had eyes in their crew and an aplice for what was toe.

    That was one piece of the mosaic in hand: now he must collect the rest.

    --

    Talking hisrades into joining Lieutenant Vasanti¡¯s efforts had not been difficult: they were all eager at the thought of getting the Watch¡¯s help and protection. What Tristan had not expected was for the Watch itself to argue over Vasanti¡¯s decision. It was very much the case, though, and after spending so long tiptoeing around the ckcloaks Tristan found it rather lovely to see them tear into each other like this.

    ¡°- against every rule,¡± Lieutenant Wen insisted. ¡°We have a clear set of duties overseeing the second trial and using its takers asbor undeniably goes against them.¡±

    ¡°Oh look,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti drawled, ¡°the boy has an opinion on rules. That¡¯s nice. In thirty years, I might even start giving a shit about what you think.¡±

    They weren¡¯t even hiding this, the thief gleefully thought. All three of them were in the kitchen, in sight of everyone, and more than a few watchmen were looking at the scene.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be dead in thirty years, crone,¡± the Tianxi snarled.

    ¡°And what a relief it will be,¡± Vasanti replied, ¡°to finally<em></em>be beyond the reach of your whining.¡±

    Tristan knew better than to get involved. The Watch was nnish, like a tightly knit coterie, and no matter how at odds the pair got they were sure to band together against an outsider. Instead he sat in his seat, moving as little as he could, and tried very hard not to grin at how red in the face Lieutenant Wen had gone.

    ¡°I will kick this up to Captain Tozi if I have to,¡± Wen threatened.

    Therge Tianxi lieutenant had always been so sure in his power until now, so willing to toy with all of them. Tristan found that seeing the man¡¯s jaw clench and his eyes sh with anger was good for morale. He¡¯d keep this moment in mind, next time Wen threatened to hammer an entire bucket¡¯s worth of nails into his body.

    ¡°The same Captain Tozi you told she¡¯s only been picked for the Academy because she¡¯s nobleborn?¡± Lieutenant Vasanti replied. ¡°Do wait until I¡¯m in the room to try it, at my age there¡¯s only so many goodughs left ahead of me.¡±

    Lieutenant Wen gritted his teeth.

    ¡°Commander Artal-¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t care what happens outside Three Pines so long as it doesn¡¯t ssh his boots,¡± Vasanti cut in, unimpressed. ¡°He¡¯s just here to pretty up his record before amittee bid.¡±

    The old Someshwari shook her head, as if disappointed.

    ¡°Besides, this is all far away,¡± she said. ¡°In the Old Fort, Wen, I am the senior lieutenant. Do you remember what that means?¡±

    The Tianxi¡¯s face tightened.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t run a goddamn thing, Vasanti,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s all been me while you¡¯ve holed up in the pir with your favorites and-¡±

    ¡°It means,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti coldly interrupted, ¡°that I am your <em>superior</em>. And your superior has just ordered you to shut the fuck up, so you had best get to it.¡±

    Lieutenant Wen¡¯s face went even redder, which Tristan had not thought possible, and he closed his mouth. He stalked away, not bothering to hide his fury, and the old woman snorted at the sight.

    ¡°There¡¯s only so far a pristinebat record will get you, kid, with a mouth like yours,¡± she said, then sighed. ¡°And you, rat, keep that smirk off your face.¡±

    ¡°I am not smirking,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And you are not looking at my face.¡±

    Lieutenant Vasanti turned an irritated eye on him.

    ¡°I have a fine nose for conceit,¡± she said. ¡°You positively reek of it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try to trade for an earlier bath ticket,¡± Tristan easily replied.

    The irritation in her eyes grew.

    ¡°Go gather your little band,¡± she said. ¡°Wen¡¯s going to be a right pain for the rest of the year, so you had better be worth the trouble.¡±

    --

    The northwestern bastion was Lieutenant Vasanti¡¯s private kingdom.

    That much became clear within moments as five ckcloaks gathered to her like chicks to their mother,ing to around the table by the telescope while looking all eager and polite. The four of them ¨C Francho, Vanesa, Maryam and Tristan himself ¨C were escorted up the stairs by the same middle-aged Someshwari woman Tristan had first thought to be the Vasantist night. She was, in fact, called Sergeant Ovya.

    She also had it in for him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose,¡± the sergeant asked, ¡°that you have any notion of why I¡¯ve ordered to write ¡®I will load my pistol properly, like a grown woman¡¯ a hundred times with a charcoal pen?¡±

    ¡°None whatsoever,¡± Tristan lied.

    The Someshwari leaned closer.

    ¡°When you inevitably piss her off,¡± Ovya whispered, ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to ask to be the one to cane you.¡±

    Best nip that in the bud, he decided.

    ¡°Sergeant,¡± Tristan replied, pitching his voice loud and feigning indignation, ¡°that would be quite inappropriate, given your authority over me.¡±

    Surprise flickered across her face a moment, the confusion. At least until she¡¯d noticed he had spoken loud enough to be heard by all the watchmen at the table, several of which were now frowning at her. <em>They¡¯ll remember this if you try to wiggle your way into delivering a caning</em>, he thought. Trying to beat a younger man for refusing her unseemly advances was the kind of thing that would darken her reputation permanently, so odds were she would back off. Sergeant Ovya red at him.

    ¡°You can find your way to the table, I am sure,¡± she coldly said, then strode away.

    There was a moment of silence, then behind him Maryam sighed.

    ¡°I¡¯d assumed you talked your way into the good graces of the lieutenant,¡± she said, ¡°but why is that beginning to feel like optimism?¡±

    ¡°I applied the full breadth of my charms,¡± Tristan defended.

    ¡°Oh dear,¡± Francho wheezed out. ¡°Where did you even find a cliff to jump off from?¡±

    ¡°Stop teasing him, you two,¡± Vanesa chided.

    She sent a smile his way.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he has angered no more than half of these fine folk,¡± she added.

    Betrayal on all sides, Tristan amusedly thought. Making sport of him seemed to put a little life back in Vanesa¡¯s pale face, so he let it pass without retort. The four of them made their way to the table, where Lieutenant Vasanti was fiddling with a scroll. She shot them an impatient nce.

    ¡°Did you go for a stroll first?¡± sheined. ¡°Come closer, I don¡¯t have all day.¡±

    Which was factually untrue, Tristan thought, but he chose silence. If you kept putting your hand in the crocodile¡¯s mouth, no matter how lucky you were eventually you lost the hand. Vasanti¡¯s eyes swept through the four of them.

    ¡°How much did you actually figure out about this ce?¡± she asked, then frowned. ¡°Never mind, I don¡¯t actually care. Let us keep this simple.¡±

    She pointed upwards, at the great golden aetheric machine mimicking the stars and casting its glow on all of the massive cavern.

    ¡°The Antediluvians built this ce and the pir that connects the ceiling and floor of this cavern,¡± she said. ¡°Sometime after, likely beginning as early as the Old Night, devils began building the rest of this ce ¨C namely the maze of ruins and the Old Fort.¡±

    Lieutenant Vasanti paused.

    ¡°That¡¯s intriguing, but we don¡¯t like the devils here,¡± she said. ¡°Why do we not like the devils, Biter?¡±

    ¡°It is Bitor, ma¡¯am,¡± a young man with the Sacramontan look reminded her.

    She did not acknowledge his answer in the slightest, which must have beenmon because he went on without even a sigh and no one looked surprised.

    ¡°We do not like the devils here because they sabotaged the iron gates leading inside the pir,¡± Bitor dutifully said. ¡°We have found parts of what was almost certainly a mechanism to open them in the basement of the Old Fort.¡±

    Francho cleared his throat, earning a look from Vasanti. She did not insult him, to Tristan¡¯s surprise, not even when the old schr dipped into a wet cough before he could speak.

    ¡°Did the devils tinker with the aetheric machine?¡± he asked.

    She nodded approvingly.

    ¡°One of the questions we seek answers for,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said. ¡°One of my predecessors blew his way into the pir, but our progress has since stopped. Some of what was found, however, implies that there are controls for the machine somewhere near the top of the pir. It is entirely possible the devils got that far and are responsible for the current ws¡¯ enforced by the aetheric device.¡±

    The very underpinnings of the Trial of Ruins, Tristan thought. The reason why they could venture into the maze and take tests: the gods could not harm humans unless terms were first agreed on, only each other, and they could not leave their seats of power. <em>The devils also brought hundreds of shrines and built a fort around the gate to the pir,</em> the thief thought. <em>What is it they were trying to achieve?</em> He was still missing too many pieces to begin making out the pattern.

    ¡°Do we have any notion of why this ce was so important to them?¡± he asked. ¡°They spent many years and much effort on this cavern.¡±

    Lieutenant Vasanti considered him.

    ¡°You might not know this, given your youth andcking education, but it is not umon for devils to sabotage or destroy the finest works of the First Empire,¡± she said. ¡°We have no reason to believe this is any different.¡±

    <em>Liar</em>, Tristan thought. There was a glimpse of the second whisper: Lieutenant Vasanti believed she knew why it was the devils cared about this ce and she did not want it known. <em>Known by us, or by everyone?</em> He would have to find out of the other ckcloaks were also being kept in the dark. His instincts had him suspecting they would be. <em>If it was something she could use to get more men and resources, she already would have.</em> It was being kept quiet, perhaps by more than just her.

    How many hands were on this spade?

    ¡°Good to know,¡± Tristan smiled. ¡°I take it you have something in mind for us to aid in?¡±

    Lieutenant Vasanti unrolled the scroll she had been fiddling with, spreading it out on the table. It was a drawn schematic of the pir, Tristan saw, or at least a small part of it. He easily recognized the room where he had almost been shotst night and the stairs on its side, leading up to an intersection. On one side the stairs led to an intricately drawn chamber centered around aplicated machine, while on the other they rose to what looked like a dead end ¨C save for a side door marked as a word in Samratrava he did not know the meaning of. The Someshwari officer tapped a finger on the machine-room.

    ¡°There are mechanism in there that respond to Gloam and what might be instructions for their use that we have not deciphered,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said. ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to talk a Navigator intoing here, so the girl who can use Signs will have to do.¡±

    She paused, turning to Francho.

    ¡°How are you with cryptoglyphs?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Mynguage studies centered on cants, but I am familiar with the Naukratian glyphs,¡± the old professor toothlessly smiled.

    Tristan kept his confusion off his face. He knew what cants were ¨C darklingnguages, supposedly descended from the single original tongue the Antediluvians had spoken ¨C but had no notion of what these cryptoglyphs might be.

    ¡°Then you¡¯ll be taking a look,¡± Vasanti said. ¡°The best I managed to get is Luisa here, who is only familiar with one of the Second Empire codexes. She will be your assistant.¡±

    He leaned closed to Maryam.

    ¡°Cryptoglyphs?¡±

    ¡°First Empire scientifguage,¡± she murmured back. ¡°Signs are based on it.¡±

    So Francho was familiar with some of the glyphs, while Luisa ¨C a young woman with short blond hair, looking a little nervous ¨C had only read a ¡®codex¡¯. The difference between someone who knew the letters and someone who had read a list of words, perhaps? He would make inquiries with Francho when they had the time. However short their exchange, it had caught Lieutenant Vasanti¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Stop chattering,¡± the old woman warned. ¡°Now, for thest two of you I have something else in mind. We¡¯ll be going for a look at the central shaft, then we can discuss what I want from you.¡±

    That did not sound so bad, at least until Tristan saw the grim looks on the faces of the ckcloaks.

    --

    One of the watchmen, a stout man with unfortunate e, had to carry Vanesa up thedder tied to his back.

    Much as Tristan would have liked to be allowed to roam inside the pir, he did not even get to see the machine-room where Maryam and Francho were taken away to. Instead Lieutenant Vasanti led him and Vanesa up the narrow stairs, at a slow pace amodating of the crutches. They took a right at the crossroads and continued up for another flight, leading right to the dead end the drawings hadid out. Only they had not shown <em>why</em> it was a dead end, a detail that would have been worth the mention.

    Someone had buried thest stretch of stairs below massive bs of stone. A few of the stones were shattered and there were scorch marks on them and the walls, but the effort must have been aborted for it was well shy of anything like a doorway.

    ¡°Why stop?¡± he asked Lieutenant Vasanti, flicking a look at the bs.

    ¡°There were concerns that the amount of powder it¡¯d get through would bring the ceiling down on our heads,¡± she told him. ¡°That and one of our contractors found out there¡¯s ayer of metal at the back.¡±

    ¡°The door was welded shut?¡± Tristan breathed out.

    ¡°The devils did not want anyone to get past those stairs,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said. ¡°They are not creatures prone to half-measures.¡±

    He let out a low whistle. The devils, he thought, were at the heart of this mystery. They had built the maze, built the fort, and gone to great lengths to keep people from being able to enter the pir before abandoning the Old Fort to the ckcloaks. <em>The secret they care about is in the pir</em>, he decided. Exactly like the Watch, they had centered their entire presence on the Dominion of Lost Things around what existed in this cavern. <em>Is it all about the golden machine above us?</em> Not, it shouldn¡¯t be. If the devils had been able to get up there, as Lieutenant Vasanti clearly believed, then they would have been able to destroy the Antediluvian machine.

    There would have been no need to prevent entrance through the gates or block stairs with stone and steel.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see the door shown on your scroll,¡± Vanesa called out from a few steps down. ¡°It should be around here.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a trick to it,¡± the lieutenant replied, ck cloak brushing past Tristan and she came down.

    The old Someshwari leaned close to the wall, then pressed her thumbs against a spot. There was a small click, then the stone popped open and the outline of a door swung out half an inch. The lieutenant stepped back and opened it all the way, inviting them to look. It wouldn¡¯t exactly be urate to call what he saw room, as that would imply it was usable. It was not.

    What Tristan was looking it as was a vertical stone shaft at least two miles long that was positively filled with ticking, shifting cogs and wheel. At a central pir there seemed to be something like a twisting rope made of steel, if rope could be thicker than a carriage. The racket was deafening whenever he put his head through the open door but when he pulled it back out it faded to something more sufferable. <em>So that¡¯s why no one heard the shotst night</em>, he thought. <em>The Ancient built the pir so it wouldn¡¯t fill their cavern with noise.</em>

    Others had more practical interests,

    ¡°That,¡± Vanesa said, leaning on her crutch, ¡°is an overgrown tension engine.¡±

    Lieutenant Vasanti nodded.

    ¡°I believe the same,¡± she admitted. ¡°My guess is that it is part of one of those near-perpetuating engines the Antediluvians loved pping inside everything ¨C it might provide the power behind the entire shifting machinery in the ceiling.¡±

    ¡°It should have nothing to do with the iron gates, then,¡± Vanesa opined.

    ¡°Not <em>exactly</em> true,¡± the watchwoman said. ¡°See over there?¡±

    The Someshwari pointed a finger past the threshold, through the mess of steel, and Tristan frowned as he tried to make out what she indicated.

    ¡°I can¡¯t make out anything,¡± Vanesa admitted.

    ¡°A door,¡± the thief said. ¡°About half a level beneath us, there¡¯s an opening in the wall.¡±

    ¡°Maintenance ess, like this one,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said. ¡°We used a longview to get a better look and we are certain that room connects to others. It might lead us to a way to open the gates.¡±

    Tristan eyed her skeptically. That sounded rather like wishful thinking. Taking in the riot of moving steel inside, the way cogs went up and down and wheels scythed through, he could see why the devils had not bothered to bury this door: no one could go through it without being crushed or rent apart.

    ¡°Have you tried to ess it from the outside?¡± he asked. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be too hard to figure out the corresponding location, then you could blow your way in like this one.¡±

    ¡°We made the attempt,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti curtly replied. ¡°Three barrels of ckpowder did nothing but scratch the stone. The only reason we were able to force in our way the first time was that there was a crack in the pir.¡±

    ¡°Then how have you tried to reach the room?¡± the thief frowned.

    Lieutenant Vasanti raised an eyebrow. No, he thought. Surely she couldn¡¯t mean¡­

    ¡°You sent people into that, didn¡¯t you?¡± he said, pointing at the moving steel.

    ¡°Two,¡± the Someshwari acknowledged. ¡°Volunteers. One lived long enough toe out but the wounds took her in the night.¡±

    ¡°And you haven¡¯t tried since,¡± Tristan deduced. ¡°If the body count gets too high, themander in charge of the ind will step in.¡±

    The ckcloaks were likely willing enough to let Lieutenant Vasanti molder here so long as that was all she did, but if she started getting their soldiers killed that was another story.

    ¡°I was not forbidden to continue the research,¡± the old woman said, ¡°but I was ordered to find a better avenue than just feeding people to the shaft.¡±

    Vanesa let out a little noise ofprehension.

    ¡°So that¡¯s why you have the telescope,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re marking down how the mobile moves above and trying to match it to movements here. You are looking for a safe path through.¡±

    ¡°Clever,¡± the Someshwari praised. ¡°We have kept extensive records. I am from the aetheric branch of the Umuthi Society, so I will admit that causal mechanics are not my specialty. A clockmaker, however, might see catch I would not.¡±

    ¡°It would be my pleasure to take a look,¡± Vanesa said. ¡°Not quite as exciting as working with one¡¯s hands to solve the puzzle, but I suppose my days for that are past.¡±

    She did not need to reach for her missing eye, or need to.

    ¡°I suppose I should begin to head down now,¡± the old clockmaker sighed. ¡°It will take long enough.¡±

    ¡°Take the chair in the room downstairs,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti told her. ¡°I¡¯ll have the records brought to you.¡±

    Vanesa thanked her kindly, and warily began the journey down. Tristan waited for her to be too far to overheard before speaking up.

    ¡°How far did you get mapping out the patterns?¡±

    Lieutenant Vasanti grimaced, then spat to the side.

    ¡°Some,¡± she said, ¡°but not as much as I need to justify another attempt. At exactly three past midday every day there is a sequence that repeats, but near the end of the path through there¡¯s a random variable. We haven¡¯t been able to narrow down what causes the differences.¡±

    Tristan cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°And by variable you mean¡­¡±

    ¡°A serrated wheel went right through the dummy we threw yesterday,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s all been along those lines.¡±

    ¡°So this is a death trap,¡± Tristan tly said.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear you say that, boy,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti coldly smiled, ¡°since you¡¯re going right in it.¡±

    He kept the surge of fear off his face. Admitting to it would do nothing but pleased her. The lieutenant had good as told him he was meant for this from the start, Tristan realized. All the others were of use to her ¨C Francho as a historian, Maryam as a Gloam witch and Vanesa as a clockmaker. This murderous ce must have been what she had in mindst night, when she¡¯d said she ¡®had a use for him¡¯.

    Fortuna leaned past the threshold, taking a look inside and retreating with a solemn look on her face.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said, nodding decisively. ¡°You¡¯re definitely dying in there.¡±

    Her support was, as always, invaluable.

    ¡°How long until the sequence?¡± Tristan asked, forcing calm.

    ¡°Three hours and change,¡± the lieutenant shrugged. ¡°We have a clock downstairs.¡±

    The thief looked at Vasanti who was staring back with poisonous satisfaction. It seemed unlikely she would let herself be talked out of sending him in there and backing out of their ¡®deal¡¯ was not an option. She¡¯d then simply tell Lieutenant Wen he had gone into a forbidden part of the Old Fort without permission and he would be removed from the trials. Had she figured out he intended to kill herst night, was that why so much hostility lurked under the smiles? No, he thought. Tristan had been hated by people before and this did not feel the same ¨C it was not as personal.

    It might not be<em> him</em>, the thief thought, that Lieutenant Vasanti was getting back at by sending into the whirling steel.

    ¡°Then I shall take that time to prepare,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I expect you don¡¯t mind me trying to improve my chances?¡±

    The watchwoman¡¯s face was nk, but her face was pulled tight as if holding in a frown or a snarl. Vasanti, he realized, had just gotten angry. <em>Did she want me to beg? </em>He was not too proud for that, and would have if he¡¯d had any inkling it might work. The thief felt as if he were missing something again, but there no time to untangle the snarl.

    ¡°Do as you will,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°So long as you¡¯re there thirty minutes early.¡±

    Tristan nodded, breathed out and put on a smile.

    Now he just needed to figure out how to avoid being buried in pieces.

    --

    If he was to cheat death he would need help, and that meant Maryam.

    The room where she and Francho had gone was guarded by a ckcloak armed with sword and musket, though the man looked more bored than wary. He let Tristan in without a second nce, letting the thief deduce the measure was more about keeping things in than keeping people out.

    The first thing he noticed aftering in was the machine.

    The drawing had not shown color, so he had not expected the intricate device to be made of some golden alloy. Its basic shape was simple: a rectangr box atop which twelve cylinders interlocked with pistons had been welded. The cylinders were connected to something like a barrel lying down, though the ¡®lid¡¯ of that barrel was dull green ss. The whole thing stood about as tall as a grown man. The intricacies, the parts that filled the room, were the levers.

    The box atop which everything rested was open on the sides, revealing slowly turning cogs, but from a golden frame beneath the cogs spurted at least four dozen spindly levers on each side. They were at least five feet long and could be moved, up and down and to the sides, which seemed to make different parts move in the frame beneath the cogs. Maryam¡¯s hand was on one of the levers when he came in, though she took it off when ncing his way.

    Francho, who was standing by one of the walls with his ckcloak assistant ¨C Luisa, the thief recalled -immediately noticed.

    ¡°Ah, Tristan,¡± he toothlessly smiled. ¡°I¡¯d wondered if you woulde take a look.¡±

    The room around the machine had been stripped bare, much like the one where the ckcloaks had made their base but carved into the bare stone of the walls were narrow stripes. Tristan had to squint to realize that they were in fact small intricate marks, so small and close to each other that from a distance they looked like lines. The mentioned cryptoglyphs, he guessed.

    ¡°It is quite the machine,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Have you made any progress?¡±

    ¡°The professor is a man of great learning,¡± Luisa eagerly said. ¡°Already we have associated some levers and instructions.¡±

    ¡°I will not be enough to get them working,¡± Maryam frankly said. ¡°The expectation seems that whoever uses this is able to use Signs corresponding to the cryptoglyphs, but there are dozens mentioned ¨C it would take a full-fledged Navigator to do it, and one with a specialized field of study at that.¡±

    To the thief¡¯s surprise they did not seem to be writing anything down, but that was not his trouble. He¡¯d note here for the machine.

    ¡°I need a word with Sarai, if you do not mind,¡± he said. ¡°It is about the work that Lieutenant Vasanti gave me.¡±

    Luisa looked away guiltily. Well, that was one way not to get an argument. Francho shrugged.

    ¡°It will be hours, if not days, before even a basic understanding of this text can be had,¡± he said. ¡°Take as long as you need.¡±

    Maryam nced at him curiously, then at his unspoken invitation followed him out of the room. The armed watchman stopped them, confirming the thief¡¯s earlier suspicion by professionally patting them down to see if they were taking anything out. He then let them out without a word. Tristan only led them up the stairs enough they should not be overheard.

    ¡°Trouble,¡± he said.

    ¡°Do you ever bring me anything else?¡± Maryam drily replied.

    ¡°I may well die in three hours,¡± he said, which earned her full attention.

    He told her all of it, even his suspicions about the source of Lieutenant Vasanti¡¯s hostility ¨C though he called Abu that, and not ¡®Nerei¡¯ as the watchwoman had.

    ¡°The globe of Gloam you used when we tricked the airavatan,¡± he said. ¡°Could it be used as a shield?¡±

    She shook her head.

    ¡°If it is forcefully shattered, there is a decent chance my brain will be cooked from the inside,¡± she said.

    His eyes widened. Well, if Signs were easy to use everyone would dabble.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have anything else?¡± he said.

    She bit her lip.

    ¡°I might be able to drag you back,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Once. And given how weak my understanding of the Sign is, the ¡®hand¡¯ will have to hold thick clothes if you do want your skin to char.¡±

    ¡°That is something,¡± Tristan acknowledged.

    ¡°You should refuse and risk Wen,¡± she advised him. ¡°He is unlikely to kill you, which this very well might.¡±

    It would have been the clever thing to do, but he could not. His silence spoke volumes, enough that Maryam breathed out.

    ¡°Tell me why, at least,¡± she said.

    ¡°If it were just a beating I was headed for, I would take it,¡± Tristan said. ¡°But Lieutenant Wen will likely remove me from the trials as well.¡±

    Maryam stared him down.

    ¡°And if you are thrown out, you lose your chance at Cozme Aflor,¡± she said, letting out a long breath.

    She did not ask whether vengeance was worth gambling with his life, a reminder that they had note to bepanions by mistake.

    ¡°I will do what I can,¡± she finally said. ¡°But a chance is the most I can buy you, Tristan.¡±

    ¡°That is the most I can ask,¡± he replied, then paused.

    Slightly embarrassed, he cleared his throat.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he added.

    It was a dangerous thing for a rat to express gratitude. Few in the Murk had qualms about exploiting debts owed.

    ¡°Thank me if you live,¡± she grimly replied.

    --

    Visiting Vanesa had been something of an afterthought. He had time before his execution and would not go through that door having left stones unturned. She wasfortably ensconced at the lieutenant¡¯s own desk, pouring through stacks of paper and keeping some notes to the side in a charcoal pen.

    ¡°Anything interesting?¡± he asked.

    The old woman almost jumped out of her skin.

    ¡°Manes, I didn¡¯t hear youe in,¡± she said, hand resting on her heart.

    He had not tried to sneak, he thought, so she must have been quite absorbed by the reading.

    ¡°It is all very interesting, though not as much as the iron gates,¡± she told him. ¡°They have paid very close attention to the mechanisms directly by the door, mapping out the movements by the hour and drawing them in great detail.¡±

    He leaned in.

    ¡°I hear,¡± he said, ¡°that at three past midday there is a particr sequence.¡±

    She snorted.

    ¡°It is an obsession for them,¡± Vanesa told him. ¡°They have manuscripts¡¯ worth of attempts to match some of the movements to the moving parts near the cavern ceiling.¡±

    ¡°No sess?¡± he lightly asked.

    She narrowed her eye at him, not fooled by the tone.

    ¡°Why the interest?¡±

    He saw no need to lie.

    ¡°I will be attempting a crossing,¡± he admitted. ¡°The odds seem steep.¡±

    ¡°That is madness,¡± she said. ¡°We must ask her for more time, you-¡±

    ¡°It will be today, Vanesa,¡± Tristan gently said. ¡°There will be no convincing.¡±

    The old woman looked at him, then, and though she did not ask anything an understanding passed. She might not have been a rat, born and aged far from the Murk, but she was no fool. She had note here by choice any more than he. Sadness twisted her worn face, though as a few heartbeats passed it turned to something entirely colder. She was, Tristan realized, angry on his behalf.

    How long had it been, since thatst happened?

    ¡°I cannot solve that sequence for you,¡± Vanesa admitted. ¡°It is tooplex. But there is something else you could do, something they would never consider.¡±

    The thief met her eye.

    ¡°I am listening.¡±

    --

    He arrived fifteen minutes early instead of thirty, purely to spite Lieutenant Vasanti. The jest was on him, however, for she had only left a watchman there and she arrived five minutester with a smirk. Vanesa hade up the stairs with him, so at least he did not spend what might be thest minutes of his life alone with a silent ckcloak. Maryam arrived when there were eight minutes left. She stayed close, as if to offerfort, and the time passed all too quickly. Tristan nced at the open door, the madness of metal past it, and his heart clenched.

    Still, there was no need for a surfeit of losses today so he took off his hat and pressed it into Maryam¡¯s hands. She took it, looking baffled.

    ¡°Keep it safe,¡± he solemnly said.

    Maryam nced at the worn tricorn, then back at him.

    ¡°If the hat a symbol?¡± she tried.

    ¡°It¡¯s a really good hat,¡± Tristan defensively replied. ¡°Keeps the rain out of my face.¡±

    ¡°Well then, that changes everything,¡± Maryam said, lips twitching.

    He smiled back, then turned towards the door. He breathed in deep, trying to settle his nerves and failing.

    ¡°Three minutes,¡± Vanesa announced, eye on her watch.

    Lieutenant Vasanti, standing further up the stairs, stared down at him.

    ¡°It is not toote to back out,¡± she told him. ¡°I will turn you over to Lieutenant Wen, but a caning¡¯s the worst you¡¯ll be in for.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s eyes narrowed. <em>Is that what you were after the whole time? For me to give you an excuse to be passed off to Wen, thrown out of the trials.</em> The lieutenant had said that killing him might result in retaliation by Abu, but if he only failed the trials and the matter was handled by another besides, well she could hardly be me could she? It would have been natural to feel indignation at that, at being made the pawn of a game between others, but Tristan found he did not.

    He was a rat: he¡¯d spent all his life scurrying around the boots of men.

    ¡°I thank you for your concern,¡± the thief pleasantly smiled.

    The old woman¡¯s face clenched.

    ¡°One minute,¡± Vanesa said. ¡°Remember what I told you.¡±

    He wrenched his gaze away from the watchwoman, stepping to the threshold of the door. There he counted down in his mind, matching Vanesa¡¯s spoken count of thest seconds, and clutched the small metal orb between his fingers.

    ¡°Now,¡± Vanesa said, and he moved.

    --

    In whole, it took twenty-one seconds.

    He jumped down onto a horizontal cog, keeping low as wheels passed above his head. Three steps, then to the side. The piston tore through, bleeding steam, and he hurried forward before the second one could take him in the side.

    Ten seconds.

    He grabbed a warm pipe and hoisted himself across, sweaty fingers slipping, dropping down on the spoke of a wheel just a heartbeat too early. The tick of the wheel jostled him, enough he almost fell forward, and he stumbled.

    Fifteen seconds, but he was off.

    He had missed a beat. He climbed between two wheel, began to crawl through, but they were already too far ahead: he would never make it across before they pressed down enough he got stuck. So Tristan took the long odds, bet on Vanesa¡¯s cleverness.

    He borrowed, borrowed deep, and as a ticking began that drowned out even the cacophony of this ce he blindly threw the small metal ball he had taken from the forge. For a moment there was nothing

    Then metal <em>screamed</em>, the gears grinding to a halt.

    Stuck, as Vanesa had told him it would be. No matter how good the clock, she had said, sometimes all it took was a grain of sand. He hurried through, dropping down on the pipe, and then there was a crushing sound. The ball was broken, the gears began moving, but he was almost through and¡­

    Eighteen seconds.

    He did not see the piston until it was toote. The damned thing came not from the side, like all the others, but from above. He moved in time, or almost: it caught the edge of his hand, a mere brush of the massive thing enough to break it.

    He swallowed a scream, forcing himself to go forward, but he¡¯d missed the timing. He could see the door, but before he could jump through the wheelsing from the side would cut through his limbs. He tried anyway, leaning forward.

    Twenty.

    He heard a distant shout, felt a cool wind, and something grabbed him by the back. Maryam. He was shoved forward, through the open door, as something sharp clipped the edge of his coat.

    Twenty-one, and Tristan was through.

    --

    Hended belly first on the stone, barely taking in the sight of small stone chamber before he released the luck. Tristan braced himself with a wince, looking for from where the hurt woulde, but as he flipped back on his back nothing happened. His wince deepened.

    Those prices were always the worst.

    The thief got back on his feet, swallowing a curse at the throbbing pain of his finger. The room was small and mostly empty, but that there was anything left at all was promising. There a set of stone shelves to the side, empty and coated in dust, and on the other wall the tiling was in some borate green pattern as well as striated by cryptoglyphs. The part that caught his attention, though, was the rod left propped up by the shelves. A length of metal about four feet long, it ended in a metal brand made of the same golden alloy as the machine from earlier. There was no obvious use for it, however, so he tore his eyes away.

    There was only one door out, to the right, so he quietly moved into the next room. There he stopped after two stuttering steps, eyes fixed to the disy taking up an entire wall. He had seen rows of metal tiles like this before: he was looking at an exact match for the tiles at the center of the iron gates leading into the pir. Suppressing his excitement he swept the rest of the room ¨C two doorways out, both closed doors ¨C before getting closer. The tiles here were adorned with a single ck glyph each, unlike those outside, and peeking behind them they seemed to be connected to a series of pistons and gears going into the wall.

    Lightly he dared push a stile and found it easily gave, pressing back the piston behind it. He stopped before anything coulde of it.

    ¡°Well,¡± he said, ¡°that might just get us into the pir.¡±

    Leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, long red sleeves billowing, Fortuna scoffed.

    ¡°I would worry more about getting out of this ce, if I were you,¡± she said. ¡°Unless you intend to try the cogs again?¡±

    Tristan grimaced, ncing at his broken and swelling finger. He¡¯d been lucky that was all he had paid for the passage with. Fortuna was right, he needed to find a way to return to the Old Fort instead of getting caught up in the exploration. The door next to her was smooth stone with only a small round opening where a lock should be, and he was not fool enough to risk putting a finger in there. His goddess cleared her throat, pointing just to the right of her blond locks. There was a small indent in the wall, he realized, and nestled in it were three stone buttons covered with a strange writing he had never before seen.

    ¡°Well spotted,¡± he praised.

    She huffed.

    ¡°At least one of us should end up a passable thief,¡± she replied.

    He rolled his eyes at her. The stone buttons came out easily and he took one, then pocketed a second out of habit. Tempted as he was to try to open the stone door with the obvious key, he instead had a look at the other. More of that golden alloy he kept seeing, and a more traditional door as well: a simpletch kept it closed. He pried it open, or tried to: the moment he touched thetch it came loose and drooped to the floor with a tinkling sound. The door cracked open an inch.

    Tristan paused: that had felt ufortably like luck turning on him.

    When he risked a nce trough the open door, however, he found no danger. Dim light with no visible source revealed a curving hallway of stone, ending in a distant door. The thief opened the door all the way and stepped into the hall, careful to keep his steps light. After a dozen steps he caught sight of a door that had been hidden by the curve. Green ss, but almost transparent and through with he thought he was seeing-

    ¡°Tristan,¡± Fortuna suddenly said.

    He stilled instantly, for in the goddess¡¯ voice he had heard fear.

    ¡°Walk back into that room,¡± she whispered. ¡°<em>Very slowly</em>.¡±

    There was a sound like a breath, amused.

    ¡°Good advice.¡±

    Oh fuck. He was not an utter fool, so he¡¯d begun running the moment he heard the breath, but even so he was too slow. Therge shape dropped from above and he caught sight of slimy scales before throwing himself to the side ¨C the hit had his broken finger throbbing. Something like a hand ¨C the size of his <em>torso</em> - passed close enough to ruffle his hair. He scrambled to his feet, glimpsing globulous yellow eyes before breaking into a run for the door.

    He had time to take a single before the lights of the hall went out.

    Oh, <em>fuck</em>, Tristan thought. He threw himself to the side again, running on pure instinct, and felt something massive and wet pass less than an inch above his back. Worse it stayed there, dripping some kind of stinking pus. The thief rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding something trying to snatch him up, and broke into a running start again. Light came through the open door to the tile room, revealing that the wet thing was a deformed red tongue twice the length of a man, and Tristan almost whimpered when it withdrew, sucked in with a slurp. He got through the doorway and tried to m the door shut behind him, but thetch was still broken.

    That fuckingtch was going to get him killed.

    ¡°You smell,¡± the god said, ¡°like hubris.<em> Delicious</em>.¡±

    He could not have described that voice, save that it was sick and somehow it felt like a tongue dragging across his skin. Trying to master his panic Tristan ran for the other door, miraculous having not dropped the stone button.

    Then the lights in the room went out.

    ¡°<em>No</em>,¡± he snarled, feeling the god enter the room from the movement of air alone.

    Was he really going to die here just because he could not see in the dark? He began groping for the opening but he could not quite recall where ¨C

    ¡°Here,¡± Fortuna hissed, guiding his hand.

    Fortuna, who like the god after them no more needed light to see than she needed air to breathe. He pressed the button into the hole and the door popped open, and light came through. Hands scrabbling against the stone, Tristan hurried through and mmed the door behind him ¨C turning to see horrifyingly human-like teeth the size of his hand biting down at where he had been standing, a too-long throat convulsing behind them.

    The door snapped shut, the stone button falling out of the opening on his side and rolling down the stairs he now stood on.

    Tristan slowly followed it down, limbs trembling and eyes unblinking as he kept staring at the door. He slid down the wall, falling into a crouch. His eyes never left the door separating him from the room where he had just almost been eaten alive. Fortuna set a hand on his arm, and sitting by his side, and eventually his breathing steadied.

    ¡°That thing,¡± he croaked out, ¡°heard you talk to me.¡±

    ¡°It is an old god,¡± Fortuna murmured. ¡°Perhaps as old as I am.¡±

    The thief passed a hand through his hair, then forced himself to get back standing.

    ¡°It does not seem able to pass the door, at least,¡± he said. ¡°There is that.¡±

    Not that he intended to linger here regardless. Not when he could almost feel whaty on the other side of the stone, patiently waiting to sink its teeth into his flesh. Tristan, forcing calm, picked up the fallen stone button and headed down the narrow stairs. They looked much like the ones he had climbed on the other side of the pir, and were pointed in the direction he believed to be outside. At the bottom of the flight was a long room of bare stone, whose monotony was broken up by only two things: the first was what looked like a foldeddder of golden alloy, three feet wide and folded so many times he could only guess at the length.

    The other was a series of ck triangles painted on the wall before him, around slight triangr stone protrusions. Heartbeat rising, the thief pressed on one of the triangles and found it sunk into the wall with a metallic click. There were nine others and he pressed them all, each clicking into ce, and after thest there was the dim sound of wheels turning.

    The wall before him shivered, then began to rise, and Tristan had never seen anything so beautiful as the expanse of the dark cavernid out before him.

 Chapter 28

    Chapter 28

    Tristan could not figure out how to make the damn foldeddder work, so he ended up bleating like a lost goat for half an hour before one of the watchmen on patrol heard him.

    It was another ten minutes after that of Lieutenant Vasanti and her minions asking him through shouts to describe the device in detail then failing to get it work. In the end one of the ckcloaks just threw him a ropedder, giving up the machinery for a lost cause. It was only watchmen when he came down, with one exception: Maryam. It was a dangerous habit to start seeing what you wanted to see, so the thief did not let himself believe it was relief he saw in those blue eyes. They had chosen trust, but there was no guarantee that wouldst beyond the trials they were undertaking.

    The given hint that she had aimed from the start at cooperation in a greater undertaking was to be set aside. Then future was a foreignnd, not to be relied upon. The dark-haired woman strode through the throng of ckcloaks, some of them snickering, and for a heartbeat it looked like she was going to embrace him.

    Instead she pped his hat down against his chest.

    ¡°There,¡± Maryam said. ¡°I tried to sell it, but it was such a raggedy thing I could find no takers.¡±

    ¡°Blind <em>and</em> a poor haggler, then,¡± Tristan mused, setting it back on his head. ¡°It¡¯s a lucky thing I made it back. What would you do without me?¡±

    ¡°Luck,¡± she said. ¡°When the pebble stays stuck in your boot after the shake, is that what you call it?¡±

    A sigh, but not hers. Lieutenant Vasanti wrinkled her nose at them.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what this is,¡± she said wiggling a finger in their direction, ¡°but it¡¯s putting me off dinner. Cease immediately.¡±

    The thief tossed the lieutenant a carved stone button. She caught it, rather spry for her age.

    ¡°It¡¯s a key,¡± he told her. ¡°Best to get a few muskets pointed at the door before using it, though. There¡¯s a god on the other side and he simply cannot wait to have someone over for dinner.¡±

    The old woman looked nonplussed.

    ¡°That¡¯s what salt munitions are for,¡± she said. ¡°Good work, boy.¡±

    ¡°I live for your praise,¡± Tristan drily replied.

    Lieutenant Vasanti wanted a detailed report, but he told her he wanted a physician first so as apromise he got to tell her about his misadventures while the garrison doctor saw to his broken finger. To his surprise, she seemed to care little about the god. It was the room with the tiles she was most interested in, demanding he describe it several times while taking notes, and one more detail besides: the metal rod with the alloy brand at the end. That she cared about so much she asked he draw the brand from memory. Tristan did, charcoal pen scratching against cheap paper.

    ¡°It might not be exactly that,¡± he warned. ¡°I only saw it in passing.¡±

    She hummed, eyes on the drawing as she only half-listened.

    ¡°What is it about the brand that interests you so much?¡± he asked.

    To his surprise, she deigned to answer. He had expected a cuttingment and a dismissal.

    ¡°People tend to think of the Antediluvians as a nation of living gods, shaping the world to their whim, but that was only true for the First Empire¡¯s ruling ss,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said. ¡°Someone had to clean the dust off the wonders and keep the cogs turning.¡±

    The urge to fiddle with the splint the physician had put around his broken finger was near overwhelming, but he forced himself to think instead. The man was gone back to the barracks, if the splint snapped he was on his own.

    ¡°The rod was some kind of tool, then,¡± Tristan deduced, cocking his head to the side.

    ¡°The greats of the First Empire could all manipte aether much like Navigators can shape the Gloam,¡± Vasanti told him. ¡°Their servants, though, were not so gifted. So how does a living god avoid having to get their own carriage working when the thing runs on aether?¡±

    ¡°By making tools that can affect the aether,¡± he said.

    ¡°That¡¯s what that brand is, boy,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said, not hiding her excitement. ¡°It is our way to get one of the machines working without the need for a Navigator. If we are lucky, it will have been crafted for the tiles and let us open the front gate heedless of Hell¡¯s sabotage.¡±

    The burst of enthusiasm waned, however, and with it the lieutenant¡¯s willingness to indulge his curiosity. She left him to his seat, telling him he was no longer needed for the afternoon, and went to consult with her band of followers. Tristan watched her back getting further and further away, considering how furious she would be should she ever learn he¡¯d held back in his report.

    He had not told her of the second stone button in his pocket, or the green ss door.

    With Vasanti¡¯s departure others were finally free to approach. Maryam and Vanesa both joined him at the table, thetter helped onto the seat by his pale-skinned aplice. They seemed in a fine mood, Vanesa in particr. He quickly learned his survival was not the only reason.

    ¡°Everyone has been pulled off the sky-watching,¡± Vanesa told him. ¡°The lieutenant wants us studying mechanisms around the tiles on the iron gates. She believes they are some sort ofbination lock.¡±

    The old clockmaker, as it turned out, preferred steel to figures. She was d to be back on the gates instead of continuing to match the ceiling machine¡¯s movements to that of the inner cogs.

    ¡°Francho and I are still on the machine, but she is no longer insistent I start pushing Gloam at it like a toddler throwing a ball,¡± Maryam said. ¡°I do not suppose you know why?¡±

    ¡°I might have found a tool that can serve in your ce,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°Good news,¡± Vanesa enthused. ¡°Once it is brought down-¡±

    ¡°It is behind a locked gate guarded by a monstrous old god that tried to eat me,¡± he told her.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Vanesa muttered. ¡°That puts something of a damper on things, admittedly.¡±

    Tristan scraped together a meal for the three of them out of whaty around the kitchen, mostly dried fruits and bread, but soon enough the pair¡¯s break was at an end. They still had work to do for Lieutenant Vasanti, unlike him. Vanesa was the first to head back, giving them a knowing smile. Tristan supposed that the amount of plotting in dark corners the two of them did was not helping with that misunderstanding. When Maryam spoke, though, it immediately imed his full attention.

    ¡°The use of your contract was too obvious not to be caught this time,¡± she said. ¡°Already rumors are getting around, and your timely throw against the gravebird has not been forgot. You might want to get ahead of this before spection grows wild.¡±

    Before someone ascribed him the power to stop cogs with a thought, predict the future and maybe also fly, she meant. Nothing got so out of hand as rumors about contracts: back home there were so many tales about what the legacy contracts of the Six could do that if all were true the nobles would be more divine than their own gods. Thankfully Tristan had a lie ready for this, the same he had been using for years when the need was forced on him.

    ¡°Telekinesis,¡± he said without batting an eye. ¡°I can move small objects with some degree of strength, but I have difficulties with control and there is often bacsh.¡±

    Maryam cocked an eyebrow at him. His answer had been a little too quick to be believable.

    ¡°A lie,¡± Tristan shrugged. ¡°But the effects are simr enough it would be difficult to argue otherwise.¡±

    ¡°It does sound like the kind of contract with a minor god a man of no background might obtain,¡± she admitted after a moment.

    It took genuine effort not to flinch when Fortuna mmed her fist on the table ¨C which made not a sound and did not shake it, as it was only on his flesh she could feign to touch ¨C and she leaned forward with shing eyes, pointing an using finger at an unseeing Maryam.

    ¡°Minor?¡± she shrieked. ¡°<em>Minor</em>?¡±

    The goddess shook her finger angrily.

    ¡°How dare you, Maryam Khaimov,¡± she snarled. ¡°I was going to sell you to her on the cheap, Tristan, but this¡­ heresy cannot be brooked. You must defeat her in singlebat. Avenge my honor, and be a brute about it.¡±

    The thief sipped at his cup of water, smiling.

    ¡°Have I told you I like your tresses?¡± he asked Maryam. ¡°They suit you well.¡±

    She slowly blinked.

    ¡°Treachery,¡± Fortuna sputtered, stumbling back in shock. ¡°Stop that, Tristan, stop that <em>right now</em>.¡±

    ¡°You have very good taste in boots,¡± he told Maryam.

    She squinted at him.

    ¡°Are you¡­¡± she slowly said. ¡°Are you using me to anger your god?¡±

    The grey-eyed man simply smiled andplimented her dress, Fortuna¡¯s indignant shouting like a soothing luby.

    --

    Tristan spent most of the afternoon trying very hard not to fiddle with his broken finger, drinking dandelion tea and considering what he should do.

    It was only a matter of time, he figured, until Lieutenant Vasanti tried again to be rid of him by sending him through the stone door. He could not be sure that the god would be lying there in wait, but it did seem likely: how long had it been since the entityst had an opportunity to feed? Worse, it did not seem to be affected by the ws¡¯ the aetheric machine above was subjecting the gods of the maze to. It had certainly not been shy in trying to gobble him up.

    No, the more he thought about it the more likely it seemed that the lieutenant would send him in. Vasanti wouldn¡¯t use ckcloaks, no matter her talk of salt munitions, for the same simple reason she had not kept sending people to cross the same lethal machinery Tristan barely survived: if too many got killed, there would be consequences she could not afford. As the thief did not fancy his chances against the god even if he was sent in to, he would need to make other arrangements.

    First, he needed a sword hand. He and Maryam worked very well as a pair, but it could not be denied they were not the finest of fighters. Tristan knew of one man with the required capacity for violence and that he still trusted more than most in the Trial of Ruins. The real question was this: had they made enough progress along this path that Yong would consider them a better bet than continuing with the maze? After wrestling with the question for some time, sketching arguments for either side, he finally decided an answer could not be had until the crews returned tonight.

    <em>If </em>they returned tonight, he corrected as the hours stretched out.

    It was nowte in the afternoon, and it was possible that some of the crews had got far enough in the maze that they would prefer to spend the night there rather than double back. Tristan was not afraid of anyone passing the second this trial early, for it would be impossible for any single crew to have ten victors and they had all taken different paths.

    It was bing clear, however, that he was running out of time for his other affairs. He had neglected vengeance in the name of more immediate dangers, but now that there was a light at the end of that tunnel he could turn his attention back to the business: Tristan had no intention of allowing the Cerdan brothers or Cozme Aflor to live. The deal he had struck with Isabel should buy him the opening he needed, but he needed for the crews to return to the Old Fort before he could slither his way in. It was that understanding that had him keeping an eye out for any return until atst his patience was rewarded.

    More or less.

    Lord Augusto Cerdan, looking quite haggard, stumbled into the Old Forte early evening. The infanzon looked as if he had been thrown down the side of a mountain, boasting such an extensive collection of scrapes and bruises that the broken arm no longer stood out. The worst was a nasty rip going down the side of his now-broken nose to halfway down his throat. The skin had been scraped off by something raw, and though it was not a dangerous wound it was one that would be disfiguring for months. He began calling for the Watch physician within moments of entering, quite loudly ¨C Tristan noted with amusement that the doctor in question pointedly took his time doing up his buttons before moving to answer ¨C and was soon being seen to in the kitchen.

    Lieutenant Vasanti had released everyone for the evening, so it was not Tristan alone who came out to the courtyard to have a look at the infanzon¡¯s bruises being cleaned with alcohol. Maryam drifted close, as if by coincidence, and leaned against the wall by his side.

    ¡°Alone and wounded,¡± she idly said. ¡°Lord Augusto must be feeling rather exposed.¡±

    Tristan knew little of the people of what the Mni called the northern colonies, the Triu. Oh, inders called them fierce savages who fought garbed in steel and raided settlements from the back of their hardy mountain ponies, but if you believed the Mni every war they had ever fought had been against hateful viins while the brave people of the Isles only ever reluctantly took up arms for themon good. You had to take the Mni with a grain of salt, for all that they rarely lied.

    Looking at the way those blue eyes were watching Augusto Cerdan, though ¨C like a hunter watching a stag, measuring it for the knife ¨C he thought there might be some truth to the stories out of the Isles. That was not the stare of someone who balked at the thought of violence, who saw anything wrong with they of Vesper being decided by the cut of a de.

    Tristan supposed he should have been put off by the sight, but he was not. How could he be when he¡¯d seen eyes like those all his life, saw them every time he looked in a mirror? People like Angharad Tredegar, like Augusto Cerdan or even Vanesa, they thought of violence as an intrusion. A break in the default state of peace. They had lived all their life behind the walls of the garden wherews mattered and served to protect, never grasping that beyond the wall violence <em>was</em> thew. You took from those who could not protect and kept what you could protect from those who would take it: that was the truth of Vesper, to a rat.

    Triu, Tristan thought as he watched those pale blue eyes, must not have been so different.

    ¡°Very,¡± he finally agreed, looking away. ¡°So much that I think him unlikely to leave the fort for some time.¡±

    And while in here, protected by sanctuary, Tristan would not risk killing the infanzon. The risks were too great when both lieutenants inmand of the fort had it out for him.

    ¡°He will have toe out sooner orter,¡± Maryam murmured.

    ¡°He is bound to the trials,¡± Tristan pointed. ¡°To return home as anything but a peace concession in the making, he must survive his brother and Isabel Ruesta. If there is to be a list, he would best.¡±

    ¡°So the younger muste first,¡± she murmured.

    The thief was somewhat impressed she had caught that. Remund Cerdan must indeede before an attempt on Cozme Aflor could be made.

    His two enemies under Tredegar were the hardest to get at, by virtue of the mirror-dancer being their protector, but with Isabel out to get Remund killed he would have someone interfering on his behalf. More importantly, it would force Cozme to move. After that, the man would have two choices: either he swallowed his pride and went to Augusto, to get at least one Cerdan home and hope it would be enough, or he cut ties with House Cerdan entirely and tried for the Watch as a refuge. If he went to Augusto he became easier to get at, as Tupoc Xical had all the loyalty of a jackal, and if Cozme aimed for the Watch then Tristan would have the entire third trial to get to him.

    ¡°There are ns in the works,¡± he said.

    ¡°Very sinister,¡± Maryam praised. ¡°Have you considered growing a beard so you might stroke it?¡±

    ¡°<em>Ha</em>,¡± Fortuna snorted from behind him. ¡°He wishes.¡±

    The Lady of Long Odds had entirely forgot her sworn enmity of a few hours ago, as was her way, and was not merrily siding against him once more. The thief rolled his eyes.

    ¡°Come,¡± he said. ¡°Let us see what our good friend Lord Augusto has to say.¡±

    --

    The eldest Cerdan was not only inclined to talk but rather vigorously friendly.

    He spun a tale of woe, telling all four of them ¨C Vanesa and Francho, curious, also joined them at the table ¨C of the many indignities he had suffered since Angharad Tredegar¡¯s false usations forced him to makemon cause with the bandit Tupoc Xical. Going with the Azn had been what he wanted, he assured them.

    ¡°She even got to Lord Ishaan, you see,¡± Augusto told them. ¡°A nice enough man but very gullible. He had no chance at all against as skilled a trickster as Lady Angharad.¡±

    Tristan had known heads of cabbage more skilled at trickery than Angharad Tredegar, but he smiled encouragingly instead ofughing in the man¡¯s face. He need not look around to see the obvious fabrication had found no takers: the Pereduri was widely respected. The infanzon told them of Tupoc being a ve driver with no regard for rank, of Felis being insolent and insubordinate while Aines was useless. However obtuse, Augusto soon realized that insulting the married pair everyone here had spent the first trial with won him no friends.

    He immediately changed tack, focusing on the shrines and the gods.

    The infanzon revealed nothing that Tristan had not already heard from Lan, save when it came to today¡¯s events. Tupoc¡¯s crew had made very fine progress after crossing a broken bridge, Augusto recounted, but then been forced to go underground and wait for some time before they were let into some kind of crystalbyrinth. In there had been illusions and attacks, until the entire thing copsed onto their heads. Augusto has narrowly survived, buried alive but falling through a crevasse. From there he had stumbled into some manner of empty crypt and found a path back to the Old Fort.

    ¡°I now hold the knowledge of a safe route deep into the maze,¡± Augusto told them. ¡°There is but a single shrine on the way, and I have defeated the god¡¯s test: I stand before you a victor.¡±

    He was, in fact, sitting. And carefully avoiding giving any specifics about the shrine he had beaten, enough that Tristan suspected he was either lying or it has been mortifyingly easy to defeat. It was when, between two boasts of knowing a crucial path, Augusto half-heartedly apologized for sending Tristan away from his group during the Trial of Lines ¨C the thief was informed that Tredegar had insisted and convinced the others, so Augusto¡¯s hand had been forced ¨C that Tristan realized what the noble was after.

    ¡°Why,¡± Augusto nonchntly said, ¡°I expect that the path is so easy even the five of us could reach the end of the maze using it.¡±

    The man was in the market for a delving crew, preferably full of expendables and under his captaincy. Tristan could only wonder if it was desperation or arrogance that had the infanzon thinking there was anyone left that might want to go under him.

    ¡°How impressive,¡± Maryam mildly said.

    As he did about half the time he nced her way, Augusto smothered a moue of disgust at the paleness of her skin.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the eldest Cerdan agreed. ¡°But it is my duty as an infanzon to provide for others.¡±

    Francho almost choked on the water he had been drinking. He coughed under Augusto¡¯s suspicious eye.

    ¡°The cough simply won¡¯t leave me,¡± the toothless old man said. ¡°I did not mean to interrupt, my lord, do go on.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but I have talked quite enough I think,¡± Augusto said. ¡°What is it that the four of you have been doing, if not seeking to pass the trial? I saw the ckcloaks made some sort of discovery.¡±

    Lieutenant Vasanti had yet to manage to get the foldeddder to unfold, but the ropedder was easy enough to see.

    ¡°We have been given tasks by Lieutenant Vasanti to advance the Watch¡¯s interests in this ce,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°Secrecy is paramount, I am sure you understand.¡±

    He nced at the others, who looked willing enough to follow his lead in this.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Augusto said, frowning when no one else added anything. ¡°Though I imagine you will be free by tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°That is not for us to determine, my lord,¡± Tristan said. ¡°We are in the service of the Old Fort¡¯smanding officer until released.¡±

    The bruised noble looked at the others, seeking someone who might contradict what had been said, but instead only got silence. Looking miffed but knowing better than to push his luck when his position was so weak and a Watch lieutenant was involved, Augusto gave way. He changed the subject, returning toints about his old crew. Tristan thought there might be a purpose to it, at first, but eventually came to realize that the noble mostly wanted to vent.

    Maryam and Francho excused themselves before long, but the thief forced himself to remain in case anything of use was revealed. Vanesa, he suspected, simply pitied him enough to suffer through the whining.

    ¡°Both of the Azn are as wild animals,¡± Augusto told them. ¡°Xical is from Izcalli, so that was only to be expected, but Ocon is no better even after a lifetime under enlightened rule.¡±

    Ocon¡¯s tattoos and build marked him as legbreaker for the Menor Mano, one of thergest coteries in Sacromonte, so Tristan was thoroughly unsurprised. The Mano liked their enforcers brutal.

    ¡°Life in the Murk can be very difficult,¡± Vanesa said. ¡°Not all who resort to violence enjoy it, Lord Augusto.¡±

    ¡°That man does,¡± Augusto haughtily replied. ¡°He spent much time boasting of the work he had done for his ¡®patrons¡¯, bloody stories that had him grinning and chuckling. He proudly told me of beating a man to death before his son and of drowning another in a waste bucket.¡±

    That sounded about right, the thief thought, and his interest waned entirely. What did he care of an infanzon¡¯s shock at the true face of the city his ilk so liked to im having turned into a paradise? Augusto Cerdan would have gone his entire life without caring a whit about what took ce in the Murk every day, if he had not been told of it. In truth he still cared nothing, Tristan knew, and only used the talk of savagery as a way toin of his formerpanions. If he somehow survived the Dominion and returned to the Cerdan, the infanzon would forget everything he had learned in matter of hours.

    The thing with mud was that when you were a noble you had servants to wipe it off your boots.

    ¡°- and he <em>bragged </em>of having done work for his patrons even after they had decided to send him off to these cursed trials,¡± Augusto bit out. ¡°Breaking the leg of some-¡±

    Vanesa might be willing to indulge the fool, but Tristan¡¯s patience ran out. He feigned having been called by Maryam and went her way, sending the clockmaker an apologetic nce that she did not notice. Was she truly interested in the Cerdan¡¯s words? Surely she could not be as spellbound as she looked. Vanesa was too kind for her own good, he thought not for the first time. The older of the Cerdan brothers certainly seemed pleased at having such a willing audience, almost eager to answer her questions.

    Tristan might have pitied him for being so obviously starved of regard, had he not been a Cerdan.

    The man was of that ursed house, however, so instead the thief put it out of his mind and went to attend to one of the secrets he¡¯d dug up. Keeping one of the stone buttons he had taken in the pir was not much different from keeping a key behind Lieutenant Vasanti¡¯s back, in practice, as he could do little with the object but open a door. It was a way to get to the secrets, not a bearer of secrets itself. For him, anyway.

    Francho, who could listen to the voices in stone, would find it otherwise.

    The old man was not hard to find: he was napping in his bedroll, snoring quite loudly. Tristan almost felt bad about waking him up, but the sooner he had answers the sooner he could begin to sketch out the end of this trial. The toothless professor smacked his lips as he was gently shaken awake, eyes unseeing for a moment before he woke entirely.

    ¡°Trist-¡± he began, then fell into a fit of coughing.

    The thief waited for them to end, then caught the man¡¯s eye.

    ¡°You will have a hard time having a good night¡¯s sleep, if you nap for too long,¡± he said as he pressed the stone button into the man¡¯s hand.

    Francho¡¯s eyes widened but he caught on quick.

    ¡°That is true, I suppose,¡± the old man said. ¡°Perhaps I should go for a walk. Any suggestions?¡±

    ¡®Where is this from?¡¯

    ¡°As long as it¡¯s not up in the pir,¡± Tristan said, feigning a smallugh. ¡°The god there would not make for finepany.¡±

    ¡°Not much of an answer,¡± Francho snorted. ¡°Should I ask the lieutenant?¡±

    ¡®Does Vasanti know about this?¡¯

    ¡°Surely not,¡± Tristan said. ¡°She might take it as advances.¡±

    ¡°It is never toote for love, my boy,¡± Franchoughed.

    Good, they were now on the same page. Tristan drew back, offering a hand to help the old man up. Francho took it, letting himself be pulled close.

    ¡°Too faint,¡± the old man murmured. ¡°It will take me hours to make out the words,e back tonight.¡±

    Inclining his head in agreement, the thief smiled. He could wait.

    --

    It took longer than Franco had said: the professor came to talk only an hour before midnight.

    They sat at a kitchen table sharing a bowl of <em>cabecitas</em>, the old Liergan ssic of crispy mushroom slices. These were in the Sacromontan style, salt but no pepper, and just like back home the garrison kept them by the barrel. Francho was toothless, so he broke the crisps with his lips and sucked on them until they were so mushy he could slurp them down. It wasn¡¯t appetizing to look at, but the slow pace would give them an excuse to sit here until they were done talking.

    ¡°The history of this ce,¡± Francho said, es in three parts.¡±

    He traced a circle on the table before breaking off another piece of cabecita.

    ¡°First is an ind on what was not yet the Trebian Sea,¡± he says. ¡°The Antediluvians, for reasons known only to them, build this pir and the aetheric machine. Thenes the Old Night, and as the First Empire falls the ind is abandoned.¡±

    ¡°And the devilse,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°And the devilse,¡± Francho agreed. ¡°They get into the pir, tinker with the great machine then break the doors so that no one else can do the same. They then build the Old Fort and begin the centuries-longbor of building the maze.¡±

    The old man paused.

    ¡°Only it is not so simple as that,¡± the professor said. ¡°None know for sure what took ce during the Old Night, if the Flood truly took ce or if is mythology, but it is beyond debate that the fall of the First Empire caused mass migrations of people and darklings. It is during this era that the inds of the Trebian Sea first began to see settling, among them this very Vieja Perdida.¡±

    ¡°And the devils simply let them?¡± Tristan frowned.

    ¡°There would not have been many of them,¡± Francho shrugged. ¡°These settlers ¨C not darklings, at least not yet ¨C would be the same people that built the circles of raised stones and I believe them to have been, if not friends to the devils, at least not enemies.¡±

    Tristan took a moment to swallow that. All his life he had been told of the wickedness of devils, that they could not be trusted. They were not like hollows, who could be bargained and lived with, but something fundamentally<em> evil</em>. Even the devils who had signed the Iscariot ords and been allowed to live among humans beyond the walls of Pandemonium were only biding their time until they began to devour men again. But it might have been different back then, he thought. It could not be denied that devils preyed on men, but so did other men.

    In a time of bloody chaos like the Old Night, would the settlers have seen Hell¡¯s denizens as all that worse than their other enemies?

    ¡°It is said that the Watch took this ind from hollows, not men,¡± the thief noted.

    ¡°It is amon and well-documented phenomenon for the poption of inds without a natural source of re to progressively turn hollow over the span of generations,¡± Francho dismissed. ¡°I imagine that the cultists of our day are descended from those very settlers, twisted by centuries in the dark.¡±

    Tristan slowly nodded.

    ¡°I take it the third part is when the Watch arrives,¡± he said.

    ¡°After the signing of the Iscariot ords, the ckcloaks built the Rookery as the seat of their order and began spreading their influence across the Trebian Sea,¡± Francho said. ¡°I will spare you the history lesson about the order¡¯s conflicts with Sacromonte ¨C in those days still attempting to revive the Second Empire ¨C and say only that most of the Watch¡¯s power in those days was still bound east, to the century-long siege of Pandemonium and itster sealing.¡±

    ¡°They did not have coin or manpower to waste,¡± Tristan tranted. ¡°Yet they still came here and seized the Dominion from devils and darklings. Why?¡±

    This, he thought, was the thread to pull at. If he could learn why had the Watche and why it had stayed everything else would fall into ce.

    ¡°I have spent thest three hours,¡± Francho said, ¡°figuring out the answer to that question by listening to the voices of the devils who once used your button. It alles down to a very slight mistake, Tristan, thatpounded over centuries.

    The toothless professor shivered, slurping down his piece of mushroom and subtly pressing the stone button against the side of the bowl as he reached for another crisp. Tristan palmed it just as discreetly, then waited as Francho began to violently cough. It was only after a minute of long breaths that the old man opened his eyes and began to speak.

    ¡°When the ckcloaks first came to Vieja Perdida,¡± he rasped, ¡°the darklings who dwelled on it spoke what is called a Trebian cant. That is to say, one of the family ofnguages descended from what was spoken here during the First Empire. Traces of that rootnguage, Tristan, remain all across the Trebian Sea ¨C the Asphodel Rectorate, for example, still uses such a cant for its formal ceremonies.¡±

    ¡°There was a mistrantion of some kind,¡± Tristan guessed.

    ¡°The word was one the ancestors of the darklings learned from devils, which the Watch would have recognized,¡± Francho said. ¡°But then the ind was isted for centuries. Their ent grew, so when the ckcloaks asked their questions half the terms were misconstrued.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°When we encountered cultists, Tristan, did you notice they scarred and tattooed themselves?¡±

    ¡°With a red eye,¡± Tristan agreed, then frowned.

    He remembered the mace-wielding cultists that might have killed him if not for Maryam¡¯s use of a Sign, the way his cheeks had been scarred with red ellipses. But would Tristan have called them eyes, had he not already known the hollow belonged to a cult of that name?

    ¡°It¡¯s not an eye, is it?¡± he asked.

    Francho smiled.

    ¡°Mouth,¡± he said. ¡°Or perhaps <em>maw</em>. It is the god the cult worships, and likely the rumor the Watch first came here to investigate.¡±

    And now it all began to make sense.

    ¡°You told me the circles of raised stones the settlers built were built by the river because rivers are boundaries,¡± Tristan said. ¡°That it could mean the boundary was being either weakened or strengthened.¡±

    And it had to be strengthened, for the airavatan to have been kept out by their mere existence. The same settlers who had raised those stones had been on good terms with the devils, Francho had just told him, and the shape of it all lit up in his mind¡¯s eye.

    ¡°I believe they were built,¡± Francho said, ¡°for the very same reason the devils built their maze: the heart of that god lies beneath this cavern, under the mountain.¡±

    Gods, how <emrge</em> was the Red Maw? It must be miles long, to reach as far as the river while its heart pulsed beneath their feet. Only the oldest of deities grew sorge as to ¨C no, that was a distraction from what truly mattered. Theyers of schemes, umted over the centuries likes sediment at the bottom of a canal.

    The devils did not want this god loose but they had not killed it, or perhaps they had been unable to? Yes, that seemed more likely. So instead they had imprisoned the Red Maw, doing something with the golden aether machine and barring the pir¡¯s gates so it could not be undone before building a maze over the Red Maw¡¯s heart. A maze full of hungry gods, Tristan thought, who the machine above forced to eat not humans or hollows but only the divine.

    ¡°The gods of the shrines are meant to eat away at the Red Maw,¡± he murmured. ¡°That¡¯s why the devils kept bringing more and more temples over the centuries, they were recing those that the Red Maw ate to keep the prison functional.¡±

    Francho slowly nodded.

    ¡°The Watch has not done the same,¡± he said. ¡°It would have been impossible to hide moving entire shrines to this ind with any regrity and I cannot even conceive how they would achieve such a thing in the first ce.¡±

    Not through the way their crew had entered this cavern by, no, and it did seem to be the way the Watch used to get to the Old Fort.

    ¡°No,¡± Tristan slowly said. ¡°They have not, so the prison would weaken over time. But they did start doing something else, after taking the Dominion.¡±

    The trials. The fucking trials. The Watch couldn¡¯t bring in entire shrines and the gods bound to them, so sooner orter the Red Maw would devour all the gods keeping it from spreading ¨C it was older, more powerful. It could afford a war of attrition and that was the nature of this prison, gods slowly starving and wing at each other. So instead the Watch had looked for a way to bolster the strength of the maze gods, to help them against the Red Maw, and in looking found a loophole in thews imposed by the aether machine.

    The trials were just a way to keep drawing people to the Dominion so enough of them would make it to the second trial and die, keeping the shrine gods strong.

    The overlyrge Watch investment on the ind, the seemingly backwards method of recruitment, they were all exined if you stopped looking at the Dominion of Lost Things as trials and instead considered it a<em> prison</em>. The ckcloaks willingly paid in gold and lives every year because otherwise this Red Maw might break the lock on its prison and be a muchrger problem ¨C one they must not know how to kill, because if they could have by now they most definitely would have.

    ¡°Yearly sacrifices,¡± Francho softly said. ¡°Keeping the seal strong.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s fingers clenched.

    ¡°We cannot reveal this,¡± he said. ¡°They might well kill us to keep it quiet.¡±

    If the true nature of what took ce on the Dominion of Lost Things spread, the consequences would be¡­ Tristan could not quite grasp what the Watch as a whole might suffer, that was too grand a scope for a rat, but at the very least the flow of trial-takers would run dry. Not even pride and tradition would make the infanzones keep feeding their children to some savage old god as they unknowingly had for centuries. Or did the infanzones know? No, it could not have remained a secret if that were true. But if it were only the lords anddies of the Six, well, that might be a different story.

    A conspiracy for another time.

    ¡°I will speak not a word,¡± Francho promised.

    Tristan let out a long breath, passing a hand through his hair. He had no fear of that, the old man no more wanted to be dragged out back and shot than he did. Best to change the subject, for lingering on it would only serve to unnerve them.

    ¡°It is almost shame you cannot,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Imagine what a book it would make! The university would surely beg for you to return.¡±

    Francho¡¯s face closed, but not at the mention of the University of Reve. It was the mention of a book that had him looking almost bitter and Tristan hid his interest. For all that the man was free with amusing stories, the professor¡¯s past was stillrgely opaque to him.

    ¡°I suppose it is only fair to say,¡± the toothless old man sighed, ¡°since we already share so many secrets.¡±

    He shook once, coughing wetly into his hand, and his voice was rough when he spoke.

    ¡°I cannot write,¡± Francho said.

    Tristan blinked at the absurdity of the statement. How could the man havee to be a Master at Reve if he could not ¨C <em>oh</em>.

    ¡°Your contract,¡± the thief said.

    ¡°I first encountered the Bibliognost when I was a young man, out treasure hunting,¡± Francho said. ¡°It was ttering when he took an interest in me ¨C you will not have heard of him, I imagine, but he is a god that emerged with the first universities. A deity of schrs and secrets, dwelling in forgotten ces of learning.¡±

    ¡°Yet your contract is recent,¡± Tristan stated.

    More than mere months old, by the thief¡¯s reckoning, but certainly not decades as contracting when a young man would have meant.

    ¡°I was proud in those days, headstrong,¡± Francho said. ¡°I did not take his offer, for convinced I was meant for greater things still. And I was not entirely wrong: I was soon one of the youngest Masters the University of Reve ever appointed.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°Only one day I looked around me and realized that I was sixty years old and I had not left asting mark on the world,¡± Francho quietly said. ¡°That I would pass away and Vesper would forget my name.¡±

    ¡°So you sought him out again,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°I did not go about it foolishly,¡± Francho told him. ¡°I had precise ambitions: I had been close to finding records of the mythic First Cant, thenguage from which all other hollow cants in the Trebian Sea are derived, but the ruins that should have led me to a library were defaced. I needed a way to plumb their secrets regardless.¡±

    ¡°To hear the whispers in the stone,¡± Tristan murmured. ¡°He gave you what you wanted.¡±

    ¡°Time makes no difference to o a god,¡± Francho said. ¡°It had been decades to me, but to him barely the blink of an eye. The Bibliognost offered me his power, and though the price for what I asked was steep it was not unfair.¡±

    ¡°He took your ability to write,¡± the thief said.

    ¡°That was the price,¡± Francho said, then he grimaced. ¡°Or so I thought. I had nned to get around the restriction by making a student write in my stead, which would have been entric but not so much that Reve would object. Only when I began to dictate my words to the student, she found she could not write them.¡±

    He chuckled bitterly.

    ¡°Like trying to hold smoke, she described it,¡± Francho said. ¡°And that was when I realized that I had not given away my ability to write, Tristan: I had given the Bibliognost ¡®everything I might ever write¡¯.¡±

    <em>Oh</em>, Tristan softly thought. A god of schrs and secrets, Francho had called the entity. Fortuna was the Lady of Long Odds, the one in a thousand chance, and it was such gambles she fed on ¨C win or lose. The Bibliognost had fed on the old professor¡¯s schrship and through cunning phrasing also made everything Francho might learn through his contract secrets for him savor. If what Francho learned could not be writ down, in a matter of decades it would be good as forgot.

    Not all gods offered such in bargains as the one had struck with Fortuna: some saw their contractors as little more than the spoon filling their mouth.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Francho said. ¡°I was tricked.¡±

    ¡°They sent you away from the university for it?¡± Tristan asked.

    A professor that could not write or be written for was hardly fit to teach students.

    ¡°They were not going to throw me out,¡± the old man snorted. ¡°I was as familiar to my fellows as the bricks or the fountains, just as much a part of Reve. But I was to lose my Master¡¯s chair and cease giving sses.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°I could not stand it,¡± Francho admitted. ¡°Being tricked and losing so much, when I had thought myself cleverer than a god. So I turned to the Caliginum, the library beneath Reve, and stole forbidden books so that I might find a way to break free of the price.¡±

    ¡°You said it was a disagreement with rectoress that made you leave the university,¡± Tristan recalled.

    Francho smiled toothlessly.

    ¡°I got close,¡± he said. ¡°I could push it onto rabbits, but they never survived the process. I needed arger brain, I knew, capable of higher thought. Of true interaction with the aether. And there are always students desperate for tutoring so their marks will not get them thrown out.¡±

    Tristan went still.

    ¡°You did it to a student?¡±

    ¡°They found the books in my room before I could,¡± Francho said.

    He smiled mirthlessly.

    ¡°Or so the rectoress told the infanzones, when she dered me a wanted man,¡± he said. ¡°In truth they were an hourte.¡±

    The thief breathed in sharply.

    ¡°It did not work,¡± Francho conversationally said. ¡°The boy¡¯s own brain bled him to death.¡±

    So that was why the man was not some tutor ensconced in a noble house, teaching their children. He was a killer and a wanted man. Francho reached for another cabecita, broke it on his lip and sucked in the piece. He swallowed, wetly.

    ¡°Are you disappointed, Tristan?¡± the old man lightly asked. ¡°That I am not the kind of man I like to seem.¡±

    Francho¡¯s face was unmarred by shame or doubt. He did not, the thief decided, regret what he had done. Even if it had failed. The old professor had decided that he was willing to kill for a chance at cheating the price of his contract, at gaining back all that he had lost. Maybe if Tristan were from the Old Town he would have been disgusted, but he was a rat. He knew better. Francho had been starved, so he had bit. That the boy he¡¯d bit had been underserving changed nothing. When had the world ever run on what people deserved?

    You bit what your teeth could reach, nothing more and nothing less.

    ¡°I suppose I do have a question,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Francho said. ¡°By all means, ask.¡±

    The thief cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°Did you find it?¡± he asked. ¡°The First Cant you were looking for.¡±

    Francho went still as stone, looking at him for a long time, then convulsed. Tristan thought him to be coughing or crying, until the bitterestugh he had ever heard came crawling out.

    ¡°There was misspelling on the stele,¡± Francho told him. ¡°It was supposed to be speaking of the library in a past tense, you see.¡±

    The old man toothlessly smiled.

    ¡°It was torn down millennia ago to make room for a brothel, so there were nothing at all left to find.¡±

    Heughed again but Tristan could not help but hear the wail behind it. The whimper. He left the professor sitting alone, wrestling with his grief, and did not look back.

    He had his own ghosts toy to rest and no time for anyone else¡¯s.

    --

    The ropedder up into the pir wasn¡¯t guarded.

    Why would it be, when as far as Lieutenant Vasanti knew the sole room there led to a door she had the only key to? <em>Sloppy</em>, the thief thought disapprovingly. In their ce he would have left a watchman up there and had them pull thedder up until morning. Vasanti¡¯s imprudence was his gain as he snuck out of the Old Fort and climbed back up to the same room he had been so d to be rid of earlier. In Tristan¡¯s pocket waited the stone button he had lent to Francho, but he did not use it yet. Instead he leaned back against the wall by the stone door and met Fortuna¡¯s golden eyes.

    She rolled them but went ahead anyway.

    The goddess could not stray far from him, but walls and locks meant nothing to her. She was not physically present, after all, only the illusion of her in his eyes. It was twenty seconds before she returned, popping her head through the still-closed door.

    ¡°He¡¯s not in there,¡± Fortuna told him.

    ¡°I will need you to look ahead in the hallway as well,¡± Tristan murmured. ¡°But remember we cannot talk. He could be sensitive to sound.¡±

    She cocked an eyebrow at him, a somewhat distressing sight when all he saw of her was a seemingly floating head and loose blond locks. She was, he mused as his fingers closed against the stone button, definitely doing that on purpose.

    ¡°I am perfectly capable of silence,¡± she said. ¡°It is your own incessant chatter that-¡±

    He pressed the button into the opening, cutting her off by the act of the door popping open ¨C he slid around it to catch the button as it fell out of the ¡®lock¡¯ on the other side. Fortuna looked more than slightly offended, which only got worse when he put his finger to his lips in a smiling shush. The lights were back in the tile room, Tristan saw, but he did not linger there. Leaving the door ajar, he crept back up the way he had firste into this room: the maintenance door. The room there was exactly as he had left it, so the thief helped himself to the first reason he had returned.

    Thest stone button went into his pocket and then he took the brand Vasanti was so hungry for.

    Now for the second reason. He doubled back towards the door with the brokentch, the one leading out into the hallway, and met Fortuna¡¯s eyes. She went through as he prepared to bolt, but returned with a shake of her head. The god was not there, at least for the moment. <em>Why did it leave?</em> Did gods sleep? He had not thought so. Still, for now he would count his blessings and proceed down the hallway with all the quiet he had learned. The door was still there, hidden by the curve of the hall, and two dozen steps took him to it. Green ss, but transparent enough he could see through it.

    And as he¡¯d thought when getting his first glimpse from a distance, what he saw through that door was a <em>lift</em>.

    --

    Tristan fled after that, not slowing until he the stone door closed behind him and he had a semnce of safety. Brand still in hand, stones in his pocket, the thief went to the edge of the room and finally allowed himself to rest. He sat at the edge, feet dangling in the void as the distant sight of the maze of ruins ¨C from here little more than slices of antiquity bared by light, as if some ancient era had been left half-used on a cutting board ¨C and his breathing evened out.

    Tristan Abrascal sat there in silence and thought, for now he saw the whole of the mosaic.

    Now all that was left was to decide where to slide the knife.

 Chapter 29

    Chapter 29

    To her very great shame, Angharad¡¯s first reaction was relief it had not been one of hers.

    The second was fury: Aines¡¯ corpse could not have been left out of the hall by ident, the murderer had wanted them all to see it. She strode over to the crowd, only some of them turning at the sound: the rest were too busy shouting. Lord Ishaan was the first to notice her and the man ¨C still chubby-cheeked, for all that the fresh scar across his lip now lent him a harder edge ¨C turned red as an apple.

    ¡°Lady Angharad,¡± he got out. ¡°Would you, I mean-¡±

    Shalini leaned over his shoulder, nce flicking up and down, then let out an approving noise.

    ¡°He¡¯s asking you to put pants on,¡± she tranted. ¡°Respectfully.¡±

    Angharad frowned. Her underclothes ended high on her thighs, but she was hardly naked.

    ¡°This is why people make sport of Ramayans, Nair,¡± Tupoc Xical opined, stepping out. ¡°You can¡¯t take a gift even when it¡¯s dropped straight onto yourp.¡±

    Tupoc¡¯s gaze was hardly the mostscivious Angharad had ever been on the receiving end of ¨C she¡¯d had worse leers stretching out in sparring clothes after getting sweaty ¨C but the pale eyes were distinctly appreciative as they took her in. That and the attention the conversation was drawing from those who had been shouting was enough to convince Angharad to give in to Ishaan¡¯s request.

    She could think of few things more nauseating than arguing about clothing besides a murder victim¡¯s corpse.

    Doubling back to her chambers, she dragged on pants and boots before hastily belting her saber. Grabbing her coat as well, she came out with outstretched arms only to pause right out the door. Yong was there, bangs loose despite the haircut the kindly olddy had given him after he lost his topknot. So was Song, smiling pressing a pistol against his belly. To the older Tianxi¡¯s honor, he did not seem particrly fearful of that. Instead he nodded Angharad¡¯s way, ignoring he was but a twitch of the finger away from a shot in the guts.

    ¡°Tredegar,¡± he said. ¡°A word in private, please.¡±

    Angharad almost sighed, pulling her coat into ce by tugging thepels.

    ¡°That¡¯s not happening,¡± Song said. ¡°I know who you are, Jiang Shashou Yong.¡±

    Some kind of Cathayan title? Yong hardly seemed a noble and the Republics should not have any besides.

    ¡°I do not recall seeing the youngdy at Diecai, so I assure you she is quite safe,¡± Yong drily said.

    Angharad¡¯s eyes narrowed, irritated at being cut out a conversation that had begun with a request of her.

    ¡°That is enough, Song,¡± she said, pushing down the muzzle of the pistol. ¡°I can decide for myself who I will speak to, in private or not.¡±

    Her friend grimaced.

    ¡°Angharad, he is-¡±

    ¡°Whatever those words in Cathayan you appended to his name mean, I imagine,¡± she cut in. ¡°I do not care. That does not ce the decision in your hands.¡±

    Diecai. The name was vaguely known to her. A battle a few decades back, perhaps a Republican victory? Angharad would admit to not having been the most dutiful of students when it came to the history of Tianxia and the Someshwar. There were only so many times you could hear of ten thousand soldiers dying to move a border by two miles before it all rather melded together. Her eyes moved to Yong.

    ¡°Meanwhile, Master Yong, we arergely unacquainted and there was recently a murder,¡± she said. ¡°We will not be going anywhere alone. The <em>three </em>of us, however, can take a moment inside my chambers to have the conversation you requested.¡±

    Song murmured something in Cathayan, the other Tianxi¡¯s eyes snapping to her as he replied acidly in the same, and Angharad¡¯s thinning patience snapped.

    ¡°You are both being intolerably rude,¡± she coldly said. ¡°Mend your manners or leave.¡±

    Song grimaced, nodding an apology, but Yong looked unmoved.

    ¡°Shall we go into your room?¡±

    Angharad had half a mind to send him away, but that was anger speaking and not sense. She stepped back and invited them in, though she did not close the door. By the time both were inside, Song¡¯s pistol was nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°You wanted to speak to me,¡± Angharad reminded the man. ¡°Here I am.¡±

    Yong hesitated a moment, then made his decision.

    ¡°A friend of mine found out that Aines and Felis were both sent here by the same coterie,¡± he said. ¡°It paid for their seats on the Bluebell.¡±

    The Pereduri cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Coterie?¡±

    ¡°Gang,¡± Song rified. ¡°Sacromonte has more than a dog has fleas. Some grow distressinglyrge and influential.¡±

    The sign of a decaying state whose nobility improperly discharged their duties. Such a thing would never have been tolerated in Peredur: soulsmitted to infamy did not stay in the duchy, they fled abroad to be pirates and hirelings. There would be time to consider the failings of Sacromonteter, however.

    ¡°Why would criminals pay to send a married couple onto this dangerous ind?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°For bets,¡± Yong said. ¡°They are called ¡®red games¡¯. The desperate are indebted are sent here and told to aplish a task in exchange for salvation.¡±

    Oh, the noblewoman did not like the sound of that. The conclusion was obvious as it was ugly.

    ¡°Felis was told to kill his <em>wife</em>?¡± she said, appalled.

    The Tianxi wiggled his hand.

    ¡°I do not know for sure,¡± he said. ¡°But he tried to get her to leave our crew several times during the Trial of Lines and Aines told us that should she die before reaching the third trial there would be dire consequences.¡±

    ¡°For whom?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°They have children, I hear,¡± Song quietly said.

    The older man nodded.

    ¡°The coteries, they do not care about the deaths,¡± he said. ¡°Death is cheap. What they care about is the surprise, the story. If they told Aines she must live until the third trial or her children would die, then Felis¡­¡±

    ¡°Might have been told the opposite,¡± Angharad said. ¡°So they might find out who would turn on the other first.¡±

    Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding. A disgusting abuse of power, fit only to be answered by the de.

    ¡°You believe Felis did it, then,¡± she said.

    ¡°I do not know,¡± Yong admitted. ¡°But he had means ¨C they slept in the same room - and motive. It looks much like Ju¡¯s murder, which I doubt he had anything to do with, but that might be the point.¡±

    Song was more interested in something else.

    ¡°Why go to us with this?¡± she asked. ¡°You came here with the Ramayan crew.¡±

    The older Tianxi nced at her with irritation, and for a moment Angharad thought they would start bickering again. Instead he shrugged.

    ¡°Ishaan¡¯s a decent sort, for a Someshwari, but he will only go so far with this,¡± Yong said. ¡°I do not believe you will drop the matter even if it bes messy.¡±

    It was true that Aines had not been part of Ishaan¡¯s crew and so he had no obligation to her as a lord, but Angharad thought the young lord was being underestimated. She had no reason to believe the Someshwari socking in character as to allow a murder to go unpunished, but then Yong was Tianxi. He would have little understanding of nobility and its duties.

    ¡°Twice now one of us was murdered in cold blood,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Heedless of¡­ messiness, as you put it, we must rid ourselves of this curse before it strikes again.¡±

    The Tianxi gave her a nod, satisfied with the implicit promise. He had nothing more to tell them so after barely passable leavetaking he took the door. Angharad would have followed, had Song notid a restraining hand on her arm.

    ¡°There¡¯s something off about the body,¡± she said.

    Aines¡¯, she no doubt meant. Angharad raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°The throat was cut, but the spray of blood was minimal,¡± Song said. ¡°Either the body was cleaned up or-¡±

    ¡°Aines was killed before her throat was cut,¡± Angharad finished.

    She had made enough corpses to know the difference.

    ¡°That was not the case with the twin¡¯s death,¡± she continued after a moment. ¡°There was a great deal of blood on the grass.¡±

    ¡°Ju was definitely killed while alive,¡± Song agreed. ¡°Which begs the question of why it was different this time, if it was the same killer¡¯s work.¡±

    ¡°So Felis killed his wife without leaving a mark, then cut her throat to have the first murderer med for it,¡± Angharad frowned.

    A pause.

    ¡°It could be the other way around,¡± she pointed out. ¡°The killer could have made this death different to send us chasing after the wrong man.¡±

    Though Angharad had never thought of such a thing being associated to murder before, stratagems of that kind were not umon at court. Song conceded with a nod.

    ¡°We won¡¯t learn anything more in here, anyhow,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°Best to return before the others get impatient.¡±

    --

    The stepped right into a tinderbox.

    Around Aines¡¯ cooling corpse every soul in the temple had gathered, in varying degrees of dress but with every single soul armed. There were half a dozen pistols out and just as many des, and though none were being pointed yet they were being waved about with too much enthusiasm for Angharad¡¯s tastes. Lines were being drawn, groups coalescing. Lord Ishaan, Shalini and Acanthe were pressing Tupoc, by whom a sneering Ocon stood. The object of the argument was Felis, who had hunched on himself looking like a beaten dog.

    ¡°They slept in the same bed,¡± Ishaan insisted. ¡°You would have me believe he did not wake up even as she was dragged out of the room?¡±

    ¡°Drugs or a contract would see to that easily enough,¡± Tupoc shrugged. ¡°I am more interested in what Lan was doing, awake so early and walking about.¡±

    The surviving Tianxi twin looked nervous, but she was not alone. Lady Ferranda, Brun and even Yong stood with her. It was Brun, the fair-haired Sacromontan even-tempered as ever, who replied.

    ¡°Are you suggesting she also murdered her own sister?¡± Brun asked.

    Tupoc shrugged, but there were few takers for the notion in the crowd. All remembered Lan¡¯s grief that morning.

    ¡°Besides,¡± Brun continued, ¡°Lady Ferranda was the first out the door after Lan shouted and she saw nothing worth calling attention to.¡±

    ¡°One of us would have found the corpse eventually,¡± Ferranda Vizur agreed. ¡°That it was Lan makes no difference.¡±

    ¡°I cannot agree,¡± Lord Remund tly said. ¡°I notice you are fully dressed, Ferranda. Are you telling me you achieved this in mere moments before running out? It is most suspicious.¡±

    Ferranda¡¯s lips thinned. She did not answer.

    ¡°I am sure she has an exnation for that,¡± Lady Isabel said, once again ying peacemaker. ¡°Let us not use in haste, Remund.¡±

    Master Cozme stood with the two infanzones, closing off their faction. Unlike the two nobles the mustachioed soldier looked unwilling to step into the argument, but he was armed and watchful. His eyes were seeking something, Angharad realized, or at least someone. A heartbeatter she realized whom.

    ¡°Where are Lord Zenzele and Yaretzi?¡± the noblewoman called out, stepping in with Song at her side.

    ¡°Ah, Lady Tredegar finally graces us with her presence,¡± Tupoc called out. ¡°A bted wee to you.¡±

    ¡°You talk a lot, for someone with so little to say,¡± Shalini Goel mildly said.

    The same Someshwari then nced Angharad¡¯s way.

    ¡°Both of them rushed in when everyone was there,¡± Shalini said, ¡°but they must have slipped away after.¡±

    Murmurs spread.

    ¡°Suspicious,¡± Remund said.

    ¡°Can it even be called an echo if you only repeat your own voice, Cerdan?¡± Yong mocked.

    There were moreughs than she would have expected to that, and several who smiled. Remund¡¯s cheeks reddened with anger, but Cozme kept him from answering as he clearly wished to.

    ¡°Enough,¡± Angharad stepped in. ¡°We cannot get to the bottom of this until everyone is here. Did anyone see which way they went?¡±

    A lot of muttering, but no answer.

    ¡°Then we will have to look for them level by level,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Moving in pairs for safety.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary.¡±

    She recognized Lord Zenzele¡¯s voice even before the man himself came into view, a steel-faced Yaretzi at his side. They wereing down the stairs that led to the upper level and Angharad¡¯s stomach clenched. Neither looked as if they were bearing good news.

    ¡°We went to have a look at the gates upstairs,¡± Yaretzi exined.

    The reigning current of curiosity ensured they were allowed to speak instead of questioned.

    ¡°Someone took a hammer to two of the three,¡± Lord Zenzele told everyone. ¡°Their needles no longer turn and the mechanisms are damaged: I expect only the gate ted for the seventh hour will be fit to open.¡±

    <em>We are being forced to stick together</em>, Angharad thought. Why? Should the murdered not prefer for the crews to split off again as quickly as possible, to hide from retribution?

    ¡°I know of only one hammer around here,¡± Song noted. ¡°Ocon?¡±

    The big man snorted.

    ¡°Like any of you twigs could swing it,¡± the Azn said. ¡°It was in my rooms when the racket woke me up, so it hasn¡¯t been stolen.¡±

    ¡°Then we ought to look through everyone¡¯s bags for a hammer,¡± Lord Ishaan suggested.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Angharad forcefully said.

    Some hesitation from the crowd, but willingness as well. No one wanted the murderer to walk free.

    ¡°A bloodied knife was nted in my valet¡¯s affairs,st time,¡± Lord Remund cautioned them. ¡°Let us not assume a hammer means culpability, it could have been ce there.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like something a man with a hammer in his bag might say,¡± Tupoc grinned.

    That saw an end to all argument from a freshly red-cheeked Remund. It was longer and more arduous to arrange who would look through the bags than look through them. In the end three of them ¨C Angharad, Ishaan, Tupoc ¨C were deputized to act. The two captains of the crew the bag¡¯s owner were not part of did the looking, with some effort made as to discretion. As much as they could while doing this in the hallway with everyone looking, anyhow. A quick but methodical search that could not havested more than ten minutes revealed no hammer.

    ¡°It could be hidden in the killer¡¯s room,¡± Brun suggested. ¡°We can search those as well.¡±

    ¡°I would have been simpler to just throw it in one of the pools downstairs when they were done,¡± Acanthe Phos opined. ¡°And I don¡¯t think anyone wants to go looking through that strange water.¡±

    There were grimaces at that, but no one contradicted her. All had been careful not toe into direct contact with the iridescent waters in the pools and waterfalls below.

    ¡°Then we must look for the murderer with wits and witnesses,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Question all those who might have seen something.¡±

    ¡°This is not Mn, Lady Angharad, and we are not your peasants,¡± Shalini Goel bluntly said. ¡°No one here is bound to abide by your judgement.¡±

    ¡°Afraid of questions, Someshwari?¡± Lord Remund sneered. ¡°Lady Angharad has proved honorable, unlike you lot.¡±

    She his her surprise at the unstinting defense, though part of her did wonder if it was merely a springboard to strike at his opponents from.

    ¡°Her honor is not in question,¡± Lord Ishaan mildly replied. ¡°It seems wiser, however, for more than one person to investigate this affair.¡±

    ¡°Lord Ishaan is entirely correct,¡± she said. ¡°I did not mean to imply otherwise.¡±

    Angharad had expected rtively straightforward acmations, as for the bags, but to her surprise it was not the case. Few supported Tupoc ¨C only Ocon and Felis ¨C while Ishaan simrly struggled to earn support from his crew. Brun and Lady Ferranda instead pushed for Yong, surprisingly supported by Lan. The sudden sundering of authority made no sense to her, until the argument led her to watching Zenzele as he argued for himself as an investigator.

    The gate, it was all because of the gate.

    There was only one to take, so like it or not everyone would be going the same way and sharing the same path. The previous captaincies were meaningless because everyone would tread the same ground anyway, so now everyone pressed for those they liked or trusted the most instead of their once-captain. <em>Is that what the murderer wanted?</em> Forcing everyone to go through a single gate, one that was to open within hours, had resulted in the effective end of the delving crews.

    <em>Worse, we all know there is only so long left until the seventh hour</em>, she thought. When the gate did open at that time, they would have to take it whether the murderer was found or not. They would, otherwise, be stuck in this temple with the killer for another night or day. It was devil¡¯s cleverness at work, but cleverness nheless and it gave them trouble.

    Angharad was acimed into a investigator¡¯s role by six voices within moments of it bing, then Yong by maintaining his four and then to her surprise Tupoc won over Lord Ishaan when Yaretzi spoke for him over the other man. To have neither Yaretzi nor Zenzele¡¯s voice as part of her count when she did have Acanthe Phos¡¯ was something that left her rather unsettled. Song leaned in close.

    ¡°They both votedte, after you were guaranteed to have be one of the victors,¡± Song reassured her. ¡°The point was to pick more than one candidate, not express distrust in you.¡±

    Angharad did not know what she liked less about this: that the pair had not truly sent support where they thought it most deserving or that Song thought this to be some kind of¡­ democratic process. Worse was that she was not entirely sure the silver-eyed Tianxia was wrong. Setting aside her difort, she held council with Yong and Tupoc. The three agreed that everyone should return to their rooms until the questioning was finished and that though there was a right to question violence was strictly forbidden - despite Tupoc¡¯s protests.

    ¡°You would have us dig a pit without shovel,¡± the Aznined.

    ¡°I will not entrust you with authority I believe you will abuse,¡± Angharad frostily.

    ¡°I just think you¡¯re the worst kind of prick,¡± Yong confessed. ¡°But sure, what she said.¡±

    Tupocughed. She decided to believe that Yong was being facetious, for both their sakes. Angharad¡¯s first act was to ask the other two if they had any questions for Song and, when told this was not the case, iming her as a right hand for the rest of the investigation and fetching her from her room. Tupoc followed suit with Ocon, but Yong preferred going at it alone. Having no intention to stay together for the interrogations, they split up and go to work after togetherying Aines to rest on the stone bed in one of the empty rooms.

    Within moments Angharad stood alone with her Tianxi friend, breathing in deeply.

    ¡°Lan was the first to see the corpse,¡± Song said. ¡°She seems the logical ce to start.¡±

    The noblewoman saw no reason to disagree. They were the first to go to the twin, who was waiting calmly in her room.

    ¡°Lady Angharad, Song Ren,¡± Lan said, nodding a greeting. ¡°I¡¯d wondered if it would be you two or Tupoc first.¡±

    The Pereduri nodded a greeting back but kept the courtesies brief.

    ¡°You found the body,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Tell me about it.¡±

    ¡°It was dead,¡± Lan drily replied.

    The Pereduri twitched at the flippancy.

    ¡°Was it cold?¡± Song asked.

    The other woman shrugged.

    ¡°I did not touch it,¡± she said, ¡°so I cannot say.¡±

    ¡°What were you doing out in the first ce?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°I was going to take a piss,¡± Lan frankly said. ¡°Almost did anyway, stumbling onto Aines like that.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s eyes narrowed. The crudity of the answer was distasteful, but it was too distasteful. It felt like the girl she had dueledst year at Mawa Peak who had kept striking at her face ¨C Angharad¡¯s form had been better, they both knew, so her opponent had tried to make her lose her temper to bring them back on even ground.

    ¡°You are,¡± Angharad coldly said, ¡°lying.¡±

    Song idly produced her pistol, which Lan¡¯s eyes followed warily. Though Angharad almost told her to put it away, the implication of violence was not strictly against the promise made ¨C only the actual exercise.

    ¡°That¡¯s a bluff,¡± the twin snorted. ¡°No way you agreed on giving each other that authority.¡±

    ¡°We voted on it,¡± Angharad stiffly said.

    She felt the blue-lipped woman¡¯s eyes on her as she spoke, Lan eventually letting out a small curse in Antigua. She bit her lip, then raised her hands.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°You got me. I wasn¡¯ting out of my room at all, because I never went into it.¡±

    Angharad blinked, taken aback.

    <em>¡°Why?¡±</em>

    Song breathed in.

    ¡°You spent the entire night spying on everyone¡¯s movements,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°To see who went where.¡±

    Lan grinned, unrepentant.

    ¡°It¡¯s always useful to know who¡¯s fucking and scheming with who,¡± the blue-lipped woman said. ¡°And it¡¯s not like I was doing anything forbidden, is it? I just waited in a dark corner with a good view and waited, that¡¯s not even snooping the way most people would see it.¡±

    Wait, if she had been keeping an eye on everyone¡¯sing and goings then¡­ Angharad coughed into her fist, embarrassed.

    ¡°Yeah, mydy, your cheeks <em>should</em> be red,¡± Lan cackled. ¡°That girl¡¯s good as engaged, the way Remund Cerdan tells it.¡±

    ¡°Angharad?¡±

    The noblewoman found Song¡¯s silver eyes on her, face unreadable.

    ¡°It was not,¡± she tried, then swallowed. ¡°We didn¡¯t. I declined, given the circumstances.¡±

    ¡°But she attempted to sleep with you,¡± Song slowly said.

    ¡°We are straying off the subject,¡± Angharad stiffly replied.

    The Tianxi must have taken it as a confirmation, for her face tightened. For a moment Angharad though she saw anger in the cast of the other woman¡¯s face, but surely that was only the light. She had never been given the slightest hint that Song might be interested in her or that they thought of each other in such a light, so what call was there for jealous anger? Salvation came from an unexpected source.

    ¡°Poor Isabel,¡± Lan mused. ¡°She must have been wanting a pick-me up after her other visit.¡±

    That got both their attentions.

    ¡°Other visit?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°Remund Cerdan came to her room,¡± the blue-lipped woman said. ¡°Stayed in there about a quarter hour, left looking angry and went straight to back to his own.¡±

    Song hummed, looking interested.

    ¡°Trouble in Sacromonte, perhaps,¡± she said. ¡°Who else wandered, Lan?¡±

    ¡°Ah, and now you even call me by my name all sweetly,¡± the other woman smiled. ¡°Funny how even a rat gets a smile when they have the right dirt - it¡¯s almost as if the world runs on secrets.¡±

    ¡°It may help us find out who the killer was to know who moved around during the night,¡± Angharad honestly told her. ¡°I would ask that you tell us.¡±

    The twin sighed.

    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± she dismissed. ¡°Shalini went to Lord Ishaan¡¯s room, and I didn¡¯t need my ear against that door to guess why. Stayed for about two hours, then back to her own. Just a little after that, Ferranda Vizur came out of her own fully dressed and went upstairs.¡±

    Angharad stilled. They were all on the fourth level, and the fifth held little save the room with the gates.

    ¡°Did she have a hammer?¡± she asked.

    ¡°She wore a cloak so I can¡¯t say,¡± Lan told them. ¡°She was gone for an hour at most, then back to her room.¡±

    Angharad worried her lip.

    ¡°And after that?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°After that I fell asleep,¡± Lan admitted. ¡°When I woke up I wasn¡¯t sure about the time, so I headed to my room to grab some sleep. I ran into Aines¡¯ corpse on the way and you know what follows.¡±

    She closed her eyes, trying to fit the pieces.

    ¡°How long Lady Isabel stay in my quarters?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Go there around the eleventh hour, left around the first,¡± Lan said.

    ¡°Shalini¡¯s visit?¡±

    ¡°From midnight to the second hour, more or less,¡± she replied.

    After which Lady Ferrand had gone upstairs for an hour thene back down.

    ¡°It¡¯s a quarter past five at the moment,¡± Song noted. ¡°And it should not have been much more than half an hour since this all began.¡±

    So Lan found the body a quarter before the fifth hour, more or less, and before that there were a little under two hours through which the twin had slept. Thest person known to have stalked the halls was, it appeared, Lady Ferranda. That made it in who Angharad¡¯s next visit needed to be.

    ¡°Thank you for your help,¡± she told Lan.

    The Tianxi grinned, revealing teeth stained just as blue as her lips.

    ¡°If you catch them, try not to kill them,¡± Lan said. ¡°I have a debt to settle first.¡±

    --

    Angharad not often spoken with Lady Ferranda Vizur since the Trial of Ruins had begun, something she asionally felt a sliver of guilt over. Now was not the time to indulge in that guilt, however, so when she and Song entered the room she kept her face nk. Ferranda, still fully dressed and her bun pulled tight, sat on her bed. The greetings exchanged were stiff, so Angharad decided not to stretch out the shared difort.

    ¡°You were seen going upstairs during the night,¡± she told the infanzona. ¡°May I know why?¡±

    The fair-haired Sacromontan studied her a moment, frowning.

    ¡°Lan or Brun,¡± she finally said. ¡°Everyone else would have thought it beneath them to spy.¡±

    Brun was not much of a snoop, Angharad thought, so there Ferranda misread the situation. Either way, she had no intention of revealing Lan¡¯s tactlessness ¨C for another to be indiscreet was no excuse to follow their example.

    ¡°Interesting insight,¡± Song said. ¡°Not, however, an answer to our question.¡±

    Ferranda sighed.

    ¡°I went upstairs,¡± she said, ¡°so I could take a hammer to two of the three paths.¡±

    There was a short, awkward pause as Angharad admitted to herself she had not expected so blunt and easy a confession. Song seemed simrly taken aback.

    ¡°To what purpose?¡± she finally asked.

    Ferranda straightened.

    ¡°I am told that Lady Isabel passed a trial as part of your crew while disying obvious foreknowledge.¡±

    ¡°And you have foreknowledge of your own,¡± Angharad said, unwilling to leave it unsaid.

    ¡°Not our own,¡± the infanzona admitted. ¡°House Vizur bought it from a house better informed. Among that knowledge was a thorough description of this very temple and of where the three ¡®gates¡¯ lead. It is one of the few fixed points in the maze.¡±

    ¡°And what makes the gate so important?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°One of those I broke leads into a trap, a hallway whose floor rises to meet the ceiling,¡± Ferranda said, and the Pereduri winced. ¡°The second leads back to another crossroads, spreading in every direction.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°The one I spared should lead to a temple-fortress overlooking the veryst stretch of the maze: a passage called the Toll Road.¡±

    Song stirred from her ce leaning against the wall, earning a curious look from the other two.

    ¡°I have heard the name before,¡± she said. ¡°I was told it leads directly to the gate where the ten victors must stand.¡±

    ¡°You could have shared your knowledge with others instead of wielding a hammer,¡± Angharad said, turning to the other noble, though the reproach in her voice was mild.

    Knowing that Ferranda had not acted with the intent to harm rather robbed her of any genuine offence at the act.

    ¡°I did,¡± Lady Ferranda said. ¡°Lord Ishaan then requested I keep the information secret.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s jaw tightened.

    ¡°The gate to the death trap,¡± she began, ¡°who-¡±

    ¡°Tupoc¡¯s group,¡± the infanzona cut in. ¡°And while I do not disagree the man deserves to die, he would not have died alone.¡±

    And so Ferranda Vizur had acted within the bounds of honor: she had not gone against the word of the captain she had gone under, but neither had she allowed those she deemed unworthy of death to approach it unknowing. Angharad nodded in respect, which had Ferranda¡¯s in face twisting in surprise. Song cleared her throat.

    ¡°I mean no slight to your honor,¡± the Tianxi said, ¡°but should we want to verify your words¡­¡±

    ¡°I do not image Lord Ishaan will deny them if asked,¡± the infanzona shrugged.

    ¡°The hammer you used?¡± Song pressed again.

    ¡°I tossed it one of the pools downstairs,¡± Ferranda amusedly said. ¡°Much as Lady Acanthe guessed. It is the one besides the twisted gargoyle with dragon¡¯s ws, if you are inclined to look.¡±

    Angharad cleared her throat.

    ¡°And the reason why you remained dressed?¡±

    ¡°In case this all went bad,¡± Lady Ferranda frankly said. ¡°Should my actions be found out while I slept, I did not want to be caught in my underclothes and so I slept fully dressed. My affairs are also all packed.¡±

    A look behind them was enough to bear that out: the room was pristine, the bags orderly. Song, though was not yet satisfied.

    ¡°Why destroy two of the gates?¡± she asked. ¡°Only one was truly harmful.¡±

    ¡°Because I want this godforsaken trial to <em>end</em>, Tianxi,¡± the infanzona harshly said. ¡°Once we have all found the Toll Road it will only be a matter of days until this all over.¡±

    ¡°Then-¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Angharad said, cutting off Song.

    She inclined her head at Lady Ferranda.

    ¡°Thank you for your answers.¡±

    ¡°Think nothing of it,¡± the infanzona dismissed.

    Her Tianxi right hand did not need to be dragged out of the room, saving them both the embarrassment. Angharad turned on her after the door closed behind them.

    ¡°That was unnecessary,¡± she tly said.

    Song shook her head.

    ¡°She was lying.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°You believe she is the murderer?¡± Angharad tried.

    ¡°No,¡± Song admitted. ¡°But she was lying about why she sabotaged two of the gates instead of one, I am sure of it. She is hiding something.¡±

    The Pereduri grit her teeth in frustration ¨C at both the insistence that Song should have been allowed to continue her rudeness and that perhaps the insistence was not entirely unwarranted.

    ¡°We are all hiding things, Song,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± the Tianxi said, unconvinced. ¡°But mark my words, Angharad: there were games afoot tonight, and the one that made a corpse might not even have been the most dangerous.¡±

    --

    Their third destination must, inevitably, be Felis.

    Though Angharad was uncertain of his guilt, Yong¡¯s words could not be denied: the man had had both motive and opportunity. Only when the pair reached his room there was already someone standing by them. Tupoc stood by the open door, smiling as they arrived. Beyond the threshold Ocon seemed to be speaking with Felis.

    ¡°We require a word with him,¡± Angharad told him.

    ¡°Oh?¡± he drawled. ¡°What for?¡±

    Already the man was trying her patience. Deciding on boldness, Angharad went for the throat.

    ¡°We have reason to believe he was bribed to kill his wife,¡± she said.

    A moment passed. For a man whose follower had just been implicitly used of murder, Tupoc Xical seemed most unshaken.

    ¡°You are correct,¡± Tupoc easily said. ¡°Felis was told that if he slew his wife before the third trial, their children would be raised wealthy.¡±

    Angharad paused, taken aback again. Viins in ys were much harder to unmask. The Izcalli then raised a finger.

    ¡°The condition, however, was that he must do it with his own hands,¡± Tupoc continued. ¡°Look at the him now, Tredegar.

    Angharad did. Worn and bruised, Felis looked hunched on himself even though Ocon was looking unusually mild. He also kept ncing at the corners of the room, gnawing at his lips. Guilt? No, mostly he looked worried. Not even all that afraid, but anxious about something past the horizon.

    ¡°Does he look like someone who just got his way?¡± Tupoc asked.

    The Pereduri¡¯s lips thinned.

    ¡°No,¡± she admitted nheless.

    ¡°He¡¯ll be scheming to see if he can im he did the deed to his patrons anyhow,¡± the pale-eyed Azn said. ¡°But the man is scavenger, nothing more. He does not have the spine orpetence to have done this, much less the first murder.¡±

    Song cleared her throat.

    ¡°And this tale you told us of what the coterie demanded of him,¡± she said. ¡°How do you know it?¡±

    ¡°I had Ocon hang him upside down while I asked questions,¡± Tupoc said.

    Angharad looked at him aghast. The man put a hand over his heart, a beaming smile on his face.

    ¡°Come now, I am no monster,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°I did wait until his wife was out of the room, Lady Angharad. He¡¯d still had a fair shot at murdering her down the line.¡±

    Her jaw clenched, fingers tightened around the grip of her de. His spear was not yet assembled. It was a dishonor to strike the unarmed, but if she could find a reason¡­

    ¡°We will not fall for your provocations,¡± Song evenly said. ¡°You can cease trying.¡±

    Angharad, who had about to fall for the provocations, mastered herself with some effort. Now was not the time or ce for Tupoc to learn that crime unerringly earned punishment.

    ¡°Felis is not so much a suspect as first believed,¡± she said through gritted teeth.

    ¡°We are in agreement, then,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°I am impressed with this killer, truth be told. This is subtler than when they framed Tristan for the twin: they had to learn about the red games, not simply observe a brawl.¡±

    Angharad paused.

    ¡°You did not believe Tristan to be the killer,¡± she slowly said.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Tupoc said.

    He seemed surprised at the words.

    ¡°You used him repeatedly, Tical. Led the charge to see him med.¡±

    ¡°Because I wanted him to die,¡± the Azn told her, as if she were a little slow.

    Angharad¡¯s saber made it halfway out of the scabbard before Song caught her wrist.

    ¡°Not here,¡± she said. ¡°Not now.¡±

    And Tupoc, Tupoc was grinning. Already he was reaching for his segmented spear, putting the first two parts together.

    ¡°Why?¡± Angharad demanded. ¡°What possible reason could you have had to try to get an innocent man killed?¡±

    ¡°Something about him offends my god,¡± Tupoc shrugged. ¡°I am told he feels like someone who should have died a hundred times over, that it is most disorderly.¡±

    Song forced the sword back in the scabbard and Angharad let her. They were still under truce, she reminded herself. However thin a truce it might be.

    ¡°I require words with Felis,¡± she coldly said. ¡°Immediately.¡±

    ¡°So demanding,¡± Tupoc said, fanning himself.

    But he did call for Ocon, whose rose to his feet. The big man with the broken nose tried to brush into her as he passed, but Angharad squared her feet ¨C her shoulder bone dug in the soft of his own shoulder, the Azn drawing away with a pained growl. Angharad stared him down until he looked away, leaving with a still-smiling Tupoc.

    ¡°Ishaan might have had a point,¡± Song murmured.

    A jest, no doubt, but not one she was in a mood to humor. She did not answer, striding in instead, and before she could so much as offer a greeting Felis began to babble.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it,¡± he swore. ¡°I was still sleeping when all the shouting began, just ask Lan, and-¡±

    ¡°Tell us of your evening before,¡± Song cut in.

    The longer they spoke with the man, the clearer it became he had little to say. He had gone to sleep early and woken up only when Lan found his wife¡¯s body. They had shared a room but not a bedroll, and Angharad could help but find that for someone with so little to ry the man seemed all too nervous.

    ¡°May I have a look at your wound?¡± she suddenly asked.

    Felis stilled.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Difort, Angharad thought. One of the secrets being kept.

    ¡°It will be easier to ascertain if you <em>could</em> have killed your wife at all given the state of your wound,¡± Song smoothly replied.

    Felis on begrudgingly agreed, opening his shirt and tugging down mostly clean bandages to show where Remund had stabbed him in the belly. Angharad knelt, frowning as she saw the wound was mostly closed. No, not closed. The red of the gash was not that of healed flesh but of something else ¨C blood-red, sanguine, but not blood. Carefully touching around the wound with the tip of her fingers as Felis hissed in exaggerated pain, she found that the flesh was stiff. Solid, almost like as if there were bone beneath it. Frowning, Angharad drew away and back to her feet.

    ¡°See?¡± Felis said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t have done it.¡±

    A lie. Whatever that blood-red material was, it had effectively closed the wound. The noblewoman expected skin would grow back over it in time, leaving only that patch of solid skin.

    ¡°We are finished here,¡± Angharad finally said.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Song said.

    And the other woman¡¯s tone was as grim as her own thoughts, for they had grasped the very same problem: for all they had learned, they still had no real idea who¡¯d murdered Aines.

    --

    Yong was waiting in the hall when she emerged, looking in no better mood than she.

    ¡°How is the wound?¡± the Tianxi asked.

    ¡°Good as healed,¡± Angharad replied.

    The Tianxi sighed, passing a hand through his freshly-cut bangs.

    ¡°Dead ends for me,¡± Yong said. ¡°I heard about the nightly visits from Lan, but Remund Cerdan insists he only went over to speak of his uing engagement and Ruesta agreed.¡±

    Angharad readied herself for embarrassing questions, but none came. Was he not going to ask about Isabels¡¯ visit to her own rooms?

    ¡°Did you get anything out Lady Ferranda?¡± Song asked, filling the silence before it could grow too noticeable.

    ¡°That she was saving poormbs, benevolent mistress that she is,¡± Yong drily said. ¡°Vizur was done with our crew and decided her way out was forcing us all down the same path, I¡¯m guessing.¡±

    An uncharitable interpretation, but Angharad supposed Ferranda could have been moved to act for more than one reason.

    ¡°A span of two hours with no witness is too long,¡± Song noted. ¡°There is no solid way to catch out the culprit with such a ring hole in our knowledge.¡±

    ¡°My thoughts exactly,¡± Yong said. ¡°Any idea why Xical went straight for Felis from the start? If anyone should know everything the man has to say, it¡¯s him.¡±

    Angharad paused.

    ¡°He has sought out no one save Felis for questioning?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Lan, but only moments and after me,¡± Yong replied.

    That seemed¡­ odd. As did the fact that he did not seem to be interrogating anyone currently. What was the Izcalli after? Angharad let Song inform the other Tianxi that they had no idea what Tupoc had asked about and looked for the man herself, finding that he was not anywhere on the fourth level. She learned where he had been when she caught himing down the stairs.

    ¡°What were you doing?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Looking if the gates were truly broken as our friend Zenzele said,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°You can never be too safe, yes?¡±

    <em>You are lying</em>, Angharad thought, looking at his easy smile. <em>We missed something and you found it.</em>

    ¡°The purpose of this arrangement was to share information,¡± she evenly said. ¡°Not hoard it.¡±

    ¡°That you think that,¡± he gently told her, ¡°is why you¡¯ll lose.¡±

    Her jaw clenched.

    ¡°Perhaps I should put an end to this contest, then,¡± Angharad said, fingers gripping the handle of her saber. ¡°If you do not respect the spirit of the truce, why should you protected by it?¡±

    Tupoc grinned.

    ¡°Come now, Remund only stayed in your lovelydy¡¯s quarters for a bit,¡± he said. ¡°Not enough for you to get jealous over, surely?¡±

    Angharad stilled. That he would taunt her over that and not Isabel¡¯s visit to her rooms was¡­ Lan had told no one else about Isabel¡¯s visit, she realized. Gratitude, however guilty, seized her soul. It changed her mood enough that she took her hand off her de, to Tupoc¡¯s visible disappointment.

    ¡°A man can only take so much teasing, Tredegar,¡± he gravely reproached.

    ¡°We are still under truce,¡± Angharad replied. ¡°And why should I value even the shallows of my honor more than the likes of your life?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Tupoc Xical mused, ¡°if you are going to sweet-talk me so, I suppose I shall have to forgive you.¡±

    One day, Angharad thought, he would push her and there would be no strictures of honor protecting him.

    She was going to savor that day.

    --

    The second council between the three of them wasrgely ceremony: none of them had found the killer or even a solid lead. Tupoc was sitting on secrets ¨C and likely so were she and Yong ¨C but with silence holding there was resolution to be had. They sent for everyone toe out for amon address, the seventh hour having crawled dangerously close. The revtion that no culprit had been found did not go over well, not that Angharad had expected failure to be met with apuse. Even less popr was the acknowledgement that there was now only one way forward, through the gate that would open in under an hour.

    But what other choice was there?

    When the seventh hour came all seventeen took the gate, eyes on each other as much as the dangers thaty ahead.

 Chapter 30

    Chapter 30

    On the other side of the gate waited not a test but a tunnel.

    Narrow and damp it led them up for fifteen minutes, asionally at so strong an upwards tilt that some of them slid on the smooth stone and tumbled back into others. It was a relief when they emerged into open grounds, entering some sort of strange water garden. It looked like arge pond with inds of stone tracing a path across, but the waters turned out to be fathomlessly deep. And the path itself was asionally chancy path, as they soon realized that the ¡®inds¡¯ were in fact the top of pirs reaching up from the deeps ¨C and that some had been eaten away at by the water.

    When one toppled Lady Acanthe fell into the water, beginning to sink almost immediately.

    Had Master Cozme and Shalini not dragged her out she might well have drowned. More worrying still was what that Acanthe Phos assured them she was a skilled swimmer, only the water had been unnaturally ¡®heavy¡¯. She¡¯dpared it to trying to swim through msses.

    They were all d to be rid of the ce, all the more when thest ind brought them to a dpidated First Empire highway that, aside from the asional loose stone, presented no danger at all. Two opportunities to take a left off the highway led straight into dead ends, one of them a strange ck stone shrine whose closed door was thankfully received, and after a second hour¡¯s worth of walking they reached the top of plunging stairs. The end of the highway was broad enough for nearly all of them to have a look at the distant silhouette of the temple-fortress, which awed most into silence.

    Some of them, anyway.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what the ckcloaks im, that is <em>not</em> a temple,¡± Zenzele Duma announced. ¡°Fly a g on it and all that¡¯s missing is Izcalli footpads to shoot at.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll rustle up a g if you can get Xical to stand still,¡± Lady Ferranda offered.

    Angharad was not amused, because it would have been beneath one of her breeding to snort at such low-brow humor.

    She had merely been clearing her throat.

    Truly, however, Zenzele had a point. Ferranda had described their destination as a ¡®temple-fortress¡¯, but what Angharad beheld leaned distinctly towards thetter word. Stairs so roughly carved they were barely noticeable went down an abrupt slope for at least a few hundred feet until they reached the bottom of a cauldron. Or so it seemed, for on all sides hundreds of shattered shrines stacked onto one another formed iprehensible: it was a cacophony of broken faiths, a wall whose every brick was the ghost of some ancient promise.

    It troubled Angharad, looking at it too long. The sheer amount of shrines reaching up to the sky, a tombstone of silencedments drenched in the golden light of the firmament above. This was a graveyard of spirits, and its utter silence was more menacing than any chorus of wails.

    Rising from the center of the cauldron¡¯s bottom rose the promised temple-fortress. It was not in the shape of the modern fortresses ¨C stars and angles and bastions ¨C or even of older keeps with towers and tall curtains walls. Instead it was a thing of tiers, full red walls shaped like circles interlocking like a haphazard pile of tes bncing one way and the other. There were eight levels and almost twice as many circles of varying size, the broadest and highest at the bottom and narrowing as they rose. At the summit of the very highest tier a small tower in the same red stone stood, leading to a narrow stone bridge that connected to the top of the surrounding cliffs.

    The way forward, presumably to the Toll Road that Ferranda had imed was the veryst stretch of the maze.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen that kind of stone before,¡± Shalini Goel shared. ¡°My familyes from south of Mahabhara, and the cities on the shore of the Arama River use it for everything.¡±

    Angharad knew at least one of those names: Mahabhara was one of the great powers inside the Imperial Someshwar, their rajas usually wrestling with those of Varaveda and lesser rivals for who was to im the Maharaja¡¯s scepter ¨C and with it the authority to rule over all of the Imperial Someshwar, at least in name. Someshwari were a famously fractious lot.

    ¡°I thought you were Ramayan,¡± Yong said.

    ¡°I am,¡± she assured him. ¡°The Goel are merchants, when we expanded into Ramaya a branch of the family settled ordingly. I was born there myself.¡±

    <em>Ah</em>, Angharad thought. The nature of the ties between Lord Ishaan¡¯s house and themonborn Goel was atst made clear. The merchants must have sought the help and protection of local nobles when settling there, as was only proper. Even more proper was such ties resulting in the Goel providing a fosterling and attendant to someone of the Nair line, tightening the bonds between nobles and a wealthy subject. It was important, Father had always told her, to remain on good terms with the wealthy living on yournds.

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Lord Remund cut in, his tone indicating he thought it anything but. ¡°If we might perhaps attend to the fortress before us?¡±

    ¡°It is useful information,¡± Brun mildly replied. ¡°It means the god within might be of the Someshwar.¡±

    ¡°I do not recall asking for your-¡± Remund began, so Angharad stepped in.

    Clearing her throat, she raised her voice over his.

    ¡°We should get moving,¡± the noblewoman said. ¡°The stairs seem dangerous so we will have to be careful going down.¡±

    They¡¯d had enough of a rest gawking, so her suggestion was taken without argument. No one wanted to spend too long out here when there was still a murderer hiding among them, much less be stuck spending a night out. Lord Zenzele took the lead, Lady Ferranda volunteering to go behind him. The pair had stood together on the same unstable pir earlier, narrowly keeping it from toppling by shifting their weight, and taken to each other since. Angharad hardly thought their griefs were the same ¨C Zenzele had lost his lover and his aunt, while Ferranda only a close retainer ¨C but that grief was shared could not be denied. Friendships had been made of less. She herself followed behind Ferranda, Lord Ishaan in turn iming the space behind her.

    ¡°What a noble vanguard we have,¡± Yong drily said.

    There were someughs, so Angharad was somewhat relieved when Yaretzi volunteered to be next before Shalini could step in. She had not noticed earlier, but it was true that the nobleborn among them tended to take the lead. The captaincies hade at an end, however, and now an unthinking assumption of leadership was not without risks. There was hardly a trace left of the old crews in how the group held themselves, relying on such a structure would be a mistake.

    However difficult the stairs looked, they were significantly worse in practice. Not only were they narrow ¨C too much to fit her entire boot on ¨C they were short, many and winding. Angharad had to be careful with every step, neverpsing in attention, and the absence of anything like a railing was diforting. If someone fell, there was absolutely nothing to hold them back. At least half a mile of suchbor, surrounded by the creeping cliffsides, would be exhausting work. By unspoken agreement they began taking breaks regrly, spread out across different sections of the stairs, and one such pause was when Lord Ishaan approached her.

    ¡°It urs to me,¡± the chubby-cheeked man said, ¡°that we have had little asion to talk since Aines¡¯ body was discovered.¡±

    The angle he stood at hid his scar, bringing back a shadow of the soft look he¡¯d had when the trials began. Angharad considered him. Learning from Lady Ferranda that he had nned to send five of them into what was quite possibly their death ¨C not only Tupoc and Ocon but also the underserving, Lan and Aines and Felis ¨C had not endeared him to her. Nor had that she had been headed for a deeper part of the maze instead of the end and the man had not meant to inform her as much. No, thatst part was unfair. She was merely assuming, he might have nned otherwise.

    But it had not gone unnoticed by Angharad that few people who joined Lord Ishaan and Shalini¡¯s crew ever seemed to want to <em>stay </em>there.

    ¡°We have not,¡± she acknowledged. ¡°Events dictated otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Elections do tend to be rowdy business,¡± he smiled.

    The way it tugged at his cheeks revealed a hint of the scar, like a face peeking out from beneath a mask.

    ¡°Have you given any thought to the third trial?¡± he continued.

    She hid her surprise.

    ¡°The Trial of Weeds? I must confess to my attention has remained on our present tribtions.¡±

    ¡°It might be wise to begin thinking ahead,¡± Lord Ishaan advised her. ¡°Many who are now your allies will depart once they reach sanctuary, returning to Sacromonte.¡±

    ¡°That is true,¡± she cautiously agreed, ¡°but as I know little of the nature of the third trial I cannot say if that will be a disadvantage.¡±

    Besides, Song intended to be part of the Watch and the same was true of Brun. Without the infanzones at her side there should be nothing preventing the three of them from makingmon cause for the Trial of Weeds. It was Lord Ishaan, on the contrary, who looked exposed to her eye. Who still stood by him, save for Shalini?

    ¡°It is rarely an advantage to be alone,¡± Ishaan said, then shrugged. ¡°I would not urge to you an early decision, but keep in mind that Shalini and I would be d to have you with us when the timees.¡±

    A polite non-answer was already on the tip of her tongue, but Angharad stopped herself. She had a real look at the other noble instead, at the worn stance and the sleepless lines that could be seen even on the half of his face he showed. Ishaan Nair did not look so sinister to her, in that moment, just a man who was tired and feeling the edge of the pit creeping ever closer.

    ¡°You have to know it has a bad look,¡± she quietly said. ¡°They do not talk ill of you, Lord Ishaan, but they do leave.¡±

    He sighed, passing a hand through his hair.

    ¡°I know,¡± Ishaan said. ¡°It is¡­¡±

    The Someshwari hesitated.

    ¡°I suppose you will learn eventually,¡± Ishaan finally said. ¡°Unspoken rules only go so far. Shalini¡¯s contract has¡­ drawbacks.¡±

    Angharad could not reveal she had once glimpsed the gunslinger putting two shots in Tupoc¡¯s eye faster than the blink of an eye without revealing details of her own contract, but Shalini¡¯s supernatural skill with pistols was no secret.

    ¡°They are not visible,¡± she admitted.

    ¡°They would not be, where you¡¯ve seen her use it,¡± Ishaan said. ¡°But out here it is another story. I shall avoid details, but it might be said that when she uses the contract it sometimes draws¡­ attention.¡±

    She paused, the implications of that word sinking in.

    ¡°Spirits?¡±

    ¡°Gods,res, lemures,¡± he agreed. ¡°Maybe even those who use Signs. Out here in the maze, it has mostly drawn the eye of remnants ¨C the echoes of dead gods. You should have encountered a few.¡±

    Only one, but that had been memorable enough. Yaretzi would have fallen off the ledge had Angharad not caught her by the cor when the screeching thing appeared.

    ¡°Refraining from using the contract would put an end to the risks,¡± she carefully said.

    One must always tread lightly, when speaking of contracts. Ishaan grimaced, his expression resigned. As if expecting scorn.

    ¡°It would be the wise choice, if she could make it,¡± he said. ¡°There is a reason we chose to seek out the Watch, Lady Angharad. Both our contracts would benefit from the lessons they have to teach.¡±

    <em>She cannot control when she uses the contract</em>, Angharad realized. Or not always, which was near as damning. So every time Shalini used her contract it sent up a re for any creature looming and she could not promise she would cease sending them up. Sleeping God, no wonder their crew kept bleeding people. Especially here in the maze, where the cause and effect would be even more obvious than during the Trial of Lines. Neither were being outright malicious, Angharad thought, but it was no wonder that so few had supported Lord Ishaan during the earlier debates. It might not have been out of malice, but he had still put their lives at risk.

    Yet what else was he to do, abandon the childhood friend he hade here with?

    The colder part of her, the one her father had taught, whispered that he might well have been sending Tupoc¡¯s entire crew to their deaths simply so there would be fewer options besides staying with his own. Had everyone gathered back at the Old Fort tonight and Angharad learned that Ishaan¡¯s gate led to the end of the maze, she would almost certainly have negotiated for their crews to ally and return together. And in a way, she thought, the Someshwari had gotten what he wanted - they were all going forward as a single crew.

    Yet he had not gotten what he needed: Ishaan had no authority here, and if Shalini¡¯s contract began causing trouble the pair were certain to be cast out. Perhaps even violently. All because there was only a single gate that could be used, so any im he might have had to it being ¡®his¡¯ was little more than wind.

    ¡°You might have made steadier allies had you revealed it from the start,¡± she said.

    ¡°We would have had no allies at all,¡± he replied, shaking his head. ¡°Better to have them for a time than never.¡±

    Much as she disliked the approach, she was not certain he was wrong. And he had not lied, she would give him that. It did not make up for his condemning five trial-takers to die. As if sensing her disapproval, he turned fully ¨C light caught the scarred side of his face as it faced her atst, coloring half as if it were a different one entirely.

    ¡°There is more to say,¡± he told her. ¡°But perhaps this is not the time and ce.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps not,¡± Angharad replied, inclining her head.

    They left it at that, resuming their way down the stairs. Only it could not have been more than a minute or two before she caught a flicker of movement behind her ¨C she had been betrayed, Angharad thought. He was to be rid of her as he had wanted with Tupoc, suffering no other former captain and¡­ and then she realized that Ishaan was not attacking her but <em>falling</em>.

    On her.

    Shouting, he tumbled forward and in a snap decision Angharad glimpsed ahead.

    (The man on her back, the two of them rolling down, scything through Ferranda¡¯s legs from behind as she fell off the stairs and screamed-)

    As a girl, Angharad had once spent six months taught by grim-faced and tattooed man from Uthukile who had imed to be the Prince of ck Hill. His lessons had all been about what he had called ¡®the gale-game¡¯. The Low Isle was under constant siege by storms, he¡¯d told her, sea and wind carving ever deeper grooves into its bluffs and canyons. From those constantpanions the people of the Low Isle had learned lessons. Mother¡¯s take on the teaching had been simpler: <em>he is here to teach you how to fall</em>, she¡¯d said. <em>Into the calm</em>, Angharad thought, bending forward as Ishaan hit her back.

    The worst mistake you could make was to fight the gale. The gale always won.

    Chin tucked, arms up, and Angharad embraced the fall: enough that even as Ishaan hit the stairs she kept falling forward. There was shouting but she ignored it, turning with the fall and making a roll out of it. Stone bit at her back for the merest heartbeat, but she twisted forward and finished the tumble. Her boots hit the stone, pain tingling up her legs, and for half a dozen feet she skidded down the narrow stairs with gritted teeth. Her left leg came forward a bit but not before she slowed, her momentum slowly grinding to a halt until she was left half-crouched and now far past both Ferranda and Zenzele ¨C who had gotten out of the way without her even noticing.

    Panting, Angharad rose to her full height and brushed off her shoulders.

    ¡°I fall, I stand,¡± she told the wind, as her teacher had taught her. ¡°Try again if you dare.¡±

    She did not speak Matabele, for all that the Uthukile dialect had the same root as Umoya, so she was not entirely sure that was truly what the words meant. Prince had been a profligate liar, and the only time she had told Father the words he¡¯d choked and instructed her never to repeat them in front of guests. Yet there was something satisfying about speaking the words, she thought. Almost like a victory prayer. That sliver of satisfaction was short-lived, however, as shouting from above forced her to turn that way.

    Both Zenzele and Ferranda seemed fine but Ishaan was hurt, she saw as she carefully climbed back. He was cradling his arm and bruised across the face. He was also not the source of the shouting.

    ¡°I saw you push him,¡± Shalini insisted, pistol out.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t anywhere near him,¡± Yaretzi bit back. ¡°Am I to be called a killer because he saw fit to trip?¡±

    Someone stepped in between them, but by virtue of it being Tupoc Xical it was the opposite of reassuring.

    ¡°Yaretzi is right,¡± the Izcalli mused. ¡°I¡¯m sure her being a killer is entirely<em></em>unrted to Nair being a clumsy fool.¡±

    The pistol moved off the first Azn to the other, which Angharad knew was the moment Shalini lost the crowd. Tupoc was despised, and she suspected only one more incident away from being turned on, but pointing that muzzle at more than one person had made Shalini look overwrought, out of control. It had cost her credibility and as no one else seemed to have caught what happened credibility would be what decided the contest. Even as Angharad bit her teeth and wondered how to intervene ¨C Shalini must be wrong, what could Yaretzi possibly gain from attacking Ishaan? ¨C the imed victim spoke up by himself.

    ¡°Pistol down, Shalini,¡± Ishaan said, getting to his feet with a wince. ¡°I felt something push my back, but I suppose it could have been the wind.¡±

    There <em>was</em> a breeze, however faint. The other Someshwari looked conflicted, but eventually she noticed the unfriendly looks her waving around a weapon was drawing. With gritted teeth she put away the pistol, and there was a slight adjustment to the order of descent. Yaretzi went behind Angharad, warily eyeing the pair from Ramaya, and the climb down resumed with a broader gap between climbers than ever. No one wanted to earn another usation.

    It still took them the better part of an hour to get at the bottom after that.

    From down there the temple-fortress seemed even more towering. Natural stone, touched with red lichen, led them to massive open bronze gates. There were some small ponds of stale water they went around, but soon enough they all gathered before the handful of steps leading into the temple. There was some hesitation, but the walk to the gates had been rest enough and none wanted to spend the day waiting out here. They ventured up the stairs cautiously, past the red stone of the floor and onto the cavernous hall within.

    Lamps hung from barely-seen rafters, casting slices of yellowing light on walls dripping with tapestries and trophies. There seemed to be no rhyme nor reason to what hung there. Angharad saw children¡¯s toys side by side with ornate silver bucklers, then a musket besides what she suspected to be a Pereduri fertility ne. Ivory tusks, jewels, des ¨C all of them ced over spans of wool, linen and silks that depicted everything from wars to the Sleeping God¡¯s grace descending upon the unworthy. The scale of it should have brought out awe, but somehow Angharad could not help but feel as if she were looking at some magpie¡¯s trove.

    At the end of the hall they were treading awaited an audience room, lit by the same hangingmps, and on the raised dais at the center the noblewoman first saw the spirit they were to bargain with. A vividly colorful bird the size of a carriage ¨C a peafowl whose tailfeathers were tucked in ¨C bore on its back a golden cradle, which held the desated shape of a man in red silks. Neither spirit nor mount moved as their group approached the threshold of the gate. Angharad, breathing in, crossed it first and offered a respectful bow to the desated spirit.

    ¡°Honored elder, I greet you,¡± she said.

    There was a long moment of silence, then the bird let out a cackle.

    ¡°Lower, child,¡± the spirit said. ¡°He has not answered anyone in a great many years.¡±

    The peafowl spirit¡¯s eyes were bright blue and wide open, staring down at her with amusement. Angharad swallowed.

    ¡°Honored elder, I greet you,¡± she tried.

    The bird sniffed.

    ¡°Are you ignoring my master?¡± it demanded.

    Angharad swallowed again, unsure how to answer, until the bird began cackling.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± the peafowl hupped. ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±

    A soft curse in Samratrava from behind her, which rather echoed how she was feeling, then Lord Ishaan was at her side and bowing through a wince. His arm must still hurt. He said something in the same tongue, which had the peafowl spirit preening and nodding ¨C and so the corpse atop its back shaking around.

    ¡°She¡¯s a mayura, Lady Tredegar,¡± Ishaan then told her in Antigua. ¡°Not exactly a god, since they do note alone. They are-¡±

    ¡°The finest divine mounts to ever exist,¡± the spirit cackled, striking a pose as her tailfeathers snapped open in a dazzling disy. ¡°Behold my greatness!¡±

    A moment passed. There was nothing spiritual about the plumage the Pereduri was looking at, as far as she could tell.

    ¡°They are very nice feathers,¡± Angharad finally said.

    The peafowl preened, shuffling back and forth on her spindly legs.

    ¡°They serve as the mounts of victory gods,¡± Ishaan mildly said. ¡°When surviving their riders they are known to grow¡­ entric.¡±

    She nced sideways at him.

    ¡°Victory gods?¡±

    ¡°When a great victory is won a god is sometimes born of it,¡± the Someshwari told her. ¡°They are all children of the Six-Headed One, but have will of their own.¡±

    ¡°They get them out of defeats as well.¡±

    Angharad turned, seeing Yong had approached while she was distracted.

    ¡°Some crawling thing came out of the fields at Diecai, a few weeks after,¡± the Tianxi told her. ¡°The Watch had a freepany waiting to kill it.¡±

    ¡°I had not heard, though I see no reason to disbelieve a veteran of the Kuril Dance,¡± Ishaan politely said before his attention returned to her. ¡°I was taught it is not so umon phenomenon across the span of Vesper but that my people¡¯s ties to the deeper truths of the Orthodoxy makes it more frequent where we rule.¡±

    The dark-skinned noble could almost hear the echo of four dozen acrimonious religious wars ¨C fought and yet to be - in thatst sentence. The Sleeping God was a blessing in more ways than one. Angharad¡¯s eyes slid back to the peafowl, who to her faint surprise did not seem all that put off with the tangent unrted to her. She was, the Pereduri thought, listening to them almost eagerly.

    ¡°Am I to understand, noble elder, that this temple is now yours?¡± she asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± the peafowl happily said. ¡°The Greedy One slurped up Kshetra¡¯s insides, but instead of getting its hands on this ce the im passed down to me.¡±

    Angharad nced at Ishaan to see if the name brought up anything, but he sighed.

    ¡°It literally means ¡®tract ofnd¡¯,¡± he murmured. ¡°There are more minor gods with that name than there are lords in Izcalli.¡±

    Ah. She supposed not every battle happened to be fought in a ce that bore a proper name. It seemed odd, however, for a minor spirit to have earned such a grand temple. Her momentary distraction was rewarded by another person stepping in, though Song joining them before the spirit was most wee.

    ¡°The Greedy One,¡± Song repeated. ¡°It is a most fearsome name - would you tell us of your divine foe, mighty god?¡±

    The peafowl preened again, easily ttered. Angharad was beginning to feel a little guilty about this.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a real god,¡± the mayura contemptuously said. ¡°It did note of the Golden Egg like we did, taking shape from nothing. It was forged long ago, by the-¡±

    The spirit suddenly stopped.

    ¡°Nononono,¡± she said. ¡°I keep forgetting: questions only at a price. To go forward, to learn, you must take my tests!¡±

    The mayura skipped around the dais, beak pecking at things unseen. Before Angharad could even begin to consider what that was about, cascades of blue and green silk fell down from the ceiling in waves. Fluttering curtains surrounded them on all sides, and the spirit made happy noises.

    ¡°Supplicants,¡± she said. ¡°You havee to the temple of the great Kshetra!¡±

    She shook her back a bit, the desated corpse in the cradle jerking around. Should one squint, its arm might have done something akin to a wave. Morbid.

    ¡°A crossroads stands before you,¡± the peafowl announced. ¡°At the summit of this holy ce waits the path that will take you to the end of this maze.¡±

    Behind her, golden light coursed down the blue silk like rivers. It traced a silhouette, resembling the shape of the temple-fortress as they had beheld it outside. Six ¡®tes¡¯ were haphazardly stacked atop one another, each delineated as its own section ¨C including the hall where they now stood, at the very bottom of the stack. From the tower at the summit a strand of gold unfolded, leading into a curl whose meaning was unclear.

    ¡°There is another path,¡± the mayura said, ¡°for those unfit to brave our tests.¡±

    At the third level, a strand of gold unfolded and reached out¡­ to the side? There was nothing there, though in her mind¡¯s eye Angharad supposed somethinging out of the temple horizontally would go into the cliffs.

    ¡°Yellow tiles will lead you back to the very beginning of the maze,¡± the spirit said. ¡°A gift from the great Kshetra! Suchrgesse, however must be earned.¡±

    Lord Ishaan cleared his throat.

    ¡°How may we earn your grace, great mayura?¡±

    ¡°Each of the old temples hosts a champion and their test,¡± the peafowl told him. ¡°To earn the right to climb, you must defeat them.¡±

    ¡°Old temples,¡± Song lightly said. ¡°I thought this all belonged to the great Kshetra¡¯s inheritor?¡±

    The mayura shifted uneasily.

    ¡°There used to be twelve of us,¡± she said, ¡°though-¡±

    The spirit paused, eyeing Song, and something like anger passed through those blue eyes.

    ¡°You may no longer speak.¡±

    There was a ripple in the air, the curtains of silk fluttering like an iing storm, and Song hastily bowed before backing away. The peafowl watched her unblinking, the displeased stare pushing Song all the way back to the ranks before releasing her. However fickle the spirit, it had been dangerous of the Tianxi to attempt to trick her into surrendering secrets for free. Best to change the subject before the mayura decided to express her displeasure more concretely.

    ¡°Must all six tests be passed for us to cross, honored elder?¡± Angharad politely asked.

    If so, she feared corpses would ensue. The spirit let out a pleased cackle.

    ¡°This is and of victory, so we honor it above all else,¡± the peafowl said. ¡°You may instead face a test while under<em> restriction</em>, making your deed all the greater!¡±

    Angharad cocked her head to the side. Curious as she was to get to the end of this temple, it should be clear to all what was most urgently needed. It certainly was to her.

    ¡°How may one earn the right of passage to the beginning of the maze?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Three to rise,¡± the mayura said. ¡°Another to cross the gap.¡±

    Simple enough: aking the test for one ¡®win¡¯, then three restrictions to pay for the rest.

    ¡°Then that is the wager I ask of you,¡± Angharad said.

    To her left Ishaan choked. The peafowl, however, seemed most pleased.

    ¡°Then right attitude. I present you then the challengers,¡± she said, prancing about the stage.

    The golden light began to twist again, taking the shape of a man.

    ¡°Ojas the Clever, who you must defeat in a contest of riddles that-¡±

    ¡°Next,¡± Angharad said.

    The giant bird somehow gave the distinct impression of a pout. Light shifted again.

    ¡°Urvashi Cloud-Foot, whose deadly race across the sky-¡±

    ¡°Not her either,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°No one ever picks Urvashi,¡± the spiritined. ¡°You should hear her moan about it.¡±

    ¡°The others, honored elder?¡± she pressed.

    ¡°Amrinder Ever-Champion, whose gift is to know and match your every skill at arms,¡± the peafowl tried. ¡°He must be defeated in a duel.¡±

    Startled, she almostughed. A mirror, was it?

    ¡°Him,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I will face him.¡±

    The mayura flicked her feathers.

    ¡°A worthy choice,¡± she said. ¡°Let us speak of oaths, then. You must give three.¡±

    ¡°I will use no weapon beyond my saber,¡± Angharad offered.

    The peafowl nodded.

    ¡°I receive your oath,¡± she said.

    The air shivered.

    ¡°I will not use my contract,¡± Angharad offered.

    The mayura leaned closer, considering with thoserge blue eyes, then she opened her beak to taste the air with her tongue. Coolness slithered through her veins, the Fisher¡¯s attention called, and the peafowl drew back hastily.

    ¡°Yes, best keep <em>that </em>out of the test,¡± the spirit said. ¡°I receive your oath.¡±

    The air shivered anew. There Angharad hesitated, considering what else she might offer. Somehow she figured leaving behind her coat would not be sufficient, however fine a coat it might be. An answer came from a most unexpected helper.

    ¡°Spare the champion,¡± Tupoc suggested.

    She turned, frowning.

    ¡°Pull a killing blow,¡± he rified.

    That sounded¡­ surprisingly sensible. She turned to the spirit, silently asking if such an oath would be received. The mayura considered it, then slowly nodded.

    ¡°Twice,¡± she said. ¡°Pull a killing blow twice.¡±

    She did not flinch in the face of the terms: what was there to fear, facing herself in a mirror?

    ¡°Agreed.¡±

    ¡°Then I receive your oath,¡± the mayura said. ¡°Follow me, I shall show you the way. The rest of you can wait here.¡±

    --

    The spirit led her through halls of red stone, sloping and turning in ways that did not fit what she had seen from the outside. It was constantly chattering, and oddly insistent that Angharad be the one who take the test should her group attempt to reach the summit of the temple. When she dared asked why the mayura was only too happy to exin.

    ¡°If you die here I will gobble up the corpse,¡± she said, ¡°but thest test is different. The wager is that those who fail it will be a champion of this temple.¡±

    The mayura happily pattered about, missing the horror on Angharad¡¯s face.

    ¡°You seem like you would be pleasant to keep,¡± she said. ¡°So try not to lose until that test, yes?¡±

    The spirit then flicked her wing, ushering her forward into a doorway of red stone.

    ¡°Amrinder waits within,¡± she said.

    Angharad went through.

    --

    It was a graveyard.

    Walls of bare stone closed in from all sides, solemnly leaning over a field of ash. Scorched bones peeked out of the grey like lurid smiles, pierced and broken by weapons enough to fight a war: swords and spears, curve knives and axes and broken butlers. <em>A war was fought here</em>, Angharad thought. <em>One corpse at a time</em>. Ash creaked under her boots as she approached the specter at the heart of it all: sitting on a mound of cinders and steel, a stern-faced bearded man with long unbound hair waited. A faded red and yellow vest covered a long padded tunic touched with bronze scales, but it was the worn banner the man had wrapped himself in that caught her eye.

    Even color had long dripped out of the cloth, leaving behind stale paleness that spoke of nothing but use.

    ¡°My name,¡± the specter said, ¡°is Amrinder. May you perish bravely.¡±

    ¡°A mirror has no name,¡± Angharad simply replied, and drew her sword.

    The man shook himself to his feet, the banner fluttering down into the ash ¨C he was taller than her, Angharad thought, though not by much. Lightly, almost daintily he plucked out of the ash a curved de that resembled her own saber. She closed the distance.

    ¡°Skilled, for your age,¡± the specter said, as if tasting her talent. ¡°But I am that and more. Arrogance makes for quick contests.¡±

    Ten feety between them. It was nothing at all; it was the entire world. Two steps, measured, and Angharad¡¯s saber began to rise towards a duelist¡¯s salute ¨C Amrinder matched her, only for his eyes to narrow when she immediately darted forward and hacked at the side of his neck. Left hand parry, but his de was thicker and slower. It kept her off his throat, but only until she pivoted behind him and brought the bottom of her de, near the guard, to rest against the nape of his neck.

    ¡°One,¡± Angharad counted, and drew back as he chased her off with a swing.

    She could have carved into his spine, if she so wished.

    ¡°Have you no honor?¡± the specter bit out. ¡°To strike during-¡±

    ¡°A mirror has no honor,¡± she replied.

    Fury on the stern face, thick ck brows pulling angrily. He pursued, high guard mirroring her own, and across the ash they danced. <em>Ten feet</em>, Angharad measured again as she slipped under a blow and the hem of her coat brushed against the ash. The specter left no footsteps, but the strength of his blows kicked up shes of cold ash ¨C half-a-breath brushstrokes, traced and blotted by the same wink of steel. Parry, cut and spin with the specter¡¯s long blow. He might not tire, but for all his thicker arms he was <em>slower</em>: his de not as slender, his footing not as fine.

    The specter swept his guard low, inviting the blow, and she took the invitation. A feint near the head, immediately drawing an upwards cut at her belly, but she caught and swept it to the side. In the moment where he drew back his head to m it into her own, she brought up her free hand and pped him on the side of the throat. The specter choked, half-stumbling, and before he could steady his footing Angharad took half a step backwards, disengaging her de and pulling back her arm ¨C the point came to rest against the hollow of his throat.

    ¡°Two,¡± Angharad counted, and gave ground.

    Ash flew as the specter¡¯s anger swept the grounds, dark eyes grown wild as he shed away and she maintained her distance. Ten feet: no more, no less.

    ¡°There is a trick,¡± the specter said. ¡°A contract. How else could you prevail twice?¡±

    ¡°It is not obvious?¡± Angharad asked.

    The specter¡¯s de slowed, wary but listening. Her eyes met his.

    ¡°You are fighting as a rendition of me,¡± the mirror-dancer calmly replied, ¡°when I am already the finest such rendition.¡±

    And to her surprise, that gave him pause. Anger bled out of the bearded man¡¯s face, leaving behind the bones of soft rue.

    ¡°I had forgot,¡± he said, de lowering.

    She cocked her head to the side, her guard up. He smiled.

    ¡°What it felt like, the sting of pride.¡±

    His thick saber slid out of his grip, down into the ash, and the specter turned his back to her. She could have struck, Angharad knew. Pierced through him from behind.

    The Fisher¡¯s answer, victory at any cost.

    So instead she stood there as the specter returned to his seat and gently took up the banner, carefully brushing away every trace of ash. He wrapped it around his shoulders until it settled as a loose half-cape, trailing behind. Only then did he climb to the summit of the mound, wherey a wooden shaft. It was ripped free, revealing a long spear ending in a spearhead thick and long as a hand. The specter, readied atst, turned to her again.

    ¡°My name is Amrinder,¡± he said, hoisting his spear. ¡°When the city fell and they came for the maharana, I held the garden alone until the nightingales sang.¡±

    Her saber rose to tap against her left shoulder, a salute owed.

    ¡°Lady Angharad Tredegar of nw Hall,¡± she replied. ¡°Ten times have I danced with the mirror.¡±

    ¡°You are a fool, Lady Tredegar,¡± Amrinderughed, for a heartbeat young. ¡°May you win.¡±

    Angharad breathed out, taking three steps forward as she chose a fresh distance to engage from, and in the heartbeat that followed she nearly died.

    The movement as Amrinder came down the mound was fluid, almost hypnotic, and as her eyes struggled to follow the head of the spear she realized toote she was misjudging his reach. The step back she took by reflex turned a thrust that would have gone through her throat into one that sliced along the side of her neck. Amrinder drew back his spear as she swallowed, bringing up her guard as blood began trickling down her skin. A spurt of fear, but stillborn. There was no musket here, no throng of enemies and no wicked contract. A man and a field, that was all that faced her. Life and death were in her own hands.

    Angharad breathed out; the dance began anew.

    He was better with his spear than Tupoc. Faster, more polished and full of tricks. A sweep kicked up a cloud of ash into her face but catching the glint of steel through allowed a narrow parry, her riposte catching only the banner¡¯s fluttering cloth. When she gave ground he pursued, when she pressed forward he circled to harass her legs ¨C twice scoring shallow cuts ¨C and when she maneuvered for a better angle he mirrored her smoothly. Trying to follow the tip with her eyes was death: it wove, dazzling and smooth and always a foot closer to her flesh than it seemed.

    Sweat trickled down her back and Angharad¡¯s breathing grewbored while Amrinder fought with the tirelessness of the dead, but fear found no purchase in her. There was a weakness, she thought. And she thought she might have caught a glimpse of it earlier, when he almost slew her. The angle of the thrust had been slightly off. <em>He pulls to the left.</em>

    It took her three bouts and a rip into the hem of her coat before she found the grounds she needed. The axe buried into a skull she ignored, but the ornate halberd and the three swords ¨C standing together like grave markers ¨C drew her footsteps. She moved and watched and waited, eyes on his arms and not his spear. Unlike the spearhead, those did not lie. Angharad pressed forward and the specter circled to the left, so immediately she gave ground. He pursued, as he always did, and then came the breath that would kill or crown her.

    Amrinder thrust forward viper-swift, feet leaving not a trace on the ash, and Angharad stepped into it. She had meant to avoid the steel entirely but the spear head was too broad: it carved into the side of her vest instead of getting caught in her coat like she¡¯d wanted. Either way, gritting her teeth through the pain as she felt steel bite into the flesh above her ribs, she bunched up her coat and caught the spear. The specter, without hesitation, took a step back to rip his spear free.

    And Angharad won.

    He had gone around the jutting swords without thought, pursuing her, but then he had struck at her ¨C and when striking, Amrinder pulled to the left. So now he stepped back right into the swords he¡¯d avoided, tripping, and Angharad burst forward with a shout. Arm thrusting forward, point straight, she rammed her saber into the specter¡¯s heart even as his back hit the ash. It went through the padded armor, into what should have been flesh but was nothing at all. It was as if Angharad had struck air, and air was what her eyes found.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Amrinder gasped, eyes smiling.

    A heartbeatter she was looking down at nothing but a faded banner, breathing raggedly. Angharad fell to her knees in the ash, eyes closed and shivered as the sudden coolness of the air.

    Victory.

    --

    The peafowl was waiting for her beyond the doorway.

    ¡°Very exciting,¡± she chattered as she led Angharad back down. ¡°It was delicious to watch.¡±

    The Pereduri tugged her coat closed around her. Now that her sweat had cooled, she was stinking and cold.

    ¡°Yourpanions thought the same,¡± the mayura added.

    Angharad¡¯s steps stuttered.

    ¡°I do not take your meaning, honored elder,¡± she said.

    ¡°They watched as well,¡± the mayura lightly said. ¡°I could not give them the sounds the way Kshetra used to, but moving shapes is well within my power.¡±

    The golden light, Angharad thought, the one that had moved like water. Had she done anything foolish? The noblewoman was still wondering whether she should be mortified when the spirit led her back to the others. Her half-formed fears melted away when a crowd formed around her in the blink of an eye, everyone seeming to want to pat her back or talk to her. It was a little overwhelming, so she was grateful when Isabel took her by the arm and tugged her back a little. The crowd calmed after a few more moments, and then it was Angharad¡¯s turn to speak.

    She had passed the test, so now she wanted the prize.

    The spirit did not quibble, though already she spoke of when they would all return. Once the mayura showed them to the right hall, the way forward was simple. Up two flights of stairs they went, then to a slender drawbridge of white wood that was already lowered when they arrived. They crossed it into the left side of the great cliffs surrounding the temple, through an empty shrine where the wind echoed like eerie bells.

    From there on, just as the spirit had promised, yellow tiles marked a path forward.

    It took them through stairs and shrines, then up on a great ridge made from the copsed dome of a temple. It was one of the very highest points of the maze, enough they could dimly make out a sprawl in every direction, and in the golden light of the aether machine they made out a descending path. Following the yellow tiles ¨C which grew rarer and rarer, but never ceased ¨C they stayed on a high road of ceilings and empty ruins for half a day¡¯s worth of walking, only taking a break to eat.

    Come what should bete afternoon, Angharad recognized her first shrine: the curved one where Lady Inyoni had fallen to the test of the cog god. Passing that observation along revived everyone¡¯s gging vigor and they redoubled their efforts. The veryst yellow tile, found after the tiring climb down a flight of stairs sorge they might as well have been walls, led them all atop the narrow passage that they knew as the Serpent Shrine. They were back, the distant lights of the Old Fort beckoning them to safety.

    Song and Angharad were the first to take the rope down and they stayed together as everyone gathered to head back to the fort. Both were too tired to chat. Thest quarter hour walk back stretched an eternity, but as the ckcloaks on the wall greeted them with waves Angharad let out a long breath. They passed through the breach in the rampart, returning to sanctuary, and treading the ground of the courtyard loosened something in the noblewoman¡¯s shoulders. Knowing there were muskets on the walls, that the Watch would see to their safety, was afort.

    ¡°I think might take a nap,¡± she told Song. ¡°It is unseemly, I know, but I am falling to pieces.¡±

    The Tianxi did not reply, and when Angharad turned curiously she saw that Song held herself tensely. She was staring behind them and the Pereduri followed her gaze to find it was resting on theggards of their group ¨C Lan, Acanthe, Felis. One of the ckcloaks guarding the entrance, a young man with the Mni look,id a hand on Felis¡¯ chest as he crossed the breach. The man red, all the more when the watchman took a sniff of him and then a second. The Sacromontan said something Angharad could not hear, and it must have scared the ckcloak for he drew back.

    No, Angharad realized. The young Mni was looking elsewhere, towards the barracks. Against their wall Lieutenant Wen was leaning, eating from a bowl of those horrid mushroom crisps Lierganese were so fond of. The young watchman nodded and Wen sighed before raising his hand.

    ¡°LAST ONE IN!¡± the Tianxi shouted.

    Felis¡¯ eyes widened, Angharad saw it even from where she stood.

    ¡°Wait, no, I-¡±

    The fat lieutenant¡¯s hand came down and three dozen muskets thundered.

    Smoke billowed out in plumes from every direction, spreading through the utter silence of the courtyard, and Felis¡¯ mangled body dropped to the floor.

    ¡°We warned you,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°If you make a contract in the ruins report it immediately, or you <em>will</em> get shot.¡±

 Chapter 31

    Chapter 31

    ck-cloaked watchmen carried away Felis¡¯ body.

    What remained of it, anyway: musket balls had turned the man into red rags.

    Tristan felt no grief at the sight. If there was a tragedy in Felis it was in who he had been, not who he¡¯d be. Dust, fear and poverty had worn away the good and left the bad in sharp relief. What remained had not endeared him to the thief, though neither had it been deserving of scorn. It did not matter whether a stone was marble or gravel: if you left it at the bottom of the canal long enough it would all be ground into nothing. The Law of Rats was not like the halo of re bestowed upon the great estates of the infanzones, some unblinking and unceasing stare. It lived in the spaces between, let in by themplights of the Murk growing worn and flickering. Letting in the dark a little further every year.

    It was easy to be virtuous when the lights never went out.

    The same souls that¡¯d left the Old Fort as three crews returned now as a single crowd, though seemingly twice as wary of each other as before. Tristan had counted theming in and found only one missing: Aines. There his heart had clenched, if only for a moment. <em>Just another dead rat</em>, he told himself. The same eulogy he would get when his end found him, an unmarked grave made into words.

    ¡°Something happened,¡± Maryam quietly said from his left. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t be like this if Aines had died in a test.¡±

    She was right, Tristan thought. Felis getting dropped had shattered thest remnant of solidarity in the returning crowd, the lot of them scattering in small trusted pockets as if they¡¯d never gone through the trouble of gatheringrger crews in the first ce. <em>Pressure toe apart</em>, Tristan thought, but there had always been that. That it was now working implied there was no longer stronger pressure for them to stay together. Given the timing and context, one answer stood above the rest.

    ¡°They found a path to end of the maze,¡± Tristan guessed.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t exin why they¡¯re looking at each other like someone¡¯s about to pull a knife,¡± Maryam replied.

    He hummed.

    ¡°You think there was a fight?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I think Jun¡¯s been sentpany down in Nav,¡± Maryam said.

    The thief cocked an eyebrow at her. The implication he caught ¨C she believed the killer had struck again ¨C but thest word was unfamiliar.

    ¡°The ce where the dead go,¡± she said.

    ¡°Graves, if they¡¯re lucky,¡± he said. ¡°Dogs if they¡¯re not.¡±

    ¡°Grim,¡± she praised.

    ¡°I try,¡± he humbly replied, lips twitching.

    Even as they shared smiles, though, his mind raced. Why Aines? The middle-aged woman had been physically weak, but there were others just as vulnerable and she¡¯d rarely been alone. Unless, of course, Felis¡¯ proximity had been the point. To frame the man as an attempt had been made to frame Tristan. That would require, however, some very specific knowledge. <em>Who else knew about the red games, knew there was something to frame Felis for?</em> Lan did and he¡¯d himself told Yong. Probably Tupoc, Tristan figured, and that likely meant Ocon. Maryam, of course. None of these fit the shadow on the wall.

    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± Maryam asked.

    ¡°That the Watch just shot our best lead,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°We¡¯re going to have ask about how they reacted after the kill ¨C they didn¡¯t hang anyone for it, but did they investigate?¡±

    If they had, there was a chance that at least one person had been clever enough to ask Felis who else knew about the red games. <em>It¡¯s not necessarily him</em>, the thief then corrected. Tristan himself hade into suspicions that Felis was out to kill his wife through hearing about Aines¡¯ half of the puzzle. Someone else could have done the same. <em>And Lan could have sold the information</em>, he tacked on. Felis had still been the best lead, however. He needed to find out if someone had thought to try that avenue. His eyes flicked to Maryam.

    ¡°Can you find out if Lan told anyone about the red game around those two?¡± he asked.

    He could not do so himself, having publicly feigned falling out with the twin. Maryam nodded.

    ¡°You really think you can find out who the killer us?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Not enough to prove it,¡± he said. ¡°But then I¡¯m not angling for a hanging.¡±

    Forcing a truce, keeping the killer away from anyone he was conspiring with, would be more than enough. He wouldn¡¯t mind killing them if he could, given their actions against him, but he already had more than enough revenge on his te.

    ¡°If I can out them, I will,¡± Maryam warned him.

    He grimaced but eventually conceded with a nod. It was not his right to dictate otherwise to her, much as he would prefer otherwise. So long as she was aware he was disinclined to y the savior at her side. Tristan pushed off the wall, wasting no time in seeking out Yong. The Tianxi veteran had carelessly dropped his affairs on the courtyards floor, put his sword on the table and was now pouring himself a drink in a kitchen cup from his own sk. Even from across the table, where Tristan slid into a seat, the smell of the rotgut was biting to the nostrils.

    ¡°Thought you¡¯d show up,¡± Yong said, tone not yet slurred.

    Though not for long, Tristan thought as the Tianxi knocked back his cup before filling it anew. The other man¡¯s fingers were shaking, however subtly, and he looked haggard.

    ¡°What happened out there?¡± the thief asked, voiceing out softer than he¡¯d thought it would.

    ¡°Someone cut Aines¡¯ throat,¡± Yong bluntly said. ¡°It went to shit after that. Lots of arguing, everything came apart and then we chose three people to look into it.¡±

    Tredegar was a given, but with Tupoc¡¯s group having lost two ¨C Augusto and Aines ¨C the situation would have been fluid.

    ¡°Tredegar and Tupoc and me,¡± Yong specified, brushing back a loosened bang.

    Despite Vanesa¡¯s best efforts, the former soldier¡¯s hair refused to be tame now that the topknot was lost.

    ¡°What did you find?¡± Tristan asked.

    Yong leaned over the table, grabbing a second cup from the loose pile of tes and cutlery the Watch left there for trial-takers to use, and set it down in front of the thief. He tipped his sk over it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t drink,¡± Tristan said.

    Yong only stopped when the cup was two-third full. The smell of that Watch rotgut was genuinely foul, the grey-eyed man thought.

    ¡°Drink anyways,¡± Yong tly replied.

    Tristan gauged the other man¡¯s expression and found it all too serious. His lips thinned, but he nodded and took the cup in hand. He didn¡¯t actually drink, of course ¨C liquor was a poison worse than nightshade or arsenic, which only ever hurt those who drank it ¨C but he wetted his lips and pretended. Yong downed his cup again, and the thief hoped he would either slow his consumption or quicken his report. He¡¯d soon end up waiting on an unconscious man otherwise.

    ¡°Fuck all,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°Fuck all is what I found. Lan says Nair and Goel are sleeping together and that Lady Ferranda was up to something shady, but it wasn¡¯t any of them. I got no closer to figuring out who did it.¡±

    Tristan grimaced.

    ¡°Felis, did you interrogate him?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Everyone did,¡± Yong shrugged. ¡°Even Tupoc, though I think that was more about sitting tight on him. He stayed too long for anything else.¡±

    Tupoc Xical. Of course it had to be the inconvenient bastard who figured out the right trail to follow. This did not surprise Tristan, for he had long known fortune to be a disagreeable creature by virtue of having been saddled with the divine equivalent of the concept¡¯s drunken aunt.

    ¡°And after?¡± he pressed.

    ¡°We followed the path to some great temple-fortress,¡± Yong said. ¡°Once we pass that, it¡¯s a straight line to the end of the maze.¡±

    ¡°With tests on it?¡± the thief frowned.

    ¡°Presumably,¡± Yong shrugged.

    The Tianxi poured himself another cup. This would serve as a bare bones report, but learning a fuller picture would have to wait until Maryam got it out of Lan or he found an opportunity to speak with Isabel Ruesta. Tristan studied the other man, wondering what it was about the recent deaths that¡¯d shaken him so. He¡¯d not been like this when Sanale died, or the other deaths since. <em>And he must have presented sober enough to be picked by the others after Aines died, so it shouldn¡¯t be that either.</em>

    ¡°Was Felis on dust for the way back?¡± he tried.

    The older manughed at him, the sound slightly slurred.

    ¡°You think I see myself in him?¡± Yong said. ¡°You¡¯re still young, Tristan. The need, it¡¯s not a coterie or a regiment - you don¡¯t<em> feel</em> for the others who have it. It¡¯s just as selfish as any other hunger.¡±

    The thief¡¯s face tightened.

    ¡°Then what is it about his death that pulled out your seams?¡± he asked.

    Yong breathed out slowly, shallowly.

    ¡°What¡¯s the most muskets you¡¯ve ever heard fired at once, Tristan?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Just now,¡± he replied without hesitation.

    ckpowder was hardly unheard of in the Murk, but no coterie cared to wield muskets carelessly. A shot in the back once in a while drew little attention, but thirty men unloading down a street? That was the sort of thing the Guardia would make a point of stamping out, Murk or not. Yong filled his cup to the brim.

    ¡°Past a certain number of muskets it doesn¡¯t really matter how many were fired,¡± the older man said. ¡°It all sounds the same to our ears - we¡¯re only so good at picking out sounds, you see.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s belly clenched.

    ¡°It sounded like a volley.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯d been a long time since I heard that,¡± Yong softly said. ¡°Gods, but I wish it had been longer.¡±

    The thief had meant to ask more of him, to make his offer, but it could wait. At this rate the Tianxi would copse into bed soon anyway. If he could even get back to it. Tristan feigned drinking again, lips burning from the strength of the rotgut. He was nning how to take his leave when Yong cut through.

    ¡°My turn to ask questions,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s a ropedder out there, one leading into the pir. What happened?¡±

    The thiefid it all out from the beginning, all the way to the god waiting behind the broken lock and the existence of the lift he had confirmed.

    ¡°And you think it¡¯ll lead to a way past the maze?¡± Yong asked.

    ¡°It has to,¡± Tristan said. ¡°The devils got all these shrines in here <em>somehow</em>, and it was not the way the Watch is using. Besides, the Antediluvians would have wanted a way to ess their ceiling device without needing to go the long way around every time.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t assume that,¡± Yong warned. ¡°There¡¯s no way to reach the Luminaries back in Tianxia.¡±

    ¡°Those are set in firmament,¡± Tristan argued. ¡°This is much smaller in scale.¡±

    Yong hummed, then after a long time nodded.

    ¡°All right,¡± he said. ¡°Who are you thinking of taking in? We¡¯ll need muskets, unless you want to rely on the Watch to get rid of the god for you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe we need to kill the god,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Only drive it off. We don¡¯t need a regiment, we need a good shot and salt munitions. Between that and Sarai¡¯s Signs, we should be able to get to the lift safely even if it¡¯s lying in wait.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m your good shot,¡± Yong said.

    <em>When sober, yes</em>, Tristan thought.

    ¡°How are you going to get salt munitions?¡±

    ¡°I am going to ask politely,¡± he replied with a pleasant smile.

    The Tianxi snorted.

    ¡°Fine, keep it close to your chest,¡± he said. ¡°And you¡¯re certain the Watch will let us try for the lift?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    His suspicion was that Lieutenant Vasanti wouldn¡¯t let him go in with a crew, only alone, because she was greedy for the knowledge inside. How fortunate for him that Lieutenant Vasanti was not the only officer in the Old Fort. That bargain would cost him, but he had arranged to make itter tonight anyway.

    ¡°This might be riskier than heading into the maze again,¡± Yong finally said.

    Tristan mustered arguments in his mind, but held back. He would let the Tianxi think it through first at least.

    ¡°But then the tests <em>are </em>getting nastier and I¡¯m not a victor yet,¡± the older man said, stroking his beard. ¡°Not to mention there¡¯s a chance I¡¯ll get a visit in the night.¡±

    His face tightened.

    ¡°One musket is little,¡± Yong finally said. ¡°Let me try to rope Lady Ferranda into this.¡±

    Ferrand Vizur, despite her deplorable birth, had proved reliable. He could live with the mild difort of relying on an infanzona, should she ept.

    ¡°So long as she swears secrecy first,¡± Tristan replied.

    The other man nodded.

    ¡°And if Ferranda declines?¡± the thief pressed.

    ¡°You are still the better horse,¡± Yong said, passing a hand through his hair.

    The former soldier tried to rise, but his limbs were numb. Tristan half-rose himself, helping him back down onto the bench.

    ¡°You can talk to Lady Ferrandater, at dinner,¡± he said. ¡°Maybe take a nap first.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Yong said.

    But his eyes were back on the sk and his cup empty once more. The thief had no intention of staying to see what woulde that.

    ¡°We will talkter,¡± he said.

    Yong dismissed him with a wave of the hand, which was no longer trembling. Tristan grimaced. It was not his ce to pass judgement. He left in haste, though, and was relieved when Maryam caught his eye from where she sat at Lan¡¯s side. The pale-skinned woman shook her head. So Lan had not sold information about Aines and Felis. That cut down on the possibilities. Who else had been in Tupoc¡¯s crew aside from the now-dead pair? Ocon, Lan, Augusto. It could not be Augusto, who had not been present for the second killing, and Ocon would not have been so discreet. As for Lan, she would not have murdered her own sister.

    Her grief after had been too raw to be false.

    It must have been someone from another crew, then. Chasing every face, every possibility, would be a waste of time. Besides, there were too many secrets still being kept for him to be able to figure out a culprit from what he knew. He had to follow the secret he <em>did</em> know about, which meant it all went back to Felis and Aines. If Felis had been the source of the leak, Tupoc should know. That meant the Izcalli¡¯s whereabouts were worth a second look. And, interestingly enough, when Tristan had said look the Azn was missing. As was Yaretzi.

    Asking around would have drawn attention, been too telling, so instead the thief chased them on his own. There were only so many ces for them to go, here in the Old Fort, which led him to the answer soon enough: they were not in the Old Fort.

    They had gone back out of the walls to have a look at the ropedder and the new opening in the pir, the two of them standing out in the open. Tristan did not try to hide from the ckcloaks as he passed through the breach, but after that kept to the shadows of the rampart as he snuck closer to the pair. They were talking, and the conversation did not look to be pleasant. Yaretzi, for all that her expression was calm, held herself tensely. Her hand was not far from her long knife. Tupoc, on the other hand circled around her like a vulture while grinning. The man¡¯s good moods were rarely an indication of pleasantness for anyone else.

    ¡°-of you working for free?¡± Tupoc was saying. ¡°Bad for business, <em>Turquoise</em>.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± the other Izcalli evenly replied. ¡°If you want to use me of being the killer, Tupoc, do it in front of everyone.¡±

    She gave him a hard look.

    ¡°Only you won¡¯t, because you¡¯re fishing,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re just another warrior society prick trying to get a flinch out of people because that¡¯s the only thing that still gets you off.¡±

    <em>Fuck</em>, Tristan thought. <em>Tupoc doesn¡¯t know who it was.</em> He wouldn¡¯t be pressing someone without proof like this if he did. Which meant Felis had not been the one to talk, it¡¯d been Aines. That would be a much harder trail to follow, if it was possible at all. He¡¯d not kept all that close an eye on Aines, and could not think of anyone who might have. The thief had what he¡¯de for, but lingered in the shadows nheless. This talk had the sound of a secret to it, and you could never have too many of those.

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t have enough to strangle you with,¡± Tupoc cheerfully admitted. ¡°But I know one thing: that wasn¡¯t the <em>omacaliztli </em>stance in thebyrinth. When your life is on the line, you don¡¯t fight like a diplomat.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re-¡±

    Tupoc, thought listening to the other Azn, suddenly took a wary look around. It gave Yaretzi pause. <em>Time to go</em>, Tristan thought. He had no intention of being caught eavesdropping.

    The moment Tupoc looked away, he retreated.

    --

    There was no need to find a way to talk to Isabel Ruesta because she found it for him.

    A whisper transitioned into yacting, the infanzona sitting on the bench closest to his bedroll as he went to fetch his medicine cab. Some parts of it, anyway. He¡¯d obtained pure alcohol and some bandages from the Watch physician a few days back ¨C the man had been adamantly against opening his stocks for anything more ¨C so the thief found himself kneeling before the dark-haired noblewoman and cleaning her ¡®wound¡¯ with a liquor-drenched cloth. It was but a small cut on the back of the hand, not nearly enough to warrant the garrison doctor¡¯s attentions and so a decent excuse to go to him instead. Had she done it herself?

    He did not care enough to specte.

    ¡°I told Remund that his hovering would make me ufortable,¡± Isabel murmured, ¡°but we only have so long.¡±

    Tristan smiled, nodded.

    ¡°I expect the day after tomorrow we might reach the end of the maze,¡± she said. ¡°Now is the time to act.¡±

    ¡°Can you get me into your crew?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I will tell Angharad you asked if her invitation still stood,¡± Isabel said. ¡°It will be more than enough.¡±

    There was no doubt at all in her voice. She sat there,fortably looking down on him as he swiped across the wound onest time and reached for bandages. He was surprised the infanzona had not flinched at the sensation of alcohol on an open cut, however slight. Tristan had thought her mettle strictly of the scheming kind.

    ¡°How will you do it?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Is there a room where it will be easy to split up the group?¡±

    She nodded as he wrapped the bandages around her hand.

    ¡°Before the mirror hall there is a room with a wheel and three gates, it is certain we will get separated there,¡± Isabel said.

    ¡°Then I will go with him,¡± the grey-eyed man said, ¡°and return to the Old Fort after.¡±

    The infanzona slowly nodded.

    ¡°To withdraw,¡± she guessed.

    ¡°I came here for revenge,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Why risk my neck beyond obtaining it?¡±

    Isabel lowered her head in acknowledgement.

    ¡°May your sister rest easy afterwards,¡± she murmured. ¡°Good luck, Tristan. If we do not speak again, it has been a pleasure.¡±

    Tristan only smiled back, tying off thest of the bandage and rising to his feet. They had already lingered too long, he could feel eyes at his back. Lady Isabel must have felt the same, for she departed without as quickly as she could without being rude. Tredegar would soon appear to fuss over the bandages, no doubt. Fortuna strolled out from behind him, artfully arraying herself on the bench just vacated by the infanzona and brushing back her curls as if posing for a painter.

    ¡°Why did you lie about the Trial of Weeds?¡± she asked.

    Tristan feigned a yawn, covering his mouth.

    ¡°Because she is a snake,¡± he replied. ¡°If she thinks she will be rid of me after it is done, she is less likely to scheme to have me killed.¡±

    He would, after all, be a loose end for the infanzona. Someone who knew she had bargained for the death of a member of House Cerdan, a secret she could easily be extorted over. Tristan somewhat expected she would still try to have him disappeared, but at least until the deed was done he was safe: she had no other executioner to call on. As for after, well, he did not intend to follow her back to Sacromonte where a word out of her mouth would be able to summon a dozen armed guards.

    ¡°She¡¯s interesting, that girl,¡± Fortuna mused. ¡°Just the rightbination of foolish and clever.¡±

    Now he almost felt bad for the infanzona. Had there even been praise more damning than the Lady of Long Odds approving of your character?

    Lips twitching, he picked up his affairs and returned to his bedroll where the cab waited. It was still mangled from the Trial of Lines, and sadly he did not have skill enough at carpentry to fix it beyond the very basics. In truth, it was probably no longer worth it: there was little left inside, nothing he could not move into a bag with some care and forethought. The limping gait that approached from behind as he stood there needed no introduction. There was only one person in the Old Fort using crutches.

    ¡°Vanesa,¡± he said, turning to face the old woman.

    Her face was pale, he saw with a flicker of worry.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± she grimaced. ¡°I hate to ask, but do you have anything in your cab for pain?¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°All the substances I have left are poisonous to some degree or another,¡± he told her. ¡°Save for the turpentine, which would do nothing for pain.¡±

    Not entirely so, as the extract of the bearded cat mushroom only induced violent madness, but he had been broadly exact. Neither white arsenic, mandrake or antimony would be of any help to Vanesa. Even as a way to end the pain, he would rmend against them. None were gentle poisons.

    ¡°Are you quite certain?¡± she pressed, sole eye steady on the cab.

    ¡°Nothing pleasant woulde of anyone drinking from those bottles,¡± he firmly said. ¡°Shall we go ask the physician for another dose of poppy?¡±

    ¡°My dosage is already too high, he says,¡± Vanesa told him. ¡°Any more and I would be in danger.¡±

    ¡°Poppy is a strong drug,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It might be best for you to sit and rest, perhaps. At least for a little while.¡±

    ¡°I might sleep through dinner,¡± the old woman conceded. ¡°My appetite wanes.¡±

    Which was not, he thought, at all a good sign. But the oue had never been in doubt from the moment Vanesa refused the amputation. If they could reach the sanctuary before the third trial, however, if a safe end were in sight? Then, he thought, perhaps she could be talked into reconsidering.

    ¡°Besides,¡± Vanesa tiredly said, ¡°there is more than one kind of pain. Poor Brun, it is as if the boy is cursed.¡±

    He cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°First he was sweet on that girl Briceida who was taken by the hollows,¡± she said. ¡°And now poor Aines, killed in the night.¡±

    Tristan stilled.

    ¡°They were close?¡± he asked with forced lightness.

    ¡°They diced after supper sometimes,¡± Vanesa said. ¡°I am not surprised you never noticed ¨C Felis was a jealous sort so they kept it out of sight.¡±

    Brun. Brun had been talking with Aines since they reached the Old Fort, perhaps learning about the red game. Tristan¡¯s mind raced, looking over the angles. The Sacromontan had a contract, one that could be used to sense people but whose workings remained unclear. Brun had been there every time there was a death. Motive? No, best not to guess too hard at that. Digging blindly at a stranger¡¯s motives was a waste of time. Who else could it be?

    Ishaan, perhaps helped by Shalini, but none of the deaths had ever been to the advantage of the Ramayans. Yaretzi, but whatever it was about her that Tupoc thought he¡¯d found it muddled the waters. There were only so many terrible secrets someone could bring at a time. <em>Not Song, she is here for the same reason as Maryam.</em> Neither should it be the infanzones, whose venom was turned inwards, and that left only three: Acanthe Phos, Yong and Ferranda.

    And Tredegar, if you needed augh.

    The Asphodelian¡¯s contract did not fit, however, and Tristan¡¯s personal doubts aside Yong often went to sleep drunk. Unfit tomit murder. That left Ferranda Vizur and he misliked her for the deeds. For one, she and Sanale had been alone with Lan for some time before Tristan¡¯s crew stumbled into them. It might have been that Sanale was unaware of his lover being a killer so she had refrained, but that was a tortured plot. That left Brun, the polite young man in the corner who everyone liked, who had been making all the right decisions. It might be that the fair-haired Sacromontan had a knack, Tristan thought.

    Or it might be that his contract was not what it seemed.

    ¡°Tristan?¡±

    The thief shook his head, smiling at Vanesa.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I was lost in thought. Poor Brun indeed.¡±

    The old woman patted his shoulder.

    ¡°You should rest as well,¡± she said. ¡°You look tired.¡±

    ¡°Soon,¡± he said.

    There were still two talks left ahead of him.

    --

    Brun of Sacromonte had the kind of features that most people found handsome in men: good skin, symmetrical face and a strong jawline. Good looks, good manners and a calm demeanor likely left few to guess he came from the Murk, but Tristan had been able to tell from the start. It was in the little habits, the way the man always put a wall behind him when he could but avoided being in corners.

    It was the way someone small aroundrger folk with little kindness learned to act.

    The other man ¨C only a few years older than Tristan, going by his appearance ¨C was cleaning his pistol when the thief sought him out. He only used half the bench with the work, which left enough room for Tristan to sit. Brun¡¯s eyes flicked up, took him in and then he put down the cloth and pistol.

    ¡°Tristan, isn¡¯t it?¡± Brun said. ¡°We haven¡¯t talked much.¡±

    ¡°No, we haven¡¯t,¡± Tristan smiled. ¡°Yet somehow I feel as if I know you.¡±

    Brun cocked his head to the side, then discreetly curled his fingers into the Mark of the Rat.

    ¡°You know better than to have to ask that,¡± the thief replied.

    The fair-haired man shrugged.

    ¡°It felt polite to pretend,¡± he said. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure, Tristan?¡±

    ¡°I have a problem, Brun,¡± he lightly said.

    ¡°I am keeping my nose clean,¡± the other rat replied, tone apologetic. ¡°Joining the Watch is to be a fresh start for me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I want,¡± Tristan agreed. ¡°A fresh start. It¡¯s a different sort of world out here, isn¡¯t it? All these rules, all these walls.¡±

    The man calmly met his eyes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t follow your meaning,¡± Brun said.

    ¡°Bad habits take a while to shake,¡± the thief said. ¡°But I¡¯m not a redcloak, Brun, and the ck¡¯s a few weeks away yet. I¡¯m not one to judge.¡±

    The man looked lost. Tristan might even have believed him, if those eyes had wavered at all.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what-¡±

    ¡°Sarai,¡± he said. ¡°Yong. Francho. Vanesa. Lan. If something happened to them, I would be most terribly cross.¡±

    ¡°Tristan,¡± Brun patiently said. ¡°Evidently you came to believe I am involved in something, but-¡±

    The thief leaned in close.

    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to confess, Brun,¡± he quietly said. ¡°Not even to nod. We both know you won¡¯t. I am simply telling you that if youe for me or one of mine, you will find out you are not the only one who can cut throats in the night. And there will be no silencing me, either: I have told others, so your little secret has already spread too widely to be buried.¡±

    Maryam had agreed they did not have enough to get the man hanged, though she had reserved the right to tell others. Francho had not even needed to be asked to keep quiet, the old man fascinated by the entire affair but disinclined to intervene.

    ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± Brun sighed. ¡°If you believe I am the killer, by all means put it to everyone. I will prove my innocence.¡±

    ¡°You very well might,¡± Tristan shrugged. ¡°Which is why I see no reason to bother.¡±

    ¡°That is disturbing in many ways,¡± the man noted. ¡°I believe this has gone on long enough: please leave.¡±

    ¡°I think we understand each other,¡± the thief agreed, rising and stretching his limbs.

    He paused, and on a whim said one thing more.

    ¡°Would you say the world is loud, Brun?¡± he asked.

    The man looked like he¡¯d just found a knife slid into his belly, but it was only for half a heartbeat. The calm politeness was back in ce after that. But there was wariness in those green eyes now, something that¡¯d not been there before.

    ¡°No, Tristan,¡± Brun finally replied. ¡°I find it, in truth, to be frightfully quiet.¡±

    And the thief was not sure why, but there was something about than answer that sent a shiver down his spine.

    --

    Meeting was never going to be difficult.

    Meeting discreetly however, had been another story. Passing a message through Sergeant Mandisa had yielded results, an hour and a ce. The rest he had arranged himself. After supper Tristan had a quick conversation with Angharad Tredegar, who confirmed he was wee to venture out with her on the morrow. Riding that arrangement as an excuse, he returned to the Watch¡¯s armory to acquire equipment that would help him scale the broken remains of the crystal mirror maze as was nned by Tredegar and herpanions.

    Lieutenant Wen was waiting for him inside, biting into an apple.

    The man was wearing his spectacles and he leaned against an empty sword rack, loudly crunching the fruit¡¯s flesh. When he swallowed, loudly, Tristan nodded a greeting.

    ¡°Lieutenant,¡± he said.

    ¡°Pissant,¡± Wen easily replied. ¡°You told Mandisa you have something important to tell me. I should not need to tell you there would be consequences to wasting my time.¡±

    <em>Pretend you¡¯re not interested all you want</em>, Tristan thought, <em>you still arranged a meeting where Vasanti wouldn¡¯t see us.</em>

    ¡°I need salt munitions,¡± he said. ¡°For muskets and pistols.¡±

    Lieutenant Wen bit into his apple, loudly chewing and swallowing. He only spoke after.

    ¡°One,¡± he said.

    ¡°One?¡± Tristan repeated.

    ¡°I¡¯m counting the number of times you¡¯re going to tell me something I could have you shot for,¡± Wen said. ¡°But please, do go on. You were able to tell me why I should entrust a bottom-feeder expensive munitions that are the property of the Watch.¡±

    ¡°I want to lead a team into the pir,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve found a path to the summit I haven¡¯t told Vasanti about.¡±

    ¡°Two,¡± Wen counted, then took another bite.

    He ate more quickly this time, not drawing it out for effect.

    ¡°I fail to see why that means I should give you munitions,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°I¡¯m feeling like confiscating some of yours, in truth, so that I can hear you die horribly through the door and then argue for it to be welded shut forever.¡±

    ¡°Because if I don¡¯t get there first, Lieutenant Vasanti will,¡± Tristan said.

    Wen looked unimpressed. <em>I¡¯m losing him</em>, the thief thought.

    ¡°So she¡¯ll get what she wants, leave and I won¡¯t have to deal with her next year,¡± he said. ¡°Are you done wasting my time?¡±

    What did Wen want? Besides being thoroughly unpleasant to everyone and a second helping at every meal, what did Lieutenant Wen actually <em>want</em>? Tristan¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Next year,¡± he repeated. ¡°You will still be here next year. There¡¯s no debate, your posting is already decided and you know it.¡±

    Wen¡¯s face tightened in anger, and Tristan knew he had found his angle.

    ¡°Do you like it here, lieutenant?¡± the thief asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s being strangled to death every day, only I have to wake up the following morning and go to work,¡± Lieutenant Wen mildly said.

    ¡°What if there were no longer a reason for a garrison to be posted at the Old Fort?¡± he asked. ¡°If, say, thews that created this maze were suddenly changed to make it untenable.¡±

    The fat lieutenant watched him for a long moment.

    ¡°Three,¡± he finally said, and bit into his apple.

    Tristan kept his face calm as he was studied through the spectacles.

    ¡°Standing orders are that should anyone outside the garrison ever figure out what the Red Eye is, they cannot leave the ind alive,¡± Wen idly said. ¡°But you didn¡¯t figure out anything, did you Tristan?¡±

    The dark-haired thief went very, very still. He¡¯d not thought he had given away anything, but he had been sloppy. Wen, beneath the bluster and colorfulnguage, was dangerously canny.

    ¡°You mean the cult¡¯s god?¡± he asked, lips dry.

    ¡°You¡¯re a fucking fool,¡± Wen said. ¡°Do you think you¡¯re the first clever rat that disappeared during the second trial? The higher-ups always knew on asion someone would figure it out.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°And yet you haven¡¯t called for other watchmen,¡± he said.

    Silence stretched between them.

    ¡°Do you know what it really means to be part of the Watch, boy?¡± Lieutenant Wen finally said. ¡°Once you strip away all the lies and the propaganda and the prettied-up history?¡±

    He slowly shook his head.

    ¡°We kill the things that feed on mankind,¡± Wen said, and for once there was not a trace of a sneer in his voice. ¡°When horrores crawling out of the box, we m the lid on its fingers.¡±

    Therge Tianxi straightened his back.

    ¡°For the first century,¡± he said, ¡°we looked for ways to kill the Red Eye. Tried everything from Signs to aether machines, spent a fortune on this nowhere shithole ind. But nothing took, and there were so many other monsters that couldn¡¯t be locked up for so cheap a price. And it cost coin, Tristan, to kill those other monsters. Men and steel and ships.¡±

    ¡°So they stopped trying,¡± Tristan quietly said.

    ¡°When I tried two years ago, the request to allocate funds for new attempts didn¡¯t even make it to the Conve,¡± Wen said. ¡°Commander Artal took one look at the paper andughed. Themittee responsible for our region wouldn¡¯t even read it, he said. I might as well wipe my ass with it, at least it¡¯d aplish something.¡±

    Lieutenant Wen¡¯s expression darkened.

    ¡°Whatever you find up there, boy, you¡¯re not just going to y around with it,¡± he said. ¡°Vasanti might be able to fix that. It¡¯ll change nothing.¡±

    The watchman leaned forward, the light ofmp reflecting against his sses to hid his eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s a wonder of the Ancients up there, Tristan Abrascal, and you are going to <em>break</em> it.¡±

 Chapter 32

    Chapter 32

    Something was off.

    That was his first thought when he woke, for all that someone was staring down at him.

    ¡°Ferranda declined. We¡¯ll have to do without her.¡±

    Tristan rubbed his eyes blearily, hiding his difort by throwing Yong half a re. At a look, people were only just beginning to stumble into the courtyard ¨C the usual early birds. The only person already in the kitchen was Vanesa, whosete napst night must have shortened her night.

    ¡°How are you this much of a morning person?¡± heined.

    No one was around him save for Yong, so why were his hackles raised? It was a blind thing, like smelling rain on the wind, but Tristan had not survived this long by ignoring his instincts.

    ¡°Can¡¯t yell at your men for not waking up fast enough if they¡¯re awake before you are,¡± the Tianxi cheerfully replied. ¡°Up and at it, Tristan.¡±

    Fortuna, leaning over his shoulder, covered a yawn with her hand.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t even look hungover,¡± she admiringly said. ¡°His liver must be cast iron.¡±

    He would have red at the goddess if he could. The thief fought against the urge to yawn for a moment before giving it up a lost cause, earning a mockingly raised eyebrow from Yong. It wasn¡¯t like Fortuna even got tired, she was yawning purely to yank his chain.

    ¡°I secured the munitions and permission to enter,¡± Tristan said. ¡°We can proceed when I return.¡±

    Yong, crouched by the curtain that served as the ¡®door¡¯ to his room, openly frowned.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you have to head out at all,¡± he said.

    ¡°I am not asking you to,¡± Tristan firmly replied.

    Even the implication that his actions were up to debate was best snuffed out early. The former soldier raised a hand in appeasement.

    ¡°I won¡¯t dig,¡± he said. ¡°But you need to be careful, Tristan. If you die out there the n falls apart.¡±

    That was, in fact, not true. It had been arranged for Lieutenant Wen to deliver the munitions and orders to Maryam should Tristan perish and it was Francho who would be the ace after they took the lift up. They needed someone capable of deciphering cryptoglyphs, not a thief. Even Yong, who would wield the musket and salt munitions, was arguably more important to the cause than Tristan at the moment.

    ¡°I have taken measures in case it happens,¡± he vaguely replied. ¡°But I assure you I have no intention of making a mistake thiste in the game.¡±

    ¡°That much I can believe,¡± Yong said, then hesitated.

    The Tianxi bit the inside of his cheek.

    ¡°You¡¯re usually cautious, until the bullets starts flying,¡± Yong said. ¡°This kind of recklessness is unlike you.¡±

    The unspoken question hung loud in the air. It was his instinct, as always, to sidestep it and keep his past a guessing game. But Yong, he¡¯d extended trust. He had told Tristan of the sorrows that brought him here, the reason for the shaking hands and the drink that steadied them. It was not a debt, not exactly, but neither was it nothing. Abu would have called this mawkishness, chided him over considering something as childish as reciprocity. <em>Every secret is a stone</em>, she¡¯d taught him. <em>Every time you share one your tomb grows closer to finished.</em>

    But he¡¯d learned, sinceing to the ind, that he¡¯d known even less about Abu than he¡¯d thought.

    ¡°I have debts that need settling,¡± Tristan finally said.

    Yong hummed. He did not ask to whom, or what kind of debt. The veteran knew better.

    ¡°And they are best repaid here?¡± he asked instead.

    ¡°There might not ever be anywhere else,¡± Tristan honestly replied.

    If he did not act now, the Cerdan brothers and Cozme Aflor would slip his grasp and return to Sacromonte. Once they returned to the safety of the Orchards, the walled districts where the infanzones dwelled under the light of the re, they would be beyond his reach. He could live with the brothers surviving his attentions, but Cozme Aflor? There were five names on his List and most of them had either vanished or gone behind tall walls. He would not surrender the opportunity to cross out even the name at the bottom.

    Remund Cerdan would die, and through him Cozme would be forced to either seek out Augusto as ast ditch to salvage his position with House Cerdan or try for the refuge of joining the Watch. Either way, Tristan would get a clear shot at him.

    Yong¡¯s dark eyes met his, searching, and atst the older man nodded.

    ¡°They always tell us that revenge isn¡¯t worth it, you know?¡± Yong said. ¡°That it isn¡¯t worth burning your life for, that it will make you no happier after. A hollow victory at best.¡±

    ¡°And was it?¡± the rat asked. ¡°Worth it.¡±

    The Tianxi smiled, slow and cold as the bite of spite.

    ¡°When I think of thatst gasp rattling past her lips,¡± Yong softly said, ¡°it warms the cockles of my heart. Even now, after all these years. I¡¯ve regretted a lot of things, Tristan, but my revenge never once.¡±

    The older man pped his shoulder before rising to his feet.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± he said.

    The thief watched him leave in silence, sorting himself out. It was not exactly trust, whaty between them. They both knew the other had intentions they would notpromise on, even at the other¡¯s expense. But there was an understanding, he thought, and in some ways that was more reliable than trust. Less blind. And something worth keeping around, if he could. Maryam had implied that whatever opportunity was to be offered to him after these trials would not be offered to Yong, but perhaps there were ways around that.

    And now that Yong was gone, no longer distracting him, the unease returned. Rain on the wind, clouds in the distance.

    ¡°You know that¡¯s a married man, you harlot, so reel in that longing gaze.¡±

    The thief hid his surprise. He had not heard Lan approaching, so it was on the backfoot that he began as Lan grinned down at him unpleasantly. He rose to his feet, pulling down his clothes into ce. Unease could wait, lest he miss another rat biting at his tail.

    ¡°I thought we were feuding,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°We¡¯re reconciling,¡± Lan told him. ¡°There¡¯s no longer a group around Tupoc and we¡¯re both headed into the maze, yes? Best bury our grudge in case we run into one another.¡±

    The thief rolled his shoulder.

    ¡°You don¡¯t intend toe back here.¡±

    It was more a statement than a guess.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather ride Tredegar¡¯s coattails than risk your scheme,¡± Lan frankly replied. ¡°As long as we don¡¯t lose too many people on thest stretch of road, the trial is in the bag.¡±

    He conceded with a nod. Tristan did not necessarily agree, but neither could he say she was wrong. Chances were high that thest tests would be brutal, but taking a swing at a rtively easy one then hiding behind the Pereduri for the rest of the trial was not a bad strategy. If Lan got lucky with her test and became a victor she could spend the rest of the Trial of Ruins as a spectator ¨C much as Isabel Ruesta had. She was unlikely to be bothered over perceived cowardice: this close to the gate and with so few trial-takers left, victors were too precious a resource to be risked.

    ¡°Sensible,¡± he nodded.

    He paused, after, and considered whether or not he should continue. After his conversation with Yong, though, it would have felt like a betrayal not to.

    ¡°I believe it was Brun,¡± Tristan abruptly said.

    Lan went very still, then forced a smile on her face.

    ¡°How sure are you?¡±

    ¡°Enough to approach him over it,¡± the thief said.

    He could not be entirely certain, not with what he knew, but Brun was the most likely to be the killer by a fair amrgin. It was only the issue of motive that held Tristan back from speaking in stronger terms.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Lan said, her tone t and dead. ¡°I¡¯ll get the details out of Sarai, so no need to bbor. His reasons?¡±

    ¡°Unknown,¡± Tristan admitted, then passed a hand through his hair. ¡°But there is something off about his contract.¡±

    ¡°A killing price?¡± she frowned. ¡°That is <em>very</em> illegal.¡±

    It was one of the few things the Guardia bothered to chase after even in the Murk. Not out of worry for the rats, of course, but because such contracts were illegal under the Iscariot ords and failing to stamp them out would mean Sacromonte was in breach.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that,¡± he hedged. ¡°I do not think it so straightforward, but I also doubt his contract is as simple as feeling presences.¡±

    Lan slowly nodded.

    ¡°You are being generous with information,¡± she said.

    He was, though not as generous as he could have been.

    ¡°If we are to part ways, let it on good terms,¡± he replied. ¡°It costs me little to give you this.¡±

    The blue-lipped woman hummed, considering him.

    ¡°Someone went into your room during supperst night,¡± Lan said. ¡°The curtain wasn¡¯t the same way you left it.¡±

    And like that the unease he had been slowly shedding was back.

    He stilled, mind spinning. Had Lieutenant Vasantie to suspect him? There would have been nothing for her or her minions to find. He had not hidden the brand in his room, preferring to tuck it away in one of the abandoned bastions, and the stone buttons never left his pocket. Only Francho and Maryam knew where the brand was, since he¡¯d tasked them with trying it on the machine Vasanti wanted them to study. <em>I¡¯ll have to look through my belongings after breakfast, see if anything¡¯s missing.</em>

    What did he even have that was worth stealing? Most his arms and clothes came from the Watch and the rest of his affairs fit in a single bag. His cab wasn¡¯t worth much without knowledge of the vials and how to use them, and believed to be a medicine cab besides ¨C pointless to steal from when the Watch physician could be relied on instead. Lips thinning with worry, he nodded his thanks to Lan. She snorted.

    ¡°It has been a pleasure to work with you, rat,¡± she said. ¡°To my surprise.¡±

    ¡°And you,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°We¡¯ll meet again in the Trial of Weeds.¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t bite off more than you can chew,¡± she teased, then waved him away.

    It was a fitting goodbye, he thought, for the likes of them. If not for the revtion someone had gone through his things it would have lifted his mood. Instead it was with a frown he ventured out for breakfast, finding that the usual already seated. Tupoc and his crew were always the first to leave in the morning, so even though there were now much reduced ¨C there remained only Ocon, Lan and a very nervous Augusto ¨C they had imed their usual table. Tristan went to sit with Yong, who had gone ahead, and within a moment had a bowl of porridge in front of him. He looked up at Vanesa, who had been the one to bring it, and cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°You have been doing it for me every morning,¡± the old woman smiled. ¡°I thought I would return the favor at least once.¡±

    She looked better this morning, he thought. Not as pale as she had been for thest few days. His stomach clenched at the sight, though. Pleased as he was she was doing better ¨C enough to move around on her crutches and hand people bowls ¨C it put him on edge. Her wound was not the kind of wound that got <em>better</em>.

    ¡°And we all benefit from you,¡± Yong drawled. ¡°She brought mine as well.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t need to,¡± Tristan told Vanesa.

    Her breath, he noted, was slow. Slower than it should be, though if this had been too much it should be quickened instead.

    ¡°I wanted to,¡± she replied, jaw set.

    And looking at her, at the determination in herst eye and the way she stood, he paused. Something was off, he¡¯d felt from the start. Something was off about <em>her</em>. His gaze flicked to the other table.

    ¡°Them too?¡± he casually asked.

    Vanesa did not answer.

    ¡°She¡¯s too kind,¡± Yong said. ¡°Tupoc should be starved, not fed.¡±

    But it wasn¡¯t Tupoc Xical that Tristan was looking at, Lan or even Augusto Cerdan. It was Ocon, the big bruiser with the Menor Mano tattoos on his arms. Who had served as a legbreaker for that coterie. Vanesa, he remembered, hade here in her son¡¯s ce. A son whose leg had been broken by the Menor Mano for unpaid debts. Two days back, Tristan had walked away while Vanesa had been spellbound by Augusto Cerdan recounting Ocon¡¯s boasts. The bruiser¡¯s stories about the things he had done for the Menor Mano.

    The details fit each other like cogs, clicking into the ce.

    ¡°Vanesa,¡± he quietly said. ¡°Tell me you didn¡¯t.¡±

    The old woman sighed, then lowered herself onto the bench at his side. She leaned the crutches against the side of the table,fortably resting her shoulder against the thief¡¯s.

    ¡°It¡¯s toote, dear,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s already on his second bowl.¡±

    Yong¡¯s eyes widened as he looked at them.

    ¡°Vanesa,¡± he whispered. ¡°What did you do?¡±

    ¡°I put down a rabid dog,¡± the old woman said.

    And what Tristan heard, when she said that, was a trigger being pulled.

    It was three more seconds before the shouting began.

    The thief watched, grey eyes unblinking, as Ocon toppled forward. The Azn was convulsing violently, foaming at the mouth until he began vomiting all over the table. Tupoc and Augusto fled from him, as if his very presence were dangerous, while Lan stumbled onto the ground in fright. The spectacle attracted the attention of everyone in the courtyard, including the ckcloaks.

    ¡°What did you use?¡± Tristan hoarsely asked. ¡°What vials, how much?¡±

    Passing this as an allergy was unlikely. Cold pooled in his stomach. There must be a way to frame, to turn the truth around until it said what he needed it to say.

    ¡°The three in the upperpartment,¡± Vanesa calmly said. ¡°I apologize for the theft, but I wanted to be sure.¡±

    The thief choked.

    ¡°<em>The entire vials</em>?¡± he got out.

    She nodded and he breathed in sharply. His entire stock of white arsenic, mandrake and antimony. Each of them a lethal poison, each of them so concentrated it was enough to use <em>five drops</em> to kill a grown man. Vanesa had dumped enough poison into that porridge bowl to kill every soul in the Old Fort twice over. No wonder it had taken minutes instead of hours for Ocon to react. Tristan breathed out, forced himself to calm. To think.

    ¡°It was Brun,¡± he suddenly said. ¡°Yong, you saw him enter my roomst night after dinner. I¡¯ll head there and report someone stole of my medicine. We should have enough witnesses.¡±

    If Brun¡¯s head was on the line then Lan was certain to pitch in on their side. Would Maryam lend a hand? Even odds, he thought, but she wanted them rid of the killer and was pragmatic enough to use an opportunity should it be handed to her. That many voices should tip the bnce their way even though they had nothing but witnesses. Vanesa smiled gently and patted his hand.

    ¡°You are a nice boy, Tristan, but it is toote for that as well,¡± she said.

    His eyes narrowed.

    ¡°If you already confessed,¡± he slowly said, ¡°we can say you were forced, that-¡±

    ¡°After serving him the bowl,¡± Vanesa said, ¡°I drank three days¡¯ worth of poppy. My limbs already feel numb. It should only be a few minutes now before my breathing stops, the doctor was quite clear about the dosages.¡±

    Tristan swallowed. The way her face had been pale from painst night, she had not been feigning it. She¡¯d been saving up the poppy so she could drink it all at once.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Vanesa said, squeezing his hand. ¡°But I did not want it to be painful.¡±

    Tristan swallowed, lips dry as he tried to find anything at all to say. He failed. Nothing he had learned had taught him words that would be more than air.

    ¡°Poisoned. This man has been poisoned.¡±

    The Watch physician¡¯s t announcement put an end to all the shouting. The courtyard had filled with trial-takers and ckcloaks, all of whom went silent at the man¡¯s words. Ocony on the ground, past convulsions. Past anything at all: the Azn was dead. His limps were warped and his face twisted into a rictus, his chest covered with vomit. It must have been, Tristan thought without sympathy, an excruciatingly painful way to die. The ckcloak physician pried open his mouth and looked at his swollen, ckened tongue. The man wrinkled his nose.

    ¡°And a high dosage at that,¡± he added.

    He looked up at the figure presiding over all this. Lieutenant Wen¡¯s face was a cold mask of fury.

    ¡°Watchmen, <em>arms out</em>,¡± he ordered, then his gaze swept everyone else. ¡°No one is leaving the fort until we find who did this. Everyone is to stand unarmed in the courtyard while we ¨C¡±

    Vanesa grabbed her crutches and rose to her feet, leaning on them heavily, and the Tianxi lieutenant trailed off. Her movements were clumsy and Tristan reached out to help her, but his hand fell short before she drew away. He bit down on words he had not found, the ck of his teeth an unhappy sensation. Yong grabbed his shoulder, as if to draw him back, but Tristan shook him off. He did not rise, though.

    What would have been the point, when it had all finished before he knew anything was happening at all?

    ¡°There¡¯s no need for that, lieutenant,¡± Vanesa calmly said. ¡°I did this.¡±

    Lieutenant Wen blinked in surprise.

    ¡°You are confessing,¡± he slowly said.

    ¡°Ocon was an animal who crippled my only son for life,¡± the old woman said, adjusting her broken sses. ¡°How many lives did he ruin before going on to boast about it? Yes, lieutenant, I confess. I confess wishing it had taken him longer to die, so he might feel but a fraction of the misery he spent his life inflicting on others.¡±

    Lieutenant Wen reached for his own spectacles, unfolding them carefully.

    ¡°You broke sanctuary,¡± the watchman said. ¡°You were told of the consequences for this.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Vanesa simply said.

    Wen put on his sses and drew his pistol.

    ¡°Close your eyes,¡± the lieutenant said.

    His tone, Tristan thought, was almost gentle.

    ¡°I am too tired to be afraid, boy,¡± Vanesa softly smiled. ¡°Send me on.¡±

    Grey eyes watched as Wen¡¯s finger pulled the trigger. Thunder, billowing smoke.

    On she went.

    --

    The bodies were dragged away by the ckcloaks in the silence that followed. Sick as he felt, Tristan still finished his breakfast. Starving would be of no help to the dead.

    --

    The mood was still gloomy when everyone began to depart. Tristan could not muster amusement at seeing Augusto and Tupoc scurry off alone, not when the memory of thatst soft smile would not leave him. He forced himself to be in the here in now when their group assembled around Angharad Tredegar, who briskly introduced him to the others before they set out. They were not such a small group, numbering eight: himself, Tredegar, Song , Zenzel, Yaretzi, Isabel Ruesta and atst the pair he did not intend to ever leave this ind.

    The Dove Shrine was not empty when they entered it, to the visible surprise of the others.

    ¡°We did not bargain for Tristan¡¯s crossing,¡± Tredegar reminded them. ¡°Only our own.¡±

    The scavenger god awaiting them looked like a bird made of folded paper, rather different to the grandiose shrine around it. It smacked of pretentiousness to the rat, a Murk god putting on a Mane¡¯s raiment.

    ¡°Supplicant,¡± the god said. ¡°You enter the shrine of-¡±

    Irritation red. He had heard of this shrine¡¯s test from four different mouths, there was no surprise to be had.

    ¡°Shall we get on with your tile game?¡± Tristan cut in. ¡°Lady Ruesta, I will have to borrow your stick if you do not mind.¡±

    The infanzona hesitantly nodded, and when Tristan turned his gaze back to the god he saw it was staring at him as balefully as a pile of folded paper could.

    ¡°Shall we establish the terms?¡± he prompted.

    A long moment passed, then the air picked up and a sudden cold wind blew through the shrine. It was strong enough to force him to shield his eyes, and when he looked again the god was gone from its perch. Lord Remund choked and Lord Zenzele began snickering.

    ¡°Must have been something you said,¡± the Mni opined.

    ¡°I shall work on my manners, then,¡± Tristan tly said.

    He was in no jesting mood, not after the morning they¡¯d left behind.

    -

    It was all little more than brisk exercise until they reached the waterway.

    Tristan was thankful it was only waist-deep as he was a middling swimmer. It would have been dangerous to swim by the Quays, where so many ships docked, and the waters of the canals that reached into the Murk were poisonously filthy. The sewers only reached into Estebra District and the outskirts of Feria, so everyone else dumped their waste into the canals. It was Abu who¡¯d taught him when he was thirteen, taking him to the Old Town for it. He¡¯d swum little since learning, so it was almost nostalgic to be wading through water again. The nostalgia was soon reced by irritation, for it was a long trek and exhausting on the body. It was a relief when they emerged from the waterway into a spread of luminous pools. The ce was beautiful to behold, Tristan thought, though the others seemed indifferent.

    They had alreadye this way several times.

    ¡°Stick to the sides,¡± Song told him. ¡°The pools get deep.¡±

    The thief nodded, dutifully following behind the Tianxi. She¡¯d been at the front with Tredegar for most of the journey but had drifted to the back since they got into the water.

    ¡°I hear you were the one to find the way forward from here,¡± he idly said.

    Silver eyes turned on him. Song, he thought, was looking at him like someone from the Guardia would. Deciding whether or not to punish him, without a speck of doubt in her that she <em>could</em> if she decided to. That was rather interesting, considering that though the Tianxi was Tredegar¡¯s effective second it did not actually lend her much authority over the rest of the group.

    ¡°Sarai did mention you¡¯re a gossip,¡± she said.

    Uncalled for. He was spy, not a gossip. The legwork of both upations just happened to bergely identical.

    ¡°Sarai,¡± he repeated. ¡°Is that what you call her?¡±

    Silver eyes narrowed in surprise and like that he had his answer. <em>You know her real name</em>, he thought. <em>What kind of a bargain is it that you two struck with the Watch?</em> Not that he was able to castigate over such a thing after the deal he¡¯d made with Lieutenant Wen. Song leaned in close.

    ¡°I would advise against trying your luck too often around me, Tristan,¡± she said.

    Tristan stilled, ripping surprise and worry off his face. That wording, had it been an ident? That Song¡¯s contract had to do with those unsettling eyes was not in doubt, but what could she <em>see</em>? The Tianxi considered him a moment, then smiled.

    ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± she said. ¡°Maryam took a liking to you, having been cursed with terrible taste by her northern gods, so let us not be uncivil.¡±

    Tristan forced a smile.

    ¡°That sounds lovely,¡± he said.

    How much did she know? She was wary of him, unlikely to let anything slip, but the others had been in her presence longer. Some of them since the Trial of Lines. If he struck a conversation with-

    ¡°You are thinking of digging around me, right now,¡± Song stated. ¡°Your misapprehension lies in thinking I care enough about you to make trouble.¡±

    Tristan blinked, feigning surprise.

    ¡°I do not know-¡±

    Song smiled.

    ¡°But if you were to <em>keep </em>digging, Tristan,¡± she said, ¡°then I would be <em>forced </em>to care. And to hit you with your very own shovel hard enough you¡¯d spit out teeth.¡±

    That had, he would admit, the benefit of being exceedingly clear.

    ¡°Fair,¡± he conceded, dropping the theatre. ¡°You can¡¯t me a man for being curious.¡±

    Song beamed.

    ¡°I can and will.¡±

    She patted his shoulder and turned away, resuming the march around the side of the pool. A low whistle came out from behind him, Fortuna swimming azy sidestroke in the pool. The dress, following in her wake, looked like trails of blood.

    ¡°That was a thorough spanking,¡± the Lady of Long Odds informed him, like he¡¯d somehow been unaware. ¡°There are ces in Sacromonte where they¡¯d make you pay for a bottom that red.¡±

    He faked a cough, covering his mouth.

    ¡°You look like a drowning victim,¡± he shot back.

    Her offended shouting almost made wading through the rest of the pools tolerable.

    --

    Being forewarned took the fear out of the creature jumping out when they shimmied across the ledge, and the strange mechanical temple they crossed afterwards ¨C where he¡¯d heard Inyoni had died ¨C was empty. There had been some tension in the crew when they approached, but it bled out when the temple¡¯s god showed no sign of being present. Angharad Tredegar ended up at his side as they passed through. She was, he suspected, trying to avoid Lord Zenzele. Guilt was a tireless workhorse.

    ¡°It sounds like the most trying of the tests anyone has encountered,¡± he said, casting a look around. ¡°That could at all be won, at least.¡±

    The one that had nearly killed Yong when he still ran with the Ramayans did not seem at all feasible to win.

    ¡°The spirit of this ce was scrupulously fair,¡± Tredegar admitted. ¡°Ruthless, but fair.¡±

    ¡°A god died here,¡± Fortuna told him, walking on his other side as she inspected the ceiling. ¡°Some years ago. It cannot be seen yet, but the temple is falling apart.¡±

    Tristan almost frowned. Then who had given out the test?

    ¡°I have never heard of a god of machines before,¡± he idly said, going fishing. ¡°It must have looked rather strange, no?¡±

    ¡°Brass and bronze, as you would expect,¡± Tredegar said. ¡°It voice was¡­ unpleasant. Still, it was not the-¡±

    She held back, shaking her head.

    ¡°Not the?¡± Tristan prompted.

    ¡°You will think me superstitious,¡± the Pereduri said.

    ¡°When being wary of a maze full of dying gods?¡± Tristan said. ¡°Hardly.¡±

    The tall woman bit her lip, then sighed.

    ¡°I thought I saw something inside it, for a moment,¡± she said. ¡°Teeth and a swallowing throat.¡±

    The thief¡¯s heart skipped a beat. The Red Maw? But the god here had given out a <em>test</em>. Zenzele Duma was a victor. Why would the prisoner of this maze help someone cross it?

    ¡°That is certainly unusual,¡± he slowly said.

    ¡°I thought it only exhaustion,¡± Tredegar admitted, ¡°but then I saw something simr the following day when facing the spirit of crystal hall.¡±

    Fear pooled in his belly.

    ¡°Oh?¡± he said. ¡°Any time beyond that?¡±

    She shook her head.

    ¡°The peacock spirit in the fortress gave me no such impression,¡± she said. ¡°Perhaps because she was once a greater spirit¡¯s mount.¡±

    <em>That¡¯s the wrong question to ponder, Tredegar</em>, he thought. <em>The right one is ¡®what happened to the god that used to ride the peacock?¡¯.</em> Once could have been the Red Maw slipping in a victory, but twice, maybe thrice? <em>Their seal is failing</em>, he thought. <em>And the Maw is impersonating gods so the Watch won¡¯t notice.</em> How much of the maze had been taken over? There was no telling, but it didn¡¯t really matter. Now the same sacrifices meant to feed the gods keeping the Red Maw in check were instead feeding the Maw. The revtion killed his motivation to continue speaking, so their talk died and as they left the room they parted ways when Tredegar took the vanguard again.

    This was bad, Tristan thought.

    A pause.

    No, the rat then thought. This is <em>good</em>.

    His bargain with Wen had always been dangerous, likely as not to result in the Watch putting a bullet in the back of his head at the end of the Third Trial even if he had broken no rules, but now he had a reason. Tristan was not going to break a priceless Antediluvian wonder because it was the price for a Watch officer to undermine another, he was doing it for the greater good! He, a concerned young man with the best intentions, had done this only to reveal the perfidious infiltration of the Red Maw. He would have gone to the ckcloaks about it, of course, but Lieutenant Vasanti had some kind of grudge against him.

    Why they need only look, she had forced him to attempt something that had killed several watchmen before - no way that wasn¡¯t on record ¨C and he¡¯d duly informed the heroic Lieutenant Wen of his suspicions. Tristan made a note to actually inform Lieutenant Wen of his suspicions. Maybe in front of Sergeant Mandisa, so the man would have to think twice about denying it.

    So deep in thought was the thief that he did not notice they¡¯d left thest hall of the clockwork temple until the ground under his feet became sand.

    Past the temple apparentlyy a great arena, whose gates they ignored in favor of broken rusty grate leading underground. Close now, by Isabel Ruesta¡¯s description. Next came a dark and dusty crypt, and then atst the wheel room the infanzona had mentioned. Four gates set in walls of stone, a wheel at the center of the room with four spokes of brass jutting out. Each spoke went from the floor to above Tristan¡¯s waist. From what he understood, they would need to split between the four spaces delineated by the spokes and let their weight trigger some kind of spinning mechanism that would open the gates.

    They would then effectively be tossed through them likes sacks of potatoes, which had him wondering what the Antediluvians had meant this room for.

    ¡°Let us split into pairs,¡± Tredegar said, an order sounding like a suggestion.

    That Ruesta would cling to her like amprey and Cozme Aflor stick with his charge were both a given. Tristan cocked an eyebrow at Lord Zenzele, who shrugged in agreement, and counted himself d not to have been paired with Song and her too-seeing eyes. More importantly, pairing first allowed him to pick a quadrant next to Remund Cerdan¡¯s. The moment all eight of them were spread out there was a mechanical sound beneath their feet, something shifting, and the Mni lord began to grin. Tristan caught the edge of the spoke and prepared himself.

    The spinning began rather abruptly, but it was a surprise to no one. The speed picking up felt dangerous, for all that Zenzele Duma wasughing, but Tristan kept a steady eye on the situation. It was when the gates began to open that he pulled on his luck, quick and deep.

    Just as the ticking began, there was a nging sound beneath their feet and something jammed.

    When force threw him forward Tristan did not fight it. He went with it, instead, and so after Remund Cerdan was torn off the spoke he hung on to topple down the half-open gate, the thief was but two heartbeats behind him. He rolled across stone and water, hearing Remund curse in front of him and Cozme Aflor shout behind, and with a wince of anticipation released the luck. A heartbeatter, just as he glimpsed how the slope they were falling down split into two, he hit a bump on the stone and bounced against the wall ¨C where some kind of rusted metal piece jutted.

    The thief swallowed a scream as it tore into his side, ripping through tunic and flesh alike.

    <em>Fuck</em>, he swore. Remund must have gotten hurt falling and the luck counted it as an attack. That always turned the luck hard on him. It took another two minutes to finish falling all the way down, the slope mercifully slowing before he was dumped down unceremoniously on a patch of luminescent mushrooms. The younger Cerdan barely got out of the way in time, hurrying up and looking around as Tristan stayed on the mushrooms to inspect his wound. It was mercifully shallow, but a cut with rust in it had dangers beyond the immediate. He would have to clean this with alcohol as quickly as he could.

    ¡°I know this ce,¡± Lord Remund suddenly said. ¡°Isabel described it to me, it is where she fellst time.¡±

    Tristan rose with a wince. They were on a fairly narrow strip of stone, one side covered by a wall and the other leading to gaping pit. By the coolness of the airing up, it must have been abyssally deep. In front of them, at the end of the strip,y a narrow gap in a wall of natural stone. They would have to squeeze through.

    ¡°The rest of the path to the crystal hall is simple,¡± the Cerdan continued. ¡°We should soon be there.¡±

    ¡°Good news,¡± Tristan said.

    He picked up his tricorn from the floor, brushing it off and setting it on his head. When he turned, he saw that the other man¡¯s eyes were on his wound. The infanzon¡¯s gaze grew dismissive at the sight.

    ¡°I know the way from here,¡± Lord Remund Cerdan said. ¡°You need only listen and follow me.¡±

    Tristan nodded respectfully.

    ¡°As you say, my lord.¡±

    Satisfied with the show of obedience, the infanzon turned ¨C and in the heartbeat that followed, Tristan had his ckjack in hand. It would have been easiest to hit the back of the man¡¯s head, to knock him out, but that was not what the thief was after.

    Instead he struck the back of Remund¡¯s knee.

    The infanzon dropped, shouting in pain and surprise as he twisted to face his attacker, while Tristan ced his next blow. Remund¡¯s wrist cracked at the blow, the sword he was trying to unsheathe dropping. The thief kicked it away.

    ¡°What are you-¡± the Cerdan shouted, fingers tracing a circle of light in the air.

    Ah, the famous contract. A useful trick, but the several descriptions that Tristan had been given revealed a weakness: he kicked Remund in the face, foot right in the chin, and the shining light winked out. The Cerdan needed to concentrate to maintain the light, that much had been made abundantly clear.

    Maybe if Remund Cerdan had practiced his own tolerance to pain instead of burning servants, a kick would not have been enough to disrupt his concentration.

    The infanzon crawled away blindly, pushing back with his legs like an upended crab, but Tristan could muster no pity at the sight. Not for a Cerdan. He calmly pursued, stomping down on the knee he¡¯d already struck. The hit delivered a most satisfying crack and the infanzon let out a sob of pain. He kept crawling away, Tristan following with an amused look on his face: the man had not yet realized he was heading towards the edge of the cliff. When he finally did, his mangled leg dangling over the edge, he let out a scream of terror as he wed at the stone to avoid falling.

    ¡°Please,¡± Remund said. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much my brother paid you, but I can double it.¡±

    ¡°Remund Cerdan,¡± the thief said. ¡°I have questions for you.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the infanzon hurriedly replied. ¡°Anything.¡±

    ¡°Theogony,¡± he said. ¡°Does the word mean anything to you?¡±

    A flicker of surprise in his eyes.

    ¡°No,¡± Remund said, ¡°I never-¡±

    Tristan kicked him in the leg. The infanzon shrieked in fear, trying to catch his boot as he was halfway pushed off the ledge. The thief was too nimble, though, and Remund was forced to w at the cavern floor so that his dangling legs would not drag him down into the dark.

    ¡°<em>Yes</em>,¡± Remund screamed. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of it. It¡¯s some sort of grand design by Uncle Lorent, Lord Cerdan has poured a fortune into it.¡±

    ¡°And it is still happening?¡± Tristan pressed.

    The infanzon nodded, eyes wild. He tried to drag himself further up on solid ground but went still as Tristan drew his pistol. He watched in fear as the thief filled the muzzle with powder and added the lead ball. As Tristan had thought, the horror had not ceased when the Cerdans shut down their warehouses in Feria District. They¡¯d just moved elsewhere.

    ¡°Lauriana Ceret,¡± he said. ¡°Do you know the name?¡±

    Remund blinked.

    ¡°Professor Ceret?¡± he asked. ¡°Our mathematics tutor?¡±

    Tristan¡¯s jaw clenched. A tutor. That woman, after everything, was allowed to teach <em>children</em>? Rage came, but it was cold. Patient. He had waited years for the List and would wait years more.

    ¡°Ceferin,¡± he forced out. ¡°How about him?¡±

    Remund fervently shook his head and Tristan believed him. Ceferin had worked with House Cerdan for his own reasons, he had not seemed one of theirs. Their leash on him had been loose.

    ¡°You were part of it weren¡¯t you?¡± Remund asked. ¡°Whatever it was that went so bad in Feria District that Uncle Lorent went abroad for three years.¡±

    The infanzon swallowed.

    ¡°What did they <em>do</em> to you?¡±

    Tristan took a step closer. The other flinched.

    ¡°Do you know what happens when a man makes two contracts?¡± he asked.

    Remund licked his lips.

    ¡°They go mad and die,¡± he said. ¡°The gods eat them from the inside.¡±

    ¡°What if it were three instead?¡± Tristan asked. ¡°Four, five?¡±

    The infanzon swallowed.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said.

    ¡°Neither did they,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°So they <em>tried</em>.¡±

    That and worse things yet. If he¡¯d not followed his father that day he would never have seen the horrors thaty hidden beneath Feria District, the butchery the Cerdans were willing tomit to close the gap with the Six.

    ¡°I never had anything to do with it,¡± Remund told him. ¡°I swear. Even the old warehouses in Feria, it¡¯s Augusto who runs them! <em>Him</em>, Tristan, not me. Let me up and I will help you, he is no brother of-¡±

    The thief took a step closer. The infanzon screamed, fear indistinguishable from fury.

    ¡°<em>Why</em>?¡± he demanded. ¡°I have done nothing to you, <em>nothing </em>to deserve this.¡±

    He levelled the pistol.

    ¡°Think of it,¡± Tristan mildly said, ¡°as interest on the debt.¡±

    He was a poor shot but from this close not even he could miss. And as the shot dimly echoed across the cavern, Tristan Abrascal smiled.

    <em>Two</em>, he counted.

    Halfway there.

 Chapter 33

    Chapter 33

    They waited for the two as long as they could, but neither Remund Cerdan nor Tristan ever made an appearance. As the hours passed, thepany grew restless.

    ¡°It has been too long,¡± Lord Zenzele finally said. ¡°Either they went back or they are dead.¡±

    ¡°Surely,¡± Isabel said, ¡°we could wait a little longer.¡±

    The dark-haired beauty had grown increasingly distressed as time went by. Angharad felt for her: of the two boys she hade with, one had proved a viin and the other was now likely dead. Master Cozme insisted they stay longer where they stood, at the beginning of the broken mirror hall, he found no allies in this save for a hesitant Isabel.

    ¡°No one ims that the two of you cannot wait for Lord Remund,¡± Yaretzi tactfully said. ¡°That is your choice to make. That does not mean it needs to be ours.¡±

    A snort.

    ¡°He was a bit of a prick, your man,¡± Lord Zenzele noted. ¡°Shame about Tristan, but the maze is a deadly ce. Staying safe in the Old Fort did not prepare him, for all the stories about the heliodoran beast.¡±

    ¡°Are you so eager to abandon one of us?¡± Cozme angrily said. ¡°What do I ask of you save time?¡±

    ¡°My patience, increasingly,¡± the Mni lord retorted.

    Angharad, though part of her wished to wait ¨C it shamed her to have invited Tristan only to lose him the very first day ¨C had to step in.

    ¡°It will take hours to scale the crystals,¡± Angharad said. ¡°My apologies, Master Cozme, but if we want to make it to the temple for the night we can no longer dy.¡±

    The older man pulled at his mustache angrily but did not argue. He could tell when a battle was lost. Isabel¡¯s attempt tofort him was fended off brusquely enough it earned a raised eyebrow from Angharad. Allowances must be made for grief, she told herself, even though it was not certain that Lord Remund was dead. She was not sure how to feel about that, truth be told. The youngest Cerdan had been no friend of hers, but she had not wished him dead.

    It made no difference, either way: be he dead or alive, Angharad was still bound by her oath to him not to seek thepany of Isabel Ruesta.

    Straightening her waning attention, Angharad opened her pack to begin setting out the equipment obtained from the Watchst eve. The sooner they reached the temple, the better. Much as it had her wary to sleep where Aines had been murdered, there was no other choice. It was the best way to remain close to the gate that would lead them back to the fortress-temple and through it thest stretch before the gate ¨C what Lady Ferranda had called the ¡®Toll Road¡¯. Still, only a fool would forget the killing that had taken ce. It had been decided that all would share a single room and two people would always be on watch.

    Though they had carefully prepared for the journey traversing the broken hall was still difficult.

    The crystals had always been sharp-edged and only grown more so since shattering into pieces, even small shards proving as dangerous as caltrops ¨C they went right through leather boots, as Yaretzi learned to her dismay. The Izcalli was only lightly wounded but seeing her wince constantly had them all twice as wary. Still, their ropes, grappling hooks and gloves proved sufficient for the work. Though it was hard on the less fit of them to do so, Angharad took them up to sections of the copsed ceiling whenever she could ¨C it was usually in a fair state and following them let thepany cross more quickly.

    It still took two hours, longer than the hall had taken when inhabited by a spirit, and everyone was drenched in sweat by the end. Past the eerie cavern and the gauntlet of gargoyles the temple still waited: and just as Angharad had expected, the others had beaten them to it. After waiting so long for Remund and Tristan that had been a given. Everyone was upstairs, on the fourth level, though they were avoiding where Aines¡¯ body had been found. The room where her body must still wait ¨C half-heartedly entombed forck of wood to burn her with ¨C still had the door closed.

    Everyone¡¯s gaze seemed to avoid it, as if by unspoken ord.

    Ripping right through the gloomy mood hanging around the crowd, the devil ever dogging Angharad¡¯s steps was the first to greet her.

    ¡°Fashionablyte to the party, Lady Tredegar,¡± Tupoc called out. ¡°And missing a few friends, I see.¡±

    As if there could ever be something fashionable aboutteness. <em>Izcalli</em>.

    Tupoc was sitting on the stairs, his segmented spear assembled and resting against his shoulder. His grin was as arrogant as his earrings, but the detail told. <em>He is expecting trouble.</em> Perhaps not without reason. Save for Augusto Cerdan, whose dark eyes never left her, everyone was giving him a wide berth. Lord Ishaan and Shalini kept to their corner while Lady Ferranda and Brun kept to another ¨C Zenzele immediately went to join them, to a pang of difort from her ¨C and Lan keptpany with Lady Acanthe. Now that the shrines they had triumphed over were past and there was only one way forward, the short-lived reunion of the crews came at an unceremonious end.

    Though she recognized Tupoc¡¯s words as a taunt, honorpelled Angharad to share information of import to all trial-takers.

    ¡°Remund Cerdan and Tristan are missing,¡± she acknowledged. ¡°Their condition is unknown to me.¡±

    Some muttering at that. Remund had few friends, but Tristan was a physician¡¯s apprentice and that had great value this far from the Old Fort. One noise broke through all the rest, however: Augusto Cerdan wasughing. He kept on even as every other soul went silent, until he was wheezing and out of breath. Tugging at his cor, the ruined face of the infanzon split into a smile.

    ¡°Cozme,¡± he happily said. ¡°All is forgiven. You may return to my side.¡±

    The older man did not move, but his gaze found thest of the Cerdan brothers. There was a look to those eyes Angharad had never seen there before: cool, almost calcting.

    ¡°So long as your brother lives, I am in his service,¡± Cozme Aflor finally said.

    Angharad¡¯s heart clenched with dismay. Surely Master Cozme could be implying he could ever return to Augusto¡¯s side? It must have been politeness to a man he had once served, nothing more. Interruption came from another.

    ¡°Missing does not always mean dead,¡± Lord Ishaan said, stepping forward ¡°Perhaps they wille in the night. Until then, shall we all agree to a truce?¡±

    Tupocughed, tapping the haft of his spear against his shoulder.

    ¡°We, Nair?¡± he said. ¡°Who is it ¡®we¡¯ you im speak for?¡±

    ¡°The two of us,¡± Shalini said, joining herpanion.

    ¡°A thronging multitude indeed,¡± Tupoc drawled. ¡°Let all tremble before the mighty legions of Ramaya ¨C tell me, which is the van and which the rearguard?¡±

    Shalini eyed him a moment, the short and curvy gunslinger finally let out a chuckle. She spat to the side and drew a pistol.

    ¡°Did it ever ur to you, Tupoc,¡± she said, ¡°that you are running out of warm bodies to throw between you and harm? Keep pping that mouth and I might just decide to fill it with something even you will find hard to swallow.¡±

    The Izcalli raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Threats?¡± he said. ¡°And here I thought your master was seeking a truce.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Shalini smiled. ¡°Hide behind a truce again. That¡¯s your favorite trick, isn¡¯t it? I looked forward to being in the room when it finally fails you. <em>That</em>¡¯ll be worth augh.¡±

    The pistol the Someshwari ¨C Ramayan in particr, Angharad supposed ¨C held was no idle threat. From what Angharad had glimpsed, the gunslinger might genuinely be able to kill Tupoc. And once the thought was there, it did not leave. Shalini was right, she thought. Tupoc had gone on this long without paying for his deeds because he had made himself too much trouble to dig out, but was that still true? Ocon was dead. So were his two unlucky conscripts, Felis and Aines. The Izcalli¡¯s strength had dwindled.

    Now all that Tupoc had left was his spear and the glow of the bridges he had burned: Angharad had been patient long enough.

    ¡°Lady Tredegar?¡± Shalini pressed. ¡°You word on the truce?¡±

    ¡°I cannot agree to one,¡± Angharad said.

    Surprise on the Someshwari¡¯s face, a flicker of betrayal.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Angharad evenly said.

    She slowly unsheathed her de as she turned towards Tupoc and hisstpanion.

    ¡°Twice now you have avoided answering for your deeds, Augusto Cerdan,¡± the Pereduri said. ¡°Must I strike you across the face again, or will you finally defend your honor sword in hand?¡±

    A shiver went through the air. No one spoke, no one moved. Augusto¡¯s face ¨C mangled by misadventure, now a mass of bruises and ripped skin ¨C tightened with fear. He rose, taking half a step up the stairs. Then Tupoc rose, letting out a sigh, and tapped his spear against his shoulder.

    ¡°Picking on poor Augusto again?¡± he drawled. ¡°Now now, we can¡¯t have that.¡±

    ¡°We?¡± Angharad gently echoed. ¡°Who is this ¡®we¡¯ you im to speak for?¡±

    Tupoc looked around and saw the same thing she did: how the sheep that once feared him were now boldly growing the fangs of wolves. The noblewoman thought she could tell the very moment it sunk in that he had atst overyed his hand ¨C his grin was just a little too stiff, his eyes just a little too wide.

    ¡°Stand aside, Tupoc Xical,¡± Angharad calmly said. ¡°Or else I will cut you down.¡±

    And the illusion shattered. His power had no longer been rooted in truth, only on inertia from a time it had been. It had been a bluff, and Angharad had just called it.

    A heartbeatter Song was at her side. Her musket was casually levelled forward. A bark of hardughter followed, then the sound of a de leaving the sheath. Lord Zenzele was on his feet, eyes burning with something like hate.

    ¡°And she won¡¯t be alone. Do it, Xical,¡± Zenzele Duma said. ¡°Please, <em>give me a reason</em>.¡±

    ¡°You already have one, Duma,¡± Tupoc amiably replied. ¡°You are simply too craven to use it.¡±

    The Izcalli¡¯s eyes were only half on them, she saw. He was measuring distances and angles, the same way she would. Seeing if the fight was at all feasible.

    ¡°We need to calm down,¡± Isabel said. ¡°Surely we-¡±

    ¡°Do shut your fucking mouth, Isabel,¡± Lady Ferranda mildly replied, drawing her own sword. ¡°Passengers don¡¯t get a say, and this has been a long timeing.¡±

    The dark-haired beauty flinched away and though Angharad¡¯s instinct was to intervene she pushed it down. She could console Isabel afterwards, when the peril had passed. Meanwhile Ferranda moved to stand by Zenzele, tacitly picking her side. Only a handful now remained umitted. Brun, watching it all uneasily with a hand on his hatchet, Ishaan and Shalini still holding back, Lady Acanthe reaching for her pistol with fear on her face while Lan and Yaretzi retreated and-

    ¡°This is madness.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s fingers tightened around her saber¡¯s grip until the leather creaked and her knuckles turned white. Master Cozme, pistol in hand, moved between her and Augusto. He did not point the gun at her, but by the way the muzzle had yet to point down the pistol must be loaded. His decision was clear: Augusto had called and he hade. The traitor. The filthy, treacherous <em>rat</em>.

    ¡°Are we to have a battle before we even take on the tests of the temple-fortress?¡± Cozme Aflor challenged them. ¡°How many dead, how many wounded can we-¡±

    Halfway through the sentence, he froze. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he dropped in a sprawl, pistol ttering against the floor. He was still breathing, she saw, merely unconscious. A sigh drew Angharad¡¯s eyes as Lord Ishaan, scar pulling at his lip, rubbed his forehead.

    ¡°That is going to give me such a headache,¡± Ishaan Nairined.

    Shalini snorted, then drew the pistol she¡¯d been fondling.

    ¡°That¡¯s us picking a side, folks,¡± the Someshwari smiled. ¡°Liking those odds, Tupoc?¡±

    A sleeping contract, Angharad realized with a sliver of fear. Ishaan had a contract that forced sleep.

    Just like the killer who had been cutting throats.

    No, she thought. He was nobly born, surely he could not - from the corner of her eye, Angharad saw Augusto taking a slow step further up the stairs and she set the matter aside. <em>He¡¯s going to run</em>, she thought. An honorless cur to the end. Tupoc¡¯s pale gaze swept across the forces arrayed against him, calcting but still utterly fearless. She would have admired that, in a better man.

    ¡°I could ask you the same question, Goel,¡± Tupoc Xical suddenly said. ¡°How do you like our odds of making it to the gate with enough victors?¡±

    If he had called on mercy or decency, Angharad thought, they would haveughed at him. But instead the Izcalli had mentioned the single thing that mattered to every single person in this hallway: his words were about the Trial of Ruins.

    And behind them, Angharad thought, she could hear a sound like a crack in ice.

    ¡°How many victors do we number?¡± Tupoc asked them all. ¡°Best to be certain of that, before you begin killing them off, for if you lose Augusto and myself you will be down two.¡±

    Angharad paused. She did not, in fact, know the number. Tupoc was one, she counted, and now supposedly Augusto as well. Then from her former crew there were Isabel, Zenzele and herself. Five. The Pereduri¡¯s gaze slid to Lord Ishaan, who cleared his throat.

    ¡°Shalini and I are victors,¡± he contributed.

    ¡°I am as well,¡± Acanthe quietly added.

    Eight victors in whole, then.

    Angharad heard the cracks spread across the ice, a spiderweb unfolding.

    ¡°For those of you slower on the draw,¡± Tupoc said, ¡°it means we are still two short of the ten we need and there are only six potential new victors left.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°Shall we kill Augusto, then, and make it so that three of those six must<em></em>win? Or perhaps listen to bold Zenzele and add me to the pile, make it so that it must be <em>four</em> instead?¡±

    The Mni lord snarled but gave no retort.

    Tupoc¡¯s words spread like poison. Angharad was already a victor, so no matter how many tests she now beat she could not raise their numbers. Cool gazes took in those who remained uncrowned: the unconscious Master Cozme, Lady Ferranda, Song, Brun, Yaretzi and Lan. Yaretzi was a diplomat by trade, though she could defend herself, and Lan a gossip with no weapon save a knife. The others were more solid candidates, but the tests of the spirits were not always as simple as skill at arms. Two of these six passing a test, Angharad thought they could rely on. It left room for mistakes, for the traps of spirits. Three victors out of these six, while less certain, she also felt to be likely.

    The trouble was what came after, she knew.

    Tupoc knew it too.

    ¡°Oh, I imagine we¡¯ll get past the temple-fortress with ten or eleven even if we have our little brawl here,¡± Tupoc shrugged. ¡°Yet that still leaves the Toll Road, my friends. Would it not be a mite tedious, for a death or two there to bring us below ten right before we reach the gate?¡±

    Angharad swallowed her pride. She could not let him slip away, not again.

    ¡°Lord Ishaan,¡± she said. ¡°Would your contract on Xical?¡±

    Cozme was not dead. Her concerns that she might well be speaking to the man who had been slitting throats aside, if Tupoc could be incapacitated the same way there would be seven victors left after Augusto¡¯s demise. A risk, to be sure, but one she was willing to take. The Someshwari grimaced.

    ¡°I am not sure.¡±

    He did not offer to use his contract after that and Angharad did not ask. Being refused would only serve as a humiliation to both.

    ¡°Xical heals,¡± Shalini noted. ¡°Blowing off his kneecaps should work just as well.¡±

    But the muzzle of her pistol lowered and Angharad thought she could hear the ice break entirely. Tupoc still had enemies, those wanting to kill him, but the wind was no longer blowing the Pereduri¡¯s way. Too many anxious faces were watching, too many moving parts.

    How was it, Angharad thought, that a man almost universally despised threatening to throw away his own life kept forcing them back again and again?

    Ferranda sighed, sheathing her sword, and that was the beginning of the end. Song¡¯s musket came down, then Zenzele snarled again and strode off. Angharad did not watch them, her eyes instead staying on Augusto Cerdan. Who looked at her with fear and hatred, not even a speck of relief worming its way onto that brutalized face.

    ¡°I ept the truce until we have passed thest gate,¡± Angharad said. ¡°That makes three, Lord Augusto. On my oath, there will not be a fourth<em>.</em>¡±

    --

    Master Cozme would not be sharing a room with them.

    Even had the man been apologetic when he was kicked awake by Tupoc ¨C which he was not ¨C Angharad would not have suffered it. Where was the honor in returning to the side of a man who murdered his own servants and offered treachery at every turn? She could not praise loyalty when it was so tantly unearned; no man of character would have gone back to Augusto Cerdan¡¯s side. How had she not seen it before? It had been her own naivete that blinded her, a foolish girl taking the first offered friendly hand. What augh it must have been for him, tricking her like this.

    Biting down on what she would admit was a healthy helping of wounded pride, she avoided Isabel as everyone dragged their packs into the room where they would stay the night. She was too angry to give thefort that the infanzona needed, having lost a friend in Remund and then been insulted by Ferranda. Lady Vizur¡¯s words had been unfair: Isabel, though not a fighter, was a victor. Ferrand Vizur was not, for all the secrets about the maze she had kept up her sleeve.

    Being surrounded by walls had her feeling hemmed in so Angharad stepped out to breathe. The temple, for all its dangers, was lovely enough to behold: downstairs the pools and waterfalls of luminous water flowed like strands of radiance, impossibly elegant. The dark-skinned womany her elbows on the stone railing and bled out her anger one breath at a time. Being calm did not meanying down the grievance, only seeing it with eyes unclouded. Angharad made herself look at the source of her anger with a calmer mien and came to her conclusion.

    It was not, in the end, her ce to tell Cozme Aflor where he should stand. She was not hisdy or his captain. That his act was a betrayal of trust was not to be denied, however, and though honor did not obligate her to seek redress she would now consider all ties within them severed. He should be treated as a stranger of poor repute, nothing more.

    A shiver went down her spine at the thought, like a single icy droplet sliding down. Angharad¡¯s shoulders tensed as much because of the sensation as whaty beyond it ¨C distant amusement. The Fisher, she thought, was adding another betrayal to his tally. Another string to the argument they¡¯d had in the dark, about the worth of honor. <em>You treated him with honor</em>, she could almost hear the old monster say. <em>And where did that get you, Angharad Tredegar?</em> Tugging at her coat ufortably, the noblewoman pushed off the railing. Suddenly the fresh air she¡¯de for felt all too cold.

    ¡°- ent outside.¡±

    Passing the pir that had been hiding her, she saw that her room ¨C thepany¡¯s room, for the night ¨C was being called on. Brun was speaking with Isabel, the skin of his face still red from the fire trap he had encountered as one of Lord Ishaan¡¯s crew. It leant him a ruddy look, like he was a woodsman from the country instead of a Sacromontan born and bred.

    ¡°And there she is,¡± Lady Isabel said. ¡°You can ask her yourself.¡±

    Brun turned and when Angharad offered him a polite nod he replied in in kind.

    ¡°You had need of me?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I do,¡± Brun agreed. ¡°The grapevine has it that you are arranging for amon sleeping room watched over by guards.¡±

    Angharad nodded. It was no secret. If anything, such knowledge might deter the killer from an attempt. Her heart clenched at the thought: she now had a thought as to who that killer might be, though she hesitated to pursue it without more to go on.

    ¡°It seemed a necessary precaution given ourst stay here,¡± she continued.

    ¡°I cannot agree more,¡± the fair-haired man said, tone fervent. ¡°And given Cozme Aflor¡¯s recent¡­ departure, would it be too forward of me to ask if I might take his ce?¡±

    Angharad hid her surprise. She nced at Isabel, who only smiled.

    ¡°I am sure Briceida would have been d for his return,¡± the dark-haired beauty said. ¡°I have no objection.¡±

    ¡°I thought you had decided to stay with Lord Ishaan,¡± Angharad delicately said.

    It had the benefit of being both true and more gracious than reminding him he had once told her he wanted nothing to do with the infanzones.

    ¡°My concerns were about the Cerdans,¡± Brun frankly replied.

    Angharad¡¯s face nked. That he would be open about it in front of Isabel was rather unexpected, though the infanzona only lightly chuckled.

    ¡°I thought that might be the reason we parted ways,¡± she said. ¡°It is only natural, Angharad. Our time on the Dominion opened my eyes regarding the brothers. They are¡­ not as I believed them to be.¡±

    Angharad felt a pang of guilt at how selfish she had been. Stewing over Cozme¡¯s betrayal as she had, it had never urred to her that Isabel must feel even more betrayed ¨C she had known the brothers for years, been friends with them even before they began courting. Brun cleared his throat, drawing back her gaze.

    ¡°In the interest of honesty, Lady Angharad, I also believe myself in danger,¡± he said. ¡°I appear to have been caught up in a misunderstanding, and while I understand<em> why</em> it happened I would rather sleep with guards for the foreseeable future.¡±

    And that begged further questions, but Angharad held her tongue. Fresh on the heels of Master Cozme revealing his true colors, Brun¡¯s forthrightness felt like the very breath of fresh air she had gone outside to find. He hade here with in intentions and set out to clear the air with everyone before making a simple request. Angharad would not repay that with an inquisition.

    ¡°We are all chasing shadows, these days,¡± she said. ¡°I do no begrudge anyone seeking refuge when I have set out to build one.¡±

    Smiling she offered Brun her hand.

    ¡°d to have you back, even for a single night.¡±

    He shook it, grip firm. Sleeping God, it felt good for something to finally go right.

    ¡°I shall fetch my bags, then,¡± Brun said. ¡°Best not to waste any time.¡±

    The Sacromontan made his courtesies to both, then took his leave. Isabel watched him go, an amused look on her face.

    ¡°Did I miss a jest?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°No,¡± the infanzona assured her. ¡°It is only that something about our friend Brun brings to mind poetry from home. A verse by ria.¡±

    ¡°I have heard the name before,¡± Angharad said. ¡°A famous poetess from the Century of Crowns, no?¡±

    ¡°<em>Ruina</em> and <em>Alza </em>are her most famous works, worthy sessors to the great works of the Second Empire,¡± Isabel conceded, ¡°but in Sacromonte it is <em>Pequenas Mentiras</em>, the Little Lies, that are most beloved. It is a collection of poems she wrote during her destitute years while wandering the city.¡±

    Angharad cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Now you have me curious. What verse was brought to mind?¡±

    Isabel cleared her throat.

    ¡°To join the court of cats

    is most easily done:

    simply swear that none

    ever did fall t.¡±

    ¡°I do not catch the meaning,¡± Angharad admitted.

    ¡°Think nothing of it,¡± Isabel smiled. ¡°You might say it is an old Sacromontan vice, my dear, that we ever enjoy a clever rat.¡±

    The green-eyed infanzonaid a hand on her arm.

    ¡°Do you happen to know where Song went?¡± she asked. ¡°I have not seen her since she brought her pack.¡±

    ¡°I did not see her leaving,¡± Angharad replied.

    Given how close it hade to arms earlier, for the Tianxi to wander off alone when they were so clearly aligned was perhaps dangerous. Best to find her before someone else did.

    ¡°She cannot have gone far,¡± Angharad mused. ¡°Still, best to make sure.¡±

    ¡°My thoughts exactly,¡± Isabel smiled.

    --

    Song was not particrly difficult to find because the silver-eyed woman was already looking for her.

    Angharad had questions, but when the other woman gave her a meaningful look and gestured towards the plethora open doors on the floor ¨C from where anyone could be listening ¨C she conceded and followed her into another room. Closing the door herself, Angharad went still as she saw that she and the Tianxi were not alone in: leaning against the back wall were Lord Ishaan Nair and Shalini Goel. For the merest of moments she wondered if she had been betrayed again, but then set it aside. Song had saved her life twice, all that would have been needed was for the Tianxi to do nothing at all.

    ¡°Lady Angharad,¡± Ishaan greeted her. ¡°I told you, yesterday, that there was more to say. Song proved amenable to arranging a meeting.¡±

    ¡°If not alone,¡± Shalini said. ¡°Where¡¯s the trust, friend?¡±

    ¡°Somewhere around the border of Jiushen,¡± Song replied.

    ¡°I think you mean Jaldevi,¡± Shalini retorted without batting an eye.

    Finally a reference Angharad caught. Jiushen had been territory under the Kingdom of Cathay, the predecessor to the Republics, but been annexed by the nascent Imperial Someshwar in the wars that led to that kingdom¡¯s shattering. Tianxia had several times tried to reim the region, called Jaldevi by Someshwari, but never seeded at holding it for more than a year. Some of the bloodiest battles in the history of Vesper had been fought in the capital¡¯s vicinity.

    ¡°Let us set that aside before someone starts singing ¡®The Lost Eleventh¡¯,¡± Lord Ishaan advised. ¡°I have never once seen that happen without a brawl following.¡±

    In other circumstances Angharad might have been amused ¨C the somewhat yful bickering between Song and Shalini often was worth a chuckle ¨C but at the moment she was disinclined to humor. Theck of mirth on her face was in enough that Ishaan frowned at the sight.

    ¡°Ah,¡± the chubby-cheeked man said. ¡°I should have expected as much.¡±

    ¡°A conversation is in order,¡± Angharad said, ¡°but perhaps not the one you wish for.¡±

    Shalini frowned.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°I would not make wild usations,¡± the noblewoman evenly replied, ¡°but Lord Ishaan¡¯s demonstration of his contract begs questions. Both victims were killed in their sleep, that sleep continuing longer than anything but drugs or a contract could enforce.¡±

    She might not have made an usation, she¡¯d stopped shy of that, but the implication was clear. Song¡¯s face was inscrutable, but her intentions mattered little. Angharad was honor-bound to seek answers for Aines¡¯ death, which had taken ce under truce. Shalini was visibly furious, swelling up with anger as she bit out an answer.

    ¡°Is that how it¡¯s going to be? Wee in good faith and-¡±

    Lord Ishaanid a hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°It¡¯s a fair question to ask, Shal,¡± he said. ¡°Secrecy has its worth, but two people have been killed.¡±

    The other Someshwari¡¯s face softened at his words, though the ember of indignation still burned. Much as Angharad would have liked to believe Shalini Goel would have nothing to do with a killer, she was not certain the other woman would ce such concerns above her loyalty to Ishaan.

    ¡°It¡¯s not for you to pay for their suspicions,¡± Shalini replied. ¡°We do not owe that.¡±

    ¡°It is not always about owing,¡± Ishaan Nair said.

    He withdrew his hand from hispanion¡¯s shoulder, though to Angharad¡¯s eye both seemed reluctant to break away. Lord Ishaan met her gaze inly.

    ¡°My contract would not achieve what you describe,¡± he said. ¡°Though I can daze others, even knock them unconscious, the effect is fragile ¨C they would be awoken by pain.¡±

    Angharad began to choose her words, but Song cleared her throat and spoke first.

    ¡°Were we inclined to doubt you,¡± the Tianxi delicately said, ¡°how would you provide proof?¡±

    Ishaan grimaced, flicking a nce at Shalini. She sighed then stepped away. For a moment Angharad thought he would use his contract on her, but instead she went to fetch an ancient, dusty chamber pot from the corner.

    ¡°My god is a god of the soul,¡± the Someshwari lord said. ¡°He despises impurity and drinks from pure sources only. The price he demanded for his power reflects this.¡±

    Ishaan visibly steeled himself.

    ¡°Your coat is ck,¡± he told Angharad.

    She blinked. It was, in fact, a shade of dark green. Not even a heartbeat after speaking the words Ishaan paled and sweat beaded his brow. He convulsed, Shalini rushing at his side with the chamber pot as he began dry retching into it. It was a solid minute before he stopped, panting as he eased away from the mercifully still-empty pot. Angharad was not unfamiliar with the ploy of feigning sickness, but while retching could be faked the sweats could not.

    ¡°You cannot lie,¡± she said.

    ¡°I cannot knowingly speak untruth,¡± Ishaan corrected. ¡°Lest it make me sick, as lying is a pollution of the soul.¡±

    ¡°You were sick at the beginning of the second trial,¡± Song noted. ¡°Not like this, though. And Shalini imed that it was a consequence of using your contract, not a price.¡±

    Shalini red.

    ¡°Have you not had enough proof?¡± she challenged. ¡°Shall we ask the details of <em>your </em>contract now, Song Ren? Or perhaps a thing or two about your surname. Courtesies that were not given cannot be returned.¡±

    Ishaan cleared his throat, voice rasping.

    ¡°I am no pilgrim on the Ninefold Path,¡± he said. ¡°If I were to answer that question,y bare my secrets, I would expect something in return.¡±

    Only for all that Song had been the one to speak it was on Angharad that the nobleman¡¯s eyes came to rest. Tempted as she was to decline, to simply allow ignorance, it remained that Aines had died under truce. Answers must be had.

    ¡°I am listening,¡± she said.

    ¡°An alliance for the Trial of Weeds,¡± Ishaan said. ¡°Myself, Shalini and anyone you rope in.¡±

    ¡°And you would reveal the nature of your contract in exchange,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°So long as you promise to discuss it with no one outside this room.¡±

    Her eyes found the scar on his cheek again, what she could not help but think was a truer face of him than the chubby cheeks and amiable manners. He was pleasant and polite, Lord Ishaan Nair, but Angharad would not forget he had schemed to send Tupoc¡¯s entire crew to their likely deaths. The Pereduri would not im deep acquaintance of either he or Shalini, but she thought herself a passable judge of character and Shalini did not strike her as cold enough for that. Her temper and trigger finger ran hot, but she was not ruthless enough to make that decision.

    Ishaan, however, she could see weighing the gains and losses before choosing death.

    It was why right now Angharad was being made to consider a bargain where she would receive something she needed but did not truly want while she was to give in return something that Ishaan Nair had been angling for since theyst stood in this temple. The chubby-cheeked lordling was the vulnerable one, the one exposing himself and being cornered, and yet he would still be the one to get his way. Angharad felt unpleasantly like a fish caught in a snare.

    ¡°It is not an unfair bargain,¡± Song opined.

    A nce at her face told her the Tianxi was inclined to ept but aware it was not her decision to make. Sighing, Angharad nodded.

    ¡°Under the stated terms, I ept your bargain,¡± she said.

    Ishaan¡¯s shoulders loosened and he even spared a smile for Shalini. <em>He was more nervous than I realized</em>, she thought. In a way that wasforting.

    ¡°It is difficult to get into the functionalities of my contract without dipping into theistic metaphysics,¡± Ishaan said. ¡°I do not believe either of you is schooled in the subject?¡±

    Song cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°And you are?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Have been since the age of six,¡± he easily replied. ¡°Part of the reason I chose to seek out the Watch was the possibility of joining the Peiling Society. The Savants are arguably the leading light in that field of study.¡±

    She could believe that easily enough. Peiling, Umuthi and Arthashastra ¨C all three of the societies making up the College had strong reputations in their fields. It was amonint of schrs in Mn that as Circles of the Watch the three societies were allowed rights that other schrs were not, lending them an unfair edge.

    ¡°I am not learned in such matters,¡± Angharad freely admitted. ¡°Why ask?¡±

    ¡°If you do not mind,¡± Ishaan said, ¡°I would exin my contract in descriptive terms instead of the theistic mechanics.¡±

    ¡°You are dumbing it down for us,¡± Song said, sounding somewhat amused.

    ¡°Those are not the words I would use,¡± Ishaan serenely replied.

    How carefully phrased, she smiled. The Someshwari had once caught her out, Angharad suddenly remembered, when she had used exact wording around him. No wonder, if he was forced to live much the same way Angharad tried to by virtue of his contract punishing anything else.

    ¡°I do not mind,¡± the Pereduri said.

    Song shrugged in agreement. Ishaan nodded his thanks.

    ¡°In essence, I superimpose my physical mind ¨C as conceived by my soul - over that of a single thinking entity I target through the medium of aether,¡± he told them.

    There was a heartbeat as silence as they both tried to make sense of what they had been told.

    ¡°He throws his mind at other people¡¯s minds and it knocks them out,¡± Shalini told them. ¡°It¡¯s like loading a pistol with your soul and shooting at people with it.¡±

    Song choked and Angharad rather understood the urge, having only narrowly mastered herself.

    ¡°I really wish you would stop phrasing it like that,¡± Ishaan said, sounding pained.

    ¡°And I really you would stop shooting your soul at people, Isha,¡± Shalini replied without missing a beat.

    ¡°Is that,¡± Angharad slowly asked, ¡°safe?¡±

    ¡°To some extent,¡± Ishaan said. ¡°Shalini exaggerates the risks, as my soul itself is not in danger: the ¡®bullet¡¯ in her description is a conception of my mind as conceived my soul, neither the actual soul or mind. The riskes from when the connection when the conception of my mind attempts to ovey their own - depending on the scale of the mind being oveyed, a dangerous amount of pressure can be applied on my consciousness.¡±

    ¡°That is why you were in a daze after the Trial of Lines,¡± Song said. ¡°You knocked out the airavatan for a few moments, but its mind was too much.¡±

    ¡°It was a singrly unpleasant experience,¡± Ishaan grimly said. ¡°Not unlike trying to fill a bucket by squeezing a single orange until even the pulp was dry.¡±

    Angharad almost winced. For a man who could not lie without getting sick to describe an experience as ¡®singrly unpleasant¡¯, it must have been horrifying. Shalini patted his back, then turned a cocked eyebrow on them.

    ¡°Now that we¡¯re all friends,¡± the short gunslinger said, ¡°it might be we have a few questions you would be able to answer.¡±

    ¡°The alliance begins only with the Third Trial,¡± Song pointed out.

    ¡°We no longer have any real reason to be at odds,¡± Ishaan retorted. ¡°We all want to reach the gate and to live through the Trial of Weeds. We may not be allies yet, but our interests are in alignment.¡±

    ¡°I have yet to hear a question,¡± Angharad said, promising nothing.

    ¡°A trade,¡± Song added after. ¡°Question for question.¡±

    Angharad cocked an eyebrow at her but conceded easily enough. She had no intention of answering questions about her contract but had little to hide otherwise. The Someshwari agreed.

    ¡°Is it true that Brun¡¯s contract is about sensing people?¡± Shalini asked.

    Angharad started.

    ¡°As far as I know,¡± she agreed. ¡°I am not aware of the particrs and did not ask.¡±

    ¡°Why ask?¡± Song said.

    The Someshwari shared a look between them.

    ¡°I believe him one of the likeliest to be the killer,¡± Ishaan admitted.

    ¡°You have never made that usation,¡± Angharad said, surprised.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have proof,¡± Shalini said. ¡°And there¡¯d beplications.¡±

    The Pereduri cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°I have used my contract several times in front of others,¡± Ishaan borated. ¡°It would be easy to turn the usation back on me and the only reliable way to defuse them would have been repeating our previous conversation in front of everyone.¡±

    And without getting a promise of alliance, Angharad thought. Yet another way Ishaan had outmaneuvered her, she suddenly realized. If such an usation was made, now that she knew what she knew honor wouldpel her to defend the Someshwari from the false usation. Her mood soured at the thought. A thought urred, the Brun early mentioning he was at the heart of a misunderstanding he feared for his life over.

    Not without reason, considering Ishaan had almost sent five people out to die.

    ¡°I have been given no reason to suspect Brun,¡± Angharad said. ¡°And would take ill to something happening to him.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps we should first ask why they suspect him,¡± Song said.

    Displeased but knowing the Tianxi was right, she turned an expectant gaze on the other two.

    ¡°Process of elimination,¡± Shalini said. ¡°He has the only contract that can fit the deed now that we learned Tristan¡¯s was some kind of small-scale telekinesis.¡±

    Tristan held a contract? Angharad kept her surprise off her face. She¡¯d had no idea. Still, there was an obvious weakness to the argument.

    ¡°Some of us could yet be hiding contracts,¡± she pointed out.

    Ishaan conceded with a nod.

    ¡°That is true,¡± he said. ¡°Which is why I still suspect it might be Yong instead.¡±

    Angharad blinked.

    ¡°Yong?¡± she said.

    ¡°He keeps moving around,¡± Shalini said. ¡°First he signs up with the infanzones, then Tristan and Sarai¡¯s crew, then hees with us and now he¡¯s back with the Old Fort crew? He¡¯s hiding something, and the drinking is perhaps a little too on the nose. That, and, well¡­¡±

    She flicked a curious nce at Song. Thetter grimaced.

    ¡°He is a famous murderer, back in Tianxia,¡± Song revealed. ¡°He murdered a famous general who might have won us back Jiushen, likely at the behest of Someshwari nobles.¡±

    ¡°It is not a rare name,¡± Ishaan said. ¡°But several times we overheard him mentioning the Battle of Diecai, which is suggestive.¡±

    ¡°He did not deny it when I called him by his moniker,¡± Song said.

    Angharad felt sick. How many times had she spoken with a hired killer without even knowing it? Suddenly Song¡¯s insistence that she not be alone with the man made a great deal more sense. Why the other woman had never thought to mention this before was worth discussing, she thought, though not before these two. She cleared her throat, eager to change the subject.

    ¡°Why did you refrain from using your contract on Tupoc earlier?¡± Angharad asked.

    Ishaan sighed, passing his hand through his hair.

    ¡°His contract worries me,¡± he said.

    ¡°Xical seems like he heals wounds, but it must be more borate than that,¡± Shalini said. ¡°We have it from Lan that he walked off poison and healing contracts that can mend flesh <em>and</em> detoxify are very rare. The underlying ideas are too different.¡±

    ¡°More likely it is an exotic effect rting to the metaphysical concept of his Being,¡± Ishaan said. ¡°If that is the case, it would be the theistic opposite of my contract. Putting them in conflict might have¡­ unpredictable consequences, to say the least.¡±

    Unpredictability rarely ended in pleasantness, when dealing with spirits.

    ¡°Our turn,¡± Shalini said. ¡°What do you know about what the crew that stayed at the Old Fort is up to?¡±

    Angharad blinked.

    ¡°Tristan, Sarai and Francho,¡± Ishaan borated. ¡°Vanesa as well before her¡­ well, you were all there.¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Angharad admitted.

    Shaliniughed at first, then skeptical. She nced at Song, who shrugged.

    ¡°Did he not head out with your crew this morning?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I first invited him days ago, before the first journey out into the maze,¡± Angharad said. ¡°He only now chose to take me up on the invitation.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunate,¡± Ishaan said. ¡°We got from Lan that he made some sort of deal with the garrison, but the terms are unknown to us. That he would venture out into the maze came as a surprise and I am not sure I believe he died before reaching the mirror hall.¡±

    Twice now they had mentioned Lan¡¯s name as a source of information. They must be on good terms with her even though she had long been part of Tupoc¡¯s followers. Angharad nced at Song, who nodded. She had a question, then. The Tianxi cleared her throat.

    ¡°What was your n with the hour-gates?¡± she asked.

    Shalini snorted.

    ¡°Nothing that panned out,¡± she said. ¡°Lots of wasted time.¡±

    Ishaan shot her a look somewhere between fond and irritated.

    ¡°When exploring the fourth level,¡± he said, ¡°we found that there was secret passage leading from a room ¨C the one I imed - to the room with the gates. When Lady Ferranda came to us with knowledge of said gates and where they lead, I saw an opportunity.¡±

    Angharad stilled. Song leaned forward, eyes intent.

    ¡°Shalini came to visit me in the night,¡± Ishaan said, ¡°and using the passage, we broke the second gate ¨C the one assigned to you, leading back into the maze. Come morning I intended to bargain to allow you toe with our crew so long as we joined ranks.¡±

    He was not lying, she knew. He could not without sickening.

    ¡°You broke our gate,¡± Angharad slowly said.

    Ishaan cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Shalini and I used a hammer to break your gate,¡± he inly stated, leaving no room for trickery.

    He still did not get sick. Ferranda had lied to her when she imed to have broken both gates herself. Why? Sleeping God, so many lies from so many mouths. She was losing count.

    ¡°And Tupoc¡¯s crew?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°Tupoc and Ocon were a problem,¡± Shalini bluntly said. ¡°They kept protecting troublemakers so everyone stayed at odds and we couldn¡¯t clean house or enforce order. Besides, there was no guarantee everyone going that way would die. Lady Ferranda described it as a trap, not certain death.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s eyes moved to Ishaan, who had carefully let hispanion speak for him.

    ¡°I do not know the nature of the Trial of Weeds,¡± he said. ¡°Given an opportunity to rid us of Tupoc Xical and his second before they reached it, I judged the other potential deaths worth it.¡±

    Angharad should have despised him for that, for it spat in the eye of what it should be to be a noble, but the feeling never came. It was, she thought, the calm in him. Theck of guilt or justifications. Looking at the scarred man now, she was reminded of her mother. The way she¡¯d spoken, calmly and inly, about how sometimes you had to throw a troublemaker overboard. That it might not be fair, but that a captain had a responsibility to their ship and there were times were the cold call must be made. Slowly she nodded. She did not agree with Lord Ishaan, but he had been trying to steady a ship: he was not a wanton murderer, grasping for advantage. She could respect the ends, if not the means.

    Song¡¯s gaze on her felt incredulous, but she paid it no mind.

    ¡°There can be no more of that, when we are allied,¡± she said.

    He nodded. She would leave it at that, then.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been in here too long already,¡± Shalini said. ¡°It¡¯s bound to have been noticed. I¡¯ve got a question or two left, but they can wait.¡±

    ¡°You two go on ahead,¡± Song suggested. ¡°I still need a word with Lady Angharad.¡±

    Thought surprised, the pair agreed easily enough. Angharad turned an eye on the Tianxi after the Someshwari made their courtesies.

    ¡°You did not warn me about Yong,¡± she said.

    ¡°I did not know for sure until yesterday,¡± Song replied. ¡°It seemed absurd to me, like running into Admiral Benedeta while buying apples.¡±

    No true admiral, that one, though the infamous Trebian pirate was said to have gathered a sizeable fleet. Angharad conceded with a grimace. It must have seemed rather imusible, to run into an infamous killer on the Bluebell.

    ¡°He must have been hiding in Sacromonte,¡± the Tianxi mused. ¡°Perhaps the Republics finally found him so he seeks refuge in the Watch.¡±

    ¡°Either way, he cannot be trusted,¡± Angharad tly said.

    ¡°He is no trouble of ours at the moment,¡± Song shrugged. ¡°I have a more pressing concern anyhow.¡±

    The Pereduri¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°About Ishaan and Shalini?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Song said, then hesitated. ¡°Not exactly. What they said, about a secret passage to the gate room?¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°I think,¡± Song said, ¡°that if there was secret passage on one side of this hall, there will be one on the other.¡±

    Angharad raised a skeptical eyebrow.

    ¡°Count the pools,¡± the Tianxi told her. ¡°The gargoyles, the number of rooms. It is not symmetrical ¨C aggressively not ¨C but the numbers on both sides of the temple always match if you consider the gate room to be the center of this temple.¡±

    The noblewoman would freely admit having spent not a second¡¯s thought on this or notice anything that Song was mentioning, but she saw no reason to doubt the other woman. The implication to her words was fairly straightforward to pick up on.

    ¡°Therefore, though it will not be symmetrically ced there should be a secret passage on the other side of the temple,¡± Angharad summed up. ¡°That seems a reasonable guess.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°And a concern, if the killer were to strike again using this passage.¡±

    ¡°We might have to ask to inspect rooms already upied,¡± Song warned.

    ¡°Then let us begin with the empty ones and hope that is not necessary,¡± Angharad replied.

    --

    They were methodical about it.

    Like cattle huddling together for warmth, the trial-takers had imed the rooms nearest to the stairs leading up to the gate room. None had cared to leave the rtive safety of that closeness by choosing a room too far away, afraid of being picked off, so that left the pair free reign to explore from the outer edge of the hall going inwards. Most of the rooms were identical,rgely bare stone with some dusty furniture and the asional mural, but by the third Angharad was starting to see some small variations ¨C taller ceilings, different furniture arrangements, thicker walls.

    It was once they entered the fifth room that Song suddenly stopped before setting foot past the threshold.

    ¡°Wait,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°Look at the size of the room.¡±

    Angharad cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°It is one of the smaller ones,¡± she said. ¡°In both wall and ceiling.¡±

    ¡°And thest one also had arger wall than usual,¡± Song said. ¡°Howrge would you say the space between those two rooms is?¡±

    ¡°Large enough for a person to move through,¡± Angharad replied.

    She would admit to a modicum of excitement, exploring ancient ruins like Mother once had. That it was not for the honor of the High Queen but an attempt at finding a murderer muted the feeling, admittedly, but did not smother it entirely.

    Much as Angharad would have liked to im she had been the key to it all, it was all Song.

    The Tianxi took a single look at the wall before humming and moving away while the noblewoman began patting it for irregrities. Thirty heartbeatster, while she tried to push in a small indent on the wall, Song let out smallugh before there was a soft clicking sound. She had been looking at the stone bedframe, where it was pressed against the wall, and pushed in a small gargoyle head. Angharad looked around for an opening and found a span of wall besides the bed was slightly jutting out.

    ¡°There,¡± she said.

    The other woman nodded. Song tugged at the stone delicately, raising it up perpendicr to the wall until it revealed a window in the wall. There was no light inside, but there did appear to be a narrow tunnel ¨C not tall enough to stand, only to crawl.

    ¡°Well now,¡± Song muttered. ¡°See that?¡±

    Angharad came close, lowering herself so her face was the height of the opening, and her eyes narrowed. There was a thin coating of dust on the tunnel floor, but it was not uniform: someone had crawled here before them.

    ¡°That might be our killer¡¯s work,¡± she said.

    ¡°Hard to identify someone by their knees than their feet,¡± Song said. ¡°And there¡¯s nock of other provenances for dust. Still, it should be worth a look.¡±

    Angharad nodded her agreement. Song took in antern and then crawled into the tunnel while Angharad, out of a need for certainty, went back and made sure the door to the room was closed. There was no lock, so it was the best they would get.

    In she went.

    --

    Angharad soon learned that herpanion being around three inches shorter and significantly less broad at the shoulders made a difference when crawling through a confined space.

    Wiggling was intolerably undignified, but needs must. When the tunnel turned a corner, into the wall whose thickness had alerted them at the possibility of the passage, it thankfully broadened. It also rose, almost like steps, until the two of them found themselves above the ceiling. Though the space was still cramped above, it was now quite broad: it seemed asrge as the rooms under it, almost like an attic. Song crawled to the edge and let out a noise of surprise.

    ¡°There are holes in the eyes of gargoyles,¡± she said. ¡°You can look outside from here.¡±

    Angharad joined her as best she could, pressing her face against the stone when she saw an opening. Song had spoken true: if such eyeholes continued all the way through, it would be possible to see across most of the temple by simply moving a little. Not even Lan in her hiding ce would have had such a fine vantage.

    ¡°No dust here,¡± Angharad noted. ¡°We cannot know if the killer noticed as well.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d think it likely,¡± Song replied. ¡°Especially since-¡±

    She was interrupted not by Angharad but by the muted sound of people talking. Both stilled for a moment, trading a look before realizing the noise came from further out. By unspoken ord they crawled closer, the voices bing clear enough they could make out both speakers were women. They were, the Pereduri btedly realized, getting closer to their own room. And there was more: Song called her attention to the floor ceiling beneath them, the way thentern light touched it. If you looked from the right angle, the stone became translucent ¨C like looking through dark ss.

    They followed the voices, and when they came to rest around their room¡¯s ceiling to peery through it became in who they were looking at: Isabel was seated on the bed, talking to Lady Ferranda who stood facing her. Intonations were a little difficult to make out, but the words were clear.

    ¡°-rudeness,¡± Isabel was saying. ¡°There is no need for us to be at odds.¡±

    ¡°Let us keep moving,¡± Angharad said, suddenly ufortable.

    It was, she felt, rather uncouth to listen in on the private conversations of ady. Especially one a woman had intentions for. Song looked amused but prepared to concede.

    ¡°Even if you st your contract at me all day, it will do nothing,¡± Lady Ferranda said. ¡°There is nothing for it to work with.¡±

    Angharad stilled. Isabel had a contract? Her eyes found Song¡¯s. The Tianxi did not look surprised. Angharad grimaced, then gestured for them to leave again. Contract or not, eavesdropping was uncalled for. This time Song shook her head. She had no intention of leaving.

    The noblewoman hesitated, but ended up staying.

    ¡°Inventions do you no good,¡± Isabel replied. ¡°I understand you are distressed but-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not the Cerdans, Ruesta,¡± Ferranda cut in. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to fuck you, wounded doe eyes won¡¯t work on me. Even less after seeing you handle them: they¡¯re no paragons, I¡¯ll admit, but your game was a nasty piece of work.¡±

    ¡°I did no such thing,¡± Isabel firmly replied. ¡°If I yed the diplomat, Ferranda, it was to help us all survive. We are not all our father¡¯s favorite, allowed to cavort with foreigners and go hunting for days at a time. If peace is all I can wield, I will make the most of it.¡±

    ¡°Poor, harmless little Isabel,¡± the other woman mocked. ¡°Did you think I wouldn¡¯t look into you when word spread we¡¯d share a Dominion year? A trail of boys and girls with broken hearts, not one of them with a single bad thing to say about you. Not a <em>single </em>one. Strange, that.¡±

    ¡°Now you¡¯re iling,¡± Isabel coldly replied. ¡°Mind control is forbidden under the Iscariot ords. It would be the end not only of myself but every soul in House Ruesta.¡±

    Ferranda Vizur was growing unhinged, Angharad thought. First she had lied about the gates and now she threw wild usations seemingly without a shred of proof? She had thought the blonde infanzona the most prepared for the trials, but perhaps that was the reason for this: even after all her preparations, she had suffered loss after loss.

    ¡°Yes, that did get me thinking,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°Asking around too much would have brought your house down on me, but I got enough for a guess: you are, Isabel, seen through the kindest possible mirror. People see the parts they like more and those they dislike less.¡±

    Angharad blinked. That was¡­ possible, she supposed, though Ferranda had yet to bring so much as even a sliver of evidence. It would have been unfair to revisit every conversation she¡¯d had with Isabel with a colder eye, but for that Angharad forced herself not to doubt wormed its way in.

    ¡°I refuse to humor this nonsense any further,¡± Isabel tly said. ¡°If you did note to apologize, you may leave.¡±

    ¡°What would be your price, though?¡± Ferranda continued, imperturbable. ¡°It ought to be subtle, your contract certainly is. I kept guessing and getting it wrong, I¡¯ll admit. I only figured it out when we met again at the Old Fort, after the Trial of Lines.¡±

    ¡°I said,¡± Isabel repeated, rising to her feet, ¡°you may <em>leave</em>.¡±

    ¡°You hid it well, but before someone said my name you did not recognize me,¡± the other infanzona chuckled. ¡°I thought that was insane, that we were only slightly acquainted but hardly strangers, and that was when it hit me. You always pay such close attention to people¡¯s clothes. Not only other nobles but everyone. I thought you were a snob, but there¡¯s more to it than that.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°It¡¯s what you use to tell us apart, isn¡¯t it? Since you forget faces.¡±

    Isabel sighed, brushing back her hair.

    ¡°It must beforting, Ferranda, to have a story to tell yourself about how a scheming viin is responsible for all your woes,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t begrudge you that, considering.¡±

    She leaned forward.

    ¡°But we both know the truth is simpler: you started fucking the help,pounded the error by catching feelings and then got him killed when you came up with a foolish scheme to keep him around as a lover when you wed,¡± Isabel said. ¡°Grieve your Sanale all you like, Ferranda, but his death was no doing of mine. Go throw your wild conspiracies at another.¡±

    ¡°Speak his name again,¡± Ferranda said, ¡°and you will be swallowing your teeth.¡±

    ¡°You might not survive the consequences of that,¡± Isabel said.

    ¡°How long do you think you can hide behind Tredegar?¡± Ferranda snorted. ¡°You sunk your hooks quick and she¡¯s soft-hearted, but she¡¯s not a fool. She¡¯ll figure out you¡¯re just using her.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt she would, if that was what I was doing,¡± Isabel patiently replied. ¡°She is very clever, for all the usual Mni obsessions. Not that it is any of your business, but I am quite fond of her and intend on some sweetness before we part ways. What we are not is <em>in love</em>, because I am not a fucking fool.¡±

    Ferrandaughed.

    ¡°Manes, but you are ice cold,¡± she said, almost admiring. ¡°I thought there¡¯d be a crack, a bit of guilt, but you might as well be a statue.¡±

    The taller infanzona took a step forward, Isabel warily stepping back.

    ¡°I imagine it must be maddening, living in a world of strangers that all love you,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°Like we¡¯re all dolls, not quite <em>real</em>.¡±

    Isabel paused, thenughed incredulously.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said. ¡°So that¡¯s what you think, what this cheap piece of theater is about. You believe that I am the killer ¨C or what, talked someone else into killing the Tianxi twin and that poor beaten wife?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you talk with Tristan and-¡±

    ¡°You idiot,¡± Isabel chuckled, shaking her head. ¡°If you want a killer, you should be looking at him. I do not know what he did, but Beatris was <em>afraid</em>. Has no one else noticed that his supposed box of medicine does carry an awful lot of poison?¡±

    Ferranda snarled.

    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m an idiot?¡± she said. ¡°<em>There is no goddamn killer, Isabel.</em> You came to the Dominion to rid yourself of the Cerdan brothers after screwing with their heads beyond fixing, only you can¡¯t afford the consequences. So you then made up a fake murderer to me for it so House Cerdan won¡¯t just ignore the unspoken rules and step on the Ruesta afterwards.¡±

    Another step forward. This time, Isabel stood her ground.

    ¡°A nudge here and there, always others doing your bloody work for you,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°Who¡¯d you talk into the first kill? Yaretzi saw you sneak out of your tent, when she was on watch that night on the hill.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Isabel mocked. ¡°Right before I used my magical powers to make the victims stay asleep. Losing both my maids and my sworn guard before we even finished the second trial was clearly some grand scheme, and not at all a series of disasters. Here, I shall do it again.¡±

    The infanzona snapped her finger.

    ¡°How strange,¡± Isabel coldly said. ¡°Here you still are, awake and your throat gone unslit.¡±

    ¡°I will figure it out, how it was done,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°See if I don¡¯t. And when that momentes, Isabel, you¡¯ll pay for every part of this.¡±

    Face cold and dignified, the other infanzona went for the door and ripped it open.

    ¡°Out,¡± she said. ¡°Else I will scream for help.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t over,¡± Ferranda said.

    ¡°No, I suppose not,¡± Isabel said. ¡°So while you are out there digging, see if you can figure something else out for me. You see, when my father bought information on the Bluebell a detail stuck out to me.¡±

    She leaned forward.

    ¡°Do ask your good friend Yaretzi why she¡¯s over a foot shorter than she¡¯s supposed to be, Ferranda. I am <em>most </em>curious as to the answer.¡±

    Ferranda snorted, walking out, and in her wake Isabel stood there alone. Unaware she was being seen. The infanzona then sighed and closed the door, going to lie down on the bed. Angharad swallowed, avoiding Song¡¯s silver eyes.

    She had, it seemed, a great deal to think about.

 Chapter 34

    Chapter 34

    As usual, Angharad Tredegar being decent proved to be very inconvenient.

    Instead of the hour or so Tristan had nned on waiting until the crew began crossing the shattered hall, he had to wait more than the double. Though he never came close enough to see more than their silhouettes in the distance ¨C too much of a risk, with Song Ren around ¨C he caught a glimpse of them leaving and let out a breath of relief. Finally. The thief had learned patience but never learned to love it. Once they were out of sight, Tristan set about his work: finding Augusto Cerdan¡¯s passage back to the Old Fort.

    Listening to the man¡¯s thering had yielded a vague idea of where it should be located. Though the infanzon had been careful not to mention where the crevasse he¡¯d fallen in actually was, he had been all too eager to boast about how quickly he had made his way through the mirror maze itself. Tristan had memorized the directions he¡¯d allegedly gone in, significantly narrowing down the locations where the crevasse could be. It had been the part of the infanzon¡¯s words he truly narrowed in on, only lending half an ear to the rest.

    The thief¡¯s fingers clenched. If he had listened to the rest more carefully, heard the hints, then maybe¡­

    ¡°ring at that b of crystal won¡¯t move it,¡± Fortuna advised him.

    Well, certainly not now that she was sitting on it.

    ¡°You know I¡¯m going to be climbing that,¡± he said.

    Instead of getting out of the way as was the implied request, the goddess stretched like a cat and posed.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d be happier after getting to pop a Cerdan,¡± Fortuna said. ¡°Is Vanesa¡¯sst hurrah still spoiling the taste?¡±

    Tristan¡¯s face went nk.

    ¡°There were hints, in retrospective,¡± he evenly said. ¡°Abu was right: I let my guard down and immediately things began to slip my notice.¡±

    Fortuna snorted.

    ¡°Yeah, because that¡¯s what you¡¯re torn about,¡± the golden-eyed goddess mocked. ¡°Sure. You¡¯re a tough ol¡¯ rat, much too tough to be sad about the nice olddy that you liked offing herself.¡±

    He gritted his teeth.

    ¡°Taunt all you like,¡± he said, ¡°you can¡¯t deny that-¡±

    ¡°She was already dead, Tristan,¡± Fortuna cut through. ¡°She wasn¡¯t going to get that leg amputated no matter what you said. She just couldn¡¯t see a live worth living with one leg.¡±

    Quicksilver anger rose, swift and blinding.

    ¡°You think I don¡¯t <em>know</em> what?¡± he snarled. ¡°One eye, one leg ¨C she would lose her shop even if she went back.¡±

    He passed a hand through his hair, anger still clenching his jaw tight.

    ¡°She had to know I¡¯d give her the poison if she asked, Fortuna,¡± he said. ¡°That I wouldn¡¯t balk at getting rid of Ocon, that I¡¯d dose it right so he died out in the maze instead of at the fucking kitchen table with everyone watching. She did it this way because she <em>wanted to be caught</em>.¡±

    A part of that, he figured, must be so the me couldn¡¯t fall on him if it came out the poisons were his. But the greater part had been that Vanesa simply did not want to live past that morning. She had not wanted imprisonment or pain, so she had drunk the poppy and confessed to a man bearing a pistol and the duty to use it. He cursed and felt like kicking the b of crystal even though it would do nothing but bruise his toes.

    ¡°There was no ce in that decision for you to stick your nose in,¡± Fortuna said. ¡°She picked her dice and rolled them ¨C what came after that was between her and the table.¡±

    ¡°I am not so much of a hypocrite as to deny someone the settling of their dues,¡± Tristan tiredly said. ¡°But she was worth more than an Ocon.¡±

    You could find the likes of the bruiser at any tavern of the Murk: strength paired with cruelty was a coin no city ever grew poor with. Kindness, offered unstintingly to strangers? That was a rare good.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t an even trade, that¡¯s all,¡± he murmured.

    ¡°Sometimes you just have to take the loss,¡± Fortuna replied, not unsympathetically.

    But not, he thought, with sympathy either. She was a goddess, the Lady of Long Odds. Fortuna would never be able to see the world through anything but those lenses, and it was not in her nature to truly mourn a loss. How could she, when the bone of her was to roll the dice until that one a in a thousand victory came roaring into life? Losing taste for the conversation, Tristan opened his bag and put on the leather gloves.

    He had work to do and he was already behind on the timetable.

    --

    It took a little under an hour to find Augusto Cerdan¡¯s saving grace.

    The search grew easier once Tristan was certain the man had lied, which given that he was dealing with an infanzon he had assumed was the case anyhow: his lordship had not gotten anywhere as far in the mirror hall as he had imed. As the outskirts of the shattered grounds were the easiest to get around in, this proved to be a stroke of luck.

    The crevasse in questions was long and thin, like a slicing wound in the earth, and half-covered by a crumpled wall. The wall had broken into pieces when a chunk of ceiling fell onto it, which made reaching a part of the crevasse broad enough to pass through simple ¨C if exhausting ¨C work. Tristan dragged away sharp chunks of crystal, d for the thickness of the leather gloves, until there was room enough to see into the depths. Which were, he was somewhat amused to see, not all that deep.

    Lantern light revealed the fall was only seven feet or so. It also confirmed he had the right ce: he spied a stray brass button that had not a speck of dust on it, unlike the rest of the floor. Someone had recently gone through here.

    Tristan lowered himself down and pocketed the button ¨C that made three, added to the stone pair from the pir he¡¯d split between his pocket and his boot ¨C before tugging the rope down after him. The space down here was a narrow crypt whose ceiling was so low he had to stay on his knees, empty tombs nking him from both sides. After maybe thirty feet of cramped crawling, the crypt ended and there was drop into a muchrger room.

    Larger and rather unusual: there was nothing in there save for a bridge over dark, oily waters. The floor was paved, faded grey and yellow tiles with geometric shapes within. On the opposite side of the bridge was a closed door of a metal so worn the thief could not tell what it was.

    Tristan did not have to be told to know a god dwelled here.

    This must be the seat of the test Augusto Cerdan imed to have beaten. Shimmying out of the crypt, Tristan dropped onto the tiled floor and took a moment to catch his bearings. Dusting off his shoulders the thief rose,ntern high, and cleared his throat.

    ¡°So how might one go about earning the right to cross the bridge?¡± Tristan called out.

    Movement caught his eye. It looked like a stray dog ¨C the same faded grey as the tiles, its eyes and teeth the same yellow ¨C but he knew better than to believe what he saw. The god might be pretending it had been nestled against the back wall on the other side of the bridge, just now rising, but the thief would not have missed it were it truly there. The stray dog, stray god, trotted to the middle of the bridge before stopping. Ity down there, almostzily.

    ¡°Supplicant,¡± the god greeted him.

    Its voice, he thought, sounded like a brush against a tile. Like someone painting.

    ¡°God of thend,¡± he replied, bowing his head.

    ¡°You may take my test to earn passage,¡± the dog told him, ¡°or you may pay the toll and cross.¡±

    He cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°Your test being?¡±

    ¡°There are six circles hidden among the tiles,¡± the god said. ¡°Find them and you may pass through here as you will.¡±

    That, he thought, sounded like one of those tests that would be much harder than they seemed.

    ¡°And the toll?¡±

    The dog opened its maw happily, the teeth ¨C yellow but in a way that defied the description of dirty, too uniform in color and perfectly formed ¨C it showed licked by a grey tongue.

    ¡°I need <em>paint</em>,¡± the god. ¡°Fresh paint. The colors fade.¡±

    Tristan was not a fool.

    ¡°You want my blood,¡± he stated.

    ¡°Three drops,¡± the dog god said. ¡°You smell of an interesting life. Your hue will not soon fade.¡±

    The thief swallowed.

    ¡°The man who came here before me,¡± Tristan said. ¡°He paid the toll, didn¡¯t he?¡±

    The dog nodded. The thief mentally tipped his hat to Augusto Cerdan ¨C he had, in truth, been more inclined to believe the infanzon a victor than not. It ought to be amusing to find out how long he¡¯d kept up the lie around the maze crew.

    ¡°It was shallow paint,¡± the god said. ¡°Too much of the same, easily yellowed. Yours will be a grey, I think. That always takes time.¡±

    Giving a god blood was not as dangerous as the faint-hearted assumed. Tristan had done so infrequently to the Rat King when offering prayer and twice to the Capricious Bones when he¡¯d had to swim near the bottom of the canals in the Old Town - the Mane was a vicious thing and not above snatching those that dwelled near the depths it imed as its domain. Besides, Augusto Cerdan had not visibly taken ill from paying the toll. Tristan, however, knew things about this maze that the infanzon did not.

    ¡°Is it him?¡± he asked.

    It was not the stray dog he was addressing. Fortuna stepped past him, fanning herself as she red at the god on the bridge.

    ¡°It is utterly deplorable manners,¡± she sneered, ¡°to defile a remnant in this way. A god of your age should know better.¡±

    The dogzily turned to look at her. Directly at her, Tristan saw. As if it could see her standing there.

    And then it changed.

    Its skin bubbled and melted, peeling away in chunks. Thd heard warped, grey and yellow bending and blurring until a wet redness squelched out ¨Cing back together into a shape that was like a hound¡¯s heard traced in tendrils of red, grinning wetly. The sight had him shivering in disgust, the inherent wrongness of what he beheld repellent beyond what words could express.

    ¡°A stray thing that does not know when to die,¡± the Red Maw said, andughed.

    Tristan¡¯s limbs were shaking. He almost fell to his knees. That voice, that¡­ no, it hadn¡¯t been a voice. It had been like a mouth against his ear, sucking out the wetness inside his skull and feeding upon it. He could feel it still, a susurrant disease lingering inside his brains. The thief convulsed, but it was not his stomach that wanted to throw up ¨C it was his soul.

    ¡°You have decayed,¡± Fortuna said, and her voice like was fresh water at the height of summer.

    Tristan, only now realizing he was on his knees, let out a gasp. He had been drowning on air and never even known.

    ¡°There is a sickness in you, as if your very root grew out crooked,¡± the Lady of Long Odds mused. ¡°Whatever is it you are a god of now it is not what you were born for.¡±

    ¡°The Masters are gone,¡± the Red Maw grinned. ¡°I can eat my fill.¡±

    A hand caught Tristan¡¯s wrist. He blinked in surprised, watching his own curled fingers as Fortuna looked down at him worriedly. He had been about to w at the side of his head, he realized. To dig and dig through the flesh, until he could rip out the poisonous warmness slithering in through his earholes like an unguarded gate.

    ¡°Focus,¡± she told him. ¡°Think of a coin spinning.¡±

    Mouth dry, gums bleeding against his ragged tongue, Tristan forced himself to see it. To hear it, feel it. The ring of gold as it spun, the glint in the light. The satisfying snap as his thumb sent it spinning. The t sensation as itnded on his palm. He could feel himself breathe, his heartbeat fearful and steady.

    ¡°- work will not hold me,¡± the Red Maw said. ¡°The Lightbringer¡¯s bastards broke the Work but they cannot rule it. The seal will fail. I will grow and take, take, take taketaketake<em>ta</em>-¡±

    The pressure built against his eardrums like he was at the bottom of the sea, drowning, and as he vainly covered his hears Tristan <em>screamed</em>. Screamed until his throat was raw and his lungs burning, his lips cracked.

    He came to on his knees, weeping as his feverish forehead rested on the cool tile beneath.

    Fortuna was stroking his back. Whispering soothingly.

    ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± the goddess said. ¡°He¡¯s gone now, Tristan. He left.¡±

    ¡°I,¡± Tristan croaked out, tasting copper on his cracked lips. ¡°<em>Gods</em>.¡±

    He felt like a child again, a wail welling up inside his throat in the face of the unfairness of the world.

    ¡°What did he <em>do</em>?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°He looked at you,¡± Fortuna quietly said. ¡°All of him, just for a moment. But you didn¡¯t crack, Tristan. Your mind held.¡±

    The thief blubbered out something that was both relief and terror. Had he truly held? He could not tell. Could not be sure what he had been like, before that awful <em>sound</em>. It felt like he was stained from the inside, like there was rot he would never be rid of.

    ¡°He¡¯s gone now?¡± he asked.

    Begged.

    ¡°When he turned his eye on you, the gods of the maze bit at him,¡± Fortuna said. ¡°Now he must bite them back. His gaze won¡¯t return here for some time.¡±

    Tristan forced himself to his feet. Thentern had tipped over, some oil spilling out, but he did not even try to clean it and harshly yanked it upright.

    He fled across the bridge, into the deep halls, and kept fleeing all the way back to the Old Fort.

    --

    It was as if he¡¯d been in a trance: Tristan, for the life of him, could not have described the path he took to return. It was a blur, a vague sense of movement and stumbling forward.

    It only began to swim back into focus when he was past the shrines, on the open grounds leading to the ramparts. The steadiness of his boots against the stone helped, but the thief felt tired to his very bone. As if life had been wrung out of him. The dull ache pounding away at his skull did not help any. By the time he reached the hole in the ramparts he felt halfway like a person again, but patting away at his hair and straightening his clothes had not been enough. The watchmen on guard both raised their musket at him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± the sergeant ordered. ¡°Hands away from your weapons.¡±

    He flicked a nce at the Azn watchwoman by his side.

    ¡°Get Basset. He looks like a breach.¡±

    The young woman saluted, throwing him a pitying nce before she left. Tristan had to blink away sleep twice, but even though he was swaying on his feet the watchman¡¯s gun never went down. The Azn came back with a young Mni watchman, who was half-dressed and still blinking sleep out of his eyes. He yawned.

    ¡°This the one?¡±

    ¡°Do you see anyone else?¡± the sergeant tly asked.

    The Mni ¨C Basset, a strange name - rolled his eyes but took a step closer. Tristan eyed him warily, especially when the other man began sniffing at him.

    ¡°Still only one contract,¡± Basset said. ¡°Could have had a brush, but the scent of his spirit is so strong I can¡¯t tell.¡±

    A breach, the sergeant had said. <em>They were looking to see if the Red Maw sunk its hooks in me</em>. How tired was he, for the realization to have taken so long? The sergeant grunted, but after a heartbeat finally lowered his musket.

    ¡°You cane in,¡± he said. ¡°Watch your step, rat. No one¡¯s in a trifling mood after the debacle earlier.¡±

    Tristan slowly nodded, pinching the inside of his own wrist when no one was looking. The pain woke him some, though it would notst long. A debacle? Something to look into when he was more awake. It was hard to tell the time, but by the looks of most lights being out it must have been night. Though more than ready to drop on his bedroll and tumble headlong into sleep, Tristan did not get the chance. One of the curtains further down was moved aside as he approached, Maryam¡¯s head popping out. Blue eyes widened when she saw him.

    Swallowing a groan, Tristan obeyed when she gestured for him toe.

    The curtain fell behind him and they could hardly see each other but that did not stop her from inspecting him.

    ¡°You look half dead,¡± she bluntly said. ¡°What happened to you?¡±

    ¡°The way back was more unpleasant than advertised,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I¡¯m dead tired, a report will have to wait. What¡¯s this I hear about a debacle?¡±

    Maryam grimaced.

    ¡°Lieutenant Vasanti rustled up a crew and went past the locked door,¡± she said. ¡°Twenty went in, armed to the teeth. Nine came back. They drove the god away, wounded it, but they could not score a kill.¡±

    That, the thief thought, was going to be trouble.

    ¡°What were they trying to do?¡±

    Maryam leaned closer.

    ¡°Looking for the brand you gave Francho,¡± she whispered. ¡°They went where you said and did not find it, so Vasanti flew into a rage. Had all our rooms searched while we were put under arrest.¡±

    He closed his eyes. Tristan could almost feel a second,rger headache looming behind his current one. That assault had been reckless of the lieutenant. Why had she made her attempt now, when instead she could have reached out to her superiors to gather support? He asked Maryam, but she had no more idea than he and other news just as pressing besides.

    ¡°The brand works,¡± Maryam told him. ¡°We smuggled it into the room, the one with the engine they¡¯ve had us studying, and it reacted. We shut the device down before the guard could notice, but I bargained with Lieutenant Wen and in three hours we are going back - Sergeant Mandisa will have the watch shift, she is to cover for us.¡±

    Tristan almost wept. Only three hours? He needed three days, not this pittance. But he could not afford to miss Francho¡¯s discoveries.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there,¡± he sighed.

    Every ounce of his flesh felt exhausted and there was still one thing he needed to do before he could sleep.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to need your help,¡± he said. ¡°I hit a rusty piece of metal earlier. I need to clean the wound or I¡¯m risking lockjaw.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s going to sting,¡± Maryam said.

    He grimly nodded. They¡¯d have to open it anew and clean it with alcohol to be sure nothing caught.

    A fitting end to a bloody day.

    --

    It was Yong who kicked him awake.

    ¡°Up,¡± the Tianxi whispered. ¡°We need to move before Vasanti¡¯s people are back on watch.¡±

    ¡°Lovely to see you too,¡± Tristan muttered back.

    He checked on his bandages before leaving, finding Maryam¡¯s work was still held, and hastily put on his boots before following Yong. They were to be thest one in, the older man told him: Francho and Maryam were already inside. They hurried to the bastion, the ckcloaks on the walls hardly sparing them a nce, then up thedder. A few flights of stairster they were in the room with the aetheric machine and the stripes of cryptoglyphs on the walls. Sergeant Mandisa, Wen¡¯s tall right hand with the easy smile and the utterck of mercy behind it, was idling at the door. Mandisa was, Tristan had cottoned on early, one of the most dangerous people in the Old Fort.

    She talked about death like someone who thought little of dealing it out.

    ¡°Ah, Tristan,¡± Francho toothlessly smiled. ¡°I am d to see you¡¯ve returned safely to us.¡±

    ¡°It was a journey,¡± the thief mildly said. ¡°What have you got for us, Francho?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m curious about that myself,¡± Sergeant Mandisa noted. ¡°I thought brands had very specific and narrow uses. It makes more sense for it to be paired with a device on the other side of the pir.¡±

    ¡°They do,¡± Maryam agreed. ¡°But we can get what we need without having full run of the device.¡±

    The man-sized machine had not changed sincest saw it, the golden ally box at the top sprouting spindly levers while beneath it twelve cylinders interlocked with pistons led down into a sideways barrel with a lid of green ss. It was against that dull lid that Francho pressed the brand, and as the old man smiled excitedly light began to spread through the ss. A green glow gently pulsed and everyone¡¯s breath caught: the old wonder hade alive.

    ¡°The machine is not truly functional at the moment,¡± Francho noted. ¡°As you theorized, Sergeant Mandisa, this brand is not the right key to make it work. Thankfully for us, it appears to be resonating with aponent in the barrel and the reactions buys us some measure of power.¡±

    ¡°And what,¡± Yong said, ¡°is that power to be used for?¡±

    ¡°My study of cryptoglyphs is rtively shallow, I warn you,¡± the old professor said. ¡°But I am fairly certain that I have identified abination of levers that causes either ¡®audit¡¯ or ¡®inspect¡¯.¡±

    ¡°We tried it earlier but I cannot make the corresponding Signs so there was no reaction,¡± Maryam said. ¡°It might work now, though.¡±

    ¡°Exciting,¡± Sergeant Mandisa enthused. ¡°Go on.¡±

    Francho nced at Maryam, who shrugged. The sequence did not seem all thatplicated to Tristan¡¯s eye: two levers pulled down, one pulled to the side. Exactly in that order. To everyone¡¯s disappointment, nothing happened.

    Until the green glow winked out.

    The machine shuddered, the gears under the golden frame grinding as the pistons interlocked with the cylinders began to move. Something flickered behind the green ss, but the light did not return. Not there, anyway: to their shared surprise colors bloomed on the wall facing the barrel¡¯s lid. Sergeant Mandisa, who was in the way, was painted with them for a heartbeat before she moved away. Unharmed, to all their reliefs.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be damned,¡± Yong said. ¡°It actually worked.¡±

    It had, Tristan said. Now if he only had an idea what they were looking at. It was, he thought, an eye-searing tableau of green and red. Two wobbly green shapes, one broadly and oval and the other a misshapen triangle, were filled with red tendrils that breached the edge of the shape. They waited a moment longer but nothing changed. The colors on the wall remained, asionally sputtering dark for a second before resuming. The thief got the sense that they might be running on borrowed time. They all looked rather bemused, save for Maryam: her eyes were on the green shape to the right, unblinking.

    ¡°Sarai?¡± he prompted.

    ¡°That,¡± she said, pointing where she had been looking, ¡°is a map of the Dominion of Lost Things. As seen from a bird¡¯s eye view.¡±

    Doubting her would be foolish when she had used a Sign tomit a map of the Dominion perfectly to her memory. Tristan paused, ncing at the other shape. A badly drawn triangle, he thought, unless¡­

    ¡°So this one is the ind from the side,¡± he said. ¡°As if looking through it.¡±

    Sergeant Mandisa went still. It stood out all the more for her usual liveliness. <em>So you know the Red Maw exists</em>, Tristan thought. She was highly ranked enough for that.

    ¡°What is the red, then?¡± Yong frowned.

    Tristan had not keptplete silence over the Red Maw¡¯s existence after finding out its existence with Francho, but he had only broken it for Sarai. The Tianxi veteran was still in the dark. <em>He¡¯s the only one that doesn¡¯t know, now that Vanesa is dead.</em> Perhaps the time for secrecy was past.

    ¡°A god,¡± Tristan said. ¡°One the Watch is keeping contained.¡±

    ¡°Failing to,¡± Sergeant Mandisa mildly said. ¡°None of you are fools, so I expect that I don¡¯t have to tell you pping your lips will get you killed.¡±

    The threat was so matter-of-fact it was difficult to take offense to it. Besides, Tristan was more interested by her first words: she¡¯d noticed is as well, then. Near the back of the ind, the opposite end of the ind from where the Bluebell had docked, tendrils of red were breaking past the green shape representing the ind. Seen from the side they curled deep below before going forward, which Tristan figured to mean that the Red Maw had begun to burrow its tendrils in the bedrock under the Trebian Sea so it could spread to other isles.

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Francho muttered.

    The old man was standing close to the colors on the wall, eyes shining with interest.

    ¡°What is?¡± Yong asked.

    ¡°Look at the pattern in the red here,¡± the old man said, pointing to the bird¡¯s eye view.

    Fingers traced along red furrows, the thickest of the red lines.

    ¡°See how they make up a geometric shape?¡± he asked.

    The professor was right. Centered around the mountain they currently stood under there was a perfect hexagon of red.

    ¡°And from the tip of each emanates a slightly smaller line,¡± Francho continued. ¡°That is not a natural urrence. Not how no other red tendril gets asrge as these, even when they branch out from these artificial furrows.¡±

    Sergeant Mandisa¡¯s jaw clenched.

    ¡°What are we looking at, professor?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Antediluvian work,¡± he said. ¡°I would bet my life on it.¡±

    The Red Maw¡¯s heart was under this pir, Tristan knew. And now it turned out the pir was at the center of some sort of titanic Antediluvian work, one of which the golden aetheric machine above was likely a singleponent instead of the culmination. The view of the ind from the side only added more questions: the hexagon line were deep below the surface of the ind. It was the lines emitting from the points of the geometric shape that went up towards the ground ¨C and even then only tendrils reached close to the surface.

    What did it mean? His eyes returned to the bird¡¯s eye view, and looking at the broader hexagon lines he tried to think of all the maps he had seen before. Mostly of Sacromonte, admittedly, and¡­ oh.

    ¡°They¡¯re canals,¡± Tristan suddenly said. ¡°The big channels, they are canals to carry something around. The god fucking everything up is supposed to be the water, the means of transportation somehow.¡±

    His memories of the confrontation by the bridge were hazy, like the edges of it had been exposed to an open me and curled in on themselves, but he remembered what Fortuna had said: whatever it was that the Red Maw was once meant to be, it had deviated from that root. <em>The corruption is about the way it feeds</em>, Tristan thought. <em>It¡¯s eating more than it should and that¡¯s making it crooked somehow.</em> Only the thief could not see how it would: all gods fed with ceaseless hunger. Even those who grew strong enough to manifest did not set aside that all-consuming desire.

    So how could the Red Maw feeding be a deviation?

    ¡°That exins why the smaller red roads look so small and shoddy, then,¡± Yong noted. ¡°They were built by the god, not by the Ancients.¡±

    Tristan breathed in. <em>It takes to grow</em>, he thought. The Red Maw did. <em>But what if it isn¡¯t supposed to grow?</em> What if the god the Antediluvians had trapped beneath their great machinery was meant to stick to the canals they had built and never spread beyond? <em>That¡¯s how it serves as water: it eats on one end and spits out on the other, moving life or aether or whatever the Antediluvians wanted moved.</em> Only when the Old Night fell the Red Maw had stopped spitting out what it ate.

    Now it was using that power to grow instead, to spread.

    ¡°Lieutenant Wen needs to be made aware of this,¡± Mandisa said. ¡°We¡¯re done here.¡±

    ¡°What will he do?¡± Tristan asked.

    He forced nonchnce. His bargain with Wen rested on the foundation that he would break the golden machine above, so if the fat Tianxi decided that the situation was too dire to risk ending the lights he was in trouble. The tall sergeant hesitated.

    ¡°Keep to your bargain,¡± the dark-skinned woman finally said. ¡°Prepare for tomorrow as nned.¡±

    Tristan slowly nodded, wondering how much he could trust the pair. <em>Shallowly at best</em>, he thought. He had told Maryam of his deal with Lieutenant Wen, but not the other two ¨C when Mandisa¡¯s loose tongue outed if, it earned him pointed looks. He would have to give exnations, the thief thought. But not here or now.

    As Mandisa had said, they were done here.

    Francho took the brand away from the machine and the colors went out, the green glow returning to the lid for a few seconds before fading. Tristan¡¯s eyes lingered on the brand. Now that he was slightly more rested, he could think of one reason why Lieutenant Vasanti would have pushed for an assault past the locked gate.

    ¡°Sergeant,¡± he said, catching the woman¡¯s gaze. ¡°I need a favor.¡±

    It was small enough she epted.

    --

    They snuck back to their rooms after that, and Tristan was all too happy to rest a little more. He closed his eyes and was asleep momentster, only to be kicked away after what must have been hours but felt like mere minutes.

    ¡°Yong,¡± he groaned. ¡°Do you need to-¡±

    ¡°Drag him out.¡±

    It was not Yong but tworge watchmen grabbing him as the coldly furious voice had ordered. Tristan did not resist, going immediately limp. He would not win the fight and would rather face what would being without bruises. Fear killed everyst dreg of sleep as the ckcloaks forced him to his feet and twisted his arms behind his back before pushing him forward. He stumbled, bare feet on the cold stone, and found he was being waited on.

    Arrayed in the courtyard were more than two dozen watchmen, what had to be most of the remaining garrison, and none of them said a word as he was dragged to stand before them.

    He quickly found who he was looking for. Lieutenant Wen was seated a kitchen table, biting into some kind pf pastry with Sergeant Mandisa standing by his side, but Tristan did not let his gaze linger. Even if it turned out they were allies, they would not show it now. Not when the source of the voice that had ordered him dragged was ring down at him.

    Lieutenant Vasanti did not look wounded, for all that she had been part of the ill-fated assault on the pir, but she did look haggard. Her hair was in disarray, her eyes a little wild. Her anger might be cold, but it was the kind of cold that had something ugly lurking under it. <em>The worst kind</em>, Tristan thought. The two big ckcloaks holding him in ce kept nking him as the lieutenant scowled.

    ¡°You lied to me,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said. ¡°In your report. We reached the location you described and the brand was not there.¡±

    A rumble of anger from the crowd. How many ckcloaks had there been in the garrison this morning ¨C thirty, forty? If eleven had died, then everyone here had lost at least a friend. Likely more. He would get no mercy from this tribunal if things went badly for him.

    ¡°I also told you that the god was able to enter the room leading there,¡± the thief pointed out. ¡°It nearly killed me in it. I made no promises that everything would still be the same.¡±

    A loud scoff. Sergeant Olvya, he saw. Her smiled was smugly unpleasant.

    ¡°And we are to believe the god left them untouched for centuries and then suddenly changed its mind?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you believe, Olvya,¡± he frankly replied. ¡°I care that I have been dragged to stand before what looks like a hanging crowd on the basis of¡­ I can¡¯t tell, really. Being disliked by two Watch officers?¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°I have heard usations but no proof,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Yet I am a prisoner. Is this how the Watch handles its affairs?¡±

    That, he saw, struck the mark. Uneasy faces. Lieutenant Wen raised an eyebrow at Vasanti. <em>Still allies, then</em>, Tristan thought. Wen yet had a use for him, so he should be willing to put a thumb to the scales to keep the thief alive if he could.

    ¡°You are not imprisoned,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti bit out.

    The thief smiled pleasantly, turning his pearly teeth to the big ckcloaks holding him.

    ¡°Did you hear that, myds?¡± he said. ¡°I am not imprisoned.¡±

    He tugged at their arms meaningfully and after they nced at Vasanti ¨C who snarled out a nod ¨C they released him. They even took a few steps back. Ah, good. Now he might feasibly make a run for it, though fleeing a garrison armed with muskets when he did not even have boots on seemed¡­ well, he¡¯d mark that n down as suicide with a flourish. You had to start somewhere. And now to ount for the piece he¡¯d not got eyes on - where were the others?

    A nce flicked backwards showed him that armed watchmen were standing in front of the other upied rooms. When Yong opened his curtain a musket was pointed at him and a harsh order had the Tianxi closing it. There would be no help from there.

    Worse, there was another ckcloak going through his affairs and she came out with a noise of triumph. The watchman was, he saw, holding a button in her hand. A stone button, one of those that could serve as a key to the locked door in the pir. <em>Probably the one in my coat</em>, he decided. The one in his boot was well-hidden.

    ¡°Found it, ma¡¯am,¡± she called out. ¡°He has a key, like you said.¡±

    ¡°And there we are,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti smilingly said. ¡°Evidence, as you requested. You had a way to get in there and take the brand.¡±

    Tristan smiled pleasantly back, then looked at the watchwoman.

    ¡°You, going through my things,¡± he called out. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    The ckcloaks blinked at him in surprise.

    ¡°Er,¡± she said. ¡°Dulcia?¡±

    ¡°Dulcia,¡± he repeated. ¡°While you¡¯re still in there, do you happen to see the brand?¡±

    A moment of silence.

    ¡°No,¡± Dulcia conceded.

    Tristan turned his gaze back to Lieutenant Vasanti.

    ¡°Fancy that,¡± he said.

    She snorted.

    ¡°So you hid it somewhere else,¡± Vasanti said.

    ¡°I could have done that, yes,¡± Tristan easily said. ¡°I could also be the King of Izcalli. Are we dragging people out of their beds in the middle of the night for<em> coulds</em> now, lieutenant?¡±

    Wen bit into his pastry, which was more than halfway finished, and loudly swallowed. There were kes all over his chin.

    ¡°He¡¯s not wrong,¡± the Tianxi lieutenant said. ¡°You have a key too, Vasanti. How close of an eye did you keep on it?¡±

    The old woman turned on the other officer, face twisted with anger.

    ¡°Are you implying one of us did this?¡±

    ¡°I am <em>stating </em>that anyone could have used your key, or his for that matter,¡± Lieutenant Wen evenly replied. ¡°You want us to execute a trial-taker on grounds this thin? We¡¯ll all answer to Commander Artal for it.

    He paused.

    ¡°Unless you¡¯re asking for us to send falsified reports about the whole business,¡± Wen said. ¡°Is that the case?¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Vasanti said.

    A little too quickly.

    ¡°Then make a better case,¡± the Tianxi advised. ¡°I¡¯m not getting another ck mark on my record just because you want to pin the me for today¡¯s fuckup on some Sacromonte rat.¡±

    That had hard eyes turned on her, but it did notst.

    ¡°Eleven of us died, Wen,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti said. ¡°Now you want to let the only person with answers <em>walk away</em>?¡±

    The mood, which had been going Wen¡¯s way, turned sharply back her way. Vasanti wasn¡¯t leaning on reason, Tristan thought. She was using anger, and anger always got a bite. <em>Most of the people here must already have ck marks on their record to have gotten this assignment in the first ce</em>, he thought.<em> It¡¯s not as strong a deterrent for them</em>.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go putting words in my mouth,¡± Wen dismissed. ¡°You want answers? By all means, get them. But this yacting is wasting everyone¡¯s time. By morning either we¡¯ll have a legitimate reason to put a bullet in his skull or we¡¯ll have to let him take the trial.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°So are you going to drag him in a corner for a real interrogation,¡± the Tianxi said, ¡°or are you going keep pissing away my good night¡¯s sleep pretending you¡¯re some kind of magistrate?¡±

    Lieutenant Vasanti red at the other officer, but she saw the same thing Tristan did: Wen had convinced them. The Watch was not a mob or a coterie, it had rules ¨C and Vasanti had not given them good enough a reason to break them, not when there was a way to get answers that wouldn¡¯t get their superiorsing down on their heads. This was, Tristan thought, the best Wen could do for him.

    Getting him out was simply not in the cards, not with this many angry souls out for a scapegoat, so what the Tianxi could offer was to get him away from the mob. To put him in a room with only a few, where he could wheel and deal behind closed doors.

    A swell of gratitude, barely marred by the fact that Wen had essentially just suggested he be tortured for answers.

    ¡°Fine,¡± the old Someshwari hissed. ¡°If you don¡¯t care enough to get answers for the dead, I will.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Vasanti,¡± Lieutenant Wen mildly said, ¡°I do care. Unlike you, I knew their names. It¡¯s why when Commander Artal has you shot for getting more of us killed against his explicit orders, I¡¯ll be sitting in that room with another of these pastries.¡±

    The fat Tianxi smiled, swallowing thest piece and licking his fingers.

    ¡°And I¡¯m sure it will taste <em>delicious</em>.¡±

    Tristan never met his eyes, did not even look at him, but in his mind¡¯s eye he thanked Wen for thisst gift.

    He¡¯d just been told something that might save his life.

    --

    The fist dug deep in his belly and Tristan folded, throwing up all over the floor.

    It was not the worst beating he¡¯d ever had. The watchmen were professional about it, hitting ces where the damage would not be permanent and measuring their strength carefully. He would hurt, he would bruise, but there would be no broken bones or hidden bleeding.

    ¡°Back in the chair,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti ordered.

    They forced him back up even as his stomach trembled and bile rose.

    ¡°A little to the left,¡± Fortuna whispered into his ear.

    He followed her suggestion when he threw up again, drenching the legs of the watchman most satisfyingly. The man cursed and shoved him into the chair, backing away. The other oneughed, pulling up Tristan¡¯s chin so he was facing Lieutenant Vasanti. The old Someshwari¡¯s gaze was cold, unmoved by the sight of the violence she¡¯d ordered.

    ¡°Where is the brand, Tristan?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Are you familiar with the poetess Iliria¡¯s works?¡± the rat asked.

    ¡°Again,¡± Vasanti said.

    The ckcloak who¡¯d pulled his chin up pped him, open-palmed. His cheeks were so red by now he barely felt it. They would rotate back to his inner thighs soon.

    ¡°Where is the brand, Tristan?¡± Lieutenant Vasanti asked.

    ¡°There¡¯s this poem in her Little Lies,¡± he said. ¡°The Court of Cats.¡±

    The Someshwari sighed.

    ¡°Choke him.¡±

    The big man seized him by the throat, toppling the chair, and he smacked against the wall. Fingers like sausages squeezed as he tried to breathe. Tristan went into himself, eyes unseeing. He thought of the grave he was in, the shape of it. The feel of the stone under his fingers, the coolness. How his feet pushed against the bottom, how he would have to fold his legs to get out.

    ¡°-enough, he¡¯ll die.¡±

    Tristan gasped, air flooding back into his lungs, and began to cough. The ckcloak he¡¯d thrown up on looked at him carefully, then drew back.

    ¡°He¡¯s fine.¡±

    Lieutenant Vasanti leaned forward.

    ¡°Where is the brand, Tristan?¡±

    ¡°So the second verse,¡± he rasped. ¡°It goes like this-¡±

    The fingers went back around his throat, not even needing an order.

    ¡°To leave the court of cats

    is even simpler done,¡± he got out before the squeeze.

    He gasped blindly, trying to breathe through the grip.

    ¡°Stop,¡± Vasanti said. ¡°Let him finish.¡±

    He croaked out a brokenugh when the fingers released him.

    ¡°For when their hungeres

    rats are ever sport.¡±

    A long moment of silence.

    ¡°Give me the room,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°I know what will make him crack.¡±

    <em>Liar</em>, Tristan thought, smiling a bloodied smile. The pair of toughs ¨C for that was all they were, regardless of the color of their cloak ¨C traded surprised nces but obeyed their superior. The door closed on the small dark room, the onlyntern lit casting its flickering re between the two of them.

    ¡°I catch your drift. You want assurances I won¡¯t kill you when I have the brand,¡± Vasanti said. ¡°Why should I even believe you know where it is?¡±

    ¡°Because you want to,¡± Tristan rasped. ¡°Getting your hands on it is the only way you¡¯re living through the month.¡±

    The Someshwari¡¯s eyes narrowed. Ah, had she thought he wasn¡¯t listening? Vasanti herself had told him she was no longer allowed to try the pir, that the attempts on the cog room had gotten too many watchmen killed. And now she had another eleven corpses to answer for, going against explicit orders. She was going to get shot for that, as Wen had said.

    Unless she had something to show worth that many deaths.

    ¡°You really are a nasty little rat, aren¡¯t you?¡± she said. ¡°Always scurrying around everyone¡¯s business.¡±

    He snorted.

    ¡°Come on,¡± he said. ¡°How many reasons are there for you to get reckless enough for an assault? You think you figured out the tilebination that will open the front gate. You need the brand because you think it¡¯s what will get the device working.¡±

    The tile device in the room just past the one where he had found the brand, the one where the god had almost killed him. Vasanti must have figured them out even though the matching tiles on the iron gates had no symbols on them. The old woman stared at him for a long time.

    ¡°I was right,¡± she suddenly said. ¡°I can¡¯t let you into the Watch. It¡¯s toote for you.¡±

    Tristan blinked, for an instant lost.

    ¡°You think you¡¯re the only one Nerei ever trained, boy?¡± Vasanti harshly said. ¡°You¡¯re the third I¡¯ve met. And both were <em>fucking monsters</em>, just like their maker.¡±

    The Someshwari leaned forward.

    ¡°I took it easy on you, tried to nudge you off the trials so you could return to your old life, but always you doubled down,¡± she said. ¡°The disease is already in the bone.¡±

    He closed his eyes. Anger had note to him so far, not when he was in the grave and he had yet to buy his way out. Anger, fear, they did not help. But now it came anyway.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t even about me.¡±

    His eyes fleshed.

    ¡°Everything,¡± he said with excruciating calm, ¡°was part of your <em>pissing match</em> with someone not even on this fucking ind.¡±

    The old lieutenant sneered.

    ¡°You have no idea what-¡±

    They were past that now.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Tristanughed. ¡°And I don¡¯t need to, Vasanti, because you¡¯re going to give me what I want.¡±

    ¡°Should I call the boys back in?¡± she coldly said.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if you do,¡± he said. ¡°Because at the end of the day, Vasanti, you¡¯re a coward. You¡¯re afraid of Abu, afraid of what you¡¯ve done, but most important of all you¡¯re afraid to die ¨C and I¡¯m the only one who can tell you where the thing you need to live is.¡±

    And under the ck cloak, under the years and the authority and all the arrogance of someone used to being on the right side of the gun, Tristan knew what he was looking at.

    Vasanti was a rat.

    ¡°I have people searching,¡± she said. ¡°Do you think stashing things in a ruined bastion or one of the holes outside will work?¡±

    ¡°I can wait,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°Longer than you, I reckon.¡±

    Vasanti got up, walked out. Momentster, the two thugs walked in. Tristan closed his eyes and thought of the grave.

    --

    And hourter Lieutenant Vasanti returned.

    She bought her way out of her grave and with that same coin Tristan bought his way out of his. After Vasanti dered him innocent of everything to the Watch garrison, Remund Cerdan¡¯s evil deeds were revealed. He had stolen Tristan¡¯s key and hidden the brand, a location the thief obtained from the infanzon before his death in the maze. He told the lieutenant where the brand was after and she flew into another rage.

    After all it was in the Watch¡¯s own armory, just as he¡¯d asked Sergeant Mandisa.

    Tristan watched the relief on Lieutenant Vasanti¡¯s face afterwards, how it stayed there, and wondered if she would figure it out before the end. Tomorrow,e morning, Vasanti was going to get those iron gates open and then go through them with every ckcloak still loyal to her. Go plumbing the depths of the pir for secrets and wonders that would be worth eleven corpses in the eyes of her superiors.

    That expedition should serve as a perfectly serviceable distraction for when Tristan pushed her right back into her grave.

 Chapter 35

    Chapter 35

    No one died in the night.

    A relief, but it did little to lift the mood when they began gathering in the gate room half an hour before the gate forward opened. Angharad had not slept well, wrestling with what she had heard ¨C trying to sort out the truth from the lies. Song had tried to approach her about it but the Pereduri put her off. Unfair as it was, she resented the Tianxi for forcing her hand about eavesdropping on Isabel and Ferranda. Her world had been simpler before that conversation.

    Now Angharad must weigh everything. Was she being unfairly generous, when she thought something good of Isabel Ruesta? Was a contact bending her mind? Or was she being unfair by picking at every thought this way when Ferranda Vizur had brought nothing but usations. A contract was difficult to prove, but it was just as difficult to <em>disprove</em>. What could Isabel do or say to put Ferranda¡¯s allegations to rest? Nothing. And some of Ferranda¡¯s other usations had been dubious, the talk of plot and there being a false killer.

    Grief at the death of a lover ¨C and to think Sanale had been that, Angharad would never have suspected ¨C could darken one¡¯s mind. Ferranda might have beenshing out.

    <em>Or am I looking at Isabel¡¯s chances through the kindest mirror?</em>

    The thoughts circled like dogs chasing each other¡¯s tails. There was no clear liar here, no monster whose warped pale face could be revealed by ripping off a mask. Just as she had through the night, Angharad wrestled with her doubts and stared moodily ahead. She did not shun Isabel, but neither did she engage in conversation ¨C she lengthened her stride to stay ahead and prevent it. It left her at Acanthe Phos¡¯ side on the way to the temple-fortress, the blemished traitor needing only a single quelling look to stay silent the whole way.

    This time, when they went down the stairs, everyone kept arge distance from each other.

    The temple-fortress¡¯ red stone awaited them at the bottom of the cauldron again, wind whistling softly behind them as they passed the bronze gates still open wide. This time, when they passed through the eclectic hall of treasures and trinkets, Angharad hung back. She left the front to others, those yet to be victors. They could deal with the spirit themselves.

    ¡°You came back!¡±

    The massive peafowl leapt down from her dais, dead god jostling on her back, and with all the dignity of an excited child trotted towards them. Flicking her tailfeathers happily, she swayed to the sides in celebration.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d died,¡± the mayura confided. ¡°Mortals are so fragile.¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Lord Zenzele said, ¡°but then the day¡¯s just begun. Surely one of us will be up for it.¡±

    ¡°Let us be optimists,¡± Lady Ferranda mused. ¡°I¡¯ll not settle for Xical alone ¨C I choose to believe that, as amunity, we can<em> also</em> get Lord Augusto killed.¡±

    The pair, Angharad thought, truly had be thick as thieves. Part of her was d for them, that their griefs need not be borne alone, but the part of her that must go beyond decency worried. If Lady Ferranda pressed her suspicions and tried to kill Isabel, would Zenzele Duma help her? Angharad did not know and hated that she even had to consider it. This Trial of Ruins, it was like a mire. The longer they stayed in the maze, the deeper they sunk into the mud of their own petty plots and hatreds.

    Sometimes she though the spirits might not be the true peril of this maze.

    ¡°Watch your tongue,¡± the Cerdan snarled, ¡°else you-¡±

    Cozme Aflor¡¯s hand on his shoulder silenced him.

    ¡°We must win tests to reach the Toll Road,¡± the older man said. ¡°By the rules our host hasid down, three champions must still be beaten. Is there one among us that would step forward?¡±

    Angharad scoffed, which drew more than a few eyes to her.

    ¡°An interesting question to ask,¡± she said, ¡°when you are not a victor yourself, Cozme Aflor. Where has yesterday¡¯s boldness gone?¡±

    Unfriendly looks, but most of them were not sent her way. To her dismay, she found support in an unexpected ce.

    ¡°She has a point, Cozme,¡± Tupoc said, idly tapping his spear against his shoulder. ¡°Go on then, my bold man, take the vanguard. Are you and Augusto not entirely capable of protecting yourselves?¡±

    Angry, worried looks from both men Tupoc had named. Angharad¡¯s eyes narrowed. A split between them and Tupoc, perhaps? It may be that with Cozme at his side, Augusto had decided he need no longer be the Izcalli¡¯s lickspittle. <em>This is Tupoc calling them to heel, then</em>, she thought. Uncertain as to whether she should allow it to happen, Angharad hesitated until the decision was taken out of her hands. Cutting through the rising tension, Song stepped forward and bowed before the mayura.

    ¡°Honored elder, I would face one of your champions,¡± the Tianxi said.

    The peafowl peered down at her.

    ¡°Do I know you?¡± the mayura asked. ¡°I feel as if I should be pecking your head.¡±

    ¡°I would prefer you do not, honored elder,¡± Song politely requested.

    It was not possible for a bird to pout, given theck of lips, but the spirit made a valiant attempt nheless.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she sniffed. ¡°Refuse my blessing.¡±

    The mayura waited for a moment, perhaps hopeful calling it a blessing would change Song¡¯s mind, but was destined for disappointment.

    ¡°I await the introduction of your champions,¡± Song said.

    The peafowl left in a sulk, returning to the dais to begin her spectacle. Cascades of blue and green silk fell from the ceiling again, the sight less staringly impressive the second time. Curtains surrounded them on all sides as golden light began coursing down. Sounding mor like a Lierganese hawker than an ancient spirit, the mayura began announcing her list of foes again.

    ¡°Hark! Will you face Ojas the Clever, who you must defeat in a contest of riddles where every mistake sees you lowered closer to a pool of-¡±

    Angharad only paid half-hearted attention to the list of champions, knowing there was yet time. At least three victories must still be earned to win the right to reach the very summit of the temple and the path to the Toll Road thaty there.

    ¡°- Thangaraj, master of mists and illusions, whose defeat muste by might of arms. Then there is-¡±

    ¡°Him, honored elder,¡± Song said. ¡°Thangaraj. I will face him.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s been a while,¡± the mayura enthused. ¡°Usually they choose Inimai instead, she sounds like a pushover.¡±

    Angharad cocked her head to the side. Was the spirit not the one who had crafted the introductions?

    ¡°I was given to understand,¡± Song said, ¡°that adding restrictions to the test yields greater advances.¡±

    The spirit was visibly pleased at the implication. Also loudly.

    ¡°Yesss,¡± the peafowl hissed. ¡°Tell me.¡±

    ¡°If offer you two oaths,¡± Song serenely replied. ¡°The first is that I will use only a single shot.¡±

    That was¡­ not unwise, Angharad decided. It was rare to be able to reload one¡¯s gun during a duel, and Song had said nothing of her sword. It was a limitation, but not a crippling one.

    ¡°I receive your oath,¡± the mayura said, then hopped back and forth. ¡°Again.¡±

    ¡°I shall not take more than a step away from where I stand when the test begins.¡±

    The spirit cackled.

    ¡°Oh, that is <em>fun</em>,¡± she said. ¡°I receive your oath.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°Three takes you to the end,¡± the spirit said. ¡°That means a change in terms.¡±

    ¡°I listen, honored elder.¡±

    ¡°If you lose,¡± the mayura said, ¡°you¡¯ll be one of my champions.¡±

    A ripple of unease went through the crowd, though this was not news to Angharad. The peafowl had already told her that thest test had this particrity to it.

    ¡°That is eptable to me,¡± Song replied. ¡°Shall we begin?¡±

    ¡°When you¡¯re ready,¡± the peafowl happily nodded.

    The Tianxi¡¯s silver gaze swept through them.

    ¡°I will be leaving, then,¡± she said. ¡°Kindly do not lower the number of victors in my absence.¡±

    And on that sharp note, Song walked away.

    --

    Angharad had never seen a test from the outside in this temple, so it was with a curious eye she greeted the changes in the golden light.

    What had before been letters and the silhouette of the champions spread out, the strokes thinning as they came to illustrate some kind of strange circr room. As if alive, the strands of gold moved as clouds of mist over a floor that was full of uneven rises and hidden pits. At the heart of it, sitting on a throne, a small bald man with a grand beard and a pot belly was waiting. He had on hisp a mace with a thick head a strange handle ¨C like a saber¡¯s, with a knuckle-bow guard. The Pereduri had never seen such a weapon before, it must be Someshwari.

    It would take time before Song reached the grounds of the fight, Angharad knew from experience, so she found a pir to lean against in a corner and drew back from the crowd. Lord Ishaan seemed as if he might have wanted to chat, but he read her expression and elected to leave her in peace. No, it was another who sought Angharad out.

    Lady Isabel Ruesta had dressed with an eye to the practical, even though she was unlikely to be challenging a test today. A high-cored yellow doublet over a pale shirt matched hose of the same shade, tucked into elegant knee-high boots. The sole concession to traditional femininity was the feathered riding hat, angled coquettishly over her ck curls. The infanzona was a feast for the eyes, as always, and Angharad would not soon forget how soft her skin had been under her fingers the evening when Isabel had visited her.

    Only she was not so certain she should be fond of that memory, now. <em>The kindest possible mirror</em>, Ferranda had called it. What would that mean, if it were true?

    Isabel came to stand by her side, hands over herp. Silence held between them. Would not looking at the infanzona undo the effect of her contract, Angharad wondered? Or did Isabel perhaps need touch to seed the veil over one¡¯s eyes? Angharad could not help but wonder even knowing it was unfair, that Ferranda had used without proof. <em>But how would one go about proving the unseen?</em> A fair question, but so was the opposite: how would one go about <em>disproving</em> it? It the end it was a matter of trust, and Angharad was feeling thin on trust.

    She had uncovered too many lies. It was tiring, to question everything. Enough that she thought it might be better to simply go her own way.

    ¡°Hold out your hand,¡± Isabel suddenly asked.

    Angharad stilled. The other woman noticed.

    ¡°Ah,¡± she said. ¡°As I thought. Please allow me, then, a defense against the usations Ferranda brought to you.¡±

    Would it be unwise, to agree? Her contract at work? Angharad could have let the dog chase each other¡¯s tails for hours and earned nothing but barks, so instead she set aside her own thoughts and doubts. If her mind was uncertain, then she need only avoid relying on her minds. Isabel Ruesta had been used and was now asking for a way to prove her innocence that would not be harmful to Angharad.

    By honor¡¯s count, this should be allowed.

    Almost relieved that there was a way around the doubts, the Pereduri offered her hand. Isabel lightly touched it with the tip of her fingers.

    ¡°Beginning now,¡± she said.

    Angharad blinked, eyeing the other woman. A lie? She felt nothing at all. Or perhaps Ferranda¡¯s usations had been most exaggerated. Isabel breathed out.

    ¡°The Duchy of Peredur,¡± Isabel Ruesta said, ¡°is a barren shithole at the edge of the world, full of ck-jawed yokels who fuck seals and im they were mermaids.¡±

    The Pereduri drew back inplete and utter startlement, though Isabel kept their hands connected. Past the first surprise at the unexpected vulgarity, anger rose. The infanzona had not only insulted her home, she had called her countrymen <em>liars</em>. Even in jest, and surely this must be in jest for Isabel could not possibly believe it ¨C the infanzona withdrew her hand and Angharad paused. Why <em>could</em> Isabel not possibly believe that?

    ¡°I would have drawn a de on most everyone here,¡± the Pereduri said, ¡°had they said what you just did. Even knowing it was to prove a point.¡±

    ¡°It is bestpared,¡± she said, ¡°to making a in girl stand in ttering light and clothes. It does not <em>change</em> anything, not truly ¨C a boy who prefers boys will still not take her to bed, nor will one who does not like redheads. But it makes the graceless graceful.¡±

    ¡°And I have been made to see the girl,¡± Angharad inly said.

    Isabel inclined her head.

    ¡°You have. If you were to choose to be angry over this,¡± she said, ¡°I would not dispute it.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s answering look was cool.

    ¡°What other choice<em> is</em> there, Isabel?¡±

    ¡°Allowing me to exin,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Have I stopped you?¡± Angharad sharply said.

    The infanzona worried her lip.

    ¡°I do not always control it,¡± Isabel said. ¡°When my emotions run high, whatever the emotion be ¨C fear, joy, desire, hate, it makes no difference ¨C I draw on the contract. Sometimes I do not even notice it.¡±

    <em>You could be lying</em>, Angharad thought. And she could trust her own mind, not right now, so instead she trusted in honor.

    ¡°Had you told me this, there would have been no breach in trust,¡± she replied. ¡°You did not.¡±

    ¡°I was afraid,¡± Isabel admitted, ¡°and wronged you because of it.¡±

    The dark-skinned woman breathed in at the stark admission.

    ¡°I will not excuse the act,¡± the dark-haired beauty continued, ¡°but I would tell you what drove me to it, if you will allow.¡±

    Angharad felt little sympathy, and even if she had honor would not have cared for reasons. Still, it was her responsibility to see the entire matter through before making a decision about cutting ties. She nodded permission.

    ¡°You must think me some kind of coldblooded seductress,¡± Isabel ruefully said, ¡°but that is not how it started. My parents, you see, wanted a boy. And when Mother finally gave birth to one, suddenly I was no longer their favorite.¡±

    She breathed out.

    ¡°Infanzones are taught as children that prayer answered is a dangerous thing,¡± Isabel said. ¡°Mine was. I wanted to be the apple of my family¡¯s eye against, instead of that squalling stinking <em>thing</em>, and the Beloved Blossom offered me that.¡±

    ¡°I have never heard of a spirit by that name,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°There is no reason you should,¡± the infanzona replied. ¡°She is no Mane, hardly an ancient power. But she was so lovely, so morous, and why should I distrust a goddess of love promising me that very thing? Only I was wrong, Angharad.¡±

    Isabel¡¯s smile was a mncholy thing.

    ¡°She is, you see, not a goddess of love but of love <em>novels</em>.¡±

    Angharad was Pereduri: she well knew how the difference of a single word could change everything. The infanzona sighed.

    ¡°I did not realize what that truly meant until I was older, when the boys that had been my friends began falling in love with me every time Iughed,¡± Isabel said. ¡°I learned to be wary, to control it, but fear is another emotion ¨C every time I felt dread at the approach of a suitor unwilling to ept a <em>no</em>, the contract bloomed anyway.¡±

    Green eyes lowered to the ground.

    ¡°So I embraced it,¡± she admitted. ¡°Used it to defend myself, set them against each other. Only the Ruesta are not the greatest house of Sacromonte, Angharad. We have superiors, those we must not offend.¡±

    ¡°House Cerdan,¡± she quietly said.

    ¡°They way out was to marry above them, beyond their reach,¡± Isabel said. ¡°And I found a man who would suit, whose contract even dulled my own, but my reputation followed me. He was courteous but kept his distance. Unwilling to give up, I decided to follow him to this ind so that I might convince him.¡±

    ¡°And the brothers?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I needed them to win permission toe from my parents,¡± the infanzona said. ¡°And, well, I would not push them into danger but should they seek it out themselves I would not weep of the consequences either.¡±

    Angharad had some notion of what it was like, a boy of nobler blood wanting of you something you did not want to give. She had rubbed elbows with izinduna on the dueling circuit, and some of the young men had taken an interest it was not in her to return ¨C and what noble house did not stand higher than the Tredegar, out in Mn? She fought against the sympathy, but it came anyway. Distrusting herself, Angharad reached for honor again.

    In her dealings with the Cerdan, it could be said that Isabel Ruesta had kept to the exact lines of honor. Hardly in spirit, but that was not for Angharad to judge. It was between the two of them that trust had been broken.

    ¡°Why bring me into it?¡± she asked.

    Isabel hesitated.

    ¡°It was duty, in part, to another noble,¡± she said. ¡°But I will not pretend that I did not notice your eyes on me, or that I misliked the idea of having the protection of your sword arm ¨C or, forgive the crudeness, of a discreet affair with a dashing stranger before stepping into married life.¡±

    Only the man she¡¯d sought must have died when the first wave of trial-takers was in to thest. Angharad could see how it had all unfolded from there, and found she believed the infanzona. The tale fit the events. She could not take it as truth when she had already been deceived, but neither would she leap to call Isabel a liar. Not that it mattered, for Angharad would follow not her feelings but honor¡¯sy. And honor tolerated no excuse for what had been done, the secret use of a contract on her. Had it been done by ident, then Isabel would still have been duty-bound to reveal it.

    And Angharad was not callow enough to believe it had all been done by ident.

    ¡°It is not my ce to decide where honor lies between you and others,¡± she finally said. ¡°Between us, however, offence was given. Out of respect for the aid you have lent me I will not pursue the matter, but any ties between us are sundered.¡±

    Isabel¡¯s face tightened, but she nodded.

    ¡°Should Ie to lead others again, or enter alliance, I would then be honor bound to tell them what I can of your contract while avoiding your private affairs,¡± Angharad added.

    The infanzona hesitated.

    ¡°If you are willing to wait,¡± she said, ¡°I promise to do this myselfe the next sanctuary. I fear for my life should it be said before then.¡±

    The Pereduri cocked her head to the side, considering that. It was not an unwarranted fear. Augusto might well try to me her for everything.

    ¡°Should I suspect you of using your contract on another, I will have to intervene,¡± she warned.

    ¡°That is only fair,¡± Isabel replied without missing a beat.

    Angharad, reluctantly, thought better of her for it. Isabel Ruesta had done wrong, but she was not demanding the right to continue doing it from behind a shield of silence.

    ¡°Then I will agree to that,¡± Angharad said, pushing herself off the pir. ¡°I believe our conversation, and our ties, have reached a natural end.¡±

    The infanzona looked away, her head lowered enough locks were draped across her face. For a moment Angharad thought she saw cold anger there, but when Isabel turned to her again she found something closer to grief.

    ¡°So they have,¡± Isabel sadly said.

    She inclined her head, Angharad jerking a nod back, and stepped away. The Pereduri did not watch her leave, instead looking at the strands of gold still depicting the champion Song was to face. There was no trace of the Tianxi, an irritating thing even though Angharad knew it unreasonable to expect Song to have risen four shrines up in the amount of time it had taken her to speak with Isabel. Sighing, she forced herself to keep looking at the gold so that she would not have to see if others had noticed her conversation with Isabel.

    When steps came her way, Angharad decided that she would consider enough of taunt by Tupoc as a breach of truce andport herself ordingly. Only when the person approaching cleared their throat, it was much too high-pitched. Turning a hard stare on whoever had thought it a sound notion to try her now, Angharad blinked when she saw Isabel standing before her. The infanzona smiled a little shyly, offering her hand to kiss.

    ¡°Lady Isabel Ruesta,¡± she said.

    ¡°I-¡± Angharad began, then frowned in confusion ¡°What is this, Isabel?¡±

    ¡°There is nothing between us now, you said,¡± the infanzona replied. ¡°An empty te. I would fill it again, only properly this time.¡±

    ¡°Nothing has changed from moments ago,¡± she said.

    ¡°Everything has changed,¡± Isabel retorted. ¡°You know of my contract. You know my intentions and what brought me to the Dominion ¨C there is no longer anything hidden between us.¡±

    ¡°I am sure you can find another sword arm,¡± Angharad sharply replied. ¡°There is no need to inflict this on either of us, Isabel.¡±

    ¡°Angharad,¡± the green-eyed woman patiently said, ¡°I no longer <em>need</em> a sword arm. I will not take tests. My sole enemy, Augusto, has worn out several shovels digging his own grave. All that lies ahead of me is patiently waiting until others bring the trial to an end so I can stroll up the path to sanctuary and take a ship home.¡±

    That was¡­ well, she could not find a part that was untrue. Not even when looking for a trap.

    ¡°I do not need anything from you,¡± Isabel said. ¡°I seek yourpany because I desire it.¡±

    ¡°A nk te is not the promise of forgiveness,¡± Angharad tly replied.

    ¡°Then I will have to attempt to charm some measure of it out of you,¡± Isabel said.

    The infanzona had to know that the first whiff of the contract being used on her, Angharad would see it as an offence against her. And still she stood here. The Pereduri said nothing, silence setting between then, but still Isabel stood there, offering her up her hand. Undaunted.

    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Angharad said.

    She did not kiss the hand. Isabel still smiled before she walked away, joining Lan for a chat. As well she might.

    Angharad had replied with three words and not one had been ¡®no¡¯.

    --

    Song¡¯s arrival had the entire room breaking into murmurs.

    The Tianxi, Angharad thought, looked sharper when drawn in gold. Her long braid like a single stroke, her chin like a knife. They watched as Song Ren strode into the room where the champion waited, sitting on his throne. She stopped a dozen feet away from the throne, mist swirling around her. Could she see through it as they could, to the treacherous footing and hidden pits beneath? Angharad knew not, and it worried her.

    The lips of Song and the champion both moved, but there was no telling what they said. The details were not fine enough for that. Whatever the truth, the champion rose from his throne and idly swung his mace. The Tianxi did not move, bound to the oath of never straying more than a step away from where she stood, save for unsheathing her straight sword.

    Then Thangaraj struck, and all breathe in.

    He leapt at Song, who swung through his throat, but the man turned into billowing mist. An illusion? Another Thangaraj was back on his throne,ughing, while they could all see another sneaking behind Song while crouching low. The sneak struck at her from behind, but she narrowly parried the blow ¨C her sword gave, though, and the shaft of the mace still hit her leg. That would no doubt bruise.

    It was a storm of tricks and taunts after that, Thangaraj dying a dozen times to her de only to be revealed having a drink or lounging at the foot of his throne or picking up pebbles to throw at her. The one time she came close to cutting him down, when he tried a blow from the side after faking having been an illusion, he abandoned his weapon and threw himself into a pit. Momentster he was back out, weapon in hand.

    The champion was toying with her, Angharad thought. Song had yet to suffer more than bruises, but now Thangaraj tried harsher and harsher blows. It was just a matter of time until she took a real wound, and it would be downhill from there. The noblewoman watched with a clenched jaw as Thangaraj mocked her, dancing in close to strike at her with the mace, only Song dropped her sword as she turned.

    The mace went right through the back of her neck, turning into mist and the Tianxi snatched at thin air ¨C grabbing the champion by throat and when he opened his mouth Angharad realized why Song had dropped the sword: she¡¯d been drawing her pistol. The shoved it through his mouth, and smiled a cold golden smile before pulling the trigger.

    One shot, Angharad thought as Thangaraj¡¯s brains sttered the mist. That was what then other woman had bargained for.

    Perhaps she ought not to have worried so much for Song Ren after all, Angharad mused as the others began to cheer.

    --

    Song¡¯s journey back down was faster than the other way around.

    Angharad joined in with the congrattions, which were particrly enthusiastic from Shalini. No one asked the Tianxi how she had seen through the illusion, even though everyone had to suspect it was a contract. The mayura had returned with Song, happy at first but that passed when it was confirmed they now had the right to rise to the summit of the temple-fortress and take the path to the Toll Road. Everyone collected their packs, checked their weapons and then they began moving.

    The mayura pattered behind them nervously. Given the spirit¡¯s size and the sharpness of her beak it would have been a worrisome sight, if the great peafowl did not look for all the world like a dog being abandoned.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to leave,¡± the spirit said. ¡°You can stay the night, you know. It¡¯s safe in here and there used to be a pleasure temple so there¡¯s plenty of beds.¡±

    Lord Ishaan, who she was addressing, slowed his steps and turned to bowed to her as Shalini kept a wary eye on it all.

    ¡°I thank you for the offer, guardian, but we intend to reach the end of the maze today,¡± Lord Ishaan said. ¡°We should not tarry.¡±

    ¡°The road is terrible,¡± the mayura assured them. ¡°Lots of you might die. You should probably just stay here.¡±

    The Someshwari bowed again, giving no further answer. The peafowl tried again, but always she was politely put off ¨C Cozme said he must bear news back to Sacromonte of a death, Acanthe Phos imed she could not sleep well in temples and Lady Ferranda replied that should she grow exhausted on the Toll Road she was sure to return. Tupoc boldly counter-offered that the spirit should leave with him as his mount, which to everyone¡¯s rm the mayura seemed to consider.

    ¡°I can¡¯t leave Kshetra¡¯s temple behind,¡± she told Tupoc. ¡°Sorry. You seem like someone who gets in a lot of trouble, it might have been amusing.¡±

    ¡°If you ever change your mind, find me,¡± the Izcalli casually replied.

    By the time the mayura got to her, Angharad felt like thest in a line of boots about to kick a puppy. It was a senseless thing to feel, of course ¨C spirits were not men, could not be treated the same. The mayura must be centuries old, for all that it seemed to have the mind of a cheerful child. Yet when the peafowl suggested she could stay and rest a bit, perhaps spar with the champion Amrinder, Angharad felt like a heel for refusing.

    ¡°I am sorry, honored elder,¡± she honestly said. ¡°Had we the time to spare I would stay the night, but we yearn for the safety of the sanctuary that awaits us beyond the maze. Many of us have lost loved ones in this maze, it is not the quality of your hospitality that drives us to leave it.¡±

    The mayura¡¯s long neck drooped. She looked glum.

    ¡°People never stay unless they¡¯re champions,¡± she said. ¡°I miss when people came to visit, before we crossed the water.¡±

    ¡°Are your champions not finepany?¡± she gently asked.

    ¡°They forget a lot,¡± the peafowl muttered. ¡°I¡¯m happy you fought Amrinder like you did, it brought back a lot of him. They were better when Kshetra was around, more alive.¡±

    The bird sighed.

    ¡°I like that I can do whatever I want now, but I miss him sometimes,¡± the mayura admitted. ¡°He was a good god.¡±

    Was it madness, Angharad thought, to see of herself in a spirit? To see a child surviving their kin, alone in a world that seemed so dark and kept closing in from all sides. It must be, and yet here she was. Seeing that very thing.

    ¡°I miss my family as well,¡± she softly said. ¡°I used to be d to go away from them for months, out on the dueling circuit, but now I would give the world for having spent those days with them instead.¡±

    She sighed.

    ¡°But I cannot change that,¡± Angharad said. ¡°The past is beyond our reach. All we can do is learn from our regrets.¡±

    She reached for her saber, unsheathing the de as the mayura watched her curiously. She held out her arm, cutting shallowly on her forearm, and wiped the de before putting it away. With her now-free hand she touched her blood, wetting the tip of her fingers, and smiled at the spirit.

    ¡°Lean forward, please,¡± she asked.

    The peafowl did, the desated corpse of the god on her back jangling forward. Angharad offered a bow.

    ¡°For your fine hospitality I give my thanks, honored elders,¡± she said, and touched the edge of the golden cradle.

    Red stained the metal, though after but a heartbeat the vividness of the color faded.

    ¡°It is but a small offering, but I hope you will have joy of it,¡± Angharad said.

    She bowed again, withdrawing a step, and the mayura¡¯s long neck unbent. The spirit studied her, for a long moment, and then decisively nodded.

    ¡°You¡¯re nice,¡± the mayura decided. ¡°I like you.¡±

    ¡°I like you too,¡± Angharad smiled back.

    The peafowl spirit was dangerous, but so were many of Angharad¡¯spanions. The mayura was not ill-natured, not a drop of malice in her, and for that she had meant her words.

    ¡°You can have my blessing,¡± the peafowl allowed, presenting the top her head.

    The Pereduri paused, unsure what to do.

    ¡°Pet the feathers,¡± the mayura instructed. ¡°They are <em>very </em>soft.¡±

    Angharad could not contain a grin at how proud she sounded of that. With her clean hand she stroked the feathers, the peafowl make noises of approbation. For a second it sounded as if the mayura was whispering something so Angharad leaned closer, but she must have misheard. It was still only that strange purring sound. After a while she ceased, the mayura withdrawing her head.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± the spirit told her. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t die before you die.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Angharad replied, slightly bemused.

    Still, she was in a lighter mood as she parted way with the spirit and caught up to the others. One was waiting for her at the back.

    ¡°Soft touch,¡± Song mocked, a smile tugging at her lips.

    Angharad stared haughtily down at her.

    ¡°Jealousy is unbing of you, Song,¡± she said. ¡°It is not my fault you spurned her blessing when offered.¡±

    ¡°You see right through me,¡± the other woman drily replied, hand over heart.

    They were both grinning by the time they caught up to the rest.

    --

    They went all the way up, feet swallowing the stairs, until they emerged at the heart of the small tower overlooking precipitous heights.

    From there a small wooden bridge filled the gap, taking them to the edge of the great cliffs surrounding the fortress-temple. Forward they went again, eager to find whaty ahead, and as the side of the cliff turned into a massive set of stairs they looked upon the promised Toll Road.

    It looked, Angharad thought, simple enough. At the bottom of the stairs waited a long stone bridge over a rapid river, across which they all saw a riot of lights. Lanterns by the hundreds hanging on what she was moved to see was the end of the cavern, a natural wall. And set into that wall, surrounded by a halo ofnterns, waited a great gate of bronze.

    ¡°Are we clear to cross?¡± Shalini Goel asked, sounding surprised. ¡°I see no shrine left.¡±

    ¡°Look closer at the bridge,¡± Lady Ferranda replied.

    It was only then Angharad noticed them. Markers like those used for miles back in Mn, raised stones. Set in the middle of bridge at precisely equal distance, ten in whole. Someone cursed.

    ¡°Is every stone a test?¡± Lord Zenzele asked.

    The fair-haired infanzona nodded. The mood took a turn, as was only to be expected. To triumph over ten gods was no small order, even for a group such as theirs.

    ¡°That is not the worst part,¡± Ferranda added. ¡°Every time a test is failed, that tenth of the bridge copses into the river. I hear making a leap across one section is feasible, but two?¡±

    She grimaced.

    ¡°Best not lose twice in a row, else we¡¯ll risk swimming.¡±

 Chapter 36

    Chapter 36

    They broke for an early lunch near the bottom of the stairs.

    It felt morbid to Angharad, having a meal looking down at what might be a grave for some of those eating, but she supposed it would have been even worse to stop halfway through the Toll Road and dine <em>over</em>the grave. They split into small groups for their meals of hard bread, cold pork and whatever tepid water they had left in their skins. Talk was quiet, as if the spirits below might be roused by too loud a conversation, and to the noblewoman it all felt like the breath before the storm.

    Only a different storm came calling.

    That Song would sit by her side for the meal was half-expected by now ¨C but only half, it would have been arrogance to go further than that ¨C but it had not been Isabel¡¯s habit to do so unless the meal wasmunal. When the infanzona elegantly sat herself a step lower than them, it came as a surprise. Angharad made herself refrain from noticing how Isabel had unbuttoned her doublet and so her respective heights allowed her a ¡­ plunging view.

    Twice Song looked at Angharad. For a fever dream moment she thought that the other woman was trying to catch her looking, but the mounting incredulousness on the Tianxi¡¯s face finally told her otherwise. Isabel¡¯s idle talk about Izcalli fashions was interrupted by Song¡¯s sharp voice.

    ¡°Ruesta, it would be best for you to eat elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°Are you so ardently in favor of asymmetrical skirts?¡± Isabel replied, cocking an eyebrow. ¡°I had thought better of you.¡±

    Song looked Angharad¡¯s way, as if prompting her to speak, and something of the gesture irked her. She was not a trained parrot, to speak when spurred so that courtiers couldugh. And she had told Isabel, for better or worse, that their te was clean.

    ¡°It is only a meal, Song,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°It is a mistake,¡± Song tly replied. ¡°One you ought to know better than tomit.¡±

    And there the Pereduri was able to muster some steel atst. It was the most foundational of rights of a noble to decide who was allowed to sit at their table. Song was Republican, would not know better, but an unintentional insult was still that.

    ¡°I can decide,¡± Angharad evenly said, ¡°who I eat with.¡±

    <em>And without a vote first</em>, she almost added, but bit down on it. It was unworthy of her and the forbearance that Song had shown her on this isle. The Tianxi¡¯s eyes narrowed nheless. Isabel, ever the peacemaker, attempted to cool the mes.

    ¡°I know we have not been on the best of terms, Song,¡± she said. ¡°But I would make amends. I-¡±

    ¡°You are,¡± the Tianxi rudely interrupted, ¡°every bedside story for Tianxi children made flesh. A useless, grasping thing that draws breath only by taking from those with skill, will or decency. <em>Yiwu</em> in the truest, most fundamental sense of the word.¡±

    ¡°That,¡± Angharad said, ¡°was uncalled for.¡±

    Song turned her silver gaze on her and what the noblewoman saw there gave her pause. She had never seen the Tianxi <em>disappointed</em>before, and it felt like a knife in the belly. Guilt was swift. Rudeness was not to be tolerated, but it was true that this was not nw Hall¡¯s table. Had she not been forcing a guest on Song, herself breaching manners?

    ¡°I can also choose who I eat with, Angharad,¡± Song said, popping thest of her bread in her mouth.

    She swallowed, then rose to her feet.

    ¡°And did.¡±

    Song took up her pack and walked away. Angharad froze, her first instinct to follow but her mind arguing otherwise. Isabel¡¯s eyes found hers and for a searing moment she wondered if this had all been some scheme. If the infanzona¡¯s contract had moved them both somehow, made them-

    ¡°You should go,¡± the infanzona advised. ¡°I did not mean toe between you two, Angharad.¡±

    She then faintly grimaced, looking discreetly around them.

    ¡°And people are already noticing,¡± Isabel said. ¡°It needs to be passed off as trivial.¡±

    It had not even urred to Angharad that eyes would be on them, but now that it did she felt a flush of humiliation. It felt not unlike being pped in public, though it might well be her own palm responsible for the sting on her cheek. She nodded, rising to her feet. Song had hardly gone far, only a few steps away as she checked her munitions and belted her sword properly. The Tianxi did not acknowledge her standing there, so Angharad waited awkwardly for a time before finally clearing her throat.

    ¡°You should finish your meal,¡± Song said. ¡°There will not be another opportunity for hours.¡±

    Angharad could not apologize, for she had not done anything wrong. It would have been slighting her own honor to make apologies for nothing.

    ¡°I did not properly grasp,¡± she finally said, ¡°the depths of your dislike for Lady Isabel. That is my failing.¡±

    Father had taught her that. <em>If you cannot apologize, instead acknowledge a mistake of your making. It will carry much the same meaning and represent a concession besides.</em> She could almost hear his voice, the sound of their boots on the gravel as they strolled around the gardens, and Angharad ached with the loss of it. She would never hear his voice again. Any of their voices.

    ¡°My <em>dislike</em>,¡± Song bit out. ¡°Circle and Gods.¡±

    The Tianxi red up, but she pitched her voice low.

    ¡°You heard the same thing I did, Angharad,¡± Song said. ¡°How her contract works. Why would ever allow her in your presence again, to dig her hooks into your mind?¡±

    ¡°She has admitted her wrongdoings and apologized,¡± Angharad replied. ¡°I cut ties over it, calling our score even.¡±

    ¡°So now she¡¯s making a new score,¡± Song sighed. ¡°Since you have a nk te.¡±

    The noblewoman shuffled ufortably.

    ¡°How do you know she is not using her contract on you?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°I do not,¡± Angharad said. ¡°But the same is true of everyone I have had dealings with. She has demonstrated her contract to me, and though I cannot swear I would be able to tell were it used on me it can only achieve so much.¡±

    ¡°The filter is not the most dangerous part,¡± Song said.

    She paused at Angharad¡¯s open confusion.

    ¡°That is what her contract is,¡± Song said. ¡°A perception filter that lets you see the good and dims the bad.¡±

    The Pereduri frowned.

    ¡°And how would you know that?¡±

    The slightest pause.

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve almost entirely deciphered her contract,¡± Song Ren evenly replied.

    For a moment Angharad thought she had misheard, for what she had just been told was absurd. Decipher another¡¯s contract? Only a god and their contractor could ever know such terms, and it was not as if the pact was some scroll in a library that¡­ Yet Song¡¯s face remained deadly serious, and so Angharad swallowed. She could either call the Tianxi a liar or take her at her word, and Song had never once lied to her.

    ¡°They would kill you for that,¡± she hoarsely said.

    She did not put a name to ¡®they¡¯, for there were too many to count.

    ¡°It is not as rare or potent an ability as you think,¡± Song told her. ¡°There was a contractor at the Old Fort who could do something simr ¨C though by sniffing out the gods.¡±

    ¡°The High Queen¡¯s court employs such bloodhounds by the dozen,¡± Angharad dismissed. ¡°But you speak of <em>deciphering</em> terms, Song.¡±

    Of being able to read some of the most precious, dangerous secrets in all of Vesper simply by being in the same room.

    ¡°And I told you that my pact is not as potent as you think,¡± Song replied. ¡°Deciphering is not an exaggeration ¨C why do you think I learned so manynguages?¡±

    <em>Oh</em>, Angharad thought, and then suddenly it urred to her that Song might be able to see her own contract. <em>No, she told me she cannot read Gwynt</em>, the Pereduri remembered. And surely her contract with the Fisher must be written in the old tongue? She swallowed, knowing that she would only get an answer if she asked.

    ¡°Can you- did you¡­¡±

    ¡°I have the loosest sense of what your contract can achieve,¡± Song said. ¡°But it is very difficult to look at, as if I were reading with my eyes open underwater.¡±

    A heartbeat of hesitation.

    ¡°I have been advised not to look too closely,¡± the Tianxi admitted. ¡°That your gods is¡­ temperamental.¡±

    The Fisher was not, at least in the way the other woman must have meant it. The Fisher was not a thing given to fits of rage, to passing tantrums. The rage in him was old and deep, carved into the bone and unchanging.

    ¡°I have known kinder storms,¡± Angharad quietly said, for she would not say more.

    She sighed, resisting the urge to fiddle with her braids. Mother had always pped her hands when she did, called it an unfortunate habit.

    ¡°I would ask that you keep your knowledge of my contract secret,¡± she stiffly asked.

    It was walking very close to the lines of honor to request such a thing, but it must be done if she was to ever return to the Kingdom of Mn.

    ¡°I am not a gossip,¡± Song said. ¡°Principles aside, to run my mouth in such a way would likely get me killed. Though as I will not speak of your pact, I would ask you extend me the same courtesy.¡±

    Angharad shallowly nodded, suspecting she had not quite hid her relief from the silver gaze.

    ¡°Given what I have told you,¡± Song continued, ¡°I would repeat what I said earlier: the most dangerous part of Ruesta¡¯s contract is not the filter. That is the habit it induces.¡±

    She paused, looking for words.

    ¡°Once you grow used to seeing the good in someone, your mind follows down that road habitually,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°She does<em> need</em> to use her contract constantly, because she has taught everyone around her to assume the best of her actions. Her nk te is favorable.¡±

    Angharad frowned.

    ¡°What you describe,¡± she said, ¡°sounds not unlike trust.¡±

    Keeping faith and doing good deeds resulting in a worthy reputation was not sinister, it was the very nature of civilization. Song looked irritated.

    ¡°Not earned trust,¡± she said. ¡°Fostered.¡±

    Then it was simply giving the benefit of the doubt which Angharad saw nothing all that sinister in either, but she could see saying as much would only further trouble Song. That a contract had been involvedplicated things, but to use one¡¯s reputation was not an evil act. The act of using the contract on another without their knowledge was where the breach of honory, and that part Isabel<em> had</em> addressed.

    ¡°I hear your concerns,¡± Angharad said. ¡°And I would not befortable serving as shield to one intending to use their contract on others.¡±

    ¡°But,¡± Song said.

    ¡°She has sworn not do so, save by ident,¡± the Pereduri said. ¡°And then to reveal her contract publicly once sanctuary is reached.¡±

    Song looked at her for a very long time, silver eyes hooded. What went on behind them she could only guess at, for the other woman¡¯s face was calm as a pond on a windless day.

    ¡°If you hear my concerns, then act on them,¡± Song finally said. ¡°Do not speak to Isabel Ruesta alone.¡±

    It chafed, for someone to try to dictate to her like this, but Angharad swallowed her dislike. It was a request not made high-handed but out of concern for her safety. She could bend her neck that much, so the dark-skinned noble nodded in concession.

    ¡°And once we reach the next sanctuary, please cut ties properly,¡± Song said. ¡°She will have no need of your protection, having that of the ckcloaks, and should face the consequences of her actions without an intercessor.¡±

    Angharad grimaced. A steeper term but not, she thought, one unreasonable to ask. <em>I have no intention of staying long in sanctuary anyhow</em>, she reminded herself. And tempting as the thought was to let Isabel make a private apology now that she knew the contract had little to do with her attraction ¨C a filter could not make something out of nothing ¨C she could not in good conscience linger at sanctuary for that purpose alone. It would be highly frivolous.

    ¡°We will part ways at the sanctuary,¡± she conceded. ¡°And I had no intention of intervening when she is to recover her honor, but should you want me to take an oath I-¡±

    ¡°No need for that,¡± Song said, shaking her head. ¡°Your word is enough.¡±

    How easily that answer came was almost enough to make Angharad feel guilty for what she had done. Namely, cutting out the mention of time from the promise. It was cracking a door slightly open, nothing more. So she told herself. There was still some stiffness between them after that, not every wrinkle smoothed, but Song stood by her side when everyone gathered to take thest steps down together. It would be different now, Angharad thought.

    Thing always were when you realized you could lose something you had taken for granted.

    ¡ª

    The stone marker stood tall as a man and about as broad.

    It was bare of carvings and adornment, nothing more than a roughly hewn b of granite standing sentinel as the entrance of the bridge. Angharad could hear the roiling current of the river below, see white foam and sharp rocks bathed in golden light from above. Ferranda had told them that to fail a test was for a tenth of the bridge to fall below and Angharad saw only death in those waters. <em>If we lose twice in a row, we are finished.</em> It would be too broad a gap to cross, even with ropes.

    As the survivors ¨C all fourteen of them ¨C stood before the marker, there was a heartbeat of hesitation. Who was to be the first of those not yet crowned victors? Song had removed herself from that list, and quite boldly, so the eyes went to those that remained: Lan, Brun, Yaretzi, Cozme Aflor and Lady Ferranda. Angharad hid her surprise at who took the initiative.

    ¡°I shall take the vanguard, then,¡± Cozme Aflor said, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Wish me luck.¡±

    Courage, Angharad thought, from one she had not expected to have such a virtue. Yet he must be a coward at heart, for why else would he have returned to Augusto Cerdan¡¯s side? If the mangled infanzon was worried at the notion of losing his protector, it did not show. Augusto¡¯s face was a study of nonchnce.

    ¡°Try not to die,¡± Tupoc casually replied. ¡°It would be inconvenient to have to pull out all the stops as early as the second test.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re all heart, Xical,¡± the man snorted, stroking his moustache.

    He stepped forward onto the bridge, and the air shivered. They could see all that followed clearly, for though all had put away theirnterns ¨C the few real ones, but also the iron things the Watch had gifted them ¨C the golden light of the machine above made it look like a strange summer day.

    The stone cracked, a creature ripping itself free of the cracks. It was a centipede, a filthy horror all crawling legs andrge as a man¡¯s torso. The legs gotrger as they went up and ended in a head of twisted curved mandibles ¨C it looked like a skull atop a ribcage, though all of it carapaced sordidness.

    Cozme, to his honor, did not flinch.

    ¡°God of thend, I greet you,¡± the older man said.

    ¡°Pick a weapon,¡± the spirit said, its voice like plunging your hand in a pit of maggots. ¡°Wield and face it: y my puppet to win passage.¡±

    The older man remained silent for a time, then sighed.

    ¡°Knife,¡± he said.

    Not a respectable weapon, but then Cozme had proved to be anything but.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± the spiritughed.

    Cozme Aflor loosened his sword belt, dropping it on the stone floor, then his pistol and powder followed. It was the long knife strapped to his side he drew, the shine of fine Someshwari steel catching the golden light from above. Yet Angharad¡¯s eye was on the spirit instead, who was shaking and twisting as it vomited a river of filth. Bile and mucus full of squirming, foul things shaped themselves into a man inch by inch. Cozme¡¯s height and build were matched, the spirit atst spewing out something like chitin that the puppet took in hand. Threading fingers through the filth, the silhouette shaped the material into a mirror of Cozme¡¯s own knife as if it were y to be molded.

    The older man spat to the side.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse in the Murk,¡± Cozme said. ¡°Try harder.¡±

    ¡°Begin,¡± the spirit hissed.

    Both struck.

    Before the second pass had ended, Angharad knew why Cozme had chosen the knife. She had seen him shoot a pistol and in passing use a sword, but he was nowhere as deft a hand with them as he was the sharp length in his hand. It was a brutal bout, more like the tangle of back-alley cats than an honor duel: Cozme struck with his fists as well as his knife, gouged eyes and on the third pass ended up rolling on the floor with the horror trying to choke it out. Even as cuts opened the skin of both, bile and blood spilling in a foul puddle, the mustachioed soldier did not flinch even when the puppet¡¯s features turned into a nest of screeching centipedes.

    He cut and gouged and choked, until they were on their feet again and swinging.

    The cut that ended the fight was the costliest. Cozme slid under the monster¡¯s guard, striking its chin with his palm and rocking it back as it swung past him ¨C then he closed in, ramming his knife into the puppet¡¯s throat and ripping it open, but the creature pressed against him and stabbed into his back. It struck again and again, wailing away the flesh until Cozme¡¯s knife was all the way through its throat and the head came tumbling down.

    It copsed back into the vileness the spirit had spewed out, drenching the soldier who roared out a curse, but the puppet was done. Cozme ripped out the chitin knife yet stuck in him and threw it over the edge of the bridge.

    ¡°Told you,¡± he panted out.

    ¡°Shame how bile got in the wounds,¡± Tupoc idly noted. ¡°If Tredegar had not gotten our friend Tristan killed, he might have seen to that.¡±

    Angharad ignored the insult and the bickering that followed it, eyes staying on Cozme. He had been stabbed five times, but with his coat she could not tell how deep it had gone. He still seemed able to move his arm, at least. Yet blood loss alone would ensure he was far from at his best. That was a loss, for the purpose of crossing the bridge.

    It was a gain for when the time woulde for Augusto Cerdan¡¯s end to find him.

    The spirit whose blunt test they had beaten did not deign to humor them with a confirmation, instead slithering back into the crack it had emerged from. Yet the bridge did not copse when they gingerly began to walk, as in a crowning as they would get. Cozme hung back, Augusto helping him dress his wounds, and Angharad avoided both. In time she would face them both, but until then it was beneath her to loom like some sort of scavenger and pick at the their wounds. She joined the gathering before the second stone marker instead.

    ¡°I will take the second,¡± Brun told everyone.

    Some murmurs of approval.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± Lan sweetly said, smiling very wide.

    It was heartening, Angharad thought, to see some fineradery between Sacromontans after all the backbiting of their infanzones. The pair must have been friends.

    This time the spirit was not so unpleasant to behold: when the stone cracked, what emerged was almost human. It looked like a smooth, genderless child whose face was wrinkled with old age. It spoke in a voice sweet as the flowing of water, offering its test.

    ¡°I will run around my part of the bridge, screaming,¡± the spirit said. ¡°You must touch me with a hand to win. You have nine hundred breaths to do so.¡±

    Brun carefully ensured that the spirit would be tangible, then haggled the terms. The strange spirit refused to remove the time limit but conceded that in exchange it would not seize Brun¡¯s soul should he lose, only if he died during the test. It seemed well-bargained to Angharad, but of course it was not so simple as that: within a heartbeat of the test beginning, the spirit turned invisible. It took Brun by surprise, the fair-haired man having pped his hands over his ears ¨C perhaps in a anticipation of the spirit¡¯s screaming being harmful.

    It had been her guess as well.

    Angharad was not the one taking the test, so it might be different for her, but as far as she could tell the only harmful thing about the screams was that they were so exaggerated it sounded like the spirit was making sport of them

    Still, though the creature was invisible it made noise and the touch of its feet on the floor could barely be made out. Brun had his contract as well, though by the way the Sacromontan began blindly reaching into thin air Angharad suspected his power could not detect the spirit at all. Yet for all the difficulties the man was clever and quick ¨C only he seemed inexplicably clumsy today, as if his limbs had slowed. It was a small thing, but always he seemed to miss the screaming and giggling spirit by inches. Was the creature using some sort of power to slow him?

    It was near the end of the time that the test turned dangerous. The spirit began to hide near the edge of the bridge, and it baited Brun near the edge again and again ¨C twice it tried to kick him down into the waters, the second time almost seeding.

    By the time the nine hundredth breath had passed, the spirit had not been caught.

    ¡°Missed me,¡± itughed,ing back into sight for a moment long enough to grin.

    A tenth of the bridge copsed under it, falling chunk by chunk. Angharad ran to the edge even as Brun did the same, the fair-haired man leaping as his footing disappeared under him ¨C she caught his arm, grunting as she dragged him forward. His knees still hit the edge of the bridge, no doubt bruising them, but Angharad got him back on the bridge. They both copsed on the floor and Brun rolled away, revealing a face that still seemed calm even havinge so very close to dying.

    It was, she thought, impressive nerve on the man¡¯s part.

    ¡°Congrattions, rat,¡± Augusto Cerdan drawled. ¡°You are our first failure of the day.¡±

    Angharad turned a cool gaze on him.

    ¡°Worry not, Lord Augusto,¡± she said. ¡°You will always be such in my eyes, no matter the date.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Zenzele chortled, and he was not alone.

    Augusto was not beloved. Eyes turned to the newly formed gap, after that, and though some ¨C Tupoc and Lan ¨C suggested the leap could be made without help others prevailed on a hook and rope being used. It took a quarter hour to fix two hooks against the stone on the other side of the bridge, but after that the crossing on two parallel ropes was not all that difficult. The cautious crossed on all fours, the rest trusted their footing.

    All were aware that a second defeat in a row might well kill them all, so there was no talk of anyone taking up the test before its nature was revealed.

    The stone cracked and two wriggling shapes shot out, unfolding like paper cranes. Angharad winced at the sight of them, for the pair of spirits she beheld wore the shape of the dead. With bulging eyes, skin gone grey and their too-long ghastly tongues hanging loose the spirits looked like hanging victims. Both held onto the stone marker with sharp fingernails, swaying as they considered their supplicants.

    ¡°y with us,¡± the spirit to the left said.

    It choked on its tongue as it spoke, and the sound would have beenical if not for the ugly rasp to the words. Like rope coiling tight, like gulping at air that would note.

    ¡°Twoe to y,¡± the spirit to the right said. ¡°Xiao Xiantiao. A strike to the face for every missed p, and no one can step in.¡±

    Unease spread like malignant air as Angharad shot a nce at Song, hoping for a trantion. The Tianxi frowned.

    ¡°It means ¡®little lines¡¯,¡± she said. ¡°But I do not know the meaning.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a children¡¯s pping game in the Republics.¡±

    Gazes swiveled to the speaker: Yaretzi, who looked ufortable at the weight of the attention she was receiving. She toyed with one of her turquoise earrings.

    ¡°I am surprised you never heard of the game,¡± Yaretzi continued, cocking an eyebrow at Song. ¡°I was taught of it because how staggeringlymon it is over all of Tianxia.¡±

    ¡°I had a strict upbringing,¡± Song admitted.

    That felt like a very long story forced into a very short sentence, Angharad thought. Eyes moved to Lan, whoughed.

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t you fine folk re at me,¡± the blue-lipped woman said. ¡°I¡¯ve got the Tianxi look, but I was born in Sacromonte. We yed p-a-liar like all the other kids.¡±

    What a horrifying name. Yaretzi cleared her throat.

    ¡°I believe the game is also called the mp song¡¯ around the Trebian Sea,¡± she said. ¡°The words are different in Antigua, but not the rhythm and movements.¡±

    That found purchase.

    ¡°I know that one,¡± Acanthe Phos called out. ¡°Used to y it with my brothers.¡±

    ¡°It will have to be the two of us, then,¡± Yaretzi said. ¡°Unless we are to teach the game to others?¡±

    ¡°I am not sure that would be wise,¡± Song said. ¡°pping games are rote repetition, no?¡±

    Meaning even someone with finer reflexes might not do as well as someone who simply knew the order of movements down to not needing thought.

    ¡°I take it the game is moreplex than simply pping left and right?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°There¡¯s two sequences with up, down and a finger snap,¡± Yaretzi replied. ¡°Then for the second part you do them the opposite way.¡±

    ¡°It sounds risky for someone new to learn them, then,¡± Angharad opined.

    There was some argument ¨C Lord Zenzele suggested that Shalini and her unnaturally quick hands might be a sure bet, until she asserted that her contract might instead make her the single less suited person present ¨C but eventually it was agreed that Yaretzi and Lady Acanthe would be their champions. After that it was only a matter of being cautious. They asked that the spirits demonstrate the game with each other, to make sure it was the same they knew, and then settled the stakes.

    So long as one finished the game and forfeit without dying, the spirits agreed, the test would be considered as passed. Only in exchange for that they demanded should either Yaretzi or Acanthe miss five ps in a row, theirntern would be forfeit. Understandably, neither was pleased by this.

    ¡°It is the best deal we are likely to get,¡± Lady Ferranda said.

    ¡°Easy to say, when your soul is not on the line,¡± Acanthe bit back.

    ¡°You would do well,¡± Zenzele Duma mildly said, ¡°not to confuse patience with forgiveness, Lady Acanthe. You will have none of that from me after the Trial of Lines ¨C or from most standing here, I think.¡±

    The e-scarreddy red at them all, then grit her teeth.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. But I am already a victor and now risking myself a second time ¨C in exchange, I must not be called upon for another test until we reach the end of the maze.¡±

    Some tried to argue against, but it was half-hearted work. Angharad though it a reasonable demand and so she bent her neck along the others. The pair stepped forward to face the spirits, who crawled all the way out of their marker to sit down on the ground. Their loose, wide-sleeved grey coats pooled on the floor as they tucked in their long-nailed teeth underneath the fold of blue robes ending at their ankles. Settling face-to-face, the pairs stilled and began to y.

    The trick used by the spirits should have been obvious, but Angharad had not thought of it: though their hands moved unerringly both began singing a different song.

    Neither was the right song.

    Acanthe, taken aback, missed two ps in a row before catching up. It was Yaretzi that helped her, loudly singing the true tune as she kept going. The diplomat, Angharad was impressed to see, had not missed a beat. After that the spirits began to pull every trick they could. They slowed or quickened their hands, presented the grim sight of their heads turning all the way around, threw mockery and insults. Twice more Acanthe missed ps, and Yaretzi finally missed as well.

    The rest of them hung on to every gesture, knowing there was nothing at all they could do. The most prudent among them retreated close to the gap, perhaps intending on attempting a leap back if the test was failed. Angharad doubted it would amount to anything. Besides, for all that now and then a beat was missed neither seemed anywhere near the five in a row that would lose their soul. They need only until-

    The first sign something went wrong was when Acanthe winced after a particrly hard p. The spirit facing her leaned in, leering, and struck even harder ¨C it got a yelp of pain out of the noble girl. Angharad could only gawk at the sight. It had been a hard p, but surely not enough to hurt Acanthe. Had her hand already been wounded? Only it was both hands that had her moaning as the spirit began putting its back into the ps, until with a sickening sound Acanthe Phos¡¯ left wrist snapped.

    Cleanly broken. <em>Her contract¡¯s price</em>, Angharad thought. <em>Has to be</em>. No one alive had bones so weak.

    ¡°Keep going,¡± Yaretzi hissed. ¡°They only need five to-¡±

    One p missed, two, three, four ¨C and Acanthe dragged up her broken hand, screaming as the p rippled down her arm. She barely managed another p after that, weeping and gibbering, and missed three more after. Again her bad hand went up, a scream ripping itself clear of her throat as the spirit mmed its palm against hers, but while she began missing ps again Yaretzi finished a discordantly cheerful rhyme in Cathayan and the game ended. Angharad breathed out.

    Never five in a row. Acanthe Phos would keep her soul.

    ¡°Good, good,¡± the spirit to the left said. ¡°Lovely game. The forfeits now, yes?¡±

    The one to the right struck without warning, its knuckle catching Acanthe in the chin. She fell back, screaming more in surprise than pain. Yaretzi took her own blow more carefully, rolling with it. The difference in training showed. Acanthe was struck again while on the ground, right in the eye ¨C it was certain to cken ¨C and then Yaretzi got her turn again. It was, however, thest blow the Izcalli diplomat would get. She had only missed two ps.

    Acanthe Phos had missed many more than that.

    It would have been too much of apliment to call what followed an execution. It was a murder, nothing more than that, brutal and drawn out and gleefully done. They all watched in anguished silence as the spirits toyed with their victim, changing who held her down and who struck. After five blows, Acanthe¡¯s face was a bloody mess.

    By the eight it was beyond bruised flesh, her nose broken and cartge peeking out.

    On the ninth her cheekbone broke.

    On the tenth she lost her eye and began choking on her own blood.

    The spirits waited after that, Acanthe¡¯s head in one¡¯sp as she gurgled and died.

    ¡°Finish yourst blow, you foul things,¡± Angharad snarled. ¡°Eleven is all you won.¡±

    Laughter.

    ¡°We never said how long between blows,¡± a spirit said. ¡°Wait and see.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t the blood that killed Acanthe, at least not the bloodshe was choking on. She began convulsing, something in her skull broken from a blow, and died with a intive wheeze. And as thest breath left her, the spirit to the right gently flicked her cheek with a sharp nail.

    ¡°Eleven,¡± it said. ¡°One survived. You may pass, now.¡±

    They went back into their stone, bellies full, and silence reigned in their wake.

    Angharad closed Acanthe¡¯s eyes and Song helped her throw the body into the river after so that carrion would not pick at it.

    It was little, but all they had to give.

    ¡ª

    The spirit that awaited beyond was a fox in silver, its brisk manners wee after the sordidness of thest test.

    ¡°Thrice will I release birds,¡± the fox said. ¡°Only one will be true, and this one you must y before it flees beyond your reach.¡±

    A hunter¡¯s challenge and hunter stepped forward to meet it: Lady Ferranda Vizur, her musket already in hand, imed the test. She haggled only a little with the fox spirit, which had Angharad frowning. Better terms might have been had with a little effort, as they stood they were quite vague and ¨C ah, she finally thought. Song had idlye to stand a few feet behind Ferranda, and the ploy was made clear. The spirit released five gulls from its back, the lovely things images in perfect silver taking flight.

    ¡°Second from the left,¡± Song stated.

    A flint struck, powder burned, the gull dropped and already Ferranda was reloading her musket.

    ¡°That is not the spirit of the test,¡± the fox insisted.

    ¡°It is not against its rules, god of thend,¡± Ferranda tly replied. ¡°Again.¡±

    Irked, the spirit no longer showed restraint. It was a dozen small birds that erupted from its back in a flock, silver sparrows, but again Song called the shot and Ferranda took it. The spirit only grew angrier, thest time unleashing a veritable swarm of birds of all shapes and sizes. That proved to be a mistake, for the differences made the target even easier to call.

    ¡°Cormorant, middle left,¡± Song said.

    The fox was gone before the dead bird even hit the ground, angrily burrowing back into its stone. How thoroughly the test had been beaten brought back some boldness to their lot, straightening backs, but Angharad thought it would take more than a single victory to erase the shadow left by Acanthe¡¯s brutal death.

    ¡°Eleven victors, now,¡± Tupoc noted. ¡°Almost halfway through and we can still afford a corpse.¡±

    Unpleasant as his words were, they were true enough no one took him to task over them.

    The fifth of the ten markers was inhabited by the most unsettling spirit yet. It was a two-headed snake, its scales a vivid green and red, but it was not the reptile that spoke to them: when those fanged maws opened, they revealed the small heads of infants inside.

    ¡°A simple game,¡± the serpent said.

    It slithered along the ground, oil trailing in its wake and slowlying to trace a perfect grid of ten by ten, covering all of its section of the bridge save for a few feet across.

    ¡°Two y,¡± the serpent spirit said. ¡°You can cross when there are no eyes on you, but when there are you cannot. If you are caught moving, you are thrown back ten feet. You have seven hundred breaths to cross.¡±

    Ishaan immediately hemmed in on the loophole she had.

    ¡°And will you stand at the same ce the entire time?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I will not move,¡± the serpent conceded.

    Not impossible, then, though no doubt there would be some sort of trick to it.

    ¡°Seems like my kind of game,¡± Lan easily said, stepping forward.

    ¡°One,¡± the serpent said.

    ¡°Come now, not so fast,¡± the blue-lipped woman said. ¡°Thest time a test had a set amount of time, the god did not get a soul out of a loss ¨C only a death. It seems only fair for the same terms to apply again.¡±

    ¡°Insolent rat,¡± the serpent spirit scathingly replied.

    ¡°You have me dead to rights,¡± Lan grinned. ¡°And I¡¯m no great athlete either, easy to catch. I¡¯d be splendid fodder, if you bothered to lure me in properly.¡±

    The infant¡¯s mouth inside the maw pulled into a pout, which had Angharad shivering in disgust. It was tempted, though, and conceded in exchange for the concession that standing on a line would also be enough to get you thrown back ten feet. The terms were agreed to by the second who would take the test: Augusto Cerdan. It was with narrowed eyes that Angharad watched him step forward. What did the infanzon gain by this? He was already a victor and taking risks would win him no friends.

    Or <em>was </em>he a victor? Augusto might be nobly born, but he had no honor. He might well have lied about a victory to save his life. Yet he would have needed to fool not only her but also Tupoc who ¨C who was frowning at the infanzon, looking surprised for once. <em>It does not matter anyway</em>, Angharad reminded herself. <em>We are under truce until the tests are done.</em>

    ¡°Prepare yourself,¡± the serpent spirit said. ¡°We begin.¡±

    The two positioned themselves at the edge of a line, preparing to move. The snake turned its head and they shot forward, only gaining half a foot before it turned back. Neither were standing on a line.

    ¡°Tricky, tricky,¡± the spiritined. ¡°Again.¡±

    It turned and again the pair moved, only a heartbeatter both went flying ¨C thrown back by an invisible force.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Lanined, dusting herself off as she rose. ¡°Your eyes weren¡¯t on us.¡±

    ¡°Did I say anything about <em>my </em>eyes?¡± the serpent spirit smiled with a toddlers¡¯ mouth.

    It was then Angharad realized that the other she could no longer see the other head.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Song quietly said. ¡°They¡¯re two spirits, not one.¡±

    The Tianxi was right: the second head had split into another snake entirely, now standing on another side of the grid. It grinned at them all as Angharad went back over the wording of the terms in her mind. The spirit was right, it had never specified only its eyes would count and promised only it would not move from its position. As was often the way with spirits, though, they did not make the bargain impossible to fulfill. The snakes left slight openings for the pair to advance, slight but enough that the pair could gain an inch or two at a time.

    Only they needed to maneuver precisely every time and ten sesses were tenfold undone by a single mistake.

    Whichever spirit caught them threw them back in the direction opposite them with that invisible force, and as the pair were toyed with by the creatures Angharad began to glimpse the enemy¡¯s n. Lan and Augusto were caught more often by the snake on the side, slowly moved to the left edge of the grid.

    The same that ended mere feet away from a bridge with no railing.

    ¡°One must love the Trebian Sea,¡± Lord Zenzele snorted. ¡°The only ce in all the world where it is the fish that fish <em>you</em>.¡±

    Angharad might have felt a sliver of amusement, if it were only Augusto¡¯s life on the line. Lan, though, did not deserve such an end. The pair realized their trouble soon enough, taking greater care with the spirit on the side, but there was only so much they could do.

    ¡°Caught you,¡± the spirit crooned, and Angharad saw their newest trick.

    It was only the snake on the side that would catch the pair stepping on a line, forcing them to the side. And Lan was shoved roughly ten feet nearer to the edge, half fingers¡¯ width away from the furthest line of the grid. One more mistake and she¡¯d be over the edge.

    She went very, very still.

    ¡°You bitch,¡± Augusto snarled. ¡°You can¡¯t wait the test out, we¡¯ll both-¡±

    He went flying as well,nding on his knees but a foot behind Lan. He swallowed his words, face gone pale. Neither moved, but knowing they were a single mistake away from death. Only neither of their poses were all thatfortable ¨C Augusto was sitting on the back of his own foot ¨C and the gazes of the serpents stayed on them unblinking. They could breathe, if shallowly, but not even swallow. The gazes went away and Lan swallowed, but Augusto was bolder ¨C he unfolded his leg, which he had been sitting on.

    The spirit on the side turned its gaze back on him before he could finish, leaving him stuck halfway. He froze, did not move an inch, but his leg began to tremble. The pose was too hard to maintain. The trembling a little, at first, but it got worse. He was shaking. With a scream of terror, Augusto Cerdan toppled to the side and the spirit screeched in glee through a toddler¡¯s lips.

    A heartbeatter he was over the edge.

    Angharad, rope in hand, stepped forward. In the water she could see the infanzon, how he hadnded on one of the rocks in the rapids ¨C he screamed like a seagull, impaled through the side and only that slow death keeping the current from sweeping him away to a faster one.

    ¡°Cozme,¡± Augusto screamed. ¡°Cozme, <em>help</em>.¡±

    The mustachioed man looked over the edge, stood there for a long time, then shook his head.

    ¡°You won¡¯t survive that,¡± he replied. ¡°Best go with the current, Augusto. It will be faster.¡±

    ¡°You fucking cock,¡± the infanzon shouted. ¡°Your traitor. Isabel, ISABEL ¨C throw me a rope, I order you.¡±

    Isabel Ruesta walked away, out of his sight. She looked distressed.

    ¡°Tredegar,¡± Augusto tried, growing panicked. ¡°You can¡¯t leave me to die, there¡¯s no honor in this, there is-¡±

    Angharad met his eyes, for a long moment, and thought of that night in the woods when he had fired the pistol. Tried to kill half of them so he might live a little longer.

    She looked away.

    By the time the span of the test ended, the screams had turned to sobs. When the portion of the bridge began to copse Angharad threw Lan the rope and dragged her up with Ferranda¡¯s help. The stone falling in the river drowned out even Augusto¡¯s sobs, and then there was nothing heard from him at all. Buried in stone and water, not even his corpse was there to be seen.

    They set up the ropes and crossed again.

    ¡ª

    The sixth marker cracked open to reveal what Angharad thought to be a headless dog, until it rose on its back feet and revealed its stomach was a froglike face.

    ¡°I will release a fly,¡± the spirit said. ¡°The first to catch it wins.¡±

    Shalini stepped forward, grim-faced.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that one,¡± she said.

    No one contested her, as the superficial of her contract were an open secret.

    Bargaining was brisk and sessful. The spirit opened its mouth, spitting out a fly the size of a bullet, and as it buzzed away Shalini shot the spirit in the eye faster than Angharad could follow. It screamed in anger, turning on her, but she ignored it and shot forward herself. It was a harsh trade: just before Shalini¡¯s fingers closed around the fly, the spirit¡¯s long barbed tongue darted out and ripped into her shoulder. The spirit cursed around its own tongue, lips pping, but there was no denying the fly was in the Someshwari¡¯s hand.

    ¡°We¡¯re done,¡± she grunted. ¡°Get that goddamn tongue out of me.¡±

    Her lips thinned until they turned bloodless as the spirit did exactly as she had asked, none too gently. The barbs, Angharad saw, did more damage on the way out than they had going in. <em>The wound is still shallow</em>, she thought. <em>It was meant to inflict pain, not cripple</em>. Had Shalini Goel used her contract once or twice, Angharad wondered? That shot had been too quick to be anything but that, but her hand when she had snatched the fly had been barely any slower.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Lan faintly said from behind her. ¡°That can¡¯t be good.¡±

    Angharad followed the Tianxi¡¯s eyes and went still. The spirit they had just beaten had not even returned to its stone yet already the marker ahead of them had cracked open ¨C revealing some sort of cat made of worms.

    So had the two markers beyond that one, their spiritsing out.

    A spirit shaped like skinless, one-legged man let out a resounding scream and only ceased when the worm-cat leaped at its throat and tried to rip into it. Thest spirit, a ck horse whose back turned into a spider¡¯s, struck at both with its hooves.

    Lord Ishaan had imed that Shalini¡¯s contract drew attention, Angharad recalled as she watched the spirits begin to tear into each other. Her use of it so close when they were starved must have whipped them into a frenzy.

    ¡°Well now,¡± Tupoc drawled. ¡°That <em>does </em>simply things.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Song suddenly said. ¡°Look at the bridge.¡±

    Cracks were spreading, Angharad saw. Every time a spirit tore into another, wounded what they were, the part of the bridge their marker held together began to break.

    ¡°We need to run,¡± she said. ¡°<em>Now</em>.¡±

    Within three steps the first chunk of bridge had fallen.

    Angharad glimpsed ahead, taking a hard left when she saw she¡¯d been about to fall into the river as a hole opened in the floor. Ishaan looked about to tip over the edge so she yanked him back, then dragged him along with her. The man tried to thank her but she kept moving. Cracks spread, louder and louder as the bridge began copsing behind them. It was blind, heedless run forward that Angharad broke only by feverish glimpses forward ¨C never more than half a second, taking hard turns to avoid death.

    The cat spirit let out a scream as its head was gobbled down by the horse-spider, its entire chunk of the bridge falling down behind them.

    ¡°Go, go, go,¡± Angharad exhorted the others.

    By the time they¡¯d reached the brawling pair, the skinless man was biting into the other¡¯s flesh with toorge square teeth. It turned when Shalini approached, as if drawn by the feel of her, but the other spirit used the distraction to cave in its bare ribs. The bridge ahead of them began to copse but they were already there, already running and¡­

    Angharad leapt, shouting at the top of her lungs, and the others followed behind.

    Shended on her belly, chin hitting the stone painfully, and barely got out of the way before Tupded in a crouch where her legs had been. Angharad hastily rose to her feet, counting the survivors, and as the number rose her hopes did ¨C ten, eleven, <em>twelve</em>. They had all made it, she realized in a moment of pure joy as she watched Lady Ferranda drag Shalini up from the ledge she¡¯d been hanging onto.

    ¡°Sleeping God,¡± she smiled. ¡°We-¡±

    A cracking sound interrupted her, whisking away the joy.

    She turned, hand on her sword, as the marked revealed thest spirit. Thest test. Her belly clenched in anticipation. It was not as wrong as some of the others, not wicked or warped. The spirit looked almost like a whale that had grown four legs, all pale wet flesh ¨C though it was smaller than any whale known to man, barely the size of a horse. Its breathing was loud, and when it opened its mouth it was to reveal rows on rows of teeth so fine they looked like hair.

    ¡°Two must face me and not bleed,¡± the spirit said. ¡°Until you have wounded me thrice. Any who bleed before then surrender theirntern.¡±

    The voice was slow,zy, and Angharad blinked away a wave of exhaustion as her veins suddenly cooled. The Fisher was not pleased by the other spirit¡¯s encroachment, she could tell. It would only grow angrier if the spirit persisted, she thought, and so that made her a natural choice for this test.

    ¡°I will make one,¡± Angharad said, stepping forward.

    ¡°And I the second.¡±

    Her jaw clenched as Tupoc Xical swaggered up, spear on his shoulder. For all her hatred of the man, he was a skilled fighter. If there was to be a test of martial strength, she would not turn him away. Pushing aside her reluctance, she acknowledged him with a nod. He returned it, along with a smirk that had her considering throttling.

    ¡°Let us discuss terms, honored elder,¡± Angharad said.

    The spirit was not interested in trading time for fewer hits, or making assurances too precise about what it might use to pursue them. It only conceded it would not shrink the space of the bridge.

    ¡°There will be a trick to hitting it,¡± Tupoc told her.

    ¡°I expect there will be,¡± Angharad said, and breathed in.

    (Angharad Tredegar and Tupoc Xical epted the terms, beginning the test.

    The spirit was quick for its size, charging without batting an eye, but neither its opponents were amateurs. They danced around it as it struck with tail and grasping maw, Tupoc scoring a blow on its side. Only the flesh did not part. The spirit brushed against Angharad a heartbeatter and a spear wound erupted into her side, surrendering her soul. She forced herself to continue, to buy passage for the others. Twice she struck at the spirit, now with nothing to lose ¨C first managing a deep sh into the side that parted no flesh, and then an enraged thrust as the spirit¡¯s forehead.

    Which parted flesh like a wide, deep sh.)

    Angharad breathed out, shivering for the sudden cold in her veins.

    ¡°Do not let it touch you, not even in passing,¡± she ordered.

    ¡°I love it when you give me orders, Tredegar,¡± Tupoc replied, winking at her.

    She ignored that. The spirit¡¯s power was the dy of one wound, Angharad decided. Only while the wound was being dyed, the spirit could give it to one of them instead through contact. A difficult trick to beat if you were unaware of it. Lucky for them, they were not.

    The spirit was as quick as it had been in her vision, but not quicker than her.

    Cold burned in her veins, keeping exhaustion at bay, and whatever god had blessed Tupoc it seemed no more inclined to let the Izcalli be slowed down. Angharad yed the bait, slowing until the spirit charged, and only ran when it had begun to move. The creature slid, trying to turn to catch her, and that was enough od an opening for Tupoc to peck at its back. The Pereduri hazarded a shallow sh as she cut close to the spirit, earning a shallow thrust wound for her trouble, and Tupoc¡¯s pale gaze fell right on it.

    The Izcalli figured it out in a heartbeat, not needing a word.

    After that, they made sport of their enemy. It moved predictably enough, slowing only to swat with its tail and snapping its mouth whenever they came close, which let Tupoc blind an eye ¨C turning into her shallow sh ¨C and even as the spirit roared in anger Angharad ducked under a tail swing to rise into a smooth pivot. She cut through the side of the tail with a textbook perfect cut, though it only unleashed a pierced hole into the flesh.

    It was, however, undeniably a third wound.

    The spirit turned on them in a fury.

    ¡°You tricked me,¡± it used.

    ¡°I did not fall prey to your tricks,¡± Angharad inly corrected. ¡°Your wrath rings hollow, honored elder.¡±

    She walked right past the spirit, ignoring Tupoc¡¯s delightedugh, and went to im the prize promised her: a way out of the nightmare.

    ¡ª

    The end. They¡¯d finally got to the end of the maze, damn the blood-hungry thing.

    Sweat pouring down her back, Angharad climbed the wide stairs and found she barely begrudged Tupoc¡¯s presence at her side. He too was a victor twice over. She could return to despising him when he next opened his mouth. The gentle slope ended on t grounds in the uneven make of nature¡¯s hand, the old cavern floor bereft of so much as a speck of life. There were only two things here: a wall of hangingnterns and a gate.

    There must have been hundreds of thenterns, thousands ¨C and though many were of the same cheap iron stock the Watch had given them at the Old Fort, not all were. There was brass and bronze, borate silver filigree and even an exquisite thing of sculpted ss shaped like a flower. The mes were pale and they burned even though not allnterns had wick or air. Angharad could not decide which was more unsettling: the unnaturalness of that, or that not all mes burned even. Some were bright, others guttering out. Were there othernterns gone dark, just out of sight?

    Shaking herself out of the musings, the Pereduri moved her eye back to the gate. It had seemed tall from a distance, but from here it was outright colossal. Tall as three dozen men, half as broad, and its curved head ended in a great lion¡¯s head holding a knocker in its mouth. Angharad looked for a hinge or a keyhole, but all the great panes of bronze disyed was borate wrought iron patterns of curving snakes and flowers.

    ¡°The floor, Tredegar,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°Unless you intend on gawping all night?¡±

    Angharad duly resumed despising him, as had been foretold. He was not wrong about the floor, however: there were circles of bronze set in it, themselves tracing a greater circle before the gate. Ten circles, to be precise, and that could not be a coincidence. Their slowing gait had allowed the first of the others to catch up, so Lord Zenzele soon let out a sigh as he caught up to her.

    ¡°Would it have killed that fat Tianxi to tell us what precisely was needed to open the gate?¡± he said. ¡°I must confess I am not greatly in the mood for a spot of ult mystery.¡±

    ¡°The Watch did tell us.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s gaze slid to the speaker, who she had not expected toe forward on her own. Lan looked as exhausted as she herself felt, but her eyes were sharp.

    ¡°A bold im,¡± Zenzele Duma said. ¡°Do borate.¡±

    ¡°They gave us one thing before we set out,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°You think it¡¯s a coincidence they¡¯re also hanging off the wall here, Mni?¡±

    The blue-lipped woman cleared her throat.

    ¡°Lady Tredegar, would you please ce yourntern in one of the circles?¡±

    Angharad frowned, but she could see no reason to refuse. Though the ckcloaks had said thentern touched with their blood was for spirits to find them in the aether ¨C and feed on them should they lose ¨C the golden light of the aetheric machine above would prevent such mischief. She walked to the closest bronze circle even as she went through her pack, lightly setting thentern down in the middle. She stepped back afterwards, wary, but nothing at all happened. Three heartbeats passed.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d have taunted me by now,¡± Lan candidly admitted to Zenzele.

    ¡°I thought to wait for Ferranda so-¡±

    A me, pale and bright, suddenly lit up inside Angharad¡¯sntern.

    ¡°That is to say,¡± Lord Zenzele corrected midstride, ¡°well done, Lan, capital work.¡±

    By now the others had caught up, and the method wasid out other victors began to set down their ownntern. Isabel was the first after Angharad, and the Pereduri kept her eye on the gate as the infanzona¡¯sntern lit up. No movement at all. They had precisely ten victors out of their survivors, so tennterns were set down. Ishaan¡¯s was thest, and it was ced within the circle Angharad idly glimpsed ahead.

    /A me within the iron, the lionhead¡¯s mouth opening, the mes winking out and then nothing./

    She swallowed her fear. The mirror-dancer bared her de even as the bronze lionhead came to life, eyes turning to her. Then then the golden light above, their constantpanion, went out like a snuffed candle. The barest instant after, so did the hundreds ofnterns on the wall.

    Angharad had not seen nothing, she realized, but the dark.

    Shouts of fear and dismay echoed, des being bared and even a shot fired blindly ¨C or perhaps not so blindly, as the sound of a bullet on metal echoed. Had Shalini snapped a shot? If she had, it did not stop the spirit in the gate for they all heard something massivending before them.

    ¡°Gets yournterns out,¡± Angharad shouted. ¡°Your real ones.¡±

    It was a madman¡¯s whirl after that, everyone scattering as the spirit charged ¨C feeling so muchrger than it had as a mere head, even were a matching body attached to it. Angharad glimpsed ahead once, twice. She used not her eyes to guide herself, for she saw nothing, but the pain of being mauled should she misstep. She found the spirit, or close enough, and felt wind as is struck at her but came short. Was it blind to the dark as well?

    ¡°Here,¡± she shouted. ¡°It is here.¡±

    A shot shed through the dark, revealing for a heartbeat the hulking shape of a bronze lionrge as a carriage as the bullet went wide. The spirit turned in a moment, striking out, but Angharad threw herself out of the way. Her shouldernded badly on the stone and she swallowed a hiss as something tore through where she had just been standing.

    ¡°I despise cats,¡± Tupoc noted in the distance, then raised his voice. ¡°Over here, you rusty old thing.¡±

    The spirit roared, leaping his way, and Angharad <em>saw </em>it for some blessed soul had finally gotten antern lit. Song, silver eyes steady, had set herntern on the ground and was already loading her musket. Tupoc, meanwhile,ughed as he danced around swiping ws and ¨C the shots were in such quick session Angharad almost thought there had only been the one. Instead she saw Shalini drop her fourth pistol with an incredulous look. The Someshwari did not even carry four, Ishaan had his arms raised to make it easier for hispanion to snatch <em>his</em>.

    The bronze lion roared again, turning, and Angharad saw that enough bullets hadnded in his right eye to cave it in. Not that it seemed to slow it down any.

    ¡°Powder won¡¯t work,¡± Lady Ferranda shouted. ¡°des out!¡±

    In the flickeringntern light, they went after the spirit. Tupoc and Angharad were quickest and so they led the dance ¨C darting in and out of the bronze lion¡¯s reach. It was slow, the mirror-dancer realized, and did not see well. But it struck with the strength of a dozen men and it was made of <em>fucking bronze</em>. Twice she scored shes on its face and side, earning only a line, and none of the others did better save for Brun whose hatchet sunk deep enough into the spirit¡¯s head he was not able to wrench it back out. It tossed him away with a swipe of its tail, the Sacromontan falling to the ground with a scream, and others were not far behind.

    Ferranda was hit by the spirit¡¯s shoulder as it ran and went flying as if it had been a battering ram, unconscious on impact.

    ¡°On me,¡± Angharad hissed at the monster, striking at its sculpted mane.

    From the corner of her eye she saw Lan drag away the infanzona, but it was all spinning out of control. They were losing, could not get past the bronze.

    ¡°Your contract,¡± Lord Zenzele shouted. ¡°<em>Nair</em>, you need to use your contract.¡±

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Lord Ishaan Nair cursed, closing his eyes.

    And a miracle happened: the lion went still.

    At least until Ishaan started screaming.

    ¡°Kill it,¡± Shalini screamed. ¡°Kill it <em>now</em> or his brain will melt and-¡±

    Tupoc rammed his spear into the lion¡¯s dented eye, plunging through bronze until the shaft was a third through. He grunted with effort, tanned muscles clenching as he pushed as far as he could into the creature¡¯s head.

    The lion stilled and Ishaan stopped screaming.

    Had they¡­ had they done it? Another two heartbeats passed and the lion did not move. It must be dead, Angharad thought, though only Song would be able to confirm that ¨C and where <em>was </em>Song? She had not fought, not even fired the musket Angharad had seen her loading. She could not think the Tianxi a coward, so something must have happened. Was she¡­ Gaze sweeping the cavern to the edge of the light, Angharad found no trace of her. It was only beyond that cast that she glimpsed movement. Song had climbed the wall unhooked antern.

    As Angharad watched a pale, bright me lit up inside.

    ¡°Ren, what are you doing?¡± Lan called out from below. ¡°Your cursed fool you¡¯ll-¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Song shouted, ¡°Xical, don¡¯t-¡±

    Angharad¡¯s gaze went to Tupoc, who she found was merelyying a foot on the lion to prepare to rip out his spear. She moved to stop him, trusting in Song, but the Izcalli was quicker. The spear came free, and for a heartbeat nothing at all happened.

    Then the bronze lion moved.

    <em>It wasn¡¯t dead</em>, Angharad realized with horror. <em>Ishaan¡¯s contract only forced it asleep</em>. The Someshwari had been failing in the contest of minds before Tupoc¡¯s spear went into the skull, which had distracted the spirit enough for the contract to win that contest. Only now the pain of the same spear being ripped out had awoken it. The Izcalli went down, pped away, and Angharad struck at the lion¡¯s back.

    ¡°Ishaan,¡± she screamed, ¡°you must-¡±

    The lion ignored her, the thin scar she inflicted in its back, and bounded forward. Once, twice and on the third bound its jaw snapped closed.

    Ishaan¡¯s head popped like a grape, a mess of red and grey that the lion swallowed whole.

    Shalini let out a heartrending sound, like her soul had been ripped out, and stabbed at the spirit with a knife. It bounced off the bronze, too blindly struck. Angharad pursued, shouting to draw the monster¡¯s attention, and after a final wet gulp it deigned to turn towards her. Zenzele dragged Shalini away. Fighting her for every step.

    Angharad faced the spirit, breathing out, and knew all she had left was-

    Thentern¡¯s arc was perfect, a thing of beauty. The iron box Song had thrown struck the lion on the side of the head, impossibly shattering like ss, and there was a burst of pale light as the me within red up. The spirit roared, screamed, but the pale fire spread across its bronze body and ckened the metal. It struggled and twisted, but inch by inch it was devoured by the bright me until there was nothing left but a ckened husk.

    And when atst the pale fire guttered out, in the distance the great bronze gate began to open.

    The sound, Angharad found, could not quite drown out Shalini¡¯s sobs.

    ¡ª

    They did not linger.

    Shalini took up her friend¡¯s body, after wrapping it so theck of head would be hidden, and would not hear of being helped.

    Beyond the gatesy a hallway, little more than a tunnel sloping upwards. There were no torches here, no light but what they brought with them. Yet Angharad saw that what waited at the end of the hallway was a different kind of darkness from the one behind them ¨C lighter, airier. It was the outside. Sleeping God, Angharad thought, but she was finally going to feel the wind on her face again. She hurried up the stairs, the light of thenterns trailing behind, until her legs ached and there were no more steps left to climb.

    Past the edge of the hall waited a long drop, mere feet of ground before the sheer drop of a cliff. And yet Angharad grinned, for above her twinkled the distant stars of firmament.

    They were out, finally out.

    Song was the first to join her, musket still at the ready. Together they caught sight of the lights in the distance. Far to the north, past thick woods, where a port was tucked away and waited the ships that would take them away from the Dominion of Lost Things. A cliffside path to their left led that way, snaking down towards the bottom of the mountain and the darkness below. To their right, their west, awaited something better: rest.

    A fort jutted out of the mountainside, a tower at its summit burning bright and pale. More tempting still were the yellownterns around the fort, the marks of sanctuary. ckcloaks would await them there, Angharad thought, with beds and food and safety before they ventured into the horrors of the Trial of Weeds.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Song said, brushing their shoulders together. ¡°I could do with a good¡¯s night sleep after this bastard of a day.¡±

    ¡°So could I,¡± Angharad fervently replied.

    She nced back, seeing the others were catching up.

    They felt it before they heard the noise.

    The shiver going through the ground, the feeling of something breaking. Then there was that catastrophic, deafening crack as the very earth shook under their feet. Angharad barely stayed on her feet, and caught Song so she would not fall.

    ¡°Oh Gods,¡± the Tianxi breathed out.

    Angharad followed the silver gaze, which hade to rest behind them and above their heads. For a heartbeat she understood nothing, and then she saw it too: the crown of the mountain above them had just gone down. The ground shook again, the roar of breaking stone crashing against their ears. The mountain, she realized was crumpling from the inside. Caving in. And as a third great heave threw them both against the ground, the mountain¡¯s crown fell all the way down ¨C disappearing from their side. Angharad stayed there gaping until she was shaken out of it.

    ¡°- up, we need to <em>go</em>,¡± someone shouted, dragging her up.

    She followed, struck dumb, and saw it all fall apart.

    On the mountainside, chunks of stone began to fall. To roll down the slopes. Andslide, one sorge as to defy descriptions.

    She did not stay long enough to it swallow up the Watch¡¯s mountainside fort, they were already running towards the woods by then, but she heard it. There could be no doubt.

    Sanctuaryy buried under a cairn of stones, and thus began the Trial of Weeds.

 Chapter 37

    Chapter 37

    The thing about weakness was that there was absolutely nothing redeeming about it.

    Everyone loved a good <em>picaresca </em>story, in Sacromonte. Tales of a roguish man of scandalouslymon breeding getting the better of his betters. Swindling greedy merchants out of their wealth, tricking vaindies and pompous lords into humiliating themselves. And it was not a taste that ended at the borders of the Murk or even the Old Town. Infanzones, they liked the songs and poems about rats same as the rest of the city. Their smile, though, it had a bit of smirk to it around the corners.

    Because they understood that the stories were just that, that when a witty wastrel won in the stories because life in the streets taught them to be clever it was just what people <em>wanted </em>to be true. In the world they lived in the clever rogues got caught, shot in the head and dumped in the canals. There was nothing meaningful about being poor and hungry and afraid no higher meaning to it. Weakness was not a trial with a reward at the end, it was just being weak.

    And Tristan <em>was</em> weak.

    He wouldn¡¯t hide from that truth, that would just get him killed. He¡¯d always need the edge: the poison and the dagger, the lie and the quiet feet in the dark. He¡¯d always be the rat, scurrying around the boots of men. He¡¯d almost forgot that, in these trials. He¡¯d won too many petty victories, found too much respect in the eyes of others. He¡¯d been awakened from that dream, though, and though it had been a rough awakening he was almost thankful Lieutenant Vasanti for it.

    There was nothing like bargaining your treatment down to torture to remind you of your ce in the order of things.

    Yet Tristan had lived, bought his way out of the grave again, and now he must ensure that he would not be thrown back in it once his enemies had what they wanted from him. Once he was no longer useful and their reason for taking the finger off the trigger passed.

    So in the dark before the other rose, after what little sleep he had stolen from his bruised and aching body, the rat scratched up a n against the walls of his mind. What did he want? To live. To keep his crew alive if he could. Maryam first, then the others.

    Under pale light he might have been ashamed of that brutal truth, but alone in the dark with the pain he felt not a flicker of guilt. It would wait until he no longer tasted blood in his mouth.

    Second, Vasanti must die or be forced off the board. The old lieutenant must be put in a position where she could no longere for him, not even if she burned all herst bridges to get onest swing at him. She had already tried to get him killed twice and her hatred of Abu would have driven her to try again even if Tristan had not indirectly helped her slip a noose around her own neck.

    Two wants was enough. More would be greedy, scattering his focus. So what was in the way?

    The god in the pir. Lieutenant Wen, who would not suffer violence against ckcloaks until it was dealt by the hand of thew. Vasanti herself, who was sure to sabotage him if she could ¨C until she could do worse. Yong, who would turn on him if selling Tristan¡¯s hide guaranteed getting to the third trial and keeping his husband alive.

    Maryam? No, her own wants came after the Trial of Weeds. She was a help. Francho would murder to survive, and perhaps even for convenience, but so would most everyone Tristan had ever known. The old man¡¯s contract would be even more important than Yong¡¯s musket and Maryam¡¯s Signs anyhow.

    There were greater dooms looming in the distance, the Red Maw and his oath to Wen and whatever awaited beyond the Trial of Weeds, but these did not matter. One grave at a time.

    Tristan turned in his cot, grey eyes open as he looked at the stone above him. He was not alone. Fortuna, sitting against the wall to his side with her dress like a pool of silk at her feet, kept himpany in silence. Golden eyes under a golden crown he thought, taking in the sight of her for the span of a breath. Like a paintinge to life. His eye returned to the stone, the ws inside his mind scratching at the walls.

    He stayed like that a long time, his body a dull ache, until finally he saw how the pieces fit together. Only then did the rat close his eyes.

    ¡°To join the court of cats,¡± Tristan Abrascal softly sang, smiling.

    Sleep snuck up on him.

    --

    In the small hours before morning, before the others woke, Tristan was handed a small cup of milky white poison.

    It didn¡¯t look that way when they sold on the streets. The ck tea that the coteries served in their dens was as dark as the name implied and <em>socorro</em> tincture, that purported miracle drug that imed to heal anything from the cough to impotence, was red-brown. Both of those were cut with other substances, especially socorro ¨C which every chatan and street witch from the Murk to the Orchard imed to have a potent family recipe for. It all came back to the same nt, though: the poppy.

    Tristan had seen the fruits of that bud hollow out too many men to ever trust it, but he made himself drink the extract anyway.

    The thugs had left few visible marks during his talks with Lieutenant Vasanti, but he had been savagely beaten and his body still felt like it. If he was to be able to move the way he needed to, he would the pain taken care of. Hence, poppy extract. It would not make up for the sleeplessness lurking behind his eyes, yanking his thoughts one way and the other, but he would handle that himself. The few bruised, intermittent hours of sleep he had grabbed after making his ns would have to tide him over until he could copse.

    ¡°I rmend against marrying the poppy to substances from your box,¡± the Watch physician said, stroking his sparse beard. ¡°Though I expect you know better than that.¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Tristan said.

    There was nothing left in there but the bearded cat tincture and the medical turpentine anyhow, not after Vanesa¡¯sst farewell. He had already moved thest vials to his bag along with the few medical supplies he¡¯d wheedled out of the Watch, abandoning the box itself as dead weight. And to think mere days ago he had killed a man for that pile of broken wood. How quickly such worth was spent, though that should not havee as a surprise.

    In Sacromonte, lives could always be had on the cheap.

    The Watch doctor nodded a farewell at him, then packed up his kit and left. The thief rolled his shoulders a little, wincing at the sensation, then finally turned to meet the gaze of the other man present. The one he needed to bargain with so he might begin setting the board, and fortunately the one who had wanted to speak with him. Best to begin with that, if only to fish for leverage.

    ¡°You wanted a word?¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°Something like that,¡± Lieutenant Wen replied.

    The Tianxi with the golden frames was, for once, not eating. He might have called that an ill-omen, were Wen not already inherently such.

    ¡°I am all ears, then.¡±

    Wen studied him for some time, then sighed. He went fishing around the pocket of his vest, pulling out a bronze grandfather pocket watch tied to a chain. It was a simple but lovely piece, still ticking away dutifully. The thief stilled, for he had seen it before - most often during the Trial of Lines.

    ¡°That is Vanesa¡¯s watch.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Lieutenant Wen said, and threw it.

    Tristan panicked, but even dulled his reflexes were better than most. He caught the chain, then the rest, and sent a dark look the fat Tianxi¡¯s way. Not that the watchman seemed to care.

    ¡°It¡¯s yours,¡± Lieutenant Wen said.

    He frowned, looking for the trap.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    The watchman snorted.

    ¡°Because the old girl must have emptied your stocks killing that Azn tough,¡± Wen said. ¡°He died quick and ugly.¡±

    Tristan smoothed away his worry, painting confusion on his face instead.

    ¡°My stocks?¡±

    The lieutenant sighed, taking off his spectacles to clean them with a ragged silk kerchief he dragged out of his sleeve.

    ¡°Alvareno¡¯s Dosages is a required reading for Cryptics, you shifty little prick,¡± Wen amiably said. ¡°I know a poison box when I see one.¡±

    Tristan swallowed. There were only so many reasons for the lieutenant to know that.

    ¡°Are you¡­¡±

    Wen had spoken contemptuously of Masks before, but that might have been to hide his tracks.

    ¡°Do you think I¡¯d tell you if I <em>were</em> Krypteia?¡± Wen replied, amused.

    A fair point, the thief mentally conceded. The Tianxi dismissed the notion with a wave a heartbeatter.

    ¡°I never cared for the cloak and dagger games,¡± Wen said. ¡°I¡¯m a good Arthasastra boy, we don¡¯t partake.¡±

    Tristan slowly blinked. As in the Arthasastra Society, the Circle of the Watch that trained <em>diplomats</em>?

    ¡°You¡¯re a Laurel,¡± he said, not hiding his skepticism.

    ¡°Historian track, to be exact,¡± Lieutenant Wen amusedly replied. ¡°Our society¡¯s got the broadest remit of the entire College, Tristan, we¡¯re not all trantors and negotiators.¡±

    Wen <em>had</em> seemed unusually well-versed in the history of the Watch. Besides, even if the man was lying it hardly mattered. Fingers closing around the watch, feeling the faint ticking beneath, Tristan bowed his head.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said.

    The older man stared him down.

    ¡°She died well,¡± Wen said. ¡°Sometimes that¡¯s the best you can hope for.¡±

    <em>There¡¯s no such thing as a good death</em>, Tristan thought. <em>We all shit ourselves and get thrown in a canal when the rot starts to stink. There¡¯s nothing noble about rot, Wen. It¡¯s just the meat that used to be a person going bad.</em> But the thought of leaving Vanesa¡¯s watch in the hands of strangers seemed disrespectful, somehow, so he put it away inside his own pocket. There would be time to fasten it properlyter.

    ¡°You¡¯ve buttered me up properly,¡± Tristan acknowledged. ¡°Shall we now tuck into the meal?¡±

    ¡°A poor choice of words, on an ind with a history of cannibalism,¡± Wen noted, sounding amused. ¡°But if you insist.¡±

    Manes, was there anything on this ind that <em>didn¡¯t </em>eat people? It was bad enough Tristan was going to have to rely on the fact for his ns. The lieutenant, atst satisfied with spectacles that had beenrgely spotless when he began cleaning them, slid them back on. It made his eyes colder, somehow, for them to be framed in gold.

    ¡°Do you still intend to try for the lift?¡± the lieutenant asked.

    It was phrased as a question, a choice, but Tristan knew better. Wen had extended him help and protection only in exchange for his sabotaging the aetheric machine above. If he went back on his word now there would be consequences. <em>The maze is suicide for us anyhow</em>, he thought. Yong, Maryam, Francho and himself was not fine enough a crew to make it all the way across even if they had some idea of a usable path.

    ¡°I do,¡± Tristan said, ¡°but we both know that Vasanti¡¯s new ns mean mine need to be adjusted. I have a concern.¡±

    Bait.

    ¡°You¡¯re afraid that she¡¯ll find the lift,¡± Wen stated.

    Bait taken. <em>I¡¯m not</em>, Tristan thought. <em>She thinks she has the solution to the front gates and thest thing she needs is more dead ckcloaks. She¡¯ll be religious about sticking to the tiles room and walking right back out.</em>

    ¡°It would be the end of my ns,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I need to take some precautions, Wen. And to do that I need ess to the pir.¡±

    Wen frowned at him.

    ¡°There are only two stone keys to that door,¡± he said. ¡°Vasanti keeps both on her.¡±

    And she was unlikely to share them even if politely asked. Fortunately for them there was no need to go begging.

    ¡°There are only two known keys to the door,¡± Tristan corrected.

    They¡¯d not found the stone button in his boot. The fat Tianxi blinked, then let out a startledugh.

    ¡°You have a third,¡± he deduced. ¡°So what is it that you need from me, then?¡±

    ¡°To get up there unseen,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Vasanti means to hit the pire morning, so it¡¯s certain to be under guard right now.¡±

    ¡°I could arrange that,¡± the lieutenant agreed. ¡°Get my people in ce, tell them to look elsewhere.¡±

    He then narrowed his eyes from behind that thin lens of ss.

    ¡°And I will, if you tell me what you¡¯ll be up to in there,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°I won¡¯t be party to attacks on watchmen, boy.¡±

    Wen¡¯s line in the sand. Wen¡¯s lever. <em>Learn what people love and you will know how to move them</em>, Abu¡¯s voice whispered into his ear.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have anything I can hurt the Watch with,¡± Tristan lied. ¡°I only intend to jam the door with the broken lock.¡±

    The lieutenant studied him, looking for the lie, but he wouldn¡¯t find it. Tristan¡¯s mind felt like a door without a hinge ¨C every passing thing winding through, without regard to need or sense. The Tianxi might as well have tried to read a whirlpool.

    ¡°Sensible,¡± Wen said. ¡°And the god inside?¡±

    ¡°Another concern,¡± the thief smiled winningly. ¡°Which leads me to my final request.¡±

    Lieutenant Wen cocked an eyebrow over his spectacles.

    ¡°This ought to be good.¡±

    ¡°I need,¡± Tristan said, ¡°a human leg.¡±

    And given how many watchmen had died fighting the god earlier, at least he could count on supply beating demand.

    --

    ¡°You should have asked for an arm,¡± Fortuna opined. ¡°It would have been easier to carry.¡±

    Tristan duly ignored her. He¡¯d glimpsed the leg he now carried wrapped in cloth earlier and noted it was half-charred, likely hacked off a corpse on the great funeral pyre the Watch had made outside the Old Fort ¨C in the same ce Inyoni had been burned. They must not have had enough wood to keep it zing long enough for all the corpses to be turned to ash.

    As the nearest woods were full of bloodthirsty cultists, this was understandable.

    With Wen giving a few orders the thief¡¯s path up the ropedder was cleared and there was no one keeping watch on the stairs. Good. He could afford no witnesses for this. Thest stone button unlocked the door, and once it popped open he hastily imed the key back before shoving it into a pocket. No teeth sought to chomp down on him, so Tristan went ahead with the first part of his n: tossed the leg out into the room.

    ¡°Dinner¡¯s served,¡± he called out.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Fortuna muttered. ¡°That got <em>dark</em>.¡±

    He¡¯d told Wen he needed the dead flesh to hide his scent, keep the god off him. The truth was that he needed it for the very opposite reason: he needed the god toe, and the smell of meat was his best chance at ensuring that.

    ¡°I need you to keep watch out in the tile room,¡± Tristan told Fortuna. ¡°The moment it gets close, tell me.¡±

    He would need to be able to close the door in a heartbeat when the god approached, as he doubted that offering of a leg would keep the deity from trying to eat him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be alone in a room with a dead leg,¡± Fortuna whined.

    ¡°You won¡¯t be,¡± Tristan assured her with a winning smile. ¡°There will also be a terrifying ancient god trying to eat us.¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± the Lady of Long Odds sniffed. ¡°It better not get anything on my dress.¡±

    Tristan opened his mouth, about to ask whether her dress could actually be dirtied ¨C or cleaned ¨C but then he caught the gleam in her eye and his mouth snapped shut. She was only trying to get a rise out of him. Not that she stopped afterwards,ining about everything from the lighting being unttering to the leg facing the wrong way, but at least she kept watch as he had asked.

    The minutes passed, one after another, and his shoulders tensed. If he could not speak with the god, if he could not join that cat¡¯s court¡­

    But after more than half an hour had passed, the leg did what it was meant to.

    ¡°Company,¡± Fortuna warned, then cocked her head to the side. ¡°Oh, that looks <em>nasty</em>.¡±

    She fled into the wall a momentter as darkness slithered into the room on quiet feet.

    Tristan pushed the door until it was but a finger¡¯s breadth away from closing. He felt like a child closing the closet door to keep the monster at bay, but the monster here was not of his own making: through the thin length kept open he glimpsed the god moving, all slimy dark scales past a sh of yellow eyes. It was the teeth that had him shuddering in revulsion, though still startlingly human-like for all that each was the size of a hand. The god gobbled up the dead leg with nary a sound.

    ¡°It¡¯s lost a leg,¡± Fortuna whispered in his ear. ¡°Must have been salt munitions, it¡¯s not healing.¡±

    However slight her whisper, it was still heard.

    ¡°The vermin has learned unexpected tricks,¡± the god chuckled.

    Its voice was smooth and lovely, almost like a singer¡¯s. It made you want to lean in, to listen closer. Tristan grit his teeth. The Red Maw had not made a meal of him, neither would this lesser thing. The thief put himself together, breathing out and steadying his back.

    ¡°God of thend,¡± he smilingly said, ¡°I greet you.¡±

    The god ¨C that horrid reptilian thing ¨Cughed,ughed like a infanzona who had just seen a little monkey do a clever trick.

    ¡°Oh, Tristan,¡± the god crooned. ¡°Is it a test you¡¯vee for, like those the shackled beasts below offer to you lost souls?¡±

    It came closer, until its humid and fetid breath came like a whisper through the crack.

    ¡°Come closer and I shall give you a game, I promise.¡±

    And the voice, the way it spoke, made it sound tempting even though it was utter madness sure to end in his death.

    ¡°I¡¯ve a dislike for ying the games of others, I must confess,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It is a bargain I came for.¡±

    A mocking rictus that he only glimpsed, rows of white teeth over too-red lips.

    ¡°You need onlye closer,¡± the god silkily said, ¡°and you will have everything you need.¡±

    Fortuna popped her head out of the wall.

    ¡°He¡¯s lying,¡± she helpfully said. ¡°He¡¯s going to eat you.¡±

    Tristan sighed.

    ¡°Thank you, Fortuna,¡± he replied.

    ¡°Just looking out for you,¡± she smugly said.

    He suspected that if she had enough reach to pat herself on the back in that dress she would have. The god had gotten close, during that short distraction, edged in. He began to close the door and it froze. Ah, so it <em>did</em> want to talk. At least as long as eating him when he slipped up was on the table.

    ¡°I do not have a name to call you by,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Would you care to remedy this, god of thend?¡±

    ¡°How polite,¡± the god drawled. ¡°You may call me <em>Boria</em>.¡±

    That word, that name, it rippled. Echoed. And when Tristan heard it, all he could thought was that he should step out. The god was tricking him, but it was wounded. Weak. And had he not beaten starker odds than this? It would be easier to bargain from there, and if it turned in him then his wits would be enough to¡­ Nails dug into his palm as the thief breathed out shallowly.

    Enough. <em>Enough</em>? Had he ever once in his life held enough in his hand that a victory hade cheap? He turned inwards, sharpened himself.

    ¡°You are,¡± he said, ¡°a god of arrogance.¡±

    Fortuna fanned herself, leaning against the wall to his side. She looked disdainful.

    ¡°The kind that dooms you,¡± she said. ¡°Very specific.¡±

    ¡°Amusing,ing from the likes of <em>you</em>,¡± Boriaughed.

    The goddess huffed up like an offended cat.

    ¡°Let us not lose ourselves in the weeds,¡± Tristan hastily said before she could throw a fit. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure you have the time for it, Boria. You have troubles.¡±

    ¡°Not even the touch of the re can still me forever,¡± the god scoffed. ¡°I will return in full splendor and take my revenge upon those who dared to wound me.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but it may well be that the Watches for you first,¡± Tristan said. ¡°They have discovered some of the secrets of this ce.¡±

    ¡°And what is that to me?¡± Boria dismissed.

    The thief did not answer that immediately. He would first, he thought, need to crack the shell. Just like eating crab.

    ¡°I thought you might the Red Maw for a time, did you now?¡± Tristan said. ¡°Because of the tongue and that fearsome throat of yours. I only knew for sure it was untrue when I returned yesterday and heard the Watch had chased you off.¡±

    Nothing so fearsome as the Maw could have been chased off my muskets, no matter how much salt was loaded into it. It had been confirmedter when he saw the projection of the machine on the other side of the pir and how massive that entity had be.

    ¡°You spend my patience,¡± Boria warned.

    ¡°So I¡¯ve since had to wonder about,¡± Tristan continued, unruffled, ¡°why it is you¡¯re here at all.¡±

    The god did not answer.

    ¡°You¡¯re not bound by the golden light and its rules while in the pir, that¡¯s true,¡± Tristan said. ¡°But you¡¯re not here by choice either, are you? You¡¯re starving, Boria. I must have been the first piece of fresh meat you saw in centuries.¡±

    Silence. The god watched him patiently, waiting for an opening. A way to gobble him up.

    ¡°The devils put you in here,¡± the thief said. ¡°After they fiddled with the rules of the golden machine they stranded you inside the pir and sealed the doors, knowing you¡¯d be so fucking starved of fresh meat that you would attack anyoneing in like a good guard dog.¡±

    This entire mountain, Tristan thought, had been turned into a sandpit for the Red Maw. The devils had created a makeshift seal by piling up gods atop the Maw and forcing them to feed on it through the rules imposed by the golden light, and when the Watch had evicted them from the ind they¡¯d sealed the doors behind them so the ckcloaks would not be able to identally undo their seal by tinkering with the aetheric machine.

    And then, just to be sure no wily vermin would burrow their way to trouble, they¡¯d tossed a starving god inside so it would eat whatever made it in.

    Tristan went still as darkness billowed out, filling the entire room on the other side of the door until there was nothing at all left but dark and a great, unblinking poisonously yellow eye. It was close, so close he almost closed the door in a fit of fear. He mastered himself at thest moment.

    ¡°And it urs to me,¡± Tristan said, ¡°that these devils, they were meticulous. Paranoid almost.¡±

    He met that unblinking eldritch gaze.

    ¡°That maybe they would have made it so there would a punishment for the guardian should the treasures within be stolen,¡± he said.

    A cor for the guard dog, so to speak. The thief made himself smile bright and wide.

    ¡°But worry not, my friend,¡± he said. ¡°For I havee to bargain out of the goodness of my heart to help you avoid such a grisly fate.¡±

    Darkness thinned.

    ¡°And why,¡± Boria asked, ¡°would that be?¡±

    It was breathing in, as if tasting the air.

    ¡°The leader of those would breach the pir is a woman who wants me dead,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I would return the favor.¡±

    Darkness thinned further and further, until once more the thief saw the terrible creature before him.

    ¡°Speak,¡± the god ordered.

    --

    The door closed, not even the barest of cracks open between he and Boria. Tristan allowed himself to sag against the wall, shivering as if out in the cold, and closed his eyes as he forced his breathing to settle.

    ¡°Now what?¡± Fortuna asked, sounding curious.

    In and out, until calm returned. Ten more breaths passed before the worst of the fear had left him, before he felt ready to speak.

    ¡°Now we walk to Wen again,¡± he replied, ¡°so that thest piece is put into ce.¡±

    --

    The trick to making someone give you something for nothing was to make it so that every other decision was worse.

    It was not a surefire trick, of course, though what was? Sometimes the mark would refuse out of spite or make a worse decision because fear or anger. People were not the automatons of story, making every call with clockwork precision and choosing to mitigate damage rather than stick a knife in their enemy on the way down. Tristan, however, had rubbed elbows with Lieutenant Wen enough to get a decent read on the man. The fat man was a practical soul, more interested in results than means, and his moralpass was nnish as any coterie man¡¯s: there was the Watch, then everyone else.

    Tristan had crossed that line in the sand, so he made sure to lie to the man.

    ¡°I ought to have you shot,¡± Wen snarled.

    Having a lie almost as offensive as the truth helped, in his experience. When you told a man you¡¯d killed his wife he did not usually think to question whether you¡¯d actually killed his children instead.

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t help,¡± the thief shrugged. ¡°And it¡¯s an opportunity, isn¡¯t it? To do it on your own terms.¡±

    The bespectacled Tianxi was furious but they both knew that nothing could be done. Or rather that many things could be done, but all of them were worthless. And Tristan, though eminently executable, was still more useful alive than dead. It was enough.

    ¡°An opportunity to clean up your mess,¡± Wen scoffed. ¡°Now I need to speak with Mandisa.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let me keep you,¡± Tristan said, idly fishing out Vanesa¡¯s watch.

    Half past six, he saw after popping the lid. He carefully closed it.

    ¡°If you are gone long, this may well be ourst conversation,¡± the thief added/

    The lieutenant sneered.

    ¡°Are you giving me your sweet farewells, rat?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m touched.¡±

    Tristan nodded, to the man¡¯s visible surprise.

    ¡°I cannot say meeting you was a pleasure,¡± the thief said, ¡°but it has not been a misfortune. May you fare well in the years toe.¡±

    He even meant it. Lieutenant Wen was a bastard and something of a bully, but his cruelty was shallower than his sense of duty. Had Tristan been part of his tribe, the lives that mattered to the man, then he might even have grown fond of him. A guard hound was loved by the house, not the street.

    ¡°You have been nothing but a heap of trouble,¡± Wen bluntly replied. ¡°Rats always are, it takes us years to beat the Murk out of their bones.¡±

    Then he sighed.

    ¡°You¡¯re not unfit for the cloak, though, I will grant,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°And your work today will force a good, so prick your ears up.¡±

    Tristan cocked an eyebrow, openly curious.

    ¡°When you find your path through,¡± Wen continued, ¡°be careful if you emerge on the mountainside.¡±

    ¡°Trouble?¡±

    ¡°The hollows on the inds are divided up in tribes,¡± Wen said. ¡°Those who dwell in the mountains are worst of the Red Eye zealots: they kill on sight and they¡¯ve even scavenged some muskets with the powder to match.¡±

    Which they must have taken from the Watch. By force, as the ckcloaks did not trade guns to the hollows. He let out a low whistle.

    ¡°Bold,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know the half of it,¡± the Tianxi grunted. ¡°They know they can melt back into the mountain paths after, so they¡¯ve even attacked the fort that serves as sanctuary on the other side. It got overrun about a decade ago, all hands lost. The higher-ups ordered a vault built underneath so there¡¯d be somewhere to retreat to if it happened again.¡±

    ¡°I will be sure to keep an eye out, then,¡± the thief seriously replied. ¡°My thanks for the warning.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need thanks,¡± Lieutenant Wen said. ¡°I need that machine broken. Get to it, rat.¡±

    --

    It was darkly amusing that Lieutenant Vasanti¡¯s stalwarts ¨C numbering a mere eleven watchmen ¨C ate breakfast early and had orders to ensure he was not allowed anywhere near themunal cauldron of porridge. Vanesa¡¯s legacy, he mused. The Someshwari lieutenant ought to have known there was near nothing left in his poison cab, since she¡¯d ordered it searched, so in a way it was ttering that she still would not allow Tristan near anywhere food she was to eat.

    How resourceful she must think him, to be wary of his making poisons out of thin air.

    By the time Vasanti¡¯s crew was finished his own was up and ready. The four of them imed a table on the other side of the kitchen, busying themselves with stilted talk and cups of grass tea until the ckcloaks were gone and they were finally allowed to fill their own bowls with slop. Tristan forced himself to eat two, knowing he would need the vigor. For all that the ckcloaks would be the ones taking the vanguard he did not expect an easy way of it.

    It was only when he set down his spoon after the second bowl that Yong broke the silence.

    ¡°All right, I¡¯ll be the one since no one else is stepping up,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°What in the fucking Heavens happenedst night, Tristan?¡±

    ¡°Vasanti tried to scapegoat me for her blunder in the pir,¡± he casually summed up. ¡°She failed to talk the watchmen into having me hanged, so she had to settle for an interrogation.¡±

    Interrogation sounded better than torture. Usually meant the same thing, in his experience, but <em>sounded</em> better. Maryam cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Which yielded?¡±

    Tristan cleared his throat.

    ¡°Remund Cerdan, that viin, stole the brand and hid it before attempting to frame me for this hideous crime,¡± the rat said. ¡°Once this became obvious, Lieutenant Vasanti and I divined the hiding ce together and cleared my name.¡±

    Francho toothlessly grinned, shaking his head as he chuckled.

    ¡°A terrible viin, thatd,¡± the old professor said. ¡°And should this reprehensible character proim his innocence?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be quite the trick,¡± Tristan said, ¡°as I saw a rusty piece of steel two inches wide go right through his throatst night.¡±

    It was highly unlikely that anyone had seem him dispose of the Cerdan but not impossible, so he had a second lie prepared just in case. Remund had survived his wounding on the way down but been unable to walk, so he had demanded that Tristan carry him. When refused, the infanzon tried to force him at the point of a pistol. When poor Tristan had tried to wrestle it away from him a shot was fired in the melee, putting Remund to rest.

    Remund Cerdan had been a noble, so it was only natural for Tristan to be terrified of the consequences even if it had been an idental death while defending himself. It was the only reason he had lied.

    On the other side of the table, Maryam¡¯s blue eyes were knowing.

    ¡°The tunnels past the wheel room, was it?¡± she said. ¡°I heard Tredegar almost got cut as well, they sound almost as dangerous as a test.¡±

    In thentern light Maryam¡¯s hard face and long tresses looked as if they had been carved by hatchet, like as not to cut any hand daring to strike those cheekbones. She was pleasing to the eye, Tristan thought, in the way that a good knife was: entirely itself even when at rest, a knife even before it cut. There was something curiously reassuring about that, about having that calm sharpness on your side.

    On his side.

    It was a small thing, he thought, what she had just done. Helping him sell a lie the others would only barely care about. But it had been unasked for, nothing bargained or offered, and she had done it without batting an eye. It was a small thing but she gained nothing from doing it ¨C it implicated her needlessly, if anything ¨C and that meant it was not a small thing at all. Tristan looked away, clearing his throat.

    ¡°My differences with the good lieutenant have been settled,¡± he said. ¡°Moreover, she now delivers an opportunity: as Vasanti believes she can open the front gate, we can make our own move while she sets out through it with her crew.¡±

    ¡°He expedition might draw the god¡¯s attention and clear our path,¡± Francho approved.

    It would. Tristan had seen to that. It surprised the thief some that it had been the old professor and not Yong who talked of distraction, however. When he turned he found the Tianxi¡¯s dark eyes narrowed and resting on him.

    ¡°Put your hand between your shoulder des, Tristan,¡± Yong said.

    The thief¡¯s face went nk. Lies came his tongue, rich and plentiful, but not a single one they would believe. Three seconds passed, then the Tianxi sighed.

    ¡°You can¡¯t, can you?¡± he said.

    ¡°I could,¡± Tristan said, which was true. ¡°But would rather not.¡±

    Even truer. The poppy milk had taken off the edge, but he has still been thoroughly worked over.

    ¡°They beat you halfway to useless,¡± Yong said. ¡°We should wait until tomorrow to do this.¡±

    His jaw clenched. The others noticed. Gods but this fucking exhaustion was going to be the death of him, it was like someone was painting his every thought on his sleeve.

    ¡°I have made arrangements that require precise timing,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I¡¯ve been given something for the pain, Yong, I will not slow us down.¡±

    ¡°Arrangements,¡± the Tianxi tly repeated.

    <em>I cannot tell you</em>, Tristan thought. <em>You will betray me.</em> Yong had told him as much when he had drawn his own lines in the sand. Another obstacle to dance around. It was tempting to say he would soon reveal the truth, but that was sentiment talking. Even that much might let Yong deduce that Vasanti was involved, decide that there was something worth selling there. <em>And you¡¯ll want to turn on me if you figure it out, like you did the infanzones.</em>

    So he gave nothing.

    ¡°Arrangements,¡± he simply said.

    The older man¡¯s face tightened with displeasure turning to the rest of the table for support. Tristan¡¯s belly clenched, at least until Maryam shook her head.

    ¡°I would be more worried if he-¡± Francho broke into a cough, rasping out a breath before resuming. ¡°If he <em>wasn¡¯t </em>scheming something, Yong.¡±

    The Tianxi¡¯s lips thinned with displeasure, but he was alone in wanting to push the matter. And he did not have the leverage to force it, not when his only option should he walk away was trying the maze alone. It gave no pleasure to Tristan to watch the older man realize he was in a corner and there was little he could to about it.

    ¡°Sending soldiers out without telling them the marching orders is bound to get someone killed,¡± Yong bit out. ¡°You¡¯ll have to learn that lesson sooner orter, Tristan.¡±

    Everyone was trying to teach him lessons, these days, the thief thought. It was getting rather tiring.

    ¡°I will not make empty promises,¡± Tristan said.

    Little else was said, after that. His mind was elsewhere anyhow: now all that was left was to wait for Vasanti to open the dance.

    --

    Within ten minutes of the ckcloaks disappearing into the pir there was a loud clicking sound, as if someone were working away at a giant lock.

    In practice, that was exactly what Lieutenant Vasanti¡¯s watchmen were doing. Most the garrison still in the Old Fort gathered in the courtyard before the iron gate, or on a wall they could see it them from, and the four of them joined the throng. The metal tiles on the gate began to turn one after another in sequence, likely matching the tiles getting activated inside the pir, and the machinery around them began to move.

    It pumped and turned and ticked, until there was a deafening hum and lights lit up along the outer ring of the gate. Small pinpricks of light, which began slowly rotating. Like golden fireflies they hovered, getting impressed murmurs out of the watchmen.

    Tiles began spinning again, but slower. As if abination was getting felt out instead of known by rote.

    ¡°Vanesa, gods rest her soul, was convinced that the tiles were a way tomand some hidden aether machine in the gate,¡± Francho said. ¡°It appears she was right.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s heart clenched. He made himself nod.

    ¡°Pretty lights,¡± Yong shrugged. ¡°What are they for?¡±

    Instead of the slow,zy clockwise rotation the golden pinpricks were now going back and forth in both directions by haphazard stretches.

    ¡°They¡¯re not lights,¡± Maryam quietly said. ¡°They¡¯re stars. It¡¯s the same as the pattern above our heads.¡±

    The thief blinked in surprise. He had grown so used to the golden light of the aether machine above he had forgot what that machine actually was: an orrery, a mobile representing the movement of the stars of firmament. It was why Vasanti had astronomical equipment out on her bastion.

    ¡°And how does that open the lock?¡± he asked.

    ¡°The stars aren¡¯t in alignment above and on the gate,¡± Maryam said. ¡°But look at what¡¯s happening with the tiles ¨C Vasanti is adjusting them closer.¡±

    Vanesa had told him, Tristan suddenly recalled, that she could not figure out what the machinery on the gate did because it was not like a clock, did not use a fixed unit of measurement. His fingers reached for the watch in his pocket, sping the bronze. <em>Because the movement of stars is moreplex than that of a clock¡¯s arrows</em>, he thought. <em>But we use it to tell time as well, do we not? Stars set our calendars, in olden days.</em>

    ¡°It¡¯s a time lock,¡± Tristan breathed out. ¡°Back before the devils broke it and shut it down, it must have been set to open at fixed intervals.¡±

    Maryam hummed.

    ¡°Days of the year, as measured by the movement of the stars,¡± she agreed. ¡°A grand, beautiful, pointlesslyplicated wonder. ¡°

    ¡°Antediluvian work in a sentence,¡± Francho drily said, then coughed into his fist.

    It took another half hour for the Watch crew to match above and below, but when they finally did the lights winked out and the entire courtyard went silent ¨C as if every soul had breathed in at once. The machinery between the tiles and the outer ring began moving again, but the dominant sounds were pistons withdrawing,tches undoing. Like a vest getting unbuttoned, the iron gate split open in the middle and slowly began to open.

    Only for a horrid grinding sound to explode out.

    Something prevented the gates from opening more than a foot and change wide, soldered bars of steel that fought against the strength of the opening mechanism until wheels and cogs began popping off and metal bent. The sounds were deafening, and as he covered his ears Tristan saw tiles begin spinning again. Vasanti was intervening. The gates stopped opening, remaining stuck with just a foot of space to press through.

    The cacophony stopped.

    ¡°The work of devils, do you think?¡± Yong quietly asked.

    ¡°Seems likely,¡± Francho said. ¡°They were the ones who wanted this ce sealed forever.¡±

    If so, then theirst measure had failed. Though the small space would prevent the watchmen from bringing something like artillery pieces inside, the ckcloaks themselves would pass just fine. <em>Unless that was always the n</em>, Tristan thought. <em>To make it so that only a small force can enter, small enough their starved god can devour them without trouble.</em> Only madness coulde out of guessing at the intentions of devils, he reminded himself.

    ¡°It will be soon, now,¡± Tristan said. ¡°We need to get you out of sight before she returns.¡±

    --

    Lieutenant Vasanti came to gloat.

    It surprised him. Not because he had thought it above the old woman, but because he would have bet on her caring more about exploring the insides of the pir as she had wanted to for years over browbeating a rat. He had not been wrong, only slightly off: it seemed Vasanti had some time to spare before her watchmen were ready for the delving, so she had decided to spend it looking down on him.

    ¡°Not a sign of the god we wounded,¡± she said. ¡°It must still be licking its wound.¡±

    A shallow smile from the weathered Someshwari.

    ¡°Sometimes all it takes is a sharp lesson before they learn their ce, don¡¯t you agree?¡±

    The grey-eyed thief did not smile insolently and retort with a quip, or remind her the only reason she could get anywhere was that he had traded the brand to her. Even as a boy he would have known better. Instead he stretched his arm discreetly so that he would not have the fake the wince of pain on his face and looked away like she had beaten him. He did not answer.

    ¡°Nothing to say?¡± Vasanti pressed. ¡°Should I go and ask your little friends?¡±

    That he could not allow. He¡¯d asked them to get out of sight in the first ce so that Vasanti and her followers could not see their group was gearing up for a go at the pir. At the moment she would assuming he intended to follow in the wake of her own expedition, unaware he still had a key to the other entrance. If she caught on, though¡­ Best to give her something to bite down on instead. Pride was the most affordable of offerings.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you can spare the time on me,¡± Tristan said, making himself sound resentful. ¡°Are you not about to lead your crew into the great unknown?¡±

    ¡°So I am,¡± Lieutenant Vasanti smiled. ¡°And it will be the find of the century ¨C an aetheric machine of that caliber, untouched for centuries yet still functional? There are nations out there that would go to war to acquire such a thing.¡±

    He made himself wince again, as if pained by her victory instead of simply pained.

    ¡°But you are right,¡± Vasanti said. ¡°I have no more time to waste on the likes of you.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°Save, perhaps to give you a warning,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°Do be careful when you follow us down, Tristan. idents happen so easily when exploring dangerous ces.¡±

    With onest pleased smiled she walked away, leaving him to consider her back with a cold gaze. Had he intended to follow in her wake, that would have worried him enough for the calctions on some risks to skew a different way. Vasanti was not the kind of woman to be merciful in victory, he thought. It had not been a mistake to count her an enemy. More interesting to him was that she intended to head <em>down</em>.

    The quick look he¡¯d had past the iron gates had revealed two sets of stairs, one curving upwards and the other down, and he¡¯d assumed she would be aiming up. Not his trouble, he decided.

    He waited out there until Vasanti took her eleven loyalists past the gate, disappearing below, then finally joined the others by the armory. All were armed to the teeth, even Francho who now bore a pistol ¨C that he barely knew how to use, but could at least fire the right direction if it came to that. Yong and Maryam both carried bandoliers provided to them at Wen¡¯s order, as had been bargained for: paper cartridges containing powder and salt munitions, musket balls filled with re-infused salt. The bane of gods.

    Three pairs of eyes came to rest on him.

    ¡°I hope you are not awaiting a speech,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Yong¡¯s the only officer here.¡±

    ¡°I gave a few of the yearly addresses at Reve,¡± Francho volunteered, coughing into his fist. ¡°Shall I try?¡±

    The thief paused, knowing this was a waste of time but too curious to refuse.

    ¡°By all means,¡± Maryam said, settling the matter for him.

    Yong rolled his eyes at them. Francho cleared his throat.

    ¡°My eager young students, I share with you today the most important lesson of my long career,¡± he said.

    He straightened his back, wizened rheumy eyes sparkling with wisdom.

    ¡°Tenure is the only thing that matters,¡± Francho told them. ¡°Once you have that you can do whatever you want: they can¡¯t get rid of you without a two thirds majority of the Masters and that is like herding cats, if cats could feud for twenty years about the variable declensions of irregr verbs in Cantar.¡±

    Maryam raised a hand as he began coughing.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Francho allowed after it passed.

    ¡°Do you have any lessons that apply to ouring venture in any way?¡± she politely asked.

    Tristan bit the inside of his cheek so he would notugh, Yong looked faintly embarrassed to have ever known them and Francho duly considered the question.

    ¡°Do not get eaten by monsters,¡± the old professor finally replied.

    ¡°An ideal we all aspire to,¡± Tristan gravely replied, lips twitching uncontrobly.

    Yong walked away, muttering something under his breath about ¡®canal water¡¯ and ¡®brain fever¡¯. They had to hurry and catch up when it became clear that the Tianxi would not, in fact, be slowing down.

    So began their bold venture into the unknown.

    --

    They did not need to watch for ckcloaks keeping watch, as there were none: within minutes of Vasanti and her loyalists disappearing Wen had summoned the entire garrison to him, as Tristan had figured he might. They had a clear path the ropedder, then through the room where the folded metaldder no one had ever got to work stilly inert. Tristan took the lead near the locked door leading to the tile room, silently gesturing for Fortuna to have a look ahead. The golden-eyed goddess huffed, but she had her look on the other side.

    She popped her head, and only her head, through the door to signify there was no sign of Boria. As if he¡¯d needed a headache on top of everything else.

    The thief made a show of only slightly opening the door after he unlocked it with the stone button, ¡®risking¡¯ a nce and then venturing into the room. He called back it was clear after, the other three following with their weapons out. None of them had evere here before, so their eyes wandered ¨C mostly to the wall filled with glyph-inscribed tiles that Vasanti¡¯s crew must have earlier used.

    Tristan himself paid it little mind, instead heading for the door with the brokentch that had nearly got him killed. Yong followed closely behind, musket already at the ready and loaded with salt munitions.

    ¡°The lift is that way,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Quietly now, the hall is where I ran into the god the first time.¡±

    Into the hall they went, step by step, until they found the door of transparent green ss they¡¯de for.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Yong reverently whispered. ¡°It really<em> is</em> a lift.¡±

    Through the ss they could see the ropes and pulleys ¨C all of it metal, dull and pale - that would pull up the small stainless tform on the other side of the door. There were no obvious controls for it, but they might be hidden from where this side of the door. The handle was easy enough to find: a simple grip carved into the ss, allowing the thief to slide the door into the wall. Tristan tested the tform with his foot and found it solid, then stepped onto it. A swift look around found what he was looking for.

    ¡°There it is,¡± he said.

    A vertical stripe of cryptoglyphs carved in the wall, besides which three circr symbols of gold had been set into the stone. Yong, who had leaned in, nodded and withdrew.

    ¡°Francho,¡± he said, gesturing for the professor.

    They both left to give the old man the time and privacy to use his contract and learn how to work the lift. They walked a little further down, staying close to the walls and keeping an eye on both sides of the hall. Maryam was keeping guard by the door with the brokentch in case anyone form the Old Fort intended on following them in.

    ¡°I thought the god would be lying in wait for sure,¡± Yong admitted. ¡°We are the easier target.¡±

    Now was the time to tell him, following the n, but the thief still hesitated. It did not go unnoticed.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± Yong slowly said, ¡°what did you<em> do</em>?¡±

    He had to tell Yong now, he knew. He would have to ask the crew to wait here, and they were not going to agree to that unless he gave them a good reason for it. <em>It¡¯s toote for you to sell me out now anyway</em>, the thief thought. <em>It wouldn¡¯t do you any good. Vasanti is too far and the end of this trial so very close.</em> It should tip the bnce his way.

    ¡°It¡¯s not here,¡± Tristan said, ¡°because I told the god when Vasanti would go through the front gate.¡±

    The Tianxi went still, as if he¡¯d been pped, but Tristan had no regrets. Even with Yong along, it was a near certainty they would die if they fought the god. Tristan had, therefore, ensured that Boria would be elsewhere.

    ¡°Wen will kill you,¡± Yong quietly said. ¡°<em>Slowly</em>. He¡¯ll hunt you to the ends of this ind if he has to.¡±

    The words were an afterthought,pared to the disappointed look in the man¡¯s eyes. Like he had misjudged Tristan. The thief had known it wasing: Yong had left the infanzones when he believed they were using the leftovers as bait, during the Trial of Lines. Now Tristan had done even worse, not even leaving the matter to chance.

    ¡°Wen would have been an issue,¡± Tristan agreed. ¡°So I lied to him, told him that the god cornered me and I had to bargain that information so it would let me leave. He is preparing to ambush the ambusher as we speak.¡±

    Wen had been furious that Watch lives were put at risk, of course, but recognized that Vasanti and her men would likely have been attacked anyway. All Tristan had done was forewarn the god, and inpensation he had given Wen something the man wanted: a reason to relieve Lieutenant Vasanti frommand. After the fat lieutenant drove off the god with a counter-ambush, he would be able to call Vasanti reckless and argue she was out of control. Risking Watch lives for her pride.

    He would then be able to pull the entire garrison out of the Old Fort, getting them out of the line of fire before Tristan broke the golden aether machine and the gods of the maze were freed of the rules keeping them leashed to their shrines ¨C and unable to hurt mortals outside of the tests. But the timing for all that would be delicate, which was why he was telling Yong this in the first ce and would soon tell the others.

    ¡°You made a deal with Wen,¡± the veteran said.

    ¡°I did,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And it involves waiting to take the lift until-¡±

    Maryam leaned through the doorway.

    ¡°Shots,¡± she called out. ¡°I can hear them echo from further down, through the wheel room where Tristan almost died. I think the Watch ran into the god.¡±

    ¡°That,¡± Tristan finished. ¡°Waiting until that.¡±

    In a matter of moments, he thought, Lieutenant Wen would rescue the other watchmen and drive away Boria.

    ¡°Francho,¡± he called out. ¡°How are we doing?¡±

    A long coughing fit was his first answer. The second was more promising.

    ¡°I need Sarai to make a Sign,¡± the old man said, ¡°but I believe I have found our answer.¡±

    He did not even need to gesture for Maryam toe running, she had been listening in. They all went to stand on the stainless tform, Francho muttering his instructions to the pale-skinned woman as she frowned at the golden inscriptions.

    ¡°There were a lot more shots sounding below than there should have been given how many people Vasanti took down with her,¡± Maryam casually said.

    ¡°A question I¡¯ll answer as soon as you get the lift moving,¡± Tristan replied.

    ¡°Well,¡± she said, ¡°if you insist.¡±

    She traced her finger over the topmost symbol, teeth gritted as she did, and a faint streak of darkness glimmered wherever skin touched gold. Sher withdrew her hand the moment it was finished, like she¡¯d been burned, and ck smoke wafted off the gold.

    From the tip of her finger as well, until she wiped it off on her tunic.

    ¡°Did it-¡± Yong began, mouth closing when the tform shuddered beneath their feet.

    It began rising after, perfectly soundless and at what felt like a brisk trot. The stone around them was smooth and identical, however, so there was no telling at what speed they were truly moving.

    ¡°Answers,¡± Maryam prompted.

    Tristan gave them, same as he had with Yong. What he¡¯d told the god, what he¡¯d told Wen. Neither seemed irked at his tactics ¨C Francho, if anything, looked pleased. After that, at least he told the crew what it was that Wen had asked in exchange for the salt munitions.

    ¡°He wants us to break the aether machine,¡± Tristan said. ¡°That way the Watch will be forced to attempt to kill the Red Maw instead of continuing the trials.¡±

    From the corner of his eye he caught the first break in the stone walls. A green ss gate leading into a well-lit room, the glimpse barely a second long.

    ¡°That is madness,¡± Yong grunted. ¡°The maze might be failing, but it is still the only thing keeping the Maw at bay. What if it spreads out of control?¡±

    ¡°It has had centuries and not spread more than a mile or two into the seabed,¡± Francho said. ¡°Even if it consumes every speck of life on the Dominion, how far can it really go? It will simply be one of a hundred blockaded inds in the Trebian Sea.¡±

    Another break, this time for another side, and Yong saw it too. They shared a look, both wondering whether it was a sign they were getting near the summit.

    ¡°You think the Watch will starve it out?¡± Maryam asked, sounding surprised.

    ¡°It would not be the first time they were forced to handle a god this way,¡± Francho shrugged. ¡°My concern is that if we act too early the gods of the maze might attack the Old Fort while watchmen are still in it. That would earn us a shallow grave.¡±

    ¡°Wen is to lead them out,¡± Tristan reminded him.

    ¡°<em>If</em> he can convince the others to side with him against Vasanti,¡± Yong noted. ¡°He¡¯s right, that is not a sure thing.¡±

    ¡°Waiting too long would be dangerous,¡± the thief said. ¡°Whatever made the god desperate to attack intruders will turn it against us when it realizes we are heading to the summit. We have some time, but we cannot afford to-¡±

    Green ss exploded from behind him scattering against his coat, and all Tristan saw as he turned was a sh of red. His spine, it was going to hit his ¨C the thief hit the floor, warm spraying all over his face, and there was a scream. A woman¡¯s scream. Maryam had pushed him down, and the hand that¡¯d done it was still on his hip.

    Missing two fingers.

    Boria¡¯s tongue withdrew with a wet slurp before the lift¡¯s rise could cut it off.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Tristan said, ¡°Maryam, I need to-¡±

    ¡°<em>Move</em>,¡± Yong shouted, firing his musket past them.

    Tristan hit the deck as green ss burst again, the god letting out a scream of hatred as Yong¡¯s salt shot hit flesh. He scrabbled on the ground through shards of ss until he had his bag in hand, ripping out bandages.

    ¡°Reloading,¡± the Tianxi calmly said. ¡°Cover your wall.¡±

    ¡°Maryam, give me your hand,¡± Tristan hissed. ¡°You¡¯ll bleed out.¡±

    ¡°Fuck,¡± she cursed, and mmed the mutted limb into hisp as she fumbled with her pistol.

    She shot into ss a moment before it exploded, a massive hand wing at the stainless floor and trying to rip out Francho ¨C who threw himself to the side, screaming as the ss shards cut into his skin. Tristan forced Maryam¡¯s hand up and tied a tourniquet on the fingers. She¡¯d lost her little and ring finger down to the bottom phnge. To save his life.

    How did someone even out a debt like that?

    ¡°Francho, aim your fucking pistol,¡± Yong snarled. ¡°Now is not the time to fall apart.¡±

    The old man was trembling so badly he could not hold the gun up, Tristan saw as he rose to his feet. He drew his own, helping up Maryam, and grit his teeth. The same stone walls that had seemed like a haven now seemed sinister, like the muzzle of a gun. There was no telling when Boria would strike, or from where. <em>How is it even keeping up with us?</em>

    ss burst behind them.

    ¡°VERMIN,¡± the god snarled.

    Tristan shot, but it went wide and Francho slipped on the ss as he tried to flee Boria¡¯s searching hands. The old man¡¯s feet was caught and Tristan cursed as he threw his useless pistol at the god, to hisplete surprise hitting it right in the eye ¨C it yelped, releasing Francho, and as Yongnded a shot to drive it off Tristan dragged the old man back.

    ¡°My pistol,¡± the old professor panted. ¡°Take my pistol, I can¡¯t-¡±

    The thief took it, not having the heart to admit he might be an even worse shot than the old man. At least he could hold it the right way. The four of them stood together, clustered and fearful, as the lift continued to rise. Five breaths passed, then ten, then twenty.

    When thirty had passed, one of them spoke up.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± Yong said. ¡°Did I go mad, or did I see you throw your <em>pistol </em>at it?¡±

    ¡°I was improvising,¡± he replied defensively.

    Maryam¡¯s forehead fell against his back, his friendughing convulsively.

    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± Tristan asked her.

    She snorted, voice still taut withughter.

    ¡°Like a god ate two of my fingers,¡± she informed him.

    ¡°Going against the single piece of advice I gave you,¡± Francho noted.

    A heartbeat passed, then they were all howling withughter. It wasn¡¯t even that funny. It was just a release of tension, though none of them dared to take an eye off their wall. As thest chuckles began to peter out, the tform between them shuddered again.

    ¡°It¡¯s slowing down,¡± Tristan said, almost disbelieving. ¡°Are we¡­¡±

    ¡°We must,¡± Yong said.

    The older man did not even try to hide his relief.

    ¡°Tristan.¡±

    His gaze swept around and he found the source of the whisper: Fortuna, standing in a corner. She gestured discreetly. He cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Tristan?¡± Francho asked.

    ¡°Not now,¡± he said, then lowered his voice. ¡°What are you pointing at?¡±

    Fortuna, again, moved her chin oddly. Up, he realized, She was pointing up as discreetly as she could. Ignoring the worried gaze from Francho, he flicked as tactful a nce up as he could. He could see the top of the lift, he realized. Where their rise would end. There was even a ss door. But why would Fortuna ¨C a second door, this one open. Leading into a room without light, so he had thought it part of the stone wall at first nce.

    He met Fortuna¡¯s golden eyes, cocking an eyebrow. She nodded back.

    He swallowed a curse, knowing that if he said anything Boria would hear it. Its hearing was sharp. Yong was looking at him as if he were mad, but the others had been told ¨C or put together ¨C that he was speaking with his god. Tristan put a finger to his lip, then gestured up at the dark doorway. It took three heartbeats to make himself understood with a pantomime that couldn¡¯t easily be seen from above, and they were just about to end their trip the thief grit his teeth and shot into the dark.

    Light shed, revealing poisonous yellow eyes poised on them, and the god leapt down before the lift could dock into ce.

    He heard someone shouting ¨C him, Yong? ¨C and there was another shot, but the Boria was just toorge and too heavy. Itnded among them, Tristan getting mmed into the wall and hitting his head against stone. Dazed, he blinked as he heard shouting as Yong bared his sword. Francho shouted, choking on his cough, and Maryam was thrown right through the ss door by a flick of the god¡¯s tail. His vision swam, eyes tearing up as all that came in focus was golden eyes. Fortuna, still facing him.

    Holding a single golden coin in her hand.

    ¡°All in,¡± he croaked, and herugh was the loveliest thing he¡¯d ever head.

    He saw the sh of gold go up, spinning, and the string in the back of his mind pull the furthest it ever had. The clock did not tick, this time. No, the debt was toorge for that. It felt like the heartbeat of an ancient titan, right against his ear. Like thunder rolling out, and the string pulled so far back it came all the way around.

    Fortune and misfortune in a single stroke: beneath their feet, the tform broke.

    ¡°No,¡± Boria screamed.

    The god scrabbled against the wall, Tristan falling on its back. He clung to the slimy scales as the god struggled to drag itself through the doorway, but Yong had thrown himself through the broke ss door and Maryam was with him, dragging up Francho. The Tianxi aimed his musket down at the god, hesitating when his gaze dipped to Tristan.

    ¡°<em>Do it</em>,¡± he shouted.

    His hands were already sliding against the scales. Yong grit his teeth and fired right into the god¡¯s hand, breaking its grip. It dropped.

    So did Tristan, until his back hit a ball of solid Gloam.

    Scrabbling desperately not to fall off, the thief hugged the curves as the god toppled past him with beastly howls of rage.

    ¡°Hurry,¡± Maryam snarled, ¡°a rope, I can¡¯t-¡±

    But they had no rope. Instead Francho leaned over the edge, legs held by Yong, and as the old man trembled Tristan leapt across the gap ¨C his fingers sunk into the professor¡¯s clothes, ripping the cloth, and he shouted in fear but the cor stuck and then both Yong and Maryam were dragging them up. Up, up, as Francho¡¯s clothes continued to rip around the cor and just before it came right off Yong caught him by his and dragged him over the edge.

    They fell in a pile, bleeding and bruised and panting so loud they almost couldn¡¯t make out the howling of the god until it no longer made any noise at all.

    --

    The summit of the pir was as single cavernous hall.

    They stumbled forward hesitantly, awed by the size and troubled by how utterly empty it was. There was nothing within save for a wide ring of stone seats, all facing the center of the room, and a shallow pit in the middle that could not be more than five feet wide and as many deep.

    ¡°Is it the wrong ce?¡± Yong asked, sounding exhausted to the bone.

    ¡°No,¡± Maryam said. ¡°There is¡­ something here. The aether is too thick.¡±

    It was Francho who found the answer by virtue of being the first to touch one of the stone seats. Lights red, coursing out of the pit like a river in reverse and expanding into a massive riot of colors and shapes. Tristan swallowed, blinking away the headache he was getting just looking at it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave that to you,¡± he told the old man. ¡°I¡¯ll find us an exit.¡±

    It was not all that difficult to achieve as much, now that the red lights chased the shadows out of the room. There were two smooth opening in the stone. Tristan traded a look with Yong as Maryam joined Francho by the lights, the two of them splitting the work. The thief¡¯s ended up a dead end: it was, he found out to his mild amusement, atrine. An absurdly spacious one with basins to wash your hands in, but atrine nheless. Apparently even the Antediluvians had felt certain needs. Yong turned out to be the lucky one.

    ¡°I think this leads out,¡± the Tianxi called out, having doubled back.

    Tristan crossed the room to join him, ignoring the moving lights and excited talk from the other two. Francho, he noted, was moving near one of the stone seats again. He could only approve of using the old man¡¯s contract as a shortcut. He found a long, dimly lit hall when he joined Yong. Going in a straight line, it seemed to go on for long enough that outside the mountain seemed the only possible destination.

    ¡°That¡¯s our bet,¡± Tristan agreed.

    ¡°And there¡¯s that,¡± Yong added, pointing to the side.

    The thief squinted, making out what the man was pointing at after a moment. Another green ss door.

    ¡°Another lift?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We¡¯ve only seen the green ss on those,¡± the Tianxi shrugged.

    The veteran leaned back against the wall, reaching inside his bag and producing a small tin sk.

    ¡°<em>Yong</em>,¡± Tristan reproached. ¡°Truly?¡±

    ¡°You sent men and women sworn to protect us right into the jaws of a god for a n that did not even work,¡± Yong mildly replied. ¡°Shut your fucking mouth, Tristan. I¡¯ll drink if I feel like it.¡±

    The thief rocked back, hurt but refusing to show it. That¡¯d not been unearned, he knew. He¡¯d been the one to first break trust. So instead of the sharp answer on the tip of his tongue, he walked away. There would be time to mend that bridgeter, if they both lived through the night. He hoped.

    Returning to the great hall, he paused in sheer surprise at what now stood before him.

    What had been argely empty hall was now filled with tall steles risen from the ground, more emerging or moving to the sides as Maryam tugged at ropes of silver light going into the mess of lights at the heart of the room. Which were not so messy anymore. Shapes hade into focus, outlining the ind only separated in zones of different color connected by red furrows.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± Francho called out, then broke for a cough. ¡°We figured it out.¡±

    ¡°Figured out what?¡± he warily asked.

    ¡°What the Antediluvians were doing here,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Or something close to it.¡±

    Francho beamed, rheumy eyes bright.

    ¡°The Red Maw transported raw aether,¡± the old professor said. ¡°Centuries ago the ind was divided into areas where certain nts and animals were installed-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s why so many lemures from different parts of the world can be found here,¡± Maryam cut in. ¡°They drew on fauna and flora from all over-¡±

    ¡°And then the entity that became the Red Maw was to release the aether into those specific areas, presumably so that the Antediluvians could study the effects,¡± Francho cut right back. ¡°Presumably there was another facility dedicated to study, but I believe this one was meant to control the Red Maw itself. Maryam, if you would?¡±

    She tugged at the silver strings, steles rose and fell as the floor parted like water and the lights changed. A new image came into focus. It was, Tristan thought, a much finer version of the sight revealed by the small machine they¡¯d got to work below. A see-through sight of the ind from the side, only this one also outlined the pir they stood in: it was a massive spear pointing downwards, with thin fments spreading out near the top of the shaft all over the top of the mountain. One of them, Tristan noted, seemed to be the hallway Yong had found.

    It led outside, he realized with excitement.

    Then his gaze turned to the Red Maw and the excitement faded. The tip of the spear was right above a massive nest of red lines and a thick knot at the heart that had to be the god¡¯s heart.

    ¡°See?¡± Francho said. ¡°It cannot be a coincidence the facility reaches precisely there. I expect there is a way to force the Red Maw to begin feeding the areas aether again instead of hoarding it, perhaps using the same phenomenon that forced rules onto the maze. If we could only-¡±

    The shot took him byplete and utter surprise.

    He dropped to the floor, the other two scattering to take cover behind steles, but it had not been them that were shot out. Instead Tristan turned to find that Yong had dropped to the floor, and that walking right past him a bloodied silhouette advanced. ck cloak torn to strips and face bloodied, Lieutenant Vasanti raised a second pistol.

    ¡°Not a move, you little rat,¡± she snarled. ¡°You, with the Signs ¨C step away from the lights or the boy gets a new hole in the head.¡±

    Tristan swallowed, reaching for the luck, but his fingers closed around nothing. He could feel anything, borrow anything. Manes, had he even seen Fortuna since he¡¯d made the lift drop? He could not remember. <em>Did I burn out my luck?</em> He raised his hands, not daring move an inch under Vasanti¡¯s steady gaze.

    ¡°Lieutenant,¡± Maryam said, ¡°I do not know what angered you so, but there is no-¡±

    ¡°Shut up, girl,¡± Vasanti said. ¡°You think I can¡¯t see it? Wening right when he did, like he¡¯d been forewarned. You nned it together, and I won¡¯t get shot by that idiot in Three Pines while the smug asshole eats a <em>fucking pastry</em>.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s eyes flicked past the ckcloak, seeking Yong. Was he alive? He couldn¡¯t tell from here, but the Tianxi was not moving. How had she even-

    ¡°You took a lift up,¡± the thief breathed up. ¡°The other one.¡±

    ¡°I was right, like usual,¡± Vasantiughed. ¡°The closest way up was below, a maintenance room. I pressed on after the cowards left, proved my point. Beautiful work that lift, it didn¡¯t make a sound ¨C and the drunk was too busy drinking to hear meing, anyway.¡±

    The cheer went away.

    ¡°And I told you to fucking step away from the lights, girl,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re meddling with. You think the devils left it all to a single god? There¡¯s always another angle with Lucifer¡¯s brood.¡±

    From the corner of his eye, Tristan saw Francho hiding behind a stele and palming a knife. Discreetly he tried to shake his head, but the old man ignored him. Tristan urgently sought Maryam¡¯s eyes and after a heartbeat met them.

    Then Pandemonium broke loose.

    Francho popped out from behind the stele, throwing his knife at Vasanti, who ducked out of the way and aimed right at Tristan. He threw himself to the side, cursing as he saw halfway through the movement he¡¯d done it too early ¨C her pistol was following him. Then Maryam ripped her hands off the lights after a curt gesture.

    The lights shut down as Vasanti fired, light shing and the bullet whizzing past him.

    ¡°Oh, you <em>idiot</em> girl,¡± the old Someshwari breathed out. ¡°You shut down the whole thing, you¡¯ll trigger<em>-</em>¡±

    Though it was dark, Tristan could tell exactly what happened: every single stele blew up in the following heartbeat. Francho¡¯s scream was snuffed out and the thief hit the floor again. The floor shivered, unseen rivers of aether filling it, and a secondter dim lights filled the room again ¨C so shallow he could barely make out shapes. Maryamy prone on the ground, unmoving. He looked for Francho and did not find him, until he realized he <em>had</em>.

    The bloody, burnt strands of flesh on the floor were all that remained of the man.

    Swallowing, Tristan reached for his knife as his eyes sought Vasanti ¨C but he found neither the de nor the ckcloak. His ckjack, though stilly nestled against his side. He took it in hand. Was the lieutenant dead as well? Had she- his vision swam as he hit to the back of his head mmed him forward. He turned, striking blindly behind him, but Vasanti casually stepped out of the blow and struck him with the grip of her pistol again.

    He rocked back, teeth chattering.

    ¡°Fucking kids,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°I warned her the devils would have the damn thing trapped in case someone meddled with their work. The entire machine might be wrecked now.¡±

    Tristan rosed to his feet, feeling faint, and brought up his ckjack. Vasanti snorted.

    ¡°I was killing men when you were in swaddling clothes, boy,¡± the old woman said. ¡°I would have dropped you at your best ¨C now I¡¯ll get to make it slow.¡±

    There was a sudden re of light, something emerging from the pit behind them, and in that heartbeat Tristan moved. It took her by surprise: she fell for the feint, protecting her face as hended a blow on her wrist and forced her to drop the pistol. She jabbed forward and he drew back, but then she did something strange with her footing ¨C drawing forward and back, almost osciting ¨C and when he feinted shended a blow against his jaw.

    He spat blood, swinging at her temple, but she caught his wrist and flipped him. His back hit the ground and she struck him in the gut, sitting on his stomach as he desperately protected his face from another blow. She broke his guard and hit him again, baring bloody teeth.

    ¡°I told you,¡± Vasanti snarled, ¡°that I would make it-¡±

    The de went through her throat. It was ripped out with a flick of the wrist, the old woman reaching for the open wound with something like surprise on her face. She was kicked to the side and fell, convulsing.

    Three heartbeatster she was dead.

    ¡°You missed the spine,¡± Yong rasped out, standing over her cooling corpse. ¡°And what do you know - rotgut makes for a <em>very</em> good painkiller.¡±

    The Tianxi offered him a hand up and Tristan took it, the other man groaning at the effort.

    ¡°We need to get out of here,¡± the thief said. ¡°I¡¯ll take Maryam.¡±

    ¡°Francho?¡± Yong asked.

    The thief shook his head. The ground shuddered beneath their feet again.

    ¡°Hurry,¡± the other man said. ¡°I don¡¯t like the way the floor keeps shaking.¡±

    Maryam was unconscious and heavier than he would have thought, but her draped her across his back. It was only when trying to catch up to Yong that Tristan thought to look at the burst of light that¡¯d almost let him turn things around on Vasanti. The shape were bare bones, all in pale yellow, but there was no mistaking what he was looking at. It was the pir he was standing in, the spear pointed at the heart of the Red Maw. Everything keeping it bound to the peak of the hollow mountain was copsing, as if sabotaged.

    Vasanti had been right. The devils had left onest trap. If mortals dared to meddle with their seal, well, the structure maintain it was to have onest purpose: it was to be turned into a gargantuan spear to be sunk right into the Red Maw¡¯s heart in the hopes of killing it. And if that weren¡¯t enough, well, then the god would be buried under an entire mountain. That ought to slow it down some, surely.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Tristan Abrascal swore, and began running.

 Chapter 38

    Chapter 38

    The cliffside path was narrow but dry, which was the only reason they lived.

    They ran down into the yawning dark, the trembling light of Zenzele¡¯sntern revealing a thin stripe of the grounds ahead as they tried to outrun the tide of falling stone. When the path abruptly turned to the right, tucked into the mountainside, the Mni noble almost toppled off the edge ¨C Cozme yanked him back, almost falling off himself when Ferranda ran into his back. If the stone path had been even slightly slippery all three would have tumbled into the void.

    ¡°Careful,¡± Angharad shouted, dragging the infanzona back by the cor. ¡°We need to-¡±

    Dust exploded a dozen feet above them in a tall plume, rocks going flying. The eleven of them had clustered at the corner, forced together by momentum, and it took a moment to extricate themselves. Tupoc pushed to the fore, ripping Zenzele¡¯sntern out of his hands, and deftly led the way down. Angharad flicked a nce back as the others began moving again, picking up speed on the narrow path, and grimaced as she saw that Shalini was still carrying Ishaan¡¯s corpse on her back.

    The Pereduri did not bother to suggest she should put it down: the look on the other woman¡¯s face was not one to be argued with.

    ¡°Come on,¡± she said instead. ¡°Thendslide is catching up.¡±

    They set out down the cliffside again. The same turn that had near kill them was likely the only reason they lived, Angharad realized as she heard a rolling thunder in the distance and a tide of death rushed past the path they had been running down not minutes ago. Most of thendslide was facing the slope where the sanctuary had been waiting, and they¡¯d just given it the slip. Not that they were out of danger: most was not <em>all</em>.

    The first rock was the size of a fist, and it bounced off Yaretzi¡¯s shoulder as she let out a grunt of pain. Angharad glimpsed ahead, feeling her blood run hot ¨C she had used a vision earlier, there was only so much more she could borrow of the Fisher¡¯s power before it killed her ¨C and moved before the glimpse was even finished. She seized Song by the shoulder and pressed the two of them against the mountainside just before a boulder the size of a horse tumbled right past them.

    A heartbeatter and all that would have been left of Song was red paste and screaming.

    ¡°Ahead,¡± Tupoc shouted, voice without a hint of mockery for once. ¡°I see shelter.¡±

    He spoke true, for the cliffside path there ate into the mountain as a short tunnel ¨C the peak¡¯s slope served as a wall and ceiling, and under that cover they huddled together as death rumbled above. They waited, pressed tight under the shelter as stone and dust spilled past them in spurts. How long they waited without speaking a word Angharad could not be sure. Eventually, though, thest of the falling ended and their breaths began to ring loudly in the silence that followed.

    ¡°I think that was the worst of it,¡± Lord Zenzele finally said. ¡°Myntern, Xical.¡±

    ¡°Try not to walk it off another cliff,¡± Tupoc helpfully advised. ¡°It makes it harder for the rest of us to see.¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Angharad tiredly said. ¡°Peril has not passed; anotherndslide could begin at any moment.¡±

    ¡°And parts of the path down could now be blocked with stone,¡± Song grimly said. ¡°Let us not be caught with our trousers down.¡±

    Zenzele Duma snatched hisntern back a little more strongly than was warranted, but they all pretended not to see. His hatred of Tupoc was entirely deserved. Theirpany began heading down again, far from slowly but short of the reckless pace from earlier. As Song had predicted, the spill had touched the path. Small chunks, mostly, and piled of dust. They stepped carefully around sharpened shards, the troubleing when they found a rock taller and broader than a man bncing precariously in the middle of the path.

    ¡°It¡¯s too narrow a space to squeeze through,¡± Lan said.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Song replied.

    Angharad did not argue. Instead she turned to Tupoc, drawing the Izcalli¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Assemble your spear,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll push it off the edge together.¡±

    The man¡¯s pale eyes assessed the stone.

    ¡°Could work,¡± he agreed.

    It was more difficult than it sounded,rgely because the path was narrow and they were many ¨C the others had to withdraw so the pair would have enough room to push. Angharad¡¯s hands were slick with sweat and twice her grip slipped against the cool metal, but they bent their knees and pushed until the stone slowly began to tip forward. Gravity did the rest of the work.

    ¡°Nothing like a spot of exercise with death hanging over your head,¡± Tupoc cheerfully said afterwards.

    Angharad ignored him, brushing past his shoulder. She held nontern, but Zenzele helpfully passed his and she took the vanguard for the rest of the way down. There were more small stones the further down they got, but no morerge ones. It had been stark odds for one tond across the path as it had in the first ce. Half an hour of brisk descent led them at the bottom of the mountain, the tall silhouette of it looming in the distance as thick woods spread out before them.

    She waited at the tree line with thentern in hand until the others caught up, spilling down the path one after another. Shalini, Angharad saw, wasst by a wide margin. Ishaan¡¯s corpse was heavy and she had slowed down with exhaustion from carrying it.

    ¡°Thendslide didn¡¯t reach this far,¡± Lan observed, one of thest to catch up. ¡°I¡¯d say this is as safe as we¡¯re going to get outside a sanctuary.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Lady Ferranda said. ¡°This is where we make our n, if we are to stick together.¡±

    ¡°Is there a n to make?¡± Tupoc shrugged. ¡°There will be no rest. We take the Trial of Weeds, or we die in the dark. It is a simple thing.¡±

    He sounded almost pleased, further proof the man was half mad and half jackal. Worse, Angharad was not convinced he was wrong.

    ¡°I have no intention of joining the Watch,¡± Isabel sharply cut in. ¡°The ckcloaks must recognize that a natural disaster undid their trials and prevented us from seeking the promised sanctuary. Surely there is a way to reach the garrison.¡±

    ¡°You could climb back up and start digging out the fort,¡± Song drily replied. ¡°By all means have at it, Ruesta.¡±

    Cozme snorted. It had not escaped Angharad¡¯s attention that since Augusto¡¯s demise the mustachioed man had taken open pleasure in any backtalk directed at the infanzona.

    ¡°Helpful as always, Song,¡± Isabel bit back. ¡°Do you think I am alone in not wanting to take the third trial? Lady Ferranda-¡±

    ¡°Can speak for herself,¡± the other infanzona said.

    Ferranda¡¯s in, lean face was smudged with dust and her bun had spit out strands of hair but her eyes were sharp and she stood straight. Isabel, still red in the face with sweaty locks pressed against her forehead, was not faring so well. The two noblewomen matched gazes.

    ¡°So speak,¡± Isabel said, sounding confident. ¡°Should we not find the Watch, Lady Vizur? Your family will be awaiting your return, as mine does.¡±

    The other woman¡¯s jaw clenched. Ferranda did not answer for a long time, looking for all the world like a woman standing on the edge of a precipice.

    ¡°I am thinking,¡± she finally said, ¡°of taking the third trial.¡±

    Surprise rippled through half of them, Angharad not the least. Had Ferranda note to the ind to gild her family¡¯s name? <em>And win the right to keep a lover</em>, she recalled. Now that Sanale had passed, it seemed that Ferranda Vizur was not eager to return to her house without him. The dark-skinned noble kept her disapproval off her face. To serve your house only on your own terms was not true service, but it was not her ce toment.

    ¡°I will be doing the same,¡± Cozme Aflor casually added, rolling his shoulder with a wince. ¡°It seems to me that I am in a need of a change of careers.¡±

    Angharad cocked an eyebrow and Tupoc let out a small, nastyugh. Brun looked amused as well, though as was his wont he kept quiet.

    ¡°You¡¯ve run out of Cerdans to lose, so I suppose you might as well,¡± Tupoc grinned.

    Cozme¡¯s eyes on him were cold, the same way they had been when he pulled a knife on the champion of the vermin god. What kind of a man had he been, before House Cerdan took him in? Not the kind to take insults lying down when he had no master to protect, Angharad thought, so she cleared her throat tomand attention before matters could get out of hand.

    ¡°Is there any among us who does <em>not </em>desire to take the Trial of Weeds?¡± she asked. ¡°Save for Lady Isabel, I mean.¡±

    There was no answer and she realized a heratbeat toote that she had blundered. Even if there were such individuals, they would hesitate when being put on the spot like this ¨C it was clear that most of their group wanted to press forward, and who would want to be left alone in the woods? She cleared her throat again, faintly embarrassed at the misstep.

    ¡°It seems to me,¡± she tried, ¡°that there will be a Watch garrison at the northern tip of the ind, the port town called Three Pines. I imagine that given the circumstances the Watch would not press into service those who reach that safety.¡±

    Isabel smiled at her, pretty in her visible relief.

    ¡°That seems apromise all can live with,¡± she said.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pretty n,¡± Shalini broke in, Ishaan¡¯s corpse yet on her back, ¡°but you¡¯re forgetting something. When that mountainside fort got buried, we lost more than a sanctuary: we lost the watchmen that would tell us what the Trial of Weeds actually <em>is</em>.¡±

    There was a moment of damning silence as the truth of her words sunk in. That was, admittedly, something of a hindrance. Song was the one to end the paralysis, reaching for her bag and dragging a scroll out.

    ¡°We cannot know the details,¡± the Tianxi acknowledged, ¡°but neither are we entirely in the dark. Here,e closer.¡±

    Her map, Angharad realized. Song unfolded it in the light of thentern, everyone crowding around the paper.

    ¡°We should be somewhere around here,¡± Song said.

    Her finger was resting on a small, marked ce on the northern side of the mountains splitting the ind - the very same they had crossed by beating the maze. And not far from where they were, Angahrad saw a slender grey line going through the woods that made up most of the northern third of the Dominion of Lost Things.

    ¡°A road?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I do not know for sure,¡± Song replied, ¡°but I believe so. More importantly, it goes through here.¡±

    Her finger followed along the grey line until it reached a drawing in the midst of the woods that looked like a small fortress.

    ¡°Is that a Watch outpost?¡± Zenzele frowned.

    It might be, Angharad thought. The road went through it and continued all the way to the norther tip of the ind, to Three Pines.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the silver-eyed sharpshooter admitted. ¡°But it is <em>something</em>, and even if it is empty we can use the grounds to rest with some safety.¡±

    ¡°We won¡¯t make it there tonight,¡± Ferranda said.

    ¡°Not unless we march through the night,¡± Tupoc agreed. ¡°I do not hate the notion, but I¡¯ve no doubt there will be whining.¡±

    He snuck a look at Shalini, who red back.

    ¡°We should at least push forward for another hour,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I do not know if there are cultists on this side of the ind, but if there are then themotion of thendslide is sure to have drawn them out.¡±

    She flicked a nce at Tupoc, who shrugged.

    ¡°I only dealt with the one war party and its bishop,¡± the Izcalli said. ¡°I gathered from them the ind has rival tribes, but not where they might dwell.¡±

    ¡°Hollows are one thing,¡± Lan easily said, ¡°but there will be lemures in the woods and a bunch of us are bleeding.¡±

    ¡°Then we keep going until we find defensible shelter,¡± Angharad suggested. ¡°We¡¯ll keep a watch through the night.¡±

    Nods all around. She would have preferred to press on to the possible outpost, but it was true that might take hours yet and much of their party was either wounded, exhausted or both.

    ¡°That will be most interesting,¡± Tupoc noted.

    She frowned at him, reluctant to indulge him and ask. He answered anyway.

    ¡°Have you forgotten,¡± the Izcalli said, ¡°that the murderer is still among us? I do wonder if we¡¯ll be waking up to another corpse.¡±

    The mood had been turning hopeful but that reminder skewered it thoroughly, which only amused the man all the more. It was with that dark truth hanging over them that they headed into the woods, taste for conversation snuffed out like an errant candle. Now every leaf shivering in the wind loomed like a hungry lupine and every time one of them came to close to another backs tensed for fear of a knife. Dangers within and dangers without, Angharad thought.

    She was not sure which she should be wariest about.

    --

    Within fifteen minutes of starting, Angharad was quite done with traipsing through the woods.

    Back home the rest of the kingdom often spoke of Peredur as a pristinend spared the scars of industry, unmarred by st furnaces and smelt mills. Izinduna visited the High Isle for hunting trips and private retreats. That talk was about the hearnds of the duchy, however, the old <em>Brenhinoedd ¨C </em>the <em>¡®</em>Kingnd¡¯. Her own nw Hall was of the coast, and the rocky shornds were simply unsuited to such sport. Like most seaside nobles, the closest Mother had evere to chasing a stag was shipping venison sausages south to Port Cadwyn.

    Her father<em></em>had been skilled hunter, as was fashionable in high society, but regrettably Angharad had never taken him up on his offers to learn the pursuit. Perhaps if she had she might have developed a fondness for the woods instead of a rising, deep-seated hatred. She was getting tired of walking about tripping on roots and getting whipped in the face by branches when Tupoc ¨C reliable in his bastardry ¨C waited until thest moment to release them. After getting smacked most indecorously in the breast by a branch, Angharad surrendered her ce to Ferranda lest she be tempted to run the Izcalli through. <em>Why</em>, he would gasp out. <em>Why, Tredegar?</em> And she would look him in the eyes and say<em>: my tit, you utter animal, you branch-whipped my tit.</em>

    Deciding that vivid fantasies of murder were perhaps a sign that her patience might be running out, Angharad drew back by slowing her steps and let Ferranda pass her by. Cozme too, as she did not care to keep the manpany. That left her by Lord Zenzele, who did not much talk and often nced back worriedly at Shalini. She was still trailing at their back, though Brun was making it a point to slow his steps so she would always have someone in sight. A good man, Brun.

    It both helped and hurt when they reached the road Song had shown them on the map, a small path of beaten earth that was in disrepair but still usable. It was easier for Shalini to walk on the road, but their overall pace quickened as well. By the time the turn of the hour neared, the gunslinger looked fit to drop and Angharad was sharing the worried looks with Zenzele.

    ¡°I do not know anything of Ramayan funeral customs,¡± she said in a whisper. ¡°Would she be offended if I offered help?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s<em> Someshwari</em>, Tredegar,¡± Zenzele grunted back. ¡°They get offended at each other¡¯s ents.¡±

    Which was true, if somewhat impolite to speak out loud. It was an old jest in Mn that while all Someshwari agreed they were an empire no two had ever agreed on who should rule it.

    ¡°She cannot take much more of this,¡± Angharad said. ¡°See how her legs are shaking.¡±

    ¡°We could make a stretcher with sticks and nkets,¡± Zenzele suggested. ¡°We would not be saying anything, it simply happens to be impossible to use one of those alone.¡±

    She side-eyed him.

    ¡°Hold up only the front and drag the back on the ground after tying the body up,¡± she countered.

    The man looked faintly embarrassed, as well he should. It had been a shallow lie, a lie of ignorance orck of forethought, and so not the same as willful mistruth. Yet even shallow lies were enough to tarnish one¡¯s honor if regrly indulged in.

    ¡°To use one of those alone and <em>well</em>,¡± he corrected.

    True enough. Angharad nodded her approval.

    ¡°I can surrender my bedroll to the work,¡± she offered, ¡°but we will need-¡±

    ¡°Halt,¡± the call came from ahead.

    Song¡¯s voice. After onest look at Shalini the Pereduri moved to the front of the column, where the others were assembling. Song, raising her ownntern, had stopped by the side of the road and was casting light on a path to a small clearing. That would not have been worth a rest, had the edge of the clearing not been touched by a small hill from which rose a ruined tower revealed by cold starlight. A thick, stout octagon of stone that jutted upwards, its roof long gone and broad stairs leading to the yawning door halfway up its heights. A few good swords could hold stairs like that for an hour, Angharad thought.

    ¡°A most suitable ce to camp,¡± the noblewoman said. ¡°It is a fine find, Song.¡±

    ¡°I have an eye for those things,¡± the Tianxi replied with the faintest hint of irony.

    Some chuckling. It had been an open secret before that Song¡¯s contract had to do with her silver eyes, but the way she had seen through illusions in the temple-fortress andter when helping Ferranda on the Toll Road had made it into open knowledge. In a way, Angharad thought, that was the finest safeguard to what the Tianxi¡¯s contract could truly do. Why wonder if she could see contracts, when she could already see through illusions and past the veil of darkness?

    ¡°My thanks for your efforts, Mistress Ren,¡± Cozme Aflor said, affecting gantry. ¡°Shall we get to it? I expect we could all use the rest.¡±

    Angharad might have disliked the man, but she would not argue with the truth.

    --

    Everyone pitched in their supplies without argument, which was a pleasant change from the Trial of Lines.

    By the looks of it they had enough for two meals, including the one they were about to have. None of them had bothered to bring much food, as the expectation had been that the sanctuary on the other side of the maze would provide them with fresh supplies. Water shouldst longer than that, at least through the day tomorrow, and they would keep an eye out for streams in the forest.

    Though it was a risk, they decided on having a fire: it was the surest way to keep away animals. The inside of the tower was dry and spacious enough that everyone would be able to fit around the me, keeping them warm through the night, and they could use a warm meal after their trials of the day. Besides, several of them needed to rinse wounds and Angharad might be no physician but she knew in the absence of alcohol boiled water was the best substitute.

    As tasks were settled on with rough efficiency, the Pereduri noblewoman volunteered to gather firewood. She knew the basics of woodcraft but little more than that, and was willing to leave such affairs in the hands of those more fitted to it. It was not demeaning work, even though Tupoc tried to imply as much with his smirk. Had she not been taught that the best de should go the best hand? She was not so arrogant as to think that her hand would always be the finest.

    Still, the man was irritating enough she walked out before hearing who else would take up the chore. It was a short walk down the stairs, which were set into the side of the hill, and from there to the clearing. The forest was dry and there was plenty to pick up from the ground, so Angharad rolled up her sleeves and got to work. It was a few minutester, while adding to the respectable pile at the bottom of the stairs, that she gotpany. Turning as she heard footsteps, Angharad caught sight of a silhouette framed in moonlight.

    In that ghostly glow Isabel Ruesta¡¯s elegant curls and green eyes seemed almost unearthly, a spirit¡¯s impossible beauty. And Isabel was very much a beauty, even visibly exhausted and on the verge of tears. The Pereduri straightened at the sight of her.

    ¡°What happened?¡± she asked.

    Isabel shook her head, padding down thest of the stairs.

    ¡°It is nothing,¡± she said. ¡°I came to help you, not-¡±

    ¡°Tears are not nothing,¡± Angharad gently said.

    Sheid aforting hand on the infanzona¡¯s arm. Isabel hesitated.

    ¡°Ferranda is being quite odious,¡± Isabel finally admitted. ¡°And Cozme is all too happy to pile on.¡±

    ¡°There are limits to the allowances given by grief,¡± the noblewoman frowned. ¡°Ferranda should mind her manners.¡±

    ¡°Who would make her?¡± Isabel wetly chuckled. ¡°No one remains who cares for me in the slightest, Angharad. Kind Recardo never even reached the ind, and my maids¡­¡±

    She shivered, silver-touched tears trickling down her cheeks. Angharad pulled her close, Isabel fighting for half a heartbeat before sobbing against the Pereduri¡¯s chest.

    ¡°They were as family to me,¡± the dark-haired beauty murmured. ¡°I¡¯ve known them since I was but a girl. Beatris looked so much like me back when we were children that we might as well have been twins, and Briceida¡­ Gods, Briceida only came to the ind so that I would be able to help her marry her sweetheart.¡±

    Another sob as Angharad rubbed her back.

    ¡°And now she is <em>dead</em>.¡±

    ¡°It will be all right,¡± she soothed.

    ¡°No, it won¡¯t,¡± Isabel muttered. ¡°They despise me in there, Angharad, and after I tell them of my contract they will surely argue I must be cast out and-¡±

    The reminder that the infanzona in her arms was not simply a pretty girl was like being drenched in cold water. Angharad half pulled away, breathing in sharply. <em>Are my thoughts my own?</em> Emotions, Isabel had told her, made her use her contract against her well.

    ¡°Isabel,¡± she slowly said, ¡°are you¡­¡±

    Green eyes watered as Isabel shook her head.

    ¡°I am fighting it down,¡± the infanzona swore. ¡°It is hard, but I am controlling it.¡±

    A moment passed as Angharad searched herself, finding that she was still wary even after that assurance. That was, ironically, how she came to decide that Isabel was telling the truth. Were she under the contract¡¯s influence she would not have such doubts. She slowly eased back into the embrace, Isabel¡¯s heading to rest on her shoulder. Ignoring that warmth, Angharadid out the bounds of honor in her mind. It was, she found, a tricky affair.

    ¡°Our pact was that you would reveal your contract when we reached the next sanctuary,¡± the Pereduri finally said. ¡°It is to your honor that you would hold up your end of the bargain regardless, but you need not speak until we reach that.¡±

    It might well be that Isabel was right and she would be cast out if she revealed her contract. This was not Angharad¡¯s crew, her word was notw among the band of survivors. She would not force the infanzona into almost certain death against the letter of the bargain they had struck simply because the way to sanctuary would take longer than expected. She would still keep to the other part of the pact, revealing anything should she suspect Isabel of using her contract on another. <em>If she were</em>, Angharad thought, <em>she would not have been driven out of the tower in tears.</em>

    ¡°I do not want to break trust between us again,¡± Isabel whispered.

    She had raised her head, so instead of mumbling against Angharad¡¯s shirt her breath was a warm whisper against the Pereduri¡¯s neck. She looked down, Isabel meeting her eyes. The faint redness left behind by the tears only turned more vivid the shade of the infanzona¡¯s eyes, and before she knew could think twice she was leaning forward. Isabel¡¯s lips were warm against hers and she fell into Angharad¡¯s arms like she¡¯d always been meant to be there. The kiss lit up a greed inside her belly and soon Angharad was pulling her closer, hand on her waist as ¨C Isabel pulled away, breathbored.

    ¡°I am,¡± she began, then hesitated. ¡°My control may slip, if we go continue.¡±

    Angharad almostughed. As if desire was not already setting her hands to roving, to pulling down those silken trousers and stealing moans from Isabel¡¯s swollen lips. The contract could ask nothing of her that she was not already demanding.

    ¡°Let it,¡± she replied, and pressed Isabel back until the infanzona was up against a tree.

    Pinning her against it she leaned forward, nipping at Isabel¡¯s neck, and her fingers began to gently trail up her legs until ¨C the sound of a throat getting cleared stilled her, ice creeping down her spine. She turned to find Song standing on the stairs, her silver gaze wintry. She pulled away, forcing herself not to make it hasty as if she were a child caught stealing from the pantry.

    ¡°Song,¡± she said, clearing her throat. ¡°I had not thought you would-¡±

    ¡°Neither had I,¡± Song sharply replied. ¡°An evening for disappointment, it seems.¡±

    Isabel smoothed down her doublet, looking remorseful.

    ¡°She was onlyforting me,¡± the infanzona said. ¡°Please do not-¡±

    ¡°You strike me as sufficientlyforted, Ruesta,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°It might be best you finish gathering firewood on your own, while Angharad brings up her half of the work.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s lips thinned. She did not enjoy being talked down to as if a fool, but she was not unaware that in a sense she had broken her word to Song ¨C she had promised the other woman she would not talk with Isabel alone, and though she had not sought out the conversation she had allowed it to happen. Encouraged it, even. Much as she would have preferred to defiantly lead Isabel into the woods instead of saying nothing, it would have been a ck mark on her honor.

    ¡°What we discussed stands,¡± she told Isabel instead. ¡°But Song may well be right in the other regard.¡±

    Isabel looked away, seemingly insulted and not without reason. It had not been gant of Angharad to begin something before disavowing it, even though honor demanded as much. It was with the distinct feeling that she was slinking away that Angharad began picking up her pile of firewood, bringing it up in the tower. She passed by Song¡¯s cold gaze, which remained on Isabel, and by the second journey the infanzona had gone into the forest to gather more wood. Song said not a word, and Angharad did not feel up to assaulting that frosty silence.

    The difort followed her inside when she was done. Shalini was sitting between Ferranda and Sanale, the three of them pulled close as the pair tried to draw smiles out of her, while in the opposite corner Brun and Yaretzi chatted quietly. Angharad might have sat this way with Song, if not for what had happened outside. Or she might have sat with Isabel, if not for the same. Herck of restraint had cost her twice over.

    For a heartbeat she felt like sitting with Yaretzi and Brun anyway, to try to steal back some sliver ofradery, but then the thought soured in her mouth: Yaretzi, she had heard, might not be called Yaretzi at all. ording to Isabel she was much shorter than the Watch had been told, perhaps some sort of impostor. Throwing away the thought, Angharad instead sought out her bedroll. If she could not havepany, she could at least have rest.

    It was adding insult to injury to realize that Tupoc had apparently thought the same, and she fell asleep sulking.

    --

    Angharad was entirely awake by the sound of the third shot.

    Scrabbling for her sword, pleased beyond words that she had slept with her boots on, the Pereduri ripped it clear of the scabbard just as antern exploded into bright mes. Lan fell to the ground with a shout, patting away at her clothes, and Angharad ducked behind the wall as another shot tore through the doorway. Cozme stood on the other side, pistol in hand, and nodded at her while the rest of the group scrambled. He must have been the one on watch when the enemies ¨C hollows, she assumed ¨C attacked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve counted at least five muskets,¡± the mustachioed man said. ¡°They hit thenterns first, but they haven¡¯t tried toe any closer.¡±

    Angharad frowned. That seemed odd, given how the cult of the Red Eye was obsessed with taking prisoners to sacrifice.

    ¡°Did you see how many there were?¡± she asked.

    He shook his head.

    ¡°They stayed in the dark,¡± Cozme said. ¡°No lights.¡±

    Behind them Song ordered those with muskets to nk the doorway and the rest to gather their packs in case there was a need to run, getting a rush of gratitude out of Angharad for her intervention. The nce she spared behind her revealed a looming trouble after she¡¯d made sure that Lan was no longer ame: with the fire still burning they were not out of light, but of the threenterns they¡¯d had left only one had been spared a bullet. Zenzele¡¯s, she saw, which was bad luck. It had the least oil left in it.

    The man in question joined Cozme on the other side of the door, while Ferranda pressed herself behind Angharad.

    ¡°Are they approaching?¡± the infanzona asked in a whisper.

    Cozme risked a nce through the opening, then hastily withdrew and shook his head.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said. ¡°They might be-¡±

    (Angharad ran down the stairs as fast as she could, shots lighting up the woods ¨C one, two, three, six ¨C and reached the clearing before the first howls sounded, hounds charging out of)

    She breathed out shallowly, ignoring the rest of what Cozme had been saying. The cultists had brought war hounds, that was why they had not yet tried the doorway. The Mni had used such tactics in olden times, back when swords and shield walls were they of Vesper ¨C hounds unleashed before the charge to scare and scatter the enemy¡¯s ranks. Should she warn the others? She could think of no way to do so without revealing her contract.

    ¡°Angharad.¡±

    Song, standing in cover behind her while the others finished packing up thest of everyone¡¯s affairs ¨C Brun and Isabel went about it briskly, but Lan was using the opportunity to have a look at everyone¡¯s packs ¨C handed her the coat she had left behind as well as her sword belt and scabbard. Angharad nodded her thanks, shrugging on the coat as Ferranda took her ce by the doorway.

    A month ago she would have cared little for that coat, for it was not a gift from her family in a sense greater than Mother¡¯s coin having paid for it, but after having been cut and shot in it so many times she¡¯d grown passingly fond of it. More importantly, she thought as she adjusted her sword belt, this was an opportunity.

    She¡¯d passed her de to Song to have both hands free for the belt, and when iming her saber back she leaned close.

    ¡°They have hounds,¡± she whispered. ¡°I counted six guns.¡±

    Song nodded subtly and nothing more need said. The Tianxi squeezed past Ferranda to take a long look out, only ducking back in when a cultists out in the woods fired. The sound and billowing smoke had them all ducking back into cover, Song clearing her throat afterwards.

    ¡°I counted twelve,¡± she said. ¡°Half with muskets, half with leashed hounds.¡±

    Curses abounded.

    ¡°Twelve is not so many, even with dogs,¡± Zenzele opined. ¡°We can break them.¡±

    ¡°Are you volunteering to be first down the stairs, my lord?¡± Brun drily asked.

    The Mni hesitated.

    ¡°I will go,¡± Angharad cut in. ¡°But we must first decide on whether we fight or run. This all smells to me of a trap: if they have hounds, why have they not yet released them to dig us out?¡±

    ¡°They must be scouts,¡± Ferranda grunted in approval. ¡°Lady Angharad is right, they might well be pinning us in here until the rest of the warband arrives and they can storm the tower.¡±

    Several agreed with her, after a thought, and the conviviality of it was what told Angharad something was wrong. No one had been taunted or implied to be a coward, so what was¡­ She found Tupoc standing very still with his back to the wall, pales eyes unblinking as they stared right in front of him with a strange expression on his face. Angharad thought him touched by a contract, for a heartbeat, until she realized he was paralyzed not by a contract but something altogether simple. Fear. That strange expression, it was <em>fear</em>.

    Most absurd of all was when she saw what had finally given pause to Tupoc Xical: hanging on a stringing from the tower¡¯s broken ceiling, a small spider was in front of him. It rose an inch and the unppable Izcalli flinched, trying to press closer to the wall. Angharad felt an incredulousugh bubble up her throat at the thought of a man who constantly courted death near shaking in his boots before a spider smaller than her thumb, but then she thought again. Was this simple fear, she wondered, or something more?

    Spirits gave boons, but they also imed prices.

    Regardless, she still had a use for Tupoc Xical. Angharad deftly reached out, catching the spider in her hand and crushing it. The Izcalli¡¯s shoulders immediately loosened, but there was a new kind of wariness in his eyes when he met Angharad¡¯s. <em>Oh yes</em>, she thought. <em>Definitely a price.</em>

    She looked away first, but it did not feel like a defeat in the slightest.

    ¡°- bait the shots, then those of us with muskets fire a volley into the hounds,¡± Song was saying. ¡°We make for the road after, head north to the outpost as fast as we can.¡±

    ¡°Is Lady Angharad truly willing to charge in alone?¡± Brun asked. ¡°I have not heard this from her.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± she said, stepping in. ¡°Though once the cultists have wasted their shots on me, I expect I will be joined by others in the melee.¡±

    ¡°I will be right behind her,¡± Tupoc easily said. ¡°Worry not your pretty head, Sacromontan.¡±

    The fair-haired man looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but said nothing.

    ¡°If we are in agreement,¡± Song said, ¡°then we should take all our packs and ready for the fight. There is no telling how long we have before the rest of the cultists arrive.¡±

    None argued against that. Song, she thought, had a knack for clear thought in such matters. A captain¡¯s qualities, though she hid too much of her thoughts to easily earn trust from others. Angharad went back for her affairs only for Lan to kindly offer to carry them for her, as Angharad would be running. She epted the other woman¡¯s offer gracefully, finding herself at loose ends while the others moved about. The other who had finished early was Yaretzi, the Izcalli already having had her pack at the ready.

    The two of them stood in silence, until something urred to Angharad.

    ¡°I have a question about Izcalli spirits, if you would allow it,¡± she quietly said.

    Yaretzi cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°I only know so much, but by all means,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Is there one,¡± she said, ¡°with a strong ties to spiders?¡±

    The Izcalli, whose name might not be Yaretzi at all, cocked an eyebrow and threw a spective look at Tupoc. Angharad grimaced. Perhaps that had not been as subtle a question as she thought.

    ¡°Many small gods,¡± Yaretzi said, ¡°but among the great I can only think of the Grave-Given. His favored messengers are creatures of the dark: bats, owls and spiders.¡±

    ¡°And what does this Grave-Given trade in?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°Death and order,¡± she replied. ¡°His judgement shapes where the Circle Perpetual will send a soul to be born again.¡±

    Just another spirit ying tricks, the Pereduri mentally dismissed. The Circle was the work of the Sleeping God, far beyond what mere spirits would be able to influence. Still, it was said that some entities on the continent could meddle in the matters of death, the moments before a soul returned to the Circle. Perhaps this Grave-Given was one. <em>Though what such a spirit would want with the likes of Tupoc</em>, she thought, <em>I cannot imagine</em>.

    Yaretzi looked like she wanted to speak more of it, but Angharad was saved the need of evasion by thest preparationsing to an end.

    ¡°Form up,¡± Song called out. ¡°We are finished.¡±

    Angharad nodded a farewell at a rueful Yaretzi, resting her hand on her de, and went for the doorway. Tupoc waited on the other side of the gap, ready to follow in her wake. Song, musket loaded and at the ready, sought her out.

    ¡°Ready?¡± the Tianxi asked.

    She nodded.

    ¡°You?¡± she asked.

    Song nodded back.

    ¡°Then,¡± Angharad said, ¡°let us not waste any more time.¡±

    Breathing in, she unsheathed her sword and ran out the doorway.

    --

    The first shot came before she took her second step out.

    Angharad did not flinch nor slow, knowing it would mean death. The bullet hit stone as she raced down the steps, ricocheting wildly. Two more plumes of smoke billowed out and she leaned into the rush, almost falling forward rather than running, and felt something whiz right past her head as the other short went wide. <em>Three</em>, she counted, and kept running. Halfway down. The fourth shot was not for her, far behind, and revealed that Tupoc was following behind. The fifth came from right to the left of her, smoke blowing past the twisted branches of a tree, and Angharad screamed as she felt warmth and pain bloom on the side of her cheek.

    She tripped forward,nding in a roll at the bottom of the stairs as the six shot was drowned out by the barking of the hounds being released.

    Only the shot hade from behind, not ahead, and ten feet ahead of Angharad a cultist screamed as a bullet took him in the chest. His musket fell to the ground, firing aimlessly, and she gasped in relief as blood began trickling down her cheek. The hounds ran out of the woods, a tide of teeth and rage, and she smoothly rose with her de at the ready. Above her shots sounded, the volley Song had arranged downing half the dogs in a single breath, but other shots peppered the trees and ground instead.

    A heartbeatter Tupoc was at her side, spear spinningzily, and a heartbeat after that<em></em>chaos took the reins.

    Angharad danced back, spearing a hound through the head, while Tupoc batted away another with the bottom of his spear and kicked the third in the head. A shot from ahead, curses from the woods and after that the melee seized her whole. Cultists came pouring out of woods, bearing axes and swords, shouting war cries in their strange tongue as Tupocughed and Angharad snarled. Teeth ripped at her coat and she turned an axe blow to run the man through, ripping her de free with a squelch as the rest of thepany charged down the stairs behind her.

    They came for her fervently, as if she were a proving ground, and Angharad met them with cold focus: faces marred with that strange red eye shed one after another, shots illuminating the dark as she shed at a man¡¯s face and caught a woman¡¯s wrist before her axe could rip into her side. She threw the axe-wielder to the side, into Cozme ¨C who opened her throat with a knife without batting an eye ¨C and then somehow, suddenly, the cultists were retreating. Running back into the woods.

    Only not all of them hade out with des: there was a shot from deeper in the woods, then one from the tower a secondter.

    Angharad ducked, hardly alone in that, but it was not her that¡¯d been aimed at. There was a shout from behind and she turned to see Brun leaning over a fallen silhouette. Angharad¡¯s heart leapt into her throat. No, she thought. <em>No</em>. Only she must have spoken it out loud, as the others parted around her as she moved. She stumbled forward, blood dripping down her de and hand, and knelt in the grass besides the fallen body.

    Half of Isabel Ruesta¡¯s face was a red ruin, the shot having taken her in the eye.

    She must have been spun around by death, Angharad thought, for she was facing the wrong way: the tower instead of her killer in the woods. Brunid a hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°We need to move, Lady Angharad,¡± the man said. ¡°The cultists gave up too easily, the rest of their warband must be close.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s right.¡±

    Song wasing down the stairs, her musket in hand. Her face was a nk mask, betraying nothing of her thoughts. She had not been fond of Isabel, Angharad knew, but must have known better than to speak of it now.

    ¡°Now we run or we die,¡± the Tianxi evenly continued. ¡°Say your farewells, but do not linger. It is behind you, and life ahead.¡±

    A cruelty, Angharad thought, but meant kindly. She was saying it so others would not. Looking down at the corpse that had been Isabel, she brushed back the curls over the wound and swallowed. She thought of that first evening on the Bluebell, when she had seen the infanzona standing on the bridge like a jewel set in a crown of stars, and allowed herself grief. She closed the remaining eye, wiped a half-formed tear from her own and rose to her feet. Shalini, she saw, was carrying Ishaan¡¯s corpse on her back again.

    Angharad put down Isabel Ruesta in thest of their fire , leaving her to burn, and on her back instead carried the weight of yet another failure.

    --

    Zenzele¡¯sntern died out half an hour in.

    They stumbled forward in the dark during what felt like hours but could have been any amount of time at all ¨C exhaustion stretched seconds into minutes, every breath into an odyssey. Only Song¡¯s unfailing eyes kept them from drifting about aimlessly, the Tianxi surefooted as a cat as she led them through a sea of looming trees and threatening silhouettes. They¡¯d left behind the beaten earth road, afraid the cultists would hunt them down it.

    Limbs burning and eyes tearing up, Angharad forced herself to follow closely behind Song. It was only once they climbed up a steep hill, clutching at root and stones, that the Tianxi¡¯s steps finally stuttered. There was no need to ask why: in the distance, over the crown of trees, pale lights burned tall and proud.

    ¡°The outpost,¡± Angharad breathed out. ¡°If it is that.¡±

    ¡°There is,¡± Song replied, ¡°only one way to find out.¡±

    The promise of an end to the road, of some semnce of safety, brought strength back to their tired limbs. They picked up the pace as much as they could, Shalini once more trailing behind. Once they were close enough the light began to cast shadows, they risked going back to the beaten earth road. It shortened thest leg of their journey, until atst they felt the touch of re-infused light wash over their skins again. Blinking away the blinding brightness, Angharad found she was not looking at a fort.

    Atop a t hill a tall palisade had been raised, ringed by even tallermplights. Through open gates the noblewoman saw the bones of a small town: houses and shops, muddy streets and even some kind of great hall. And there were people inside, moving about. Closer to that as well, for outside the open gates two men were keeping guard in padded tunics and breasttes as they loosely held muskets. It was not them that kept her gaze, though, or even the town itself.

    Along thest of the road to the gates, two dozen wooden spikes at been raised on either side. Most were bare, but nine were adorned with the impaled corpses of men whose skin was too pale to be anything but darklings. Some of the dead were fresh enough they still dripped.

    ¡°Well,¡± Tupoc mused, ¡°they seem like lovely folk. Shall we go and introduce ourselves?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t, Angharad thought, as if there was much of a choice. It was either trying the town or trying the cultists again. She itched to cast her mind forward, to seek vision of what would unfold if they approached, but she had already burned her candle too bright. Anymore of that and it would be her that burned instead.

    They would have to do it the hard way instead.

    ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± Angharad replied, and stepped into the light.

 Chapter 39

    Chapter 39

    Maryam woke up halfway through the hall, which helped a lot.

    Even groggy as she was she could stumble forward while leaning on his side, which was a distinct improvement from carrying her on his back. Tristan had been worried about her, as being knocked unconscious was rarely the end of one¡¯s troubles, but though she had a hard time focusing her eyes her mind seemed all there. Enough to insult him, anyway, which he took as a good sign.

    ¡°<em>You</em> carried me,¡± Maryam doubtfully repeated. ¡°Did you happen have a cart at hand?¡±

    Tristan red. He was not that skinny.

    ¡°I can still leave you behind,¡± he threatened.

    ¡°But then who will catch you when you leap off a cliff for the third time?¡± she shot back.

    ¡°It was really more of a fall this time,¡± he argued. ¡°And not, by the strictest definition, a-¡±

    ¡°If you have breath enough to talk,¡± Yong bit out from ahead, ¡°then <em>run faster</em>.¡±

    The older man was not doing well. He was barely ahead of them even though Tristan was helping someone. There was a hole in the back of his coat where Vasanti had shot him, perhaps an inch to the side of the spine ¨C it was a ragged, red thing. The thief could not easily tell with the coat on, but he thought it might be high enough a lung would be a at risk.

    Gods, let it not have pierced a lung. That was an ugly way to die.

    The ground shook beneath their feet again, a reminder that Yong¡¯s anger was not senseless. A nce behind told him that the cavernous room at the top of the pir was still there, but for how long? Sooner orter the weight would drag the whole thing down like a spear into the Red Maw¡¯s heart. Cutting out the chatter, the pair followed after Yong as best they could.

    It was a close thing, but when the hall behind them snapped like a twig they did not fall with it. They¡¯d pulled ahead enough, though Tristan knew better than to stop. He¡¯d glimpsed the parting gift of the devils and it was not going to stop at the pir spearing down: without that structure serving as support, the entire mountaintop was going to crumble inwards.

    It would be best if they were not there to crumble with it.

    It was a strange thing, their race to the end of the hall. On the one hand fear ¨C and the cloud of dust behind them ¨C kept them wide awake and attentive, death looming ever close. On the other, the length of the hallway was aggressively monotonous. It was all bare stone in a dim light of no clear source, perfectly symmetrical and utterly empty. The kind of sight that made you fall asleep.

    Thrice the thief found his gaze drifting, seeking corners and angles, and he thought he might have been tiring until he realized what he truly <em>was</em> doing: looking for Fortuna. There was no trace of her, not leaning against a wall and smirking or even effortlessly keeping pace with him in her red dress. She was just <em>gone</em>. Tristan felt his breath shortening, a dim fear seizing him by the throat.

    ¡°Tristan.¡±

    What if she never came back? What if the way he¡¯d pulled on the contract had killed her? She was a small god, near forgotten, and if he¡¯d taken too much from her she might have¡­

    ¡°<em>Tristan</em>,¡± Maryam hissed. ¡°Focus, we¡¯re nearly there. We¡¯re going to be fine.¡±

    The thief came back to himself, his back covered in cold sweat, and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. The pain centered him, kept him in there and now. He could not think about this, about how he might have lost the only person who¡¯d never left, who could not die ¨C <em>he could not think about this</em>.

    Maryam was right, they were nearly at the end of the hall. All around them stone shuddered, the distant hallway falling apart as dust and dirt clouded sight but not the cacophonous noise. Ahead of them waited a smooth iron gate, and Tristan could but pray that it was not locked for if it was then they might well be dead. Yong was the one to reach it, and though there was no handle for him to push when he touched it the gate began opening on its own, sliding into the wall.

    It was an unsettling sight, though not unsettling enough to stop him from taking refuge in the room past the gate.

    The room was, he found when following after Maryam, little more than a glorified antechamber. There were racks on the wall from which nothing hung and two doorways on the sides leading into other halls. More importantly, though, was the broad gate ¨C twice as long as it was tall ¨C covering the entire back wall of the room. There were broad stripes of cryptoglyphs on the ground before it, beyond their understanding now that Francho was dead. Tristan¡¯s teeth clenched.

    It had been a quick death, he told himself.

    ¡°It must lead outside,¡± Yong said, eyeing the wall-gate as his breath came in pants. ¡°There was nothing at the end of the hall in the projection we saw.¡±

    The ceiling above them rumbled, softlypping away at the silence.

    ¡°We cannot go through so long as there is andslide,¡± Tristan said. ¡°We¡¯ll have to wait.¡±

    The Tianxi grimaced.

    ¡°And if thendslide blocked the door?¡±

    ¡°Then we will try one of the other halls,¡± Maryam said. ¡°We are not yet out of options, Yong.¡±

    The veteran looked away.

    ¡°I suppose not,¡± he said.

    Tristan cleared his throat.

    ¡°If we are to wait, then I would have a look at your wound,¡± he said.

    The Tianxi turned, eyes cool.

    ¡°I can move just fine,¡± he said. ¡°That is not necessary.¡±

    Yong had never declined that offer before. The thief knew why he now had ¨C though much had happened since, their conversation at the summit of the pir was still fresh in his mind. Irritation rose.

    ¡°Disdain won¡¯t stop your bleeding,¡± he coldly replied. ¡°But if sanctimony is the hill you want to die on, by all means spare me the waste of bandages.¡±

    He almost winced after saying it, seeing the way the other man¡¯s face tightened, but he did not look away. It had not been the right way to handle that, and were he less tired he might have finessed his way into something better, but Tristan had been brutalized enough by his day he wasn¡¯t sure he cared. Worse, he was pretty sure that the poppy was beginning to fade.

    The dull ache in his everything was something of a hint.

    ¡°Would you have preferred picking out the hill for me?¡± Yong replied just as coldly. ¡°That does seem to be your favorite racket.¡±

    ¡°All right, that¡¯s enough of that,¡± Maryam said, stepping in between them with a tired look on her face. ¡°Tristan, you left everyone in the dark as to your actual n until thest moment. He¡¯s got a right to be angry.¡±

    A pause, then her eyes met his.

    ¡°I am too,¡± she frankly said. ¡°This just isn¡¯t the time or ce for us to have that talk.¡±

    His lips thinned. If Francho hadn¡¯t been killed, would either of them even¡­ Maryam turned to Yong with a smidgeon more sympathy, but only that.

    ¡°You know he¡¯s never turned it on any of us,¡± she tly said. ¡°It¡¯s childish to pretend he¡¯s trying to do anything but keeping you from bleeding out. You can still be angry after he¡¯s helped you ¨C <em>I</em> am.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± Yong said.

    ¡°Neither will the bullet in your back,¡± she brutally replied. ¡°You need to get that seen to, and there¡¯s only one of us who knows how.¡±

    It was hard to argue with that, even though Yong looked like he wanted to. It was in a slightly sullen silence that they set about the examination. Yongid out his coat and clothes on the ground, stripped down to the waist, andid down with his belly on the coat. Kneeling by the older man, Tristan rinsed his hands in booze and leaned close. The Tianxi shivered when a droplet of drink fell onto his back.

    ¡°Cold,¡± Yong muttered.

    Tristan did not answer, his face pulling into a frown. He wasn¡¯t as familiar with gun wounds as those from knives or cudgels ¨C he¡¯d worked as a cutter¡¯s assistant, not under a military surgeon ¨C but he knew he wasn¡¯t looking at the good kind of wound. If it had been a musket instead of a pistol he was shot with, Yong would have died. Reaching for a rag from his bag, he soaked it in alcohol and after cleaning the wound set about checking how deep the ball had prated. Yong¡¯s shivering moan of pain went ignored.

    The thief stopped almost immediately, letting out a noise of surprise.

    ¡°Tristan?¡± Yong croaked out. ¡°What is it?¡±

    The grey-eyed man grimaced.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to feel out your ribs,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s going to hurt.¡±

    The Tianxi cursed.

    ¡°Give me the bottle,¡± he said. ¡°I-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re already drunk,¡± Tristan sharply said. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you thin your blood any further, you¡¯ll kill yourself.¡±

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Yong quietly muttered, then breathed in. ¡°Do it.¡±

    He forced himself not to hear the man¡¯s groans as he felt out the ribs, pressing the flesh enough to feel theck of give beneath and ¨C Yong let out a scream. Tristan¡¯s fingers pulled away. He¡¯d learned what he needed to anyway.

    ¡°You have been,¡± Tristan said, ¡°extremely lucky. It may yet kill you.¡±

    Maryam cocked an eyebrow at him.

    ¡°Well,¡± she said, ¡°I guess there¡¯s a reason you¡¯re not in charge of morale around here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not convinced he should be in charge of medicine either,¡± Yong groaned from the ground,ying his forehead against his coat.

    He stayed like that for a few breaths, mastering himself, then raised his head again.

    ¡°All right,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°Tell me.¡±

    ¡°When Vasanti shot you from behind, she hit your rib,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It¡¯s the reason why there¡¯s currently not a hole in your lung.¡±

    ¡°We may need to work on your definition of lucky,¡± Maryam noted.

    ¡°No,¡± Yong quietly disagreed. ¡°He¡¯s right. I¡¯ve seen men get shot in the lung, this was fine luck. Now give me the bad news.¡±

    ¡°The impact shattered your rib and broke off at least onerge piece,¡± the thief said. ¡°I¡¯d need to open you up to be sure ¨C and that might well kill you even if I <em>was </em>a real physician ¨C but I think that right now the bullet is what¡¯s keeping that piece from stabbing into your lung.¡±

    Maryam had nothing pithy to add to that. Yong swallowed.

    ¡°What can I do?¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Tristan honestly said. ¡°If we get you to a Watch surgeon in Three Pines they can remove the bullet and the broken off piece, but trying the same here with a knife would be like¡­¡±

    The only words that came to him were too light, too teasing.

    ¡°It would be kinder to use the knife to slit your throat, let¡¯s leave it at that.¡±

    The veteran slowly nodded.

    ¡°How long do I have?¡±

    The calm, Tristan thought, was the worst part of it. Yong had an almost serene look on his face, like the thought of dying didn¡¯t move him at all. Like all he was wondering about was the schedule, the details of the marching orders to his grave. Maybe it was about knowing death, Tristan thought. That old friend walked with all the children of the Murk, but none of them knew it the way a soldier would. Someone who¡¯d seen a hundred lives be snuffed out in a heartbeat, washed away by a wave of smoke and lead. Maybe it wasn¡¯t so scary when you¡¯d seen so much of it.

    Somehow, he couldn¡¯t quite bring himself to believe that.

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell,¡± Tristan admitted. ¡°Depending on how the rib broke that piece could be wedged tight in ce or it could be on the edge ofing loose. Could be hours, could be days, could be a year.¡±

    The thief licked his lips.

    ¡°Avoid moving too fast and getting hit in the torso, that¡¯s the best advice I can give you.¡±

    His gaze broke away from the Tianxi¡¯s as he reached for his bag.

    ¡°I¡¯ll bandage it,¡± he added. ¡°It might help some, and we need to keep that wound from getting infected as long as possible.¡±

    The wound going bad might kill the other man before the rib piece did. Yong¡¯s forehead went back down and he did not say anything after that.

    None of them did, waiting in silence until thest of the rumbling above passed.

    --

    Thest iron gate parted open at a touch, both sides fleeing into the wall ¨C though one got stuck halfway through, some unseen metal gear letting out a strident cry as it tried to force the matter and ended up breaking for it.

    Wary as that sound had made them, they still hurried out into the small natural cave past the gate. The iron wall closed behind them, save for the part that¡¯d got stuck. Yong¡¯sntern showed there was a worn fire pit in here and some coal drawing on the walls along with words in anguage Tristan did not know. At least one of them was a name, he figured, written above a pretty obscene drawing of a man thrusting his phallus at an airavatan¡¯s buttocks.

    ¡°Charming,¡± Maryam drily said.

    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been used recently,¡± Yong said, eyes on the pit. ¡°Still, it looks like hollows know of this ce.¡±

    Tristan drew back toy his hand on the iron gate, who confirmed his suspicions by not moving an inch. It only opened from the inside, then. The hollows had never gotten into the pir. By the time he returned the other two had moved on, leaving the cave and stopping on a ledge right outside of it. Tristan joined them, inhaling the faint breeze with a smile as he pressed down his tricorn. Above them the veiled lights of firmament shone, cold and unmoving stars. They had made it out.

    For a long moment they stayed there, savoring the simple truth of that.

    Tristan was the first to stir. His gaze turned below, where a great dark forest spread out ¨C through there was a ring of light nestled in its heart, to the northeast. The glow was pale enough it must have re to it. Some kind of Watch outpost? He was not the only one who had begun looking around, as Yong made clear when he let out a soft curse in Cathayan.

    ¡°It looks like we won¡¯t be getting to sanctuary,¡± the Tianxi said.

    Their gate out of the mountain was facing the Watch fort on the other side, but it did not need to when even from where they stood they could see the aftermath of a massivendslide gone down that slope. The ckcloak fort had been on that same side, they all knew, which was less than promising. Feeling Yong¡¯s gaze grown colder when it moved back to him, Tristan held his hands up in protest.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know that the ce got buried,¡± he said. ¡°And even if it did, Wen told me they have a vault below. Odds are it has a hidden passage they can use to get out of the mess.¡±

    ¡°You had best hope they do,¡± Yong said. ¡°Else they might shoot you for this at Three Pines.¡±

    Tristan was not the one who had caused the copse, but he was disinclined to pass the me onto Maryam.

    ¡°Vasanti caused all this,¡± he said instead. ¡°She forced us at gunpoint to trigger the trap the devils left behind because of her obsession with controlling the Antediluvian device.¡±

    Yong looked unconvinced and he felt Maryam¡¯s blue eyes on him. She said nothing, tacitly agreeing to his take on events. Since the Tianxi had been down during most of the confrontation with Vasanti, potentially unconscious, he was in no position to argue the tale.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Yong said. ¡°Even if they get out we won¡¯t be finding them out in the dark. They¡¯ll be headed to Three Pines, at a guess.¡±

    The port at the northern end of the ind, Tristan thought, and likely where the Trial of Weeds ended.

    ¡°Or that ce,¡± he said, pointing at the distant ring of lights in the woods. ¡°Sarai, what did the map say about it?¡±

    ¡°Sarai?¡± Yong mildly said. ¡°And here I thought her name was Maryam.¡±

    Tristan grimaced. Shit, he¡¯d let that slip during the mess inside hadn¡¯t he? He sent his friend an apologetic look, which she dismissed with a hand.

    ¡°You can call me Maryam too,¡± she told the Tianxi. ¡°Though I would ask you both to use Sarai in front of others.¡±

    She got the nods she was seeking, then sighed.

    ¡°And the map did not say anything about what that ce is,¡± she said. ¡°It was marked, however, and a road through the woods that ultimately leads to the port goes through it. We have nothing to lose by taking a look.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s a Watch outpost they might have surgeon,¡± Tristan told Yong. ¡°Given how far the port is, it seems our best chance at keeping your ribs out of your lung.¡±

    A little explicit for his tastes, but that ought to remind the man of how much danger he was in with every step he took.

    ¡°It does seem the wisest course,¡± Yong said. ¡°If there are ckcloaks there, we may also learn what the Trial of Weeds is meant to be.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s settled, then,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Let us get moving before the rest of this mountaines down on our heads.¡±

    ¡°Or worse,¡± Tristan fervently agreed. ¡°Lieutenant Wen warned me about cultists out here, they¡¯re the worst of the lot.¡±

    It¡¯d be a stroke of luck if thendslide had taken care of that for them, so he felt safe betting on the opposite.

    --

    There were remains of what the Antediluvians must have used to get up and down mountain once upon a time, some kind of half-buried machine whose sharp glittering spikes rose out of the dirt. None of them would have any idea how to get such a thing working ¨C if it still worked at all ¨C so instead they went down the old-fashioned way. Hollows clearly camped in the cave on asion, so it was just a matter of finding the path they used toe here.

    It turned out to be a glorified goat trail snaking down the mountainside, narrow and made even steeper when the earlier copse had shaken off loose rocks. Tristan was no stranger to heights but he still stepped warily, for a single slip here would likely be enough to kill him. For the better part of an hour they descended, the path widening as they got closer to the bottom, until finally they were able to leave the narrow trail for a bit.

    They¡¯d heard the waterfall long before they saw it. Tucked away in the mountainside, it spat out the end of some river from the maze onto the rest of the ind. There was a crossing through the water, a loose path of jutting stones that the wet had turned dangerously slippery. They took their time moving across, which was the reason Tristan even noticed something was amiss. Frowning, he clutched the side of the stone he was standing on and went fishing in the foamy water.

    What he got for his trouble was a ripped doublet.

    ¡°Tristan?¡±

    ¡°Found something,¡± he told Maryam.

    He held up the dripping doublet into thentern light, catching blood on the edge of the rips. The thief let out a low whistle when he realized it wasn¡¯t a simple case of the doublet having been torn: it was the same hole on both sides, more or less, so it was the remains of an <em>impalement</em> he was looking at.

    ¡°Old clothes?¡± Maryam said, taking a closer look. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you were that hard up.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen that doublet before,¡± he said. ¡°So have you.¡±

    She blinked.

    ¡°The colors,¡± she slowly said.

    ¡°House Cerdan,¡± he confirmed. ¡°It belonged to the elder brother, I believe.¡±

    ¡°So there¡¯s a half-naked infanzon corpse somewhere in the maze,¡± Maryam said. ¡°This has not been a good year for the Cerdan.¡±

    Tristan smoothed away his smile. Yong had not disapproved of his taking revenge earlier, for all that the man had not known the details, but that had been before their disagreements. It was best kept under wraps now. Besides, he thought, what was Yong actually-

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure about that,¡± the Tianxi called out.

    Yong had crossed all the way to the other side of the waterfall, at the edge of thentern light, and was standing by a dead tree. The thief couldn¡¯t make it out well, so he tossed the doublet back into the water and set about catching up. A waste ¨C it was good fabric, might have fetched silver in the right shop ¨C but he did not want carry any more weight than he had to. Maryam let out a startled noise within moments of reaching the other shore and Tristan soon saw why: there were footprints in the mud.

    Someone had crawled out of the water onto the shore. The real surprise, though, was by the tree Yong was still closely studying. It was not dead the way Tristan had first thought. While he was no woodsman, he knew what a dead tree looked like. Dry wood, bark gone grey and dry if there was still any at all. The tree instead looked like it¡¯d been scourged: there were slight furrows, as if a thin cutting whip had been wielded at it, and only around these marks was the tree dead. The rest of it looked fine, untouched.

    ¡°Contract,¡± Yong said.

    ¡°Contract,¡± Maryam agreed.

    ¡°Contract,¡± Tristan concluded.

    And it did not look like the pleasant kind.

    ¡°Augusto Cerdan got impaled by somethingrge, if his doublet is any indication,¡± the thief said. ¡°It seems to me he might have struck a pact ¨C any pact at all - to live through that.¡±

    ¡°If it truly was a bargain with the Red Maw, the Watch will kill him for it,¡± Maryam noted.

    Tristan had been hoping the champion of the downtrodden would take care of this for him ¨C really, Tredegar, how hard could it possibly be to off someone you¡¯d publicly sworn to kill in a duel? ¨C but he¡¯d settle for the Watch instead if that was on the table.

    ¡°They might have,¡± Yong said, ¡°if they were not under several tons of rock.¡±

    Tristan grimaced. A fair point, even if its tone was slightly using.

    ¡°The only way off this ind is the port at Three Pines,¡± he said. ¡°They would check before letting him onto the boat, surely.¡±

    ¡°Our ship should stay until all the trial-takers are arrived or believed dead, anyway,¡± Maryam said. ¡°We¡¯ll have time to tell the ckcloaks of our suspicions¡±

    ¡°If we live to inform them,¡± Yong said.

    ¡°That <em>is</em> the n,¡± Tristan reminded him.

    ¡°You always do have one of those, don¡¯t you?¡± the Tianxi said.

    Though the man was smiling, it was not apliment. Irritation could wait until they were in a safer ce, Tristan reminded himself.

    ¡°The path to the outpost won¡¯t walk itself,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Still, let¡¯s keep an eye out for the Cerdan as we go. I doubt anything capable of that-¡±

    She pointed at the mangled tree.

    ¡°- is going to be all that friendly,¡± she finished.

    Yong hesitated.

    ¡°We cannot know for sure it is a Red Maw contract,¡± he said.

    <em>I would want to kill him even if it isn¡¯t</em>, Tristan thought. The more diplomatic ¡®that contract seems dangerous regardless¡¯ was on the tip of his tongue, but he was not so blind as to be unaware that if it came out of his mouth Yong was unlikely to agree. Best let Maryam take care of it instead.

    ¡°Yong, it¡¯s a maze full of starved and half-mad gods,¡± the blue-eyed woman said. ¡°The Maw was the worst, sure, but there were plenty of things in there almost as bad.¡±

    Tristan saw in the muscles of the neck that the veteran was about to nce his way, so he looked away first. A moment passed, then Yong sighed.

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± he conceded. ¡°I won¡¯t shoot on sight, Maryam, but neither will I approach him if we find him.¡±

    An awkward silence stretched on after that, until Tristan cleared his throat.

    ¡°We should fill our waterskins before moving on,¡± he said. ¡°We might not get another asion any time soon.¡±

    A few minutes for that and then they were back on the trail.

    --

    They found no further traces of Augusto Cerdan on the way down, not forck of looking.

    There was no telling if he had made it off the mountain, though Tristan¡¯s instincts whispered that he had. The man would not have made it this far if he was the kind toy down and die. The thief could respect that kind of mettle, in truth, so as a gesture of goodwill he would try to kill Augusto standing instead. So long as it was not particrly inconvenient, anyway.

    The woods below were no easier to navigate than those in the Trial of Lines had been, though at least the thief had gotten used to such journeys. Their pace remained slow. Tristan had not noticed on the mountain, where the prospect of taking a tumble down the cliff had kept all their movements sedate, but Yong was at the edge of his rope. His breath wasbored and his hair drenched with sweat. By unspoken agreement he and Maryam let the man take the lead so he could set the pace. She held thentern, though, to relieve him of the weight.

    The thief fiddled with his hat, adjusting it unnecessarily as he debated calling for a halt so the Tianxi might rest. It might be better to wait a little longer, he thought, perhaps until they reached the road. Maryam had guided them in what was the right direction ording to the map stored in her head, but a direction was the most she had been able to provide: until they hit the supposed road through the forest, they would have no real notion of where they actually were.

    ¡°Lights,¡± Yong suddenly rasped out. ¡°Maryam, kill thentern.¡±

    She snuffed it out in a moment and they huddled together behind a bush, peering through the leaves to watch the approaching lights Yong had picked out. And no wonder he had, the thief thought: there were a great many of them. At least ten torches were being held up, though not a single one of them burned pale. <em>Hollows</em>, he thought. <em>Cultists</em>. So much for his half-formed hope they had run into the other group of trial-takers.

    Assuming they had lived through the mountain¡¯s copse.

    His suspicions were confirmed when the torches came closer, all their shoulders tensing as a warband of pale-skinned cultist began gathering in a small clearing slightly ahead of them. There was a great deal of talk going on, and though they were not close enough to hear the words being spoken they were close enough to see the situation unfold. Two silhouettes in chain mail coats, both armed with long swords, were squaring off in an argument. One kept gesturing further in the woods, as if insisting they go off, while the other refused.

    Both looked close to drawing des, and though they kept flicking looks at the ck-robed priest watching them from the back she said not a word. Tristan had flinched when he first saw her face in the torchlight: it was a ruin of red scars, near every inch of it covered by hungry maws. All the other cultists, of which there must be at least two dozen, were very careful around her ¨C as if the slightest of gestures might bring about her ire.

    ¡°They have muskets,¡± Yong murmured. ¡°At least ten of them.¡±

    ¡°There might be more,¡± Tristan replied just as quietly. ¡°Wen told me they take them from Watch patrols.¡±

    None of them werefortable staying so close to the enemy but there was little choice. Had they bolted earlier maybe they might have had a chance to sneak away, but it was toote now. They would not slip away unseen when trying to shake off the cultists in their own favorite hunting grounds.

    ¡°I think one of them is saying they need to pursue people,¡± Maryam said. ¡°They might have found the others.¡±

    ¡°Or the Watch garrison from the other fort,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°Could be either,¡± Yong muttered. ¡°And they like their sacrifices, the Red Maw, so why is the other one arguing against it?¡±

    It took half an hour before they got an answer. A smaller band of five or so cultists joined the rest, two of them carrying a pair of wooden poles to which someone was bound. Though they were far and the torchlight flickering, Tristan would have recognized that mangled face even if the colored undershirt hadn¡¯t given the game away.

    ¡°Oh, that poor bastard,¡± Yong said.

    Unlike the older man, Tristan did not find it in him to muster pity as he watched Augusto Cerdan get carried into the crowd. Instead his eyes were on the ripped undershirt, which was still stained with blood and revealed the flesh beneath. And there was something¡­ off about that flesh. It looked like a wound, only it was nowhere as deep as it should be ¨C the infanzon had been<em> impaled</em> ¨C and the wounded flesh looked oddly stringy. Like strung-out pieces of red yarn.

    The cultists cheered the captured, the triumphant hunters earning much praise and backpping from the rest. The only sullen face was the armored man who had been arguing to leave in pursuit, and the moment his dark eyes lingered on Augusto the thief knew what would happen. He wanted to vent his anger and there was a designated victim at hand. The cultists strolled up with a sneer and kicked the Cerdan in the ribs, the infanzon letting out a groan of pain.

    Those boots were simple leather,cking armor, but the thief imagined that would be of littlefort to Augusto. Some cultists cheered the blow, acim that the sneering armored man wasted no time in chasing again. Two more kicks, the noble wriggling in pain, until the man turned to face the crowd and speak in some hollow cant. Whatever he¡¯d said promptedughter.

    Then Augusto Cerdan¡¯s hand struck out like a viper, fingers sliding inside the cultists¡¯ boot, and theughter went away.

    The hollow let out a terrible scream, bloody furrows forming across every visible inch of skin and digging deep. After two heartbeats he fell, twitching and bleeding, and as the rest of the cultists drew their arms in an uproar the infanzon beganughing on the ground. He was, Tristan realized, no longer wounded. Not on his face, not where he¡¯d been impaled. It was all smooth and healthy skin, though still caked in blood. Hispanions went still at the sight, having noticed it as well. <em>Does he feed on the living?</em>

    The thief bit his lip. Whatever the Cerdan had gotten out of the tree he¡¯d fed on, it had not healed him in full. Only now that a man had been turned into a bloody mess did he look untouched. <em>What he feeds on must shape what he gets from it</em>, Tristan thought. It sounded like a powerful contract, for all that flesh to flesh contract seemed to be required, which likely meant there was more to it. No god would grant such power without thorns and a steep price to swallow.

    The cultists swarmed angrily, several hitting a stillughing Augusto with the bottom of their spear or the t of their sword, but they would not kill him. He was a sacrifice. Some seemed to be arguing for muttion, however, and des were bared.

    Then the priest came out of the shadows, stepping fully into the torchlight, and silence fell over the clearing.

    The young woman spoke softly, cultists hurrying to obey. Augusto was cut free of the poles and dragged upright, the infanzon grinning wildly as the priest stepped closer. She leaned forward, face so close to the man she must have been able to smell his breath, before suddenly smiling. She pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, almost girlishly, and Tristan breathed in. Only she did not fall screaming, to the Cerdan¡¯s visible surprise.

    The priest raised up his hand, announcing something in the hollow cant, and after a heartbeat of utter surprise the cultists hurried to kneel before them.

    ¡°Well,¡± Maryam quietly said. ¡°I think we can now safely assume our friend Augusto has a Red Maw contract, can¡¯t we?¡±

    --

    It took another half hour for the warband to move on after that distressing bit of theatre.

    Augusto obviously did not understand the hollow cant, but several of the cultists appeared to know some Antigua. There was a lot of gestiction apanying the words, but some kind of understanding was eventually reached. The infanzon stole the sword and cloak of the armored man he¡¯d mutted to the protest of no one, sticking close to the priest and talking animatedly as the hollows headed deeper into the woods. The three of them remained in hiding for minutes more after thest was gone, just in case.

    ¡°That,¡± Tristan mildly said, ¡°is going to be a problem.¡±

    ¡°He probably can¡¯t heal from a bullet to the head,¡± Yong opined. ¡°I¡¯d just need to get close enough.¡±

    ¡°That would mean getting close to the hollows,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Best we leave him to the Watch, I think.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t argue that,¡± Tristan grunted. ¡°I¡¯m not sold on following them too closely, though.¡±

    ¡°Best we give them a head start,¡± Yong agreed.

    ¡°Can¡¯t be too much of one,¡± Maryam warned, ¡°else we risk running into them while they¡¯re on their way back.¡±

    That <em>was</em> a risk, Tristan acknowledged.

    ¡°Any idea where they¡¯re headed?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Same way we are,¡± she grimly replied. ¡°It¡¯s safe bet they are also aiming for the road through the woods.¡±

    ¡°Then we go around them,¡± Yong said. ¡°Circle past their position and then take the path the rest of the way to the outpost.¡±

    It seemed a reasonable n, so they settled on that. Giving the cultists an hour to pull further ahead was what was decided on, and Tristan volunteered to keep watch if the others wanted to rest. Maryam did not waste a heartbeat epting, using her pack as a pillow and cocooning in the bush. Yong did too, after some hesitation. The thief settled against a tree, ckjack close to his hand, and leant his back against the bark. Thest of the poppy was fading, so at least he was at no risk of falling asleep: it was hard to contemte lying down when your body and soul were as a single giant bruise.

    It was boring, looking out into the dark and staring at every shaking leaf, but it needed doing anyway. He checked Vanesa¡¯s watch regrly, more than he needed to in truth. It was less risky than letting his thoughts drift. It was when he was having a look for then tenth time that the silence was broken by a croaking whisper.

    ¡°How long?¡± Yong asked.

    ¡°Twenty-three minutes,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Over half left, you can go back to sleep.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t,¡± the Tianxi admitted. ¡°The pain keeps waking me up.¡±

    Going by the loud snoring, Maryam was having no such trouble.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have anything left to take the edge off,¡± the thief said. ¡°If you have a hard time moving, we may have to risk the drink.¡±

    Risky, given that Yong was likely still bleeding inside, but less risky than moving at a slug¡¯s pace in a forest full of Red Maw fanatics armed to the teeth. The older man breathed out.

    ¡°I can still take it,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll make it to the outpost, at least.¡±

    Tristan nodded, though he was not sure if the Tianxi saw him in the dark. He said nothing more.

    ¡°You don¡¯t regret it at all, do you?¡± Yong suddenly said. ¡°Sending the watchmen into a trap.¡±

    Half a dozen replies were on the tip of his tongue, ways to wiggle out of the growing enmity between them. <em>I also warned them about the trap</em>, he could have said, or <em>Vasanti was going to kill me otherwise, I had no choice</em>, or <em>Wen forced my hand in exchange for his protection</em>. Degrees of truths, degrees of lies. Only Yong had saved his life. More than once. And that would only have weighed so much, if honesty was likely to get him killed, but it wasn¡¯t.

    So he told the truth.

    ¡°No,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I regret letting down my guard at the end, not thinking to keep a watch on the second lift, but nothing else of how things unfolded.¡±

    He could almost feel Yong¡¯s jaw clench.

    ¡°You made those men into a distraction,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°Good as sacrificed them.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t Diecai, Yong,¡± he tiredly said. ¡°I¡¯m not your gloryhound general throwing away conscripts for a victory: I did it this way because I thought that n had the best chance of us living through it.¡±

    ¡°No, Tristan,¡± Yong quietly replied. ¡°You know that is untrue. It is why you kept me in the dark until it was toote. You chose that n because it had the best chance of <em>you </em>surviving. There were other options, options I might have chosen had I known. They were simply more dangerous for you.¡±

    And that was the truth, Tristan knew. He¡¯d forced Wen¡¯s hand by telling Boria because he did not trust the lieutenant to protect him against Vasanti otherwise. And he knew he could have tried to sell out Wen¡¯s demand ¨C the destruction of the device ¨C to Vasanti in exchange for safe passage through the pir. It would have put him at risk, but the old woman had never shown hostility against the rest of his crew so they likely would have been safe. The danger would have been all on him.

    There¡¯d been other ys, other tricks to attempt, but he had not truly considered them because Yong was right. They <em>had</em> been more dangerous for him.

    ¡°The hungry bite, the beggared snatch, the cornered fight,¡± Tristan softly quoted, looking up at the dark canopy above. ¡°I am what I am, Yong.¡±

    And he would make no apology for that. There was a long silence.

    ¡°Fear I can forgive,¡± Yong finally said. ¡°We all own some of that devil¡¯s hide. But you put me on their side, Tristan.¡±

    He did not need to ask who they were. They, the thief knew, was not a name or a ce or a title. It was an idea: <em>the people who make the ns that send other people to die, that send you to march across a in to your death and it meant nothing at all.</em> They was what Yong had really wanted to kill back in the Republics, when he¡¯d killed that general.

    ¡°There are no sides, Yong,¡± Tristan simply replied. ¡°At end of the day, a grave will only fit one.¡±

    Good men, bad men, kind men, cruel men - that was just paint, pretty color you pped over the truth. There were the living and the dead, that was the whole of it. You kept out of the grave however you could until your luck ran out.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a way to live,¡± Yong said. ¡°That¡¯s just a way not to die.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not an ambitious man,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°I¡¯ll settle for that.¡±

    The veteran said nothing, but the silence was not an empty one. It felt, Tristan thought, like a door closing. He resisted the urge to fill the void, stilled his tongue.

    ¡°One day,¡± Yong said, ¡°you¡¯ll look back on your life. And on that day I hope you¡¯ll find more than corpses lying in your wake.¡±

    The soldier sighed.

    ¡°We can leave it at that,¡± he said. ¡°All of it.¡±

    The thief closed his eyes, breathing out. He had known from the start that it was sheer greed to try to keep too many of hispanions. Survival had costs, sometimes in coin less obvious. To feel disappointment here, to feel regret, it would have been a kind of vanity.

    Tristan was vainer than he¡¯d thought.

    --

    When the hour passed they began to take the long way around.

    Opening thentern¡¯s shutters all the way was too risky so it was with only a thin slice of light to guide them that they ventured into the dark. And Maryam, despite her best efforts, could only guide them so much: she had a map tucked away in her memory, not apass, and in these damn woods everything looked the same. Without anyndmarks to rely on they found a curving path was not so easy to maintain. Twice they got turned around, the first time doubling back to cross a shallow river and the second getting stuck walking around the edge of a steep hill for twenty minutes.

    They pushed on for three hours before finally slowing down when they came in sight of old ruins: threerge worn pirs atop a tform, crowned by a circle of stone that was more than half gone.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose that was on the map?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Maryam grunted. ¡°Most of the ruins we encountered weren¡¯t. This ind has too many to count, I expect.¡±

    ¡°Maryam,¡± Yong softly said. ¡°Shutter the lights.¡±

    She did so without batting an eye, pulling close to him, and as the Tianxi took cover behind a tree the thief mirrored him behind another. Momentster a pair of cultists came out of the thicker woods ahead ¨C both armed with spears and wearing leather, long hair going down their backs. They were talking rather loudly, ambling around until they both leaned against pirs and started what Tristan just knew wasining even if he could not understand thenguage. That intonation was universal.

    ¡°Trouble,¡± he whispered. ¡°Go around?¡±

    ¡°I think we¡¯re at the edge of their guard picket,¡± Yong whispered back. ¡°If we get them quietly, we can press on straight to the road.¡±

    Tristan mulled on that, hesitating. Their attempted curve around where they thought the cultists might be had probably ended up closer to the outline of some demented ziggurat, but he agreed with Yong¡¯s assumption that theirs had broadly been the right path. It was tempting, the knowledge that instead of risking another hour going around this pair or waiting them out they might instead solve the problem and press on before their foes caught on.

    ¡°Maryam?¡± he asked.

    ¡°They¡¯ll know we¡¯re out here if we kill any of them,¡± she whispered. ¡°But I think the risk is worth it ¨C they¡¯re obviously waiting on something, if they are posting guards. It might be they¡¯re making camp.¡±

    Tristan was not so sure a camp was being made ¨C hollows often kept odd hours, unmoored from the re as they were ¨C but it was true that guards being about meant the cultists were no longer on the move.

    ¡°All right,¡± the thief conceded. ¡°We drop them quiet, then.¡±

    The pair might not be paying much attention, but they weren¡¯t blind and whatever friends they had out there would not be deaf. Tristan circled around their back, using the trees as cover until the angle of the pirs covered his approach. He crept out of the trees then, steps excruciatingly careful, and saw Yong follow close behind ¨C sword already out, tucked under his arm. Controlling his breath, the thief reached for his ckjack and palmed it as he pressed himself against the pir. He turned to meet Yong¡¯s eyes, raising a hand and then beginning to pull down one finger after another.

    Four, three, two, one-

    They sprung out from behind the pir just as one of the cultists snorted out augh at what herpanion had said. Eyes widened, mouths opened and Tristan cracked his ckjack across the woman¡¯s temple as hard as he could. She dropped and he rushed forward to catch her even as the other hollow¡¯s attempted cry turned into a wet gurgle, Yong slitting his throat. The thief lowered the unconscious cultists, tucked away his ckjack and cleanly snapped her neck the way Abu had taught him.

    The two of them stayed there a moment, breathing under the starlight, and traded a nod. Cleanly done all around. Tristan went riffling around the corpses and found a sheathed knife that fit his palm well tucked away on the woman¡¯s belt, iming it to rece the one he¡¯d lost. Yong gestured for Maryam to join them and Tristan rose, rolling his shoulder. The bruises from Vasanti¡¯s beating ¨C beatings, really ¨C had him wincing, but it wasn¡¯t as bad as when it had been fresh. Another day or two and he¡¯d be fine.

    ¡°That was bracing,¡± Maryam said, catching up to them. ¡°Shall we-¡±

    A call came out of the woods, to their left, and it all went to shit when a cultist walked out from behind the trees ¨C he was calling out, augh on his lips, but froze when he saw them. Yong went for his pistol but the hollow was quicker, screaming out a warning, and three more of his friends came storming in.

    ¡°Run,¡± Tristan hissed.

    They fled, the cultists baying after them.

    A shot went wide, whizzing into the dark. Trees shed on both sides at they ran, the shouts of cultists close behind. Were they even heading in the right direction? He had no idea, and there was no time to stop and ask. There were torches behind them soon, close on their trail. The thief could only guess at how many hollows had joined the hunting party, but it was too many to fight. Would have been too many even if they were all hale instead of wounded and exhausted.

    Then Yong tripped.

    The Tianxi had been slowing for a while, his breathing in rough pants, but he still hit the root at running speed and fell right into a tree. Swallowing a hoarse shout, Yong rolled on the ground as Tristan cursed and doubled back to help him up.

    ¡°Come on,¡± the thief hissed, offering his hand. ¡°They¡¯re getting-¡±

    Yong took the hand, let himself be hoisted, but almost immediately copsed. He cursed in Cathayan.

    ¡°My ankle,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s sprained.¡±

    Maryam joined them, warily eyeing the approaching torches.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± she whispered.

    The older man¡¯s face was calm, the same way it had been up in the hall when he had learned his life was on a knife¡¯s edge.

    ¡°I can¡¯t run,¡± he said, then breathed out. ¡°Get moving, I¡¯ll draw them to me. It will buy you a chance.¡±

    The shouts were getting closer.

    ¡°Yong,¡± he said. ¡°I-¡±

    ¡°We have said,¡± Yong replied, ¡°all there is to say. <em>Run</em>.¡±

    And he wanted to argue, to insist, but the shouts were getting close. The torches burned bright in the dark, heralds of death. Maryam took his arm.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± she whispered.

    Shame, the rat told himself, was a luxury. He swallowed, nodding jerkily at the Tianxi, and broke for it. He saw Yong loading his musket with steady hands before running out in the dark, thest he would ever see of the man. Maryam stuck close to him as they ran for a minute, then two. Tristan swallowed, forcing his eyes to stay peeled ahead. Else he would trip as well, and be left behind just like-

    ¡°<em>Fuck</em>,¡± Tristan snarled, and turned around.

    Greedy, Abu¡¯s voice chided. It would get him killed. But even as Maryam called out from behind, cursing as well before he heard her running after him, he found someone waiting for him in the gloom. Sitting on a branch above, long red dress trailing like a curtain of blood, Fortuna smiled an impossibly perfect smile. He almost sobbed in relief.

    ¡°You,¡± he croaked.

    ¡°You took a chance,¡± the Lady of Long Odds simply said. ¡°Now ride your prayer to the end, Tristan.¡±

    He swallowed and nodded, Maryam catching up with him as he did.

    ¡°We are going to die,¡± she told him.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± he said. ¡°Maybe not.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°I¡¯ll abandon you if it looks bad,¡± she frankly said.

    ¡°I¡¯m lucky you came at all,¡± he replied just as frankly.

    She grimaced.

    ¡°You are,¡± Maryam said, then muttered. ¡°And I thought <em>Song</em> had picked the idiot.¡±

    She peeled ahead anyway.

    ¡°Come on, he hasn¡¯t fired yet so they don¡¯t know where he is.¡±

    The torches were close, terrifyingly close. When they found Yong he was but a few feet away from where they¡¯d left him, standing with his back against a tree as he held his musket. He saw theming, his face twisting into something that was both hope and anger and not quite either.

    ¡°You-¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Tristan cut in. ¡°You¡¯ll draw them. Maryam-¡±

    She grunted, taking up one of the Tianxi¡¯s arms while he reached for the other. They hoisted him up between them, dragging him away brusquely enough he would have had to fight them to stop it.

    ¡°It won¡¯t work,¡± he got out, voice sounding raw. ¡°They¡¯re-¡±

    In the distance, shots sounded.

    Their pursuers hesitated. They dragged Yong, forging forward as quick as they could. The opportunity was not to be wasted. The pursuers began arguing, at least until shots sounded again ¨C at least a dozen, continued. A real fight. The others or the Watch garrison? Either way, under Tristan¡¯s disbelieving stare the pursuers slowed, stopped and then turned around.

    Towards the fight.

    The thief choked out an incredulousugh as he watched the torches get further and further away. Only then did he notice they had gotten back to the branch where Fortuna was perched, having not moved an inch since hest passed her by. A spinning golden coin drew his eye, the goddess snatching it out of the air. She met his eyes, golden eyes alight.

    ¡°Lucky you,¡± the Lady of Long Odds grinned.

    --

    They made it to the path from the map, stumbling like children, and then followed down the beaten earth. They saw not a soul on the way.

    --

    The supposed outpost turned out to be a small town, ringed inmplights and waiting square in the middle of path. That should have been a relief, only there was a slightplication.

    ¡°Well,¡± Tristan said, eyeing the impaled corpses. ¡°I¡¯m willing to go on a limb and call this a bad sign.¡±

    Yong snorted from his ce between them.

    ¡°Thosemplights give off re,¡± Maryam said. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be hollows inside, at least.¡±

    ¡°Plenty of wolves hunt by pale light,¡± Yong replied. ¡°Let me off, you two. I think I can hobble and we¡¯ll look weaker if you¡¯re holding me up.¡±

    And there were people to look weak to, as the Tianxi had seen. A pair of guards came their way, bearing muskets and steel breasttes over padded tunics. Their helms were old-fashioned, going down the back of their necks, but it was hardlyparable to the old relics that the cultists bore. The three of them tensed as the guards approached, though the two men were still holding their muskets up instead of pointing them.

    ¡°You with the Watch?¡± the shorter one called out.

    They shared looks, then Maryam shrugged.

    ¡°We are,¡± she called back.

    ¡°Come on, then,¡± the same man said. ¡°The others are inside and we¡¯re closing the gates for night.¡±

    ¡°Trap?¡± Yong murmured.

    ¡°If it is, I¡¯d rather have Tredegar doing my fighting for me,¡± Tristan opined. ¡°She is <em>much</em> better at it.¡±

    Assuming the mirror-dancer still lived, which was hardly certain.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Maryam snickered, then sobered. ¡°Besides, they might have a town physician.¡±

    Yong grunted his doubt but did not argue. They met the guards halfway, getting eyed back just as much as they eyed the pair while they walked together to the gate.

    ¡°Rough year, the way your friends tell it,¡± the chatty one said.

    ¡°You could say that,¡± Tristan easily replied. ¡°Seen a few, have you?¡±

    The man snorted, his smile never showing his teeth.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be cagey, the others already told us you don¡¯t know shit about the Trial of Weeds,¡± he said. ¡°This town is called Cantica. We¡¯re a colony under the auspices of the Watch and yourst stop before the final trial.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be getting an exnation, then?¡± Yong asked.

    The guard shrugged.

    ¡°The mayor will tell you everything there is to know,¡± he said. ¡°Most of us don¡¯t know the details.¡±

    The guards slowed when they came near the gates, which had the three tensing up again.

    ¡°While inside Cantica,¡± the chatty man said, ¡°there is to be no violence against trial-takers or our folk. We won¡¯t have our town to be the pissing match for maze grudges. Understood?¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Tristan agreed, and the others echoed him.

    Twenty more feet had them past the gates, which the guards stayed behind to pull closed as they were ushered on. The destination was obvious: there was a crowd gathered in the street, but not of townsfolk. The survivors of the Bluebell stood before a hard-faced man in neat clothes that must be the mayor. There were fewer survivors than Tristan would have thought, and at least one of those present to the thief as a surprise.

    Smiling insolently in the face of Angharad Tredegar dark¡¯s re, Augusto Cerdan toyed with the hilt of the sword he¡¯d taken from a cultist.

    This, Tristan thought, was going to get messy.

 Chapter 40

    Chapter 40

    ¡°Gods be my witness,¡± Mayor Crespin harshly said, ¡°but if I either of you draws a sword I will have you shot.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s lips thinned, back straightening as she red down at the man. She had already given her oath, what manner of honorless cur did he take her for? Cantica¡¯s mayor, a middle-aged man with a bushy ck beard whose wildness contrasted with the tidiness of his dated woolen green tunic, looked unimpressed by her anger.

    ¡°re all you want, girl, but I¡¯ve permission from themander in Three Pines to dispose of any of you who get rowdy,¡± the man said. ¡°You think you¡¯re the first kids with chips on your shoulders who¡¯ve blown through here?¡±

    ¡°I have no intention of breaking my word,¡± Angharad curtly said.

    Crespin held her gaze a moment longer ¨C how t they looked, she thought, almost lifeless ¨C before grunting in what could have been either approval or dismissal. The mayor¡¯s dark eyes then moved to Augusto Cerdan, who was yet grinning.

    ¡°I only reached for my de because I felt in danger, good sir,¡± Augusto said. ¡°I would not dare to break yourws.¡±

    Mayor Crispin eyed the infanzon a moment longer.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky we don¡¯t give out beatings for smugness,¡± the mayor finally said. ¡°Go stand with the rest.¡±

    That wiped the grin off Augusto¡¯s face well enough. The mayor, stroking his beard, nced at them onest time then peeled away. The two town guards that had been looming over their discussion leaned their muskets back against their shoulders. Men with much nerve, the Pereduri thought. There were only a handful of them, to pen in five times as many trial-takers, but at no point had they shown fear at the possibility of a fight breaking out.

    Angharad supposed that living on this nightmare of a ce must do wonders for building one¡¯s bravery.

    ¡°You, the new arrivals,¡± Mayor Crispin called out. ¡°Send me one in front. The remainder goes with the crowd.¡±

    The dark-skinned noblewoman turned in surprise: she¡¯d not noticed anyoneing. Angharad let out a startled noise at what she found: Tristan, Yong and the pale-skinned Sarai. Thetter looked like she had done best of the three, at least until Angharad noticed the missing fingers. The others looked like they had been savagely beaten and Yong had clearly been shot but the three were well enough to move. They were warmly weed by the rest of theirpany, Yong more so than the rest ¨C his acquaintance with Lady Ferranda and Lord Zenzele was of long date.

    It was Tristan who limped to the front as they had been instructed, the sole part of him that did not look like it had been tossed down a mountainside the worn leather tricorn on his head. The Sacromontan had decent taste in that regard, at least.

    ¡°Tredegar,¡± the grey-eyed man tiredly greeted her, offering a nod.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± she happily replied. ¡°I am pleased you made it through.¡±

    How he had done so was a question forter, she decided. There must have been another path through the maze, one that could be pried open without ten victors.

    ¡°You can have your reunionter,¡± Mayor Crespin said, brusque but not unkind. ¡°Tristan, is it?¡±

    ¡°That is my name,¡± the Sacromontan agreed.

    ¡°Should we be expecting further survivors?¡± the man asked. ¡°The girl here says all the people she ran the second trial with are ounted for.¡±

    ¡°Our fourth is dead,¡± Tristan replied, face subtly tightening. ¡°As far as I know, there are no others left.¡±

    Angharad could not, in that moment, recall the old man¡¯s name. Franco, Frecho? She had been told it at some point, she knew, and a slight well of shame came at the realization she had not cared enough to remember.

    ¡°Good,¡± Mayor Crespin said, then paused.

    Tristan was looking at him. The grey stare was even, almost mild, but Angharad shifted ufortably at the sight. It was an unsettling sort of calm ¨C the kind that came right before someone smashed a ss against your head or bared a knife.

    ¡°Not good,¡± Crespin corrected, ¡°but simpler for us. If everyone is there we can get the Trial of Weeds going.¡±

    Tristan cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°Do you need anything else of me?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No,¡± the mayor grunted, then flicked a nce her way. ¡°Same with you, Mni. You can join the others.¡±

    Angharad smoothed away her irritation at the inuracy and inclined her head in acknowledgement, keeping the other trial-takerpany on the short walk. No words were shared, the only sound their boots squelching in the shallow mud. Song was waiting for Angharad when she returned, gesturing for her toe closer while Tristan disappeared into the crowd.

    ¡°Shalini gave them Ishaan¡¯s body,¡± the Tianxi whispered in her ear. ¡°They¡¯ll burn it tomorrow, after firewood has been gathered.¡±

    ¡°She agreed to part with it?¡± Angharad whispered back, honestly surprised.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t give her a choice,¡± Song replied. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t allow a corpse to be dragged around for fear of disease.¡±

    Which was, the Pereduri admitted, a fair concern. Having her hand forced in such a manner exined why the Someshwari looked in a foul mood, however, ignoring Zenzele¡¯s attempts to engage her in conversation. Ferranda stood with them, the trifecta having kept together on the march, and Angharad felt a pang of envy. Everyone she had passed the first trial with was now dead or estranged, save for Song ¨C even Brun, who she thought herself on good terms with, now preferred to stand with Yaretzi and quietly converse rather than renew their acquaintance. Mayor Crispin cleared his throat, putting an end to the small talk, and all eyes went to him.

    ¡°First off,¡± the bearded man said, ¡°since I heard the sanctuary got buried I¡¯ll first ask you this: is there anyone here who would withdraw from the trials?¡±

    He waited for a moment, to utter silence.

    ¡°Last chance,¡± he said. ¡°If you get to hear the rules of the Trial of Weeds, the only ways you¡¯re leaving this ind are in a coffin or a ck cloak.¡±

    Still silence. The man shrugged.

    ¡°Don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you,¡± the mayor said. ¡°Follow me, I¡¯ll give you the rules once we get to the town square.¡±

    It was not a particrly long walk, though theckluster streets made it rather unpleasant. They stuck to the sides as much as possible, closer to the asional wooden nks than the mud in the middle of streets. After four minutes of passing shops, houses and arge inn the mayor slowed as they reached their destination.

    The square looked almost out of ce given how cramped the rest of Cantica was, all pressed against the palisade walls with narrow streets and rough wooden houses. In contrast the town square was a wide and open space paved with thick square stones. Spread out across it, facing the center, were threerge iron cages. Each was taller than a man and long enough you would be able to walk inside.

    Padlocks hung on their open doors.

    There was a ripple of unease through theirpany, which Angharad would freely admit to sharing in. If there had been beasts in the cages they were now gone, and if they were meant for people then¡­

    ¡°Here we are,¡± Mayor Crespin said. ¡°Come close now, and no chatting. I won¡¯t be repeating myself if you miss anything.¡±

    Dutifully, theirpany assembled at the edge of the paved square while the bearded mayor came to stand between the cages. Crespin spat to the side, into the mud.

    ¡°Now, the Watch is supposed to give you some spiel about the nature of the third trial before sending you off our way,¡± he said. ¡°But I¡¯m no watchman, and I¡¯ve only heard bits and pieces of the speech over the years.¡±

    He shrugged.

    ¡°So I¡¯ll be giving you my own understanding of it instead.¡±

    The bearded man swept through them with his gaze.

    ¡°The Trial of Lines is a test of skill,¡± he announced. ¡°If you don¡¯t have a n or lick up to people who do, if you don¡¯t have the training to make it to the sanctuary quietly or the strength to fight your way through, then you end up dead.¡±

    Angharad winced at the bluntness of his words, but there was the ring of truth to them.

    ¡°Now the Trial of Ruins, it¡¯s a pot,¡± Mayor Crespin said. ¡°They throw you into the water and turn up the heat to see what you¡¯ll do when it starts to boil: do you fuck over your allies, do you break or run or rise up to the asion?¡±

    nces were sent this way and that at the man¡¯s words. Tupoc only grinned at the unspoken usations, entirely unruffled, and a ttering amount of looks went her way at thest part. Angharad straightened her back, allowing herself a sliver of pride.

    It did notst.

    ¡°There¡¯s not many of you this year,¡± the mayor bluntly said, ¡°so you must not have been great swimmers.¡±

    There was the ring of truth to<em> that</em> as well, Angharad thought. Near thrice their current number had walked out of the Bluebell.

    ¡°Now, the Trial of Weeds isn¡¯t like the first two,¡± Mayor Crespin said. ¡°If you got here, you¡¯re good or you¡¯re lucky: either way, the Rooks can use you.¡±

    He smiled, just a shallow stretch of the lips that had precious little mirth to it.

    ¡°No, this ce is about ripping out the weeds before they get into the Watch, so to speak, and the winnowing is left to your own hands.¡±

    Another ripple of unease.

    ¡°We¡¯r<em>e</em> not going to put any you in these cages,¡± Crespin said. ¡°You are.¡±

    Few of them liked the sound of that.

    ¡°Tonight, in the time before you retire to your rooms, each of you will be taken aside asked to give three names,¡± the man said. ¡°One for each person you think should be put in one of the cages. The three of you named the most times will then be escorted into their cage by the town guarde morning.¡±

    Angharad frowned, then cleared her throat. It earned her an unfriendly look from Crespin.

    ¡°What happens should two of us be named an equal number of times?¡± she asked.

    It would not matter unless the third position was the one shared, she thought, but should that happen it was possible a draw would need settling.

    ¡°You get to share the cage,¡± the mayor replied without batting an eye.

    That was, Angharad silently conceded, callously fair.

    ¡°Come morning, you¡¯ll gather up here again,¡± Mayor Crespin continued, ¡°and after the chosen enter the cages then you get to vote on which of the three will die.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Shalini replied. ¡°You want us to kill each other?¡±

    The man shrugged.

    ¡°You¡¯ve already been killing each other, I imagine,¡± he said. ¡°Now is when you call each other to ount for it.¡±

    He chuckled.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen the smile drop off the faces of all sorts of clever sorts, when it sunk it that they might have to pay for their bloody tricks after all,¡± Mayor Crespin said. ¡°The way I see it, this test is for them. If you throw your allies to the wolves, well, you best be clever enough to talk them out of hanging you after.¡±

    The mayor shrugged.

    ¡°What use would the Watch have for you otherwise?¡±

    Half a dozen of them spoke up at the same time even as Angharad¡¯s fingers tightened around the grip of her saber. This was madness, she thought, how could they be expected to ¨C Mayor Crespin¡¯s hand rose, and silence fell again. No one wanted to risk missing a piece of the rules.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t end there,¡± the bearded man said. ¡°After that¡¯s done, each of you will get asked a question in private: should another round be yed?¡±

    You could have heard a pin drop.

    ¡°All it takes is one yes,¡± Crespin said, ¡°for there to be another.¡±

    ¡°That is absurd,¡± Augusto bit out. ¡°How many of us will die for petty grudges?¡±

    It was ufortable, Angharad thought, to be forced in a position where she agreed with the man.

    ¡°As many as you lot care to kill,¡± the mayor said, indifferent. ¡°The Trial of Weeds ends when refusal of another round is unanimous. After that we¡¯ll hand you fresh supplies and you get to toddle on north to Three Pines to join the Watch.¡±

    Though Angharad could feel indignation about to erupt, theirpany held on to silence a little longer. Crespin liked toying with them. They proved right to, as the mayor chuckled a few heartbeatster.

    ¡°Onest thing,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s onest rule, which is a secret you will have to find on your own. A way for someone in the cages not to die even if they get picked. Sniff around for it however you will, so long as you remember the rules: no violence against my folk, or each other.¡±

    Mayor Crespin offered them a nod.

    ¡°That¡¯s the whole of it,¡± he said. ¡°My people will find you to ask the names, don¡¯t try to go to sleep before you¡¯re given leave.¡±

    He walked right through their crowd, forcing them to part as if to make a point, and for a few heartbeats silence followed in his wake.

    Then chaos came screaming out.

    --

    The first thing that happened was that Tupoc Xical walked away.

    Without a word, ignoring the jeers from Ferranda and Zenzele. Angharad searched his face for fear as he walked past her, for regret, but found neither. He looked, to her dismay, thoughtful. <em>He knows he is certain to be sent into a cage</em>, she thought, <em>so he is going on the hunt for the hidden rule that might save his life. </em>He must havemitted to that decision before the mayor was even done speaking<em>.</em> It was a tortured thing to admire Tupoc¡¯sposure ¨C he would not have needed to beposed, after all, were he not a feckless traitor.

    Everything admirable about him was intertwined with the worst of traits. In a way his qualities made it easier to despise him, Angharad thought, for Tupoc was capable of acting with honor she he want to. He had the skill, the discernment.

    It was a <em>choice</em> for him to be heinous.

    ¡°We should all agree now on who we send into the cages,¡± Yaretzi was saying. ¡°The trial thrives on mistrust, should we simply be open with-¡±

    ¡°How would we know if someone¡¯s lying?¡± Lan casually asked. ¡°We¡¯ll give our names in private, the mayor was clear about that.¡±

    Yaretzi turned a gimlet eye on the older woman, Angharad only then noticing that one of her turquoise earrings was missing. It must have fallen during their flight to Cantica.

    ¡°Trust,¡± Yaretzi began, but derisiveughter cut the sentence short.

    ¡°There is still a murderer among us,¡± Zenzele, who¡¯d been the one tough, cut in. ¡°There should be no talk of trust, Yaretzi.¡±

    ¡°Chaos is to no one¡¯s advantage,¡± Song opined. ¡°<em>Some </em>semnce of an agreement can only help.¡±

    ¡°You sit on more secrets than anyone here, Tianxi, and some are fresher than others,¡± Zenzele Duma tly said. ¡°I will not invade your privacy by pressing, but do refrain from taking us for fools. I will not be a tool for your schemes.¡±

    Song met his eyes with her unblinking silver gaze, face hardening.

    Angharad¡¯s brow rose at the tension. That was a strong im, but a lord of Mn had spoken it so he must not believe it a lie. <em>And he has a contract that would let him sniff out secrets</em>, she thought. Zenzele had seen her own vengeful oath, though he had not known what it was. <em>And now he says that what Song keeps to herself dwarfs even that.</em> A sobering thought. Yet secrecy was not deserving a scorn: had Angharad told them all she was pursued by assassins? No, not even when she had foolishly feared that Zenzele Duma and his lover might be killers sent by her nameless foe.

    ¡°There is ruin in all our wakes, Lord Zenzele,¡± Angharad said. ¡°To chase each other¡¯s shadows is a game without a victor.¡±

    The dark-skinned noble ¨C taller than her even with his hat in hand, though not by much ¨C fixed her with a steady look. Ferranda elbowed him, after which he gave Angharad a curt nod and wrenched his gaze away. Song looked about ready to speak again, but it was another who stepped in first. Master Cozme Aflor¡¯s ir had never quite recovered from the loss of his hat, but the older man still cut a respectable figure with his finely groomed mustache and beard. The cuts he¡¯d suffered on the Toll Road only added to it, the bandages around his arm lending him a wounded veteran¡¯s look.

    It was with his hand on the pommel of sword ¨C loosely, resting and not threatening ¨C that he went to stand before everyone.

    ¡°I have made mistakes,¡± Cozme Aflor bluntly said. ¡°I own that.¡±

    A burst of shrill, mockingughter.

    ¡°Oh, sweet Manes,¡± Augusto Cerdan said. ¡°To think I¡¯d see the day where you bent that stiff neck enough to beg for your life, Cozme. The voyage was worth it just for that.¡±

    The older man nced at him with distaste, then ignored him.

    ¡°I tried to keep my oaths to House Cerdan beyond what was wise,¡± Cozme said, ¡°but never did I bare a de on any of you, or take revenge for a contract being used on me without provocation.¡±

    A meaningful look was thrown at Shalini there, who sneered back.

    ¡°If you feel it has grown cold outside, then you should have thought twice before walking out,¡± the Someshwari replied.

    Brun cleared his throat.

    ¡°One does not lightly leave the service of the infanzones,¡± the fair-haired man said. ¡°Defiance is not without costs for Sacromontans, Shalini Goel.¡±

    The short Someshwari eyed him with surprise, and some abashment at the reminder that she hade here as the close and trustedpanion of a noble while Cozme was merely a retainer. Angharad, though she kept an eye on the talks, was instead taking measure inside her own mind. Tupoc was headed for a cage, that much was certain. He had made too many enemies. The only question worth asking was who else would be headed there.

    ¡°Let us not pretend being a soldier for a house right beneath the Six is the same as being a rat,¡± Tristan tly said. ¡°Pity is a fine thing, Brun, but Cozme Aflor never gave a shit about anyone but his charges until that bridge was thoroughly burned.¡±

    ¡°And he should be <em>killed </em>for that?¡± Brun challenged.

    A harshugh.

    ¡°You will have to forgive Tristan,¡± Yong said. ¡°He¡¯s grown used to deciding who lives and dies.¡±

    That earned the pair measuring looks ¨C it was an obvious break in a previously cordial rtionship ¨C but Angharad was yet running down the list. No one, she thought, had made more foes than Augusto Cerdan and Cozme Aflor. It was near a sure thing that the two of them would be sent to the cages along with Tupoc. Only Yaretzi, who had fought Tupoc and been used by Shalini, could even begin toe close.

    ¡°Everyone with a gun has that same power, Yong,¡± Lan ndly said, ¡°and I see you carry two.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think this is going well for you, Cozme,¡± Augusto loudly whispered. ¡°Perhaps you should¡­ go with the current, old friend. It will be faster.¡±

    Angharad almost winced ¨C there was no almost about it for the older man - as she remembered when she hadst heard that sentence.

    ¡°To consign someone to the cages does not mean death,¡± Angharad pointed out. ¡°A mark of shame, perhaps, but not an oath to send them into the grave.¡±

    ¡°Well said,¡± Yong grunted. ¡°I have been told I might be bleeding out, so I¡¯m to look for a physician. I will, however, leave you with this: Tupoc, Augusto, Tristan. Make of it what you will.¡±

    He began limping away after. Sarai, whose face was flushed pink with exhaustion, traded a look and a nod with Tristan before slipping away from the crowd to help Yong limp forward. The veteran looked as if he wanted to refuse, but after a moment conceded and slung an arm around her shoulder as they disappeared into the town.

    ¡°That was most unwarranted,¡± Augustoined. ¡°I¡¯ve hardly even spoken with the man.¡±

    ¡°Hardly must have been enough,¡± Angharad evenly replied.

    He cheerfully flipped her the finger, seeming unworried even though he was sure to be bound for a cage. <em>Is this bluster, or is he genuinely without fear?</em> Cozme, whose speech had been diverted by sundry distractions, cleared his throat and imed attention once more.

    ¡°I have said my piece,¡± the older man said. ¡°I can now only trust in the fairness of those assembled here.¡±

    ¡°I truly misspoke when I called you a cock,¡± Augusto mused. ¡°How could you be such, when you have such a talent for fetio?¡±

    The infanzon chuckled.

    ¡°<em>I trust in the fairness of those assembled here</em>,¡± he repeated in a nasal voice. ¡°At least get on your knees first, if you¡¯re going to be working at it so hard.¡±

    Cozme¡¯s cheeks reddened in anger as he reached for his sword, not quite unsheathing it, and even Angharad felt her jaw tighten at the uncouthness of. Augusto had somehow be even more odious since the Toll Road, and no longer cared to keep his venom in check. By the looks on the face of those around here, that was doing him no favors. But then he would have been headed for a cage even if he turned sweet as honey, Angharad thought.

    As Mayor Crespin had said, the Trial of Weeds was a reckoning for the other two.

    ¡°Talking here is pointless,¡± Shalini said. ¡°Half of us can¡¯t trust the other and there can be no serious talks with snakes coiled in ourps.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Lady Ferranda said. ¡°And so was Yong, in his own way.

    She paused.

    ¡°Tupoc, Augusto, Cozme.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be taking that up with the Vizur, when I return to the city,¡± Augusto mildly said.

    The fair-haired infanzona cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°That¡¯d be quite a trick, without a head,¡± she said, and walked away.

    Shalini went with her, and Zenzele flicked them a nce before clearing his throat.

    ¡°Consider Tupoc a given,¡± the Mni. ¡°The rest bears thought.¡±

    He then tipped his head at them politely and hurried to catch up after the others. There were still many of them left, Angharad saw. Of the fourteen they numbered there were still eight standing here in the square. But the moment Shalini and the other had left the prospect of keeping this out in the open had died. Even though there were numbers enough here to decide the matter if they wanted to, the illusion of unity had shattered.

    Everyone would be cutting their own deals, as if this were the High Queen¡¯s court.

    Angharad met Song¡¯s eyes and traded a small nod. They were done here, both agreed, and within a minute had taken their leave.

    --

    However cramped the nks on the side of the street, they were preferable to walking in the mud. Even if it made speaking as they moved somewhat awkward.

    ¡°I have a degree of acquaintance with Sarai,¡± Song told her. ¡°I will seek her and find out what happened when ourpany and hers parted way.¡±

    Angharad could read between the lines. The two women were acquainted, but the Triu was less than fond of Mni. Understandable, if somewhat unwarranted ¨C Angharad had never owned a ve nor traded in them. Their first conversation after the reveal of her origins had been¡­ less than skillful, admittedly, so the Pereduri said nothing on the subject.

    ¡°I am rather curious what tunnel they found to escape,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°It must have been unknown even to the Watch.¡±

    ¡°They are a canny lot,¡± Song said. ¡°I expect it will be an interesting tale.¡±

    Angharad nodded, then cleared her throat awkwardly.

    ¡°I expect I should speak with Lord Zenzele first,¡± she said.

    She delicately did not mention that her fellow inder had taken a clear dislike to Song. Said Tianxi eyed her from the side.

    ¡°He is not wrong,¡± the silver-eyed woman said. ¡°I keep a great many secrets.¡±

    ¡°Your eyes bind you to such a fate,¡± Angharad shrugged.

    It was, if anything, reassuring that Song was not prone to voicing the many hidden things that her eyes were certain to reveal by simple virtue of being in their presence. Angharad would much rather that pact be held by a woman inclined to secrecy than a bbermouth. Song looked away, stepping through the shadow cast by themplights above.

    ¡°More than merely that kind,¡± she said. ¡°I joined the trials on the Dominion for a particr purpose, Angharad, and thought I am yet bound not to speak of it the time approaches where I will be able to tell you.¡±

    ¡°That is not necessary,¡± Angharad assured her. ¡°I do not begrudge silence, save if it causes harm.¡±

    ¡°It <em>is</em> necessary,¡± Song replied, sounding almost amused. ¡°I intend to make you an offer when we reach Three Pines, and when I make it I would not have you think our entire acquaintance was a ploy.¡±

    The Pereduri appreciated that, truly. All this scheming and lying, how exhausting it had be. Sifting through every sentence for ten meanings, every offered hand a trap. Even the closest to a pleasant diversion Angharad had found had been¡­ Her jaw clenched at the memory of how Isabel and looked, her face a red ruin. Song¡¯s open admission that she was keeping secrets and would offer a bargain was refreshing, a clearly drawn line in the sand.

    She could do with more of those in her life.

    ¡°You have saved my life on more than one asion,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Whatever else maye to happen between us, Song, you may be assured that I will always hear out any offer you have to make.¡±

    The other woman studied her for a stretching moment, steps stuttering on the nks, and it urred to Angharad that Song was actually quite striking. Silver eyes set in a face of pale gold, the cut of her slender and elegant. Bearing a ited braid and folded leather hat, she seemed almost like a huntress of story. A passing thought, almost absurd. No huntress out of a story would have been so intent on cutting her rations precisely that she ended up with leftover string-thin slices of bread that she never actually ate.

    That and she snored, though the noise was amusingly dainty.

    ¡°Words worth remembering,¡± Song finally said.

    They left it at that.

    --

    The inn they had walked past earlier was called the ¡®Last Rest¡¯.

    The words were carved above the door in scrabbly Antigua, the townsfolk apparently being unacquainted with the notion of hanging a sign. If not for therge and open shutters she would not have known the ce for what it was from the outside. The ground floor was amon room full of long tables, with a firece at the back and a bar counter. Behind that counter a door led into what looked like a kitchen, while a little to the side rickety stairs led to a second story.

    Song had gone across the street, where the town physician and gravedigger ¨C an efficientbination, Angharad had mused ¨C was allegedly having a look at Yong¡¯s wounds. Sarai would be waiting on him, as good a time as any to talk.

    The three souls she had been on the hunt for, however, were in the Last Rest¡¯smon room. Having imed the end of the table near the firece, they were sitting with warm meals and what appeared to be tankards of ale. Moving their way, Angharad noted that while Shalini appeared to have imed one of Zenzele¡¯s sausages she had in exchange surrendered her beer. Ferranda had traded nothing, but was poking at her peas with a distinct like of enthusiasm. Angharad could not me her, they were horriblymon fare.

    It was Ferranda Vizur who first saw hering, and when Angharad gestured towards the open space by Zenzele¡¯s side with a raised eyebrow the infanzona gave a shrugging nod. Permission enough, the noblewoman decided. Loosening her sword belt, she pulled it off and set it down to the side before sliding onto the bench by Lord Zenzele. The man in question swallowed his drink, then smiled her way.

    ¡°Lady Angharad,¡± he said. ¡°Come to get a meal out of them as well?¡±

    ¡°I would not mind,¡± she admitted. ¡°Is it expensive?¡±

    She did not have much coin left, and to be honest the thought of coin had her a little dazed. How long had it been since shest paid for something? Not even two weeks, and yet it felt like an entire world away.

    ¡°No cost.¡±

    Angharad tensed at the voiceing from behind: she had not heard someone approach. Turning, she found a startlingly young man that could not have been older than seventeen looking at her with mild boredom. He wore a leather apron over a roughspun brown cote ¨C a long-sleeved tunic in an antiquated style ¨C and his messy ck hair went down to his shoulders. He must have been Lierganen, by the tan, but she could not ce the ent.

    ¡°As part of our charter with the Watch,¡± the man said, ¡°we provide room and board for all trial-takers as well as run the Trial of Weeds. You want a meal?¡±

    Angharad slowly nodded.

    ¡°What is avable?¡±

    ¡°The meal,¡± the man drily replied. ¡°With or without beer.¡±

    ¡°It is barley beer, Tredegar,¡± Zenzele told her. ¡°Criminal stuff.¡±

    It did not seem to hinder him any from getting started on the second drink.

    ¡°Maize beer is a Mni obsession, Duma,¡± she amusedly replied. ¡°My people make barley wine like civilized folk.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you think you¡¯re interesting,¡± the innkeeper said, sounding like they were anything but, ¡°but I¡¯m still waiting on an answer.¡±

    Angharad asked for a meal, without ale, then cleared her throat.

    ¡°What is to be the arrangement for rooms?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Usually we split you lot between here and the Warm Coffin across town, but there¡¯s barely any of you this year so you¡¯re all going upstairs,¡± the man said, jutting his thumb towards the stairway near the counter. ¡°Take whatever room you want, thene back and ask me for the key. There¡¯s numbers on the doors.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Angharad nodded.

    The man snorted, then walked away.

    ¡°I do not suppose the Warm Coffin¡¯s owner would be any more polite?¡± she drily asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s closed,¡± Shalini got out after swallowing arge mouthful. ¡°Ferranda asked when we heard about the meal.¡±

    ¡°He seems young to run an inn,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Even for a border town.¡±

    ¡°That we did not ask,¡± Ferranda replied. ¡°Still, I would wager it had something to do with the cultists impaled before the gates. The entire town seems on edge, they might have been attacked recently.¡±

    That made a great deal of sense, she thought. With thendslide burying the Watch garrison near the mountain, the cult of the Red Eye might have thought it opportune to try a raid on Cantica. It would also exin how few people they had seen out on the streets. The innkeeper was back with her meal: sausage, peas and sliced almonds. She thanked the man, asking for his name, and got a raised eyebrow as only response.

    ¡°Tried that too,¡± Zenzele drily said. ¡°Not the friendliest of fellows, this one.¡±

    Shalini, who had polished off her entire te and had begun eyeing that of her neighbors, let out a grunt.

    ¡°He might not see the point in getting friendly when the trial could kill any of us,¡± the Someshwari said.

    Ferranda discreetly used her wooden fork to empty most of her peas onto Shalini¡¯s te, smiling winningly at the other woman when Shalini turned to cock an eyebrow, but the grim mood brought on by the reminder of the Trial of Weeds was not so easily lifted.

    ¡°It is a bloody affair,¡± Angharad agreed.

    ¡°And it now brings you to our shores so you might know where who we will name,¡± Lord Zenzele said.

    ¡°That is of some import,¡± she said, ¡°but my greater concern is to ascertain where we will stop.¡±

    Looks of surprise.

    ¡°Barring a surprise or a miracle, Tupoc Xical will diee morning,¡± Angharad said. ¡°My question to you is this: will the trial end there?¡±

    The three traded looks, and again she felt a pang of envy at how closely they now kept. A few days ago they had been strangers.

    ¡°I had thought,¡± Zenzele slowly said, ¡°that you would want a second round if only so that Lord Augusto might follow in Xical¡¯s wake.¡±

    Angharad shook her head.

    ¡°I can do my own killing,¡± she tly replied. ¡°I do not need a trial to do it for me.¡±

    The oath she had given to Mayor Crespin was straightforward: she was to do no violence to trial-takers or the townsfolk while a guest in Cantica, unless attacked first. The moment they stepped out of the town the infanzon was no longer protected.

    ¡°That is,¡± Lady Ferranda hesitantly said, ¡°to your honor.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one with grudges to settle, Tredegar,¡± Shalini said. ¡°Putting Tupoc¡¯s head on spike hardly needs selling and Augusto could do with getting his breathing rights revoked, but there¡¯s a murderer still on the loose and I will see her face justice.¡±

    Angharad stilled.

    ¡°Her?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yaretzi tried to murder Ishaan on the way to the temple-fortress,¡± Shalini said. ¡°You might not believe me, but I saw what I saw. I would have her put in a cage for it, then in a grave.¡±

    ¡°Do you have proof she murdered Jun and Aines?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Shalini admitted, ¡°but how many vipers can there possibly be among us?¡±

    Ferranda sighed.

    ¡°I do not agree, and did not vote ordingly,¡± the fair-haired woman said. ¡°I am yet convinced that another was behind the deaths, acting through catspaws. I have heard¡­ rumors about Yaretzi, however, that are suspicious.¡±

    Isabel <em>had</em> said that ¡®Yaretzi¡¯ was a foot shorter than she was supposed to be. Ferranda did not seem to be putting strong stock in the other infanzona¡¯s words, but neither was she dismissing them. Angharad cocked an eyebrow at Zenzele, leaving the question implied.

    ¡°Looking back, I find some of her behavior during the Trial of Lines unusual,¡± Zenzele admitted. ¡°She was very used to roughing it, for a diplomat, and though she struck a friendship with Ayanda she showed little grief when the cultists took her.¡±

    Shalini looked away at that. She and Ishaan had refused to pursue the warband to take back Zenzele¡¯s lover, Angharad knew. It might have been the sounder call, but it seemed that a growing acquaintance with Zenzele Duma was shading the nuances of that decision in retrospect.

    ¡°You are bothmitted to pursuing Yaretzi¡¯s execution through a second round, then?¡± she asked.

    Shalini nodded briskly. Zenzele followed suit a heartbeatter.

    ¡°There will be a death every round, and three of us in cages on every instance,¡± she quietly reminded them. ¡°You may not find the support you seek before a great many bodies have piled up.¡±

    Ferranda hummed.

    ¡°A question best revisited tomorrow,¡± she said. ¡°Once Tupoc is dead, we can decide how far this is to be pushed.¡±

    Shalini looked mutinous but she kept silent. By unspoken ord they turned to lighter talk as Angharad went through her meal, wolfing down the nd fare. Hunger was the finest spice. Others drifted in as she did, alone or in pairs. Cozme, freshly bandaged, came over to the table to share with them the news that Yong was being cut open ¨C he had a bullet in the back that must be removed ¨C and might not be upright tomorrow. By the time Angharad finished her meal, the absences were more noticeable than those present. Besides Yong, only three were missing.

    Tupoc, Lan and Augusto.

    Parting ways with the three, Angharad grabbed her saber and went upstairs to pick a room. The stairs led up to a tiny hallway forming a broad L, she found, whose longer length faced the street. Between the two sides there were around twenty doors with a number painted and all were open save for the three nearest to the stairs. The Pereduri suspected these would be locked as well, but did not check. Instead she looked around for which room seemed mostfortable, hoping for a mattress that might not be stuffed straw. She was not the only one with such a notion.

    ¡°Comparing the rooms, are we?¡± Brun asked, lips twitching into a smile.

    The blond Sacromontan looked tired, holding his pack loosely, but was still steady on his feet. That tended to be the way with him.

    ¡°Straw everywhere, so far,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°Have you found anything?¡±

    ¡°Same for the mattresses, I expect we should give up hope for that,¡± he said. ¡°No windows anywhere, but the three rooms in the corner have a dresser as well as a bedside table. That appears the pinnacle of luxury around here.¡±

    Angharad sighed. It was better than nothing, she supposed. The two of them trudged back past the stairs, turning the corner of the L into the smaller length of hall. While she hesitated Brun stole a march on her, iming the middle of the three rooms and tossing his pack on the bed. Slightly irked, she walked past him and took the room at the very end of the hall. A twenty-one was painted in white on the door, the key she would need to im.

    Brun was waiting for her in the hall when she came out.

    ¡°Have you eaten yet?¡± he asked.

    She nodded.

    ¡°Shame,¡± Brun said. ¡°Was it any good?¡±

    ¡°Do you enjoy peas?¡± she drily asked.

    ¡°More than I enjoy starving,¡± the fair-haired man amusedly replied.

    ¡°Then I expect you will most adequately fed,¡± Angharad told him.

    She could not bring herself to give a betterpliment, as it would have been dangerously close to a lie. They made their way back down together, encountering Yaretzi going up as they did. Since the stairs were too narrow for two the Izcalli gantly went back down to give way, while Brun instead climbed back up to cede her passage in turn. Angharad thanked the other woman with a nod, but no more than that. Given the chances that ¡®Yaretzi¡¯ was some kind of impostor, it was best to keep her distance.

    When she imed her key from the innkeeper, a dark-haired woman in her thirties ¨C her clothes as old-fashioned as the young man¡¯s ¨C was waiting for her.

    ¡°Alix,¡± she introduced herself. ¡°I handle Mayor Crespin¡¯s affairs. You are Angharad Tredegar, correct?¡±

    Angharad nodded confirmation.

    ¡°I need three names from you, then,¡± Alix said, picking up a chalk and te.

    After a heartbeat of hesitation, she gave them. Tupoc Xical, Augusto Cerdan and Cozme Aflor. After the first round and Tupoc¡¯s death Angharad saw no need to continue this vicious trial, but that was not in her power to decide. Perhaps talks could be had tomorrow, after the execution. After going back up to lock her door, when returning to themon room she found that Song was seated with Sarai and a reluctant-seeming Ferranda - something Angharad decided she wanted no part of. She took to the streets instead, feet itching to move for all her exhaustion.

    They would not be allowed to retire to their rooms until all had given three names anyhow.

    Cantica was smaller than she had thought. Tworge inns, the Last Rest and the Warm Coffin, swallowed up quite a bit of the room inside the area walled in by the palisade and ring ofmplights. The rest was rough wooden houses ¨C all their shutters were closed, and Angharad saw precious few of the townsfolk out on the streets - and a handful of shops. The people of Cantica were polite but distant, most of them not even bothering to reply to a greeting beside a curt nod.

    The shops were not much to look at either. A half-empty general store and a smithy were nestled one against another, while further down the street a carpenter and a baker made up the rest of the town¡¯s ¡®main street¡¯. Angharad found Lan sitting in the alley by the bakery, perched on a crate as she tore into a loaf of ck bread. On a whim, she sought out the other woman.

    ¡°There are warm meals at the Last Rest, you know,¡± Angharad said.

    The blue-lipped Tianxi smiled.

    ¡°You can¡¯t move while eating those, though,¡± she said. ¡°And there¡¯s a lot to see in a ce like this.¡±

    Angharad cocked an eyebrow, somewhat skeptical.

    ¡°Is there?¡±

    Lan hummed.

    ¡°How many people do you think live in a town this size?¡± she asked.

    Angharad blinked.

    ¡°Around two or three hundred,¡± she guessed.

    ¡°Probably closer to four or five,¡± Lan said. ¡°But you¡¯re in the right area. How many of those people have you seen out in the streets?¡±

    Angharad thought back, slipping into a frown.

    ¡°Fewer than fifty,¡± she said. ¡°And no children.¡±

    ¡°Common sense to keep your kids indoors when you¡¯ve got a dozen heavily armed lunatics on the prowl,¡± Lan said, ¡°but why so few people are out and about is what has me curious. I figure it¡¯s about the lights.¡±

    The Pereduri blinked, putting the pieces together.

    ¡°You think hollows live here?¡± she asked, appalled.

    ¡°No,¡± Lan said, biting into the bread and swallowing a chunk. ¡°I think people live here, and they keep hollow <em>ves</em>. Do you know a lot of farmers who¡¯d go out there and till a field when there¡¯s cultists on the loose? They¡¯re using expendables, is my guess. And the Watch allows it, because if Cantica¡¯s turning a profit they can get some tax money out of this ce.¡±

    Angharad swallowed.

    ¡°And now that themplights are lit,¡± she said, ¡°the hollows stay inside so the touch of the re will not hurt them.¡±

    The other woman nodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a guess,¡± Lan admitted. ¡°But I find it mighty interesting there¡¯s hardly a house in this town where the shutters are open but that all the shops ¨C the rich parts, the people with coin ¨C are open and their owners around. It paints a picture.¡±

    It did, Angharad thought with a grimace. The Watch did not practice very, but Cantica was not the Rookery. It was a colony with a charter, and if the legalities were anything like those in Mn then this town would be something like a vassal state paying tribute. Not, strictly speaking, part of the Watch or its territories.

    ¡°Would that at least <em>one</em> part of this misbegotten ind was not filled to the brim with sinister secrets,¡± Angharad bit out.

    Lan eyed her, seemingly amused.

    ¡°Then you won¡¯t be interested in what I overheard keeping an eye on our friend Augusto,¡± she teased..

    Angharad blinked.

    ¡°Why were you following Augusto?¡± she slowly asked.

    ¡°Because Tupoc said he¡¯d kill me and make it look like an ident,¡± Lan cheerfully replied. ¡°I lost him two streets over, near the butcher¡¯s shop.¡±

    Angharad considered the other woman as she kept tearing into her loaf of bread, rather conflicted. On one hand, Lan was a sneak who looked into everyone¡¯s private affairs and riffled through their bags when given half an excuse. On the other hand, she was so open about this and her generally mercenary nature that Angharad could not quite bring herself to actually consider her a sneak. If a viper told you it was a viper and that it was going to bite you, then proceeded to bite you in the exact way it had informed you it would, could it really be considered treachery?

    Angharad cleared her throat.

    ¡°Please,¡± she said, ¡°may I hear what Augusto was doing?¡±

    If the other woman had brought it up, it would be worth hearing.

    ¡°Free of charge, since you¡¯re a good sort,¡± Lan easily said. ¡°Our boy was talking with the town guards earlier, asking about the gates of Cantica. More precisely whether there are other ways in or out of this ce.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Are there?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear the guard¡¯s answer,¡± Lan said. ¡°But I think his lordship has seen the writing on the wall for the Trial of Weeds, and now he wants to pull a runner before he ends up losing his head.¡±

    That was, Angharad darkly thought, despicably usible of the man.

    ¡°Perhaps I should have a look at where he is, then,¡± she tly said.

    ¡°Good luck with that,¡± Lan said, biting into the bread. ¡°And I mean it. You can smell the crazy on that boy, and it¡¯s not even the entertaining kind.¡±

    Not quite sure how to answer that, the noblewoman kept her face nk and offered her most polite goodbyes. Lan only seemed all the more amused, though her eyes were already far away.

    The Tianxi was not done sniffing around Cantica for secrets, Angharad could tell.

    --

    She did not find Augusto in time.

    The infanzon had made himself scarce, and Tupoc was no longer by the butcher shop when she passed close. In truth she did not have long to look around, as a town guard osted her in the street and told her to return to the Last Rest.

    ¡°May I ask why?¡± Angharad politely said.

    ¡°The votes are all in,¡± the woman replied. ¡°The names and numbers are on the te by the door. Once everyone has seen them you¡¯ll all be allowed to turn in for the night.¡±

    Though Angharad believed she already knew the results, she supposed there was no harm in taking a look before going on the hunt for Augusto again. Besides, it might be interesting to see the numbers. She thanked the guard and briskly made her way back, finding most of theirpany out in the street and looking at a te six feet high. The writing was the same as that of the mayor¡¯s helper ¨C Alix, was it?

    Angharad stepped around Zenzele toe closer to the te, noticing from the corner of her eye that Song was there and looking worried. Why? Her look at the te revealed that eleven out of the fourteen of them had named Tupoc, putting him at the top of the list. It was, in truth, fewer than she had expected. Augusto was second and had been named ten times, which seemed reasonable to her. Cozme¡¯s name was the third, she saw, but there she blinked.

    Five times. He had only been named five times.

    And the name under his was a scrawled ANGHARAD with a four besides it.

    She hade within one vote of ending up in a cage, the Pereduri dimly realized. All this time speaking with others and never even noticed she was resting on the knife¡¯s edge. Under her Tristan had been named four times as well, another injustice, and then of all people <em>Brun</em> had been thrice named. Yaretzi being named thrice was slightly less startling, but it came as a blindside that thest name on the list would be Song ¨C named twice.

    Perhaps Angharad should have tried to match votes to faces, to piece it all together, but her eyes kept returning to her name right under Cozme¡¯s and how close she hade to being sent into the cage in his stead. Feeling stares lingering on her back, the Pereduri flushed in embarrassment.

    Four votes, Sleeping God.

    Augusto and Tupoc she could understand, but who else had she offended to deserve such a slight? Was Cozme two-faced enough to ask for her mercy and in the same breath try to have her encaged? The Pereduri¡¯s jaw clenched. He likely was. And that still left one more among the fourteen who had wanted her put on disy like a wild animal, having never said a word to her face.

    Her mood significantly fouled, she ignored Song calling out for her and strode away. Absence ofpany would do her well. A minute or two of walking around with enough of a scowl that the townsfolk gave her a wide berth calmed her down, enough that when she caught sight of a familiar silhouette she did not avoid him. Tristan, after all, also had four votes to his name. She did not believe him any more deserving of such nder than she.

    The scruffy man was leaning against the side of a house, Angharad saw as she approached, and looking up at one of the palemplights that ringed the entire town of Cantica to keep away lemures and strike fear in the hearts of darklings. The man flicked a nce her away as she came near, offering a polite nod that she returned.

    ¡°Missing home?¡± she asked. ¡°It must have been quite the change, leaving Sacromonte for the first time.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s fewer lights in my parts of the city than you¡¯d think,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°But there is something nostalgic about this, I¡¯ll admit.¡±

    His lips thinned.

    ¡°These are the exact same kind ofmplights they use in the Murk.¡±

    Angharad had not been long in Sacromonte, but long enough to hear of this Murk. The city¡¯s slums, though there were wild and colorful rumors about what went on there. She cocked an eyebrow at the man, for this did not seem a detail worth staring at.

    ¡°I imagine they must import them from Sacromonte,¡± Angharad said. ¡°It is the closest city to the ind and the Watch has ancient ties to it.¡±

    ¡°I figured that as well,¡± Tristan agreed. ¡°Only, Tredegar, thosemplights are in pristine state. Their glow is perfect.¡±

    ¡°And what does that mean?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°Either nothing at all,¡± Tristan quietly said, ¡°or that we are in very serious trouble.¡±

 Chapter 41

    Chapter 41

    It was a small mark, barely the width of half a palm, but that ¡®C/C¡¯ might just get them all killed.

    ¡°Trouble,¡± Lady Angharad Tredegar slowly repeated. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Tristan saw the change in the noblewoman, the way her previous sulk immediately turned into a straightened back as she unconsciously made enough room to be able to draw her saber. It was interesting that someone of her birth had learned such a habit ¨C the kind you usually saw in legbreakers and killers who had been in the service of coteries for years, who knew death mighte for them at any moment. Someone had tried to kill Angharad Tredegar, he figured, and taken more than one swing at it.

    The thief cleared his throat.

    ¡°Would you like the short exnation or the long?¡± he asked.

    The Pereduri blinked, as if surprised he would even ask.

    ¡°The long, of course,¡± Angharad seriously said.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Fortuna mused, cocking her head to the side. ¡°No one ever asks for the long exnation. I think something might be wrong with her, Tristan.¡±

    A beat.

    ¡°I mean, she just willingly signed up for you talking more to her, she must be a masochist at the very least.¡±

    It was not possible to strangle an incorporeal goddess, Tristan knew. He had tried enough to be certain. Hiding his surprise ¨C Fortuna wasn¡¯t wrong about thew first part at least ¨C the thief cleared his throat again, cing his thoughts in order.

    ¡°Amplight is not aplicated thing to make,¡± he finally said. ¡°In essence, it is an iron post about twenty feet high ¨C broader at the base, for stability ¨C with a cylinder of grass and iron screwed on atop it. There is an oil reservoir inside and a wick to light.¡±

    Tredegar was, by all appearances, listening quite attentively. As if interested. It began to ur to him that Fortuna might actually be a right, an unsettling prospect at the best of times.

    ¡°The oil itself is cheap,¡± he said. ¡°Almond oil, but they do not need to be re-grown ¨C just cut with infused dust or stone. Iron is cheap in Sacromonte because of the Trench, and an iron post is not aplicated to forge, somplights are rtively cheap to make and have been for as long as anyone can remember. It is not a popr good to trade in because there is, as far as anyone can tell, no coin to make in it.¡±

    ¡°But,¡± Angharad said.

    Mni nobles were said to have a better eye for coin than most, he recalled. Or at least their lesser branches.

    ¡°Enter Chabier Cnte,¡± Tristan said, ¡°to whom the very Prince of Lies is favorablypared in some parts of the Murk.¡±

    The Pereduri¡¯s brown eyes moved to themplight by which they stood, finding the ¡®C/C¡¯ impressed into the metal. Her brow rose.

    ¡°Decades have passed since then and tales have eaten away at the truth of the matter,¡± Tristan continued, ¡°but some elements always remain: Chabier Cnte was a trader, a Trebian merchantman, and by way of what he believed to be an opportunity came into arge number of Pili cannons ¨C the barrels, to be precise.¡±

    Angharad cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°I have read of those,¡± she said. ¡°Tianxi artillery. Powerful but infamously imprecise. Their use cost the Republics several engagements at sea.¡±

    ¡°I doubt the man would have cared,¡± Tristan said. ¡°But he was tricked anyhow: the reason he got the barrels so cheaply was because they had been miscast. Some sort of thinned junction, it made the bottoms prone to exploding after the second shot. Even worse, the republic he meant to sell these to averted war by way of treaty at thest moment.¡±

    ¡°So he was ruined,¡± Tredegar said.

    She sounded rather approving.

    ¡°Most would have been, but Chabier Cnte was bold,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°Around that time, the City was looking to expand its lines ofmplights into the Murk. Chabier had a stroke of inspiration: by sticking the miscast barrels atop a shorter, hollow base of scrap iron, he would be able to buildmplights for a pittance.¡±

    ¡°Surely the quality would be greatly lessened,¡± Angharad frowned.

    Tristan shrugged.

    ¡°The story goes that when the contract bids were made to the infanzones, his offered price was almost half that of hispetitors,¡± the thief said. ¡°Chabier¡¯s description of his shorter, squatmplights as ¡®built hardened against the savagery of themons¡¯ was allegedly found rather charming. They awarded him the contract.¡±

    The noblewoman¡¯s face hardened.

    ¡°This borders on corruption,¡± she severely said. ¡°It is, at the very least, ipetence.¡±

    Tristan wondered what it must be like, to live in a world where either of these things were a real hindrance in holding onto power you were born to.

    ¡°Lamplights with that newly minted mark of ¡®C/C¡¯ sprouted over about half the Murk the following year,¡± Tristan said. ¡°All of Soliante, Araturo and Careyar.¡±

    ¡°I do not know these districts,¡± Angharad told him. ¡°I was lodged in Cortolo and spent some time in Fishmonger¡¯s Quay.¡±

    Tristan let out a little noise of curiosity.

    ¡°Cortolo¡¯s one of the nicer parts of the Old Town,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you were able to get a bed there, most foreigners end up near the ports.¡±

    ¡°My uncle rmended an acquaintance,¡± Angharad said.

    Ah, the ckcloak rtion. More likely he had rmended an inn with ties to the Watch, Tristan thought.

    ¡°They are districts near the western edge of the city,¡± he said. ¡°Far from Cortolo, and indeed the eyes of the infanzones. Chabier Cnte became very rich from this deal, a man of means, but as the months turned into a year word began trickling in: hismplights kept blowing up, the top exploding in showers of fire and broken ss.¡±

    Angaharad¡¯s lips thinned. She was, Tristan realized, genuinely angry at the thought of something that had happened in a foreignnd decades before she was born.

    ¡°It was the parts from the Pili cannons,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Constant heat warped them, and by doing so turned them into makeshift grenades that blew the top off their ownmplights.¡±

    ¡°What happened after Chabier Cnte was arrested?¡± Tredegar asked.

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t,¡± Tristan mildly said. ¡°Chabier suppressed news a few more years by paying a coterie to frame another for the explosions, which kept him in good odor long enough to marry into a noble house and prepare.¡±

    ¡°Prepare how?¡± the Pereduri said, sounding baffled.

    ¡°By the time it came out hismplights were essentially a self-inflicted bombardment of Sacromontan streets,¡± Tristan said, ¡°he had recements lined up for the pieces whose manufacture just so happened to enrich enough powerful infanzones that not only did he go unpunished, he actually grew richer.¡±

    Angharad Tredegar looked as if she had just been pped, something that took great effort not to smile at. He could not help it, she was taking it all so personally.

    ¡°He should have been hanged,¡± the noblewoman stiffly said. ¡°And all involved in awarding him the contract stripped of their offices and titles in public disgrace.¡±

    <em>You don¡¯t even notice it, do you? That even in your finer world, you would hang themoner and let the nobles get away with a p on the wrist.</em> Tristan could not find it in him to be irked over it. It was the kind of blindness you were born into, as much a defect as a limp or a stutter. Tredegar looked slightly embarrassed by her own outburst, coughing awkwardly.

    ¡°Thismplight is one of the repaired pieces, then?¡± she asked.

    Tristan grimaced, for now they got to the bone of it.

    ¡°Chabier¡¯s name would not still be cursed for his trick after decades passed had it ended there,¡± he said. ¡°The recement pieces, you see, did not work all that well either. The glow of themplights tends to wax and wane, and some trouble with the wicks means they can go dark for hours at a time without warning.¡±

    Tredegar was not a slow woman, for all her self-inflicted fettering.

    ¡°You said earlier that the glow of <em>these</em>mplights is perfect,¡± Tredegar slowly said. ¡°It is not the same as those you know, then?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he grimly said. ¡°It is not. The upper half does not look quite the same either, the mark is in a different ce.¡±

    He grimaced.

    ¡°I think,¡± Tristan said, ¡°that we are looking at the original<em></em>cast. Chabier¡¯s first batch.¡±

    ¡°And you said that within a year these pieces exploded,¡± Tredegar quietly said. ¡°Those in the Murk were used every day?¡±

    He nodded.

    ¡°Then even if the people of Cantica light these only the necessary amount to prevent Gloam disease, they should have broken by now,¡± Tredegar stated, and he was surprised by the certainty in her voice.

    Ah, he should not have. Her mother had been some sort of explorer, hadn¡¯t she? No one knew Gloam disease better than those who ventured out into the dark seas.

    ¡°There could be other exnations,¡± he warned. ¡°If the town has only existed for a year or two, for example.¡±

    ¡°It would not have be the crux of the Trial of Weeds were it so recent a creation,¡± Tredegar noted. ¡°Nor would it have so many established trades on the main street.¡±

    A fair point, he thought as she paused.

    ¡°Though I suppose they could have private sources of re light,¡± she said. ¡°Within their own homes. It might be that the use of themplights is restricted to the Trial of Weeds.¡±

    ¡°Themplights are half of what keeps out cultists and lemures,¡± Tristan disagreed. ¡°The Watch does not seem to be protecting Cantica from raids, by the corpses out front, so they would have used them defensively at least. Besides, think of the costs. Every single family in a small town like this having a private light? It would represent a fortune in coin.¡±

    And Cantica did not seem like a wealthy town.

    ¡°I have no notion of the costs involved,¡± Tredegar admitted. ¡°Much of Peredur is covered by re light from the pit above.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯d be cheaper near a pit, like your home or Sacromonte,¡± Tristan said, ¡°but it would be quite expensive out here on a nowhere ind, where all is imported. I doubt even the Watch garrisons on the Dominion have such luxury.¡±

    ¡°Then the people of Cantica ought to be darklings by now, and they are not,¡± the Pereduri said, her voice gone flinty. ¡°They are hiding something from us.¡±

    It was interesting to witness it, the exact moment when white turned to ck in Angharad Tredegar¡¯s mind. Before then the townsfolk had been their hosts, honorable souls deserving of every courtesy. Now they were schemers, looming threats. It would have been easy to mock the woman for it, call it simplicity, but Tristan had seen naivete and this was not it. It was trained mindset, something she had been taught.

    Would it not be a useful skill to a noble, being able to decide in a heartbeat that one of your formerly esteemed peers was a hateful foe without taking the betrayal personally?

    He wasing around to thinking that Angharad Tredegar was a lot like a thoroughbred trained for the races. Splendid at what she was meant to do ¨C swording people and being mannerly - but somewhat at a loss outside these bounds. Which was only natural: using a racer like a mountain mule was a good way to scrap that very expensive horse. Besides, Tredegar would not be at a loss forever. She was not without cleverness, given time to find her footing she should turn into a singrly dangerous woman.

    But for now she was merely very dangerous, so the thief intended to find her a racing course to put that danger to use. What to say, what to hide, what to leverage? Tristan sketched out the angles, then made his decision.

    ¡°This cannot be spread around blindly,¡± Tristan told her. ¡°Some would panic and tip off the townsfolk we are onto them.¡±

    ¡°If we are in danger,¡± Tredegar said, ¡°we must warn the others.¡±

    The thief feigned hesitation, preparing to concede down to thepromise he had wanted from the start.

    ¡°Only those we both agree on,¡± he offered.

    After a heartbeat of hesitation Tredegar nodded. It would serve, given the Mni obsession with keeping their word.

    ¡°We need to find out what they are hiding,¡± the noblewoman said. ¡°What kind of dark pact has kept them from bing hollows without re light.¡±

    ¡°I have a guess as to what might be going on,¡± Tristan said. ¡°But considering who I believe has the answers, I will need your help.¡±

    Tredegar cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°<em>My</em> help?¡± she skeptically asked.

    He nodded.

    ¡°We need to find Tupoc,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°He despises me,¡± the noblewoman informed him. ¡°An entirely mutual feeling, I assure you.¡±

    The thief doubted that, in fact ¨C at least on the Izcalli¡¯s side ¨C but now was not the time for that talk. Or ever, really.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Tupoc Xical is not going to answer any question I ask him, because he and I both know that if I press him he will savagely beat me and dump my unconscious body somewhere humiliating.¡±

    Tredegar opened her mouth and then closed it, speechless..

    ¡°You, on the other hand,¡± Tristan continued, ¡°can savagely beat<em> him</em> should he attempt this, which he is equally aware of. That capacity is the required foundation for having any kind of halfway polite conversation with Tupoc Xical.¡±

    The noblewoman squinted at him.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± she said, ¡°are you attempting to use me as some sort of street tough?¡±

    That was absolutely what he was attempting to do, yes. Outright lying to the woman whose entire way of life was bound to the concept of honor seemed a mistake, so he decided on a different angle.

    ¡°Be a pal,¡± Tristan tried. ¡°Do it for justice.¡±

    A heartbeat passed.

    ¡°I am not sure whether I should be offended at the implication,¡± Tredegar muttered, ¡°or relieved that someone is finally asking of me something I know for certain I <em>can</em> do.¡±

    ¡°That uncertainty,¡± he sagely advised, ¡°is the garden where friendships bloom.¡±

    Angharad did not stab him for that, which was good as agreement in his book.

    --

    Tupoc Xical, spear assembled and at the ready, loomed over them from the rooftop.

    The pale-eyed Izcalli was perched at the edge of the tiles, surveying the streets of Cantica like a hunting cat waiting for the right prey to pounce. Tupoc was bound for the cages and likely the grave unless he found the secret that would spare his life, so it hardly surprised Tristan that the man had decided trying to rustle up votes was a waste of time better spent on getting they of thend in Cantica. Indeed, the thief was counting on it. Everyone else, including him, had dabbled elsewhere.

    ¡°Good evening,¡± Tristan cheerfully called out.

    The Izcalli sneered down.

    ¡°Less so now that you waste part of it,¡± he said. ¡°Run along, rat.¡±

    A full two seconds passed.

    ¡°Lady Tredegar,¡± Tupoc greeted with a nod.

    It was almost impressive how excruciatingly deliberate he had made that pause.

    ¡°Your manners arecking as ever,¡± Tredegar frostily replied.

    ¡°They match the soul they are offered to,¡± Tupoc drawled.

    Insult andpliment all at once, Tristan thought amusedly. How crafty.

    ¡°We ask only for a conversation,¡± the thief said.

    ¡°<em>We</em>?¡± the Izcalli snorted. ¡°How the mighty have fallen, Tredegar. Are you now cowering away in fear of the dark with this one?¡±

    Angharad Tredegar cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°Shall we,¡± she mildly said, ¡°speak of fear, then, Tupoc Xical?¡±

    The eerily perfect man went still, a statue of flesh and blood, and Tristan hid his surprise. Tredegar had something on the man, she must have for him to react this way. How? <em>Nobody</em> had something on Tupoc, the Leopard Society man was like a pile of razor des fashioned into a man¡¯s shape. Tupoc leapt down from the roof,nding in a smooth crouch that was just close enough to force Tristan to take a step back, but the thief hardly even cared. This was just too delicious.

    That Angharad Tredegar, of all people, woulde into the power to hold Tupoc¡¯s feet to the fire was enough to make his day.

    ¡°Do not waste my time,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    Tredegar cleared her throat, turning her gaze to Tristan. This had gone remarkably quickly, the thief mused, and he had not had to suffer nearly as many condescending threats against his life as he had been expecting.

    Angharad was already proving a remarkably useful stick to shake at people.

    ¡°To trade in secrets,¡± Tristan said. ¡°You have been looking over Cantica for hours now, Xical. Where is it?¡±

    The noblewoman at his side frowned.

    ¡°Where is what?¡±

    Tupoc snorted.

    ¡°The ce where the bodies are buried,¡± the Izcalli said. ¡°Where our beloved hosts are keeping their dirty little secrets.¡±

    Tristan cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°On the right side of town, near the palisade, they keeprge piles of lumber for firewood,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°Only the wood is old while the tracks thate and go in the mud are fresh.¡±

    ¡°So and underground cer, most likely,¡± the thief mused. ¡°They are keeping something down there.¡±

    Tredegar looked ufortable.

    ¡°I have been told,¡± she hesitantly said, ¡°that Cantica might be keeping darkling ves. If such a cer exists, it might be a gaol of sorts for the disobedient.¡±

    Tristan stilled for a moment, fitting the pieces. If his growing guess about what the people of Cantica actually were proved true, then it was only sensible that hollow ves would be kept around to work the fields and do the busywork. He had thought that the streets were empty because the townsfolk were keeping away from the trials, but remplights <em>would </em>force hollows off the streets.

    ¡°That would be a boon,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°Tortured ves always tell on the masters when given the opportunity, hollows most of all.¡±

    Tredegar, he saw, was struggling between a polite dislike of very and her inability to approve of a ve turning on theirwful superior.

    ¡°Time to have a look at thar cer, then,¡± Tristan said, rolling a shoulder.

    ¡°Trade means I get something as well, rat,¡± Tupoc said.

    The thief nodded.

    ¡°Your question?¡±

    ¡°No question,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°I aming with you, that is my price.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Tredegar immediately denied.

    Tristan said nothing, which after a heartbeat earned him a re and a reproachful <em>Tristan</em> from the swordswoman. Mentioning that Tupoc seemed like a splendid scapegoat should anything go wrong with their little trip was unlikely to sway Tredegar, so instead Tristan tried a different approach.

    ¡°Why do you want toe?¡± he asked Tupoc. ¡°You could easily trade for us telling you what we learn afterwards instead.¡±

    The Izcalli¡¯s pale eyes narrowed, a grudging look seizing his face. Tupoc recognized the offered branch for what it was ¨C a way to talk himself intoing along ¨C but resented being given at all anything by the likes of Tristan. This was turning, the thief mused, into a most satisfying interlude. <em>Squirm some more</em>, he thought, smiling pleasantly at the other man.

    ¡°This trial,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°There is something wrong about it.¡±

    ¡°There is nothing wrong about being called to ount for your own deeds,¡± Tredegar bit back.

    He dismissed that with an irritated gesture.

    ¡°I mean in the <em>way</em> it is done,¡± the Izcalli said. ¡°What prevents any group with half the votes from killing off everyone they dislike regardless of the stated purpose of this trial? It is supposed to weed out the unworthy but it is too easy to rig, even with a way to get out of being killed.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Tristan exhaled. ¡°You think there is something out to kills us beyond each other.¡±

    ¡°We are forbidden from fighting each other and the townsfolk,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°But what if there was something else inside the walls with us?¡±

    Something that could walk under the light of the re, something that would not reveal itself before it struck. Tristan had slowly but surelye to the same conclusion, but on arger scale than Tupoc was considering. The Izcalli was yet thinking of this as a hunt when he should have thought of it as a racket.

    ¡°Attacks in the night would punish us for lingering too long,¡± Tredegar quietly said. ¡°Force us to bnce the righteousness of executing the deserving and the risks we incur to the innocent in doing so.¡±

    Something the ckcloaks would be most interested in learning about theirpany before weing them into its ranks. <em>Is the hidden rule that hunting the killer during the night gets you spared?</em> It would be a way to preserve talent that had burned too many bridges but might still be useful to the Watch.

    A rule to preserve the likes of Tupoc Xical, in other words.

    ¡°I want answers, same as you, but that is not why I want to go with you,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°It urs to me that my foe might just be tempted into an attack should it look like we are about to uncover Cantica¡¯s secrets.¡±

    Tredegar breathed out.

    ¡°That is what you have being doing,¡± she said. ¡°Standing alone in an attempt to bait them out.¡±

    <em>Ah</em>, Tristan thought. The blinders went both ways. He saw the affairs as a racket, so it had not urred to him that Tupoc might be trying to outfox the hunter. It was good Tredegar had caught it, for it finally allowed him to understand what exactly it was the Izcalli had been doing all this time.

    ¡°He willing along whether we like it or not,¡± Tristan told Angharad. ¡°He is dead if he does not find the hidden rule, there is nothing we can do that will be worse than the oue should he miss that opportunity.¡±

    The noblewoman stared at him for a long moment, face reluctant, but he did not blink. Tredegar sighed.

    ¡°Though you will be apanying us,¡± she tly told Tupoc, ¡°you will not be of ourpany.¡±

    An important distinction to her, he expected. Perhaps she would not be bound to offer him aid in battle if he was not a panion¡¯.

    ¡°You are hurting my feelings, Lady Tredegar,¡± the Izcalli grinned.

    ¡°Count your blessings that an oath prevents me from hurting anything more than that, Xical,¡± she bit back.

    And without another word she walked away, leaving the two of them standing face to face.

    ¡°Looking for fresh coattails to ride, Tristan?¡± Tupoc idly asked. ¡°Yong seems to have finally shaken you off of his.¡±

    ¡°I am going to find out what she has on you, Tupoc,¡± Tristan affably replied, ¡°and walk around this town shouting it at the top of my lungs.¡±

    With the proper courtesies now observed, they hurried to catch up to Tredegar.

    --

    The piles of lumber were exactly as they had been told:rge, old and much too frequently visited to truly be what they pretended to be.

    The three were careful to avoid walking in the mud and leave tracks ¨C rather, he and Tupoc were and Tredegar observed the same route without asking why ¨C as they approached. The ce was deserted, likely to avoid drawing attention in the first ce, but they avoided staying out in the open anyhow. The faster they were done here the better. Though they swept around looking for the expected lookout, none was there to be found.

    ¡°We are taking too long,¡± Tupoc grunted. ¡°Best we start looking for that cer.¡±

    The part where the lumber was stacked was dry ground, so tracks were not so easily found, but after they began going around testing them Tredegar soon let out a noise of surprise. Her stack was easily moved, lifted one-handed, and though the Pereduri was a strong woman she was not <em>that </em>strong.

    It was hollow, glued together, and there was a trap door beneath.

    ¡°Promising,¡± Tristan said.

    They moved aside the false pile. Tupoc tried to prevent it from being too obvious they had moved it from a distance, but Tristan suspected that was a lost cause. Secrecy would only be had by speed. Pulling at an iron ring, Tredegar opened the door and revealed a lightless stone chamber below. Tristan knelt at the edge, peering down, and frowned. The stink of human filth was strong, but he saw little aside from bare stone.

    ¡°We will have to go down,¡± he said. ¡°I do not suppose either of you has antern?¡±

    ¡°Matches,¡± Tupoc replied.

    It would have to do. There was a small makeshiftdder leading down and down they went one after another, the Izcalli taking the lead. Once Tredegar closed the trapdoor over their heads, Tupoc scratched a match. Flickering light revealed the boundaries of the small chamber they were in: stone on all sides except one, where instead a door of thick iron bars faced them.

    ¡°You were right,¡± Tristan murmured to Angharad. ¡°It is a gaol.¡±

    There was a padlock on the door, the same kind as the cages in the town square, and as they got close the match guttered out. Tupoc scratched another, revealing the dozen darklingsying down on a floor covered by filthy straw and dust. Most were half-naked, all bruised and several look like they had been cut. Or wed at. Tredegar went stiff with outrage, Tupoc remaining unbothered. Tristan instead studied the prisoners inside, finding that thought most were either asleep or unconscious one woman in rags was look at them with wide eyes.

    Blue eyes, he saw, and the sight of that with pale skin had his belly clenching with something unpleasant.

    ¡°You¡¯re not them,¡± the woman rasped out in ented Antigua.

    ¡°The townsfolk of Cantica,¡± Tristan said. ¡°They are the ones who put you here?¡±

    She feebly nodded.

    ¡°Masters,¡± she said. ¡°I took more rations, for my brother, and they said I am a thief. Put me here.¡±

    ¡°You are a ve, then,¡± Tupoc said.

    His voice was soft, almost gentle. His match died and he struck another, revealing that his pale eyes were as cold as they¡¯d ever been. A Leopard Society man at work, the thief thought.

    ¡°All ves,¡± the woman said. ¡°We work fields. Cut wood. Serve.¡±

    ¡°Themplights,¡± Tristan said. ¡°How often are they lit?¡±

    The woman coughed, rasped out that she did not understand. Tredegar¡¯s face was a painting of anguish. Tupoc spoke a few words in anguage Tristan did not know ¨C a hollow cant? ¨C and then repeated the second part of the thief¡¯s question.

    ¡°Once a year,¡± the woman said. ¡°A few days.¡±

    She coughed again.

    ¡°Can you,¡± she began, licking her lips. ¡°Can you let me out?¡±

    ¡°As soon as we have the key,¡± Tupoc lied without batting an eye. ¡°Do you know why the townsfolk have not be like you? Why they are still of the re?¡±

    The ve shook her head, then hesitated.

    ¡°This ce,¡± she said. ¡°Those whoe here do note back. Maybe this. Please, won¡¯t you let me out?¡±

    Pity was never any help, Tristan knew. It was best set aside.

    ¡°There are stories of Triu tribesmen sacrificing men to gods so they might avoid going hollow,¡± Angharad quietly said.

    He traded a skeptical look with the Izcalli before the match went out, another scratched into life. Mni sailors had many a wild tale about the folks of their far-flung territories ¨C always spoken of as a tale told them, of course, to avoid lying.

    ¡°The town might have something like a candle,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°It would not support many without regr blooding, but that might exin why we have seen so few townsfolk.¡±

    <em>We have seen few townsfolk</em>, Tristan thought, <em>because this is not a town. Not anymore than this gaol is a gaol: it is, in truth, arder.</em>

    ¡°We need to leave,¡± the thief said. ¡°We have been down here too long and she has nothing more to tell us.¡±

    Tupoc nodded. Tredegar looked torn, but there was a reason the Pereduri had said precious little sinceing down here. She knew she was in no ce to make promises.

    ¡°Please,¡± the woman rasped, crawling their way. ¡°<em>Please</em>.¡±

    Tristan wrenched his gaze away. Tupoc was thest one up, as he had to keep scratching matches, and that was a mercy.

    He was the only one of them those hoarse pleas were not making flinch.

    --

    Tristan had half-expected an ambush the moment they were back to standing among the lumber piles, but there was not a soul in sight. Not even a rat. The thief hummed, trying to remember if he had seen any animal at all sinceing to Cantica. Not one, he thought. Not a single cat or dog, much less a rat. There would be cattle somewhere, for there was a butcher¡¯s shop near the main street, but theck of anything else was telling.

    It went on the tally, along with the way the townsfolk never showed their teeth when smiling and kept conversations short ¨C when they could not avoid talking entirely.

    ¡°We should split up,¡± Tristan suggested. ¡°If we stay together people will ask where we have been.¡±

    Tupoc gave no argument, as was only to be expected. Half the reason the Izcalli hade was because he¡¯d wanted to be attacked, he would not insist on sticking together. Tredegar hesitated, still shaken by what she had seen below, but nodded after a moment.

    ¡°Let us meet again at the Last Rest,¡± she told him. ¡°We must talk.¡±

    Tupoc snorted dismissively at them and stalked away, disappearing into the bowels of the town. Tristan nodded his agreement at the noblewoman, then invited her to head out first. He waited until she had turned the corner to follow suit, every second growing tenser. He was the easiest prey of the three, he knew, and if someone was lying in wait¡­ Only when he sped away from the hidden cer after having put the hollow pile back in ce there was no sudden attack. There was, indeed, no trace of anyone at all until he was close to the main street again.

    There he ran into a couple out on a walk, the both of them silently nodding back when he gave a cheerful greeting.

    ¡°Not a chatty folk, are they?¡±

    He almost leapt out of his skin. Maryam was sitting on a small bench by the side of the road, tucked away into a slice of shadow as she looked on. He had missed her entirely, which did nothing for his nerves. <em>Calm</em>, he told himself. <em>You have already discovered part of the trap.</em>

    ¡°That they are not,¡± he said.

    She moved over to make room for him when he approached, sitting by her side almost close enough to touch. Tristan hesitated a bit, then bit the de.

    ¡°How is he?¡±

    Maryam grimaced.

    ¡°His chances are half and half, the physician says,¡± she replied.

    Tristan grimaced back. Not only because Yong¡¯s life was now a coin flip but also because he was no longer certain that the physician could be trusted to speak the truth in the first ce.

    ¡°We have trouble,¡± Tristan said.

    Blue eyes narrowed at him. He swallowed, remembering the pleas that had followed them up thedder before trailing off into a ragged silence just as heartbreaking.

    ¡°Once, just once, I would like to have a light-hearted conversation with you,¡± Maryam demanded. ¡°How goes it, Maryam, lovely weather we¡¯re having isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Delightful,¡± he replied, unable to follow her mood. ¡°Cloudy with a chance of devils, you might say.¡±

    She stilled; all humor stolen right out of her.

    ¡°<em>Inside</em> the walls?¡± Maryam whispered, leaning closer.

    ¡°I think every single person we¡¯ve talked to since arriving in Cantica has been a devil,¡± Tristan said, and it was almost a relief to finally say it out loud. ¡°They all smile without showing their teeth and a many of them avoid actually talking.¡±

    Not all devils were skilled at mimicking voices, their kind growing more adept at deception as they aged.

    ¡°It¡¯s the eyes that give them away, usually,¡± Maryam contested.

    It was. Eyes were fragile, especially when you emptied out the body behind them to wear it over your misbegotten form, so they tended to dry out our rip. In modern times devils were said to wear spectacles over them to hide the detail, but half of Cantica wearing these would have been a dead giveaway.

    ¡°I was taught to check the teeth,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°The careful ones keep the human teeth, but if you look deep enough you can see their own creeping up behind.¡±

    He had never seen the true body of a devil with his own eyes, though he had seen diagrams in books. Something neither quite crustacean nor insectile but every inch a nightmare, all chitin and pincers. They had to fold themselves very carefully to fit inside a carcass, and should they lose their temper they were apt to rip through the fragile shell allowing them to walk around under re light. Maryam shivered.

    ¡°If the Watch allowed them to settle here, they should be signatories of the Iscariot ords,¡± she said.

    Rtively few things had been asked of Hell¡¯s regents, when peace was made and the ords signed. The tworge concessions had been the sealing of Pandemonium ¨C the birthce of devils ¨C and that their kind would cease to eat humans and wear their skin. Modern devils, those that some nations allowed within their borders, wore skin taken from corpses. Fresh corpses, so the shell had not decayed, but they took only from the already dead.

    The devils here should not be meaning to eat them, Maryam meant.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing they eat whichever poor bastard in a cage gets picked to die,¡± Tristan mildly said. ¡°They would need the bodies to rece the shells that rot or get torn, anyhow.¡±

    Shalini had been promised that Ishaan would get burned, but he now had some doubts. More likely <em>something </em>would get burnt, and next year Ishaan Nair would be one of the faces greeting whoever made it to the Trial of Weeds.

    ¡°The man running the Last Rest<em> is</em> very young,¡± Maryam said after a moment. ¡°Doesn¡¯t even look twenty. If that was a choice made because they only have so many shells to pick from¡­¡±

    ¡°Then they are not given free rein to devour us at will,¡± Tristan slowly finished. ¡°That is something, at least.¡±

    ¡°But not much. We need a way out of this ce if it all goes to ¨C well, you know,¡± she embarrassedly finished.

    Hell, he amusedly realized she had been going to say.

    ¡°I expect there is more than a single way out of this ce,¡± he said. ¡°A town of this size cannot do with a single gate.¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°Find it,¡± Maryam said. ¡°I need to warn someone meanwhile.¡±

    Song Ren, he thought.

    ¡°I am to meet with Tredegar at the Last Rest in a while,¡± he said. ¡°To discuss ns.¡±

    ¡°I will be there,¡± Maryam said. ¡°And see if you can find Lan before joining us, she was looking for you earlier.¡±

    It was his turn to nod. Lan had sharp eyes, he would not be surprised if she had noticed something stank about Cantica. And someone had warned Tredegar about the likely very, hadn¡¯t they? That rather sounded like the dealer buying herself a friendly mirror-dancer. Tristan suddenly hesitated, Maryam cocking an eyebrow.

    ¡°Out with it,¡± she asked.

    ¡°There are ves here,¡± he said. ¡°I found an underground gaol with Tredegar and Tupoc, it is how I put thest details together.¡±

    That the prisoners in that gaol never returned because the devils ate them. Maryam sighed, passing a hand through her hair.

    ¡°There are ves in many ces, Tristan,¡± she said. ¡°My own father kept several. You need not tread so lightly about it.¡±

    Tristan almost told her she would not say as much if she had seen how the ves in the gaol were treated, but he bit his tongue. Maryam had seen more of Vesper than he had. They had never said as much, but they both knew this. She knew full well the ugliness of very. It had been him that was unprepared: it was one thing to know of the hollows in the Trench, how they were treated no better than beast of burdens, but another to see such a thing with his own eyes.

    ¡°It is a foul thing,¡± he finally said, exhausted.

    ¡°And fouler yet when made into a trade,¡± Maryam softly agreed.

    Neither said any more than that.

    --

    Lan was hanging around the te where all the names and numbers had been writ in chalk, staring at them in what Tristan suspected was an attempt at figuring out who had tried to put who in a cage. The thief himself was rather curious who had named him, but he had significantlyrger swords hanging above his head at the moment.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± his fellow rat greeted him without turning. ¡°What have you been up to, I wonder?¡±

    ¡°Seeing the sights,¡± he drawled. ¡°You?¡±

    Lan eyed their surroundings. No one was all that close, most the others inside the Last Rest to eat or drink, but the shutters were open and sound might carry. She gestured for him to follow, the two of them moving into the alley to the side of the inn.

    ¡°Brun is up to something,¡± she said, lowering her voice. ¡°And I think Yaretzi is part of it.¡±

    The thief eyed her.

    ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± he said.

    ¡°They¡¯re always talking,¡± she said. ¡°And they have the two rooms besides Tredegar¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°He has no reason to go after Tredegar,¡± Tristan pointed out. ¡°Not only would she promptly kill him for it, she has a high opinion of the man and people listen to her.¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s about Yaretzi, then,¡± Lan impatiently said. ¡°They¡¯re up to <em>something</em>, Tristan.¡±

    The thief grimaced.

    ¡°I still believe Brun is the killer,¡± he finally said. ¡°No one else fits. But I think I might have been more certain in the moment than was truly warranted, Lan.¡±

    She eyed him coldly.

    ¡°You don¡¯t really think that,¡± the blue-lipped woman said. ¡°You just think this is too much trouble to deal with on top of whatever you disappeared to sniff out.¡±

    That was, he silently conceded, not entirely unfair of her to say. It certainly weighed on the scales ¨C Brun was something to deal with when the threat of devils was no longer hanging over their heads. But it was not a lie either to say that he had thought twice since threatening the other rat.

    ¡°Even if he was out to kill someone again,¡± Tristan said, ¡°why would Yaretzi help him?¡±

    Lan hesitated.

    ¡°What else would they be doing?¡±

    ¡°An alliance, for fear of ending up in a cage,¡± he said. ¡°Or dead.¡±

    The thief shook his head.

    ¡°Bring me more,¡± Tristan said, ¡°and it could be acted on. But you don¡¯t have enough, Lan.¡±

    And however sharp her eyes, he thought, wanting her twin¡¯s killer dead was not like to keep them clear. Lan licked her lips, the blue on her tongue faded darker, and scoffed. She stalked away angrily, but they both knew that for the concession it was. Tristan watched her go and sighed.

    He had a gate to find.

    --

    To his utterck of surprise, when Tristan slid into a seat across the table from Angharad Tredegar her minder was at her side. Song studied him calmly with those unblinking silver eyes, weighing and taking his measure. The thief wondered if Maryam, who was sitting on his side of the table, was to be taken as<em> his</em> minder.

    There might even be a grain of truth to that.

    ¡°We must decide on what we tell others,¡± Song Ren evenly said. ¡°And do it soon, as people have already begun to retire to their rooms.¡±

    Tristan nced at Maryam, wondering exactly how much of their own path to Cantica she had told her ¨C colleague, aplice? The rtionship there was still nebulous.

    ¡°That we have reason to expect that there will be an attack in the night,¡± Tristan suggested.

    And then the idea came to him, quick and silver bright and so utterly tempting he could not resist.

    ¡°And that we should be ready to retreat from the Last Rest if trouble finds us,¡± he added.

    Tredegar¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°You believe the night attack will be so dangerous?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Maryam said. ¡°It could be a god they made a bargain with or a pack of devils, we cannot know. What we<em> do</em> know is that the Watch expects that attack to be capable of taking on fighters sharp enough to make it through the first two trials.¡±

    ¡°I would prefer to stand our ground,¡± Angharad admitted, ¡°but some of us are not fighters so I¡¯ll not deny it might be wiser to retreat and draw the enemy onto better grounds.¡±

    And there was the shape of his opportunity. Dozens moving around at night, with violence and chaos afoot?

    ¡°We should pick two different locations for folk to gather at,¡± the thief casually said. ¡°If we get dispersed, or are pursued, it might not be easy to gather in a single ce or wait for everyone. I found a postern gate on the side of town, that can be one location. The front gate for the other?¡±

    ¡°That seems wise,¡± Tredegar nodded.

    Silver eyes on him, but he did not flinch. Maryam would not have told her, he chose to believe that. Gods, how could he not when she has lost fingers to save his life?

    ¡°Each of us can head to one such ce should the worste,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I imagine I should take the side gate, since I am the one who found it.¡±

    A shrug, the Pereduri agreeing.

    ¡°And now we tell the others,¡± Tredegar breathed out.

    She seemed tired, at longst.

    ¡°It would be best to split that duty up, each of us talk to only a few,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Our hosts might notice something is happening otherwise.¡±

    It was only sensible, so naturally they agreed, and he ignored the weight of Song¡¯s piercing silver eyes as he rose.

    ¡°I need a favor,¡± he whispered to Maryam.

    He got something like a smile, cold and entirely savage.

    ¡°I thought you might,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it.¡±

    Tristan did not begin with him, that would have been too obvious. He did not need to rush anyway, as Tredegar was now on poor terms with the man and so unlikely to approach. As for Song, well, Maryam just happened to want a word with her at that moment. Cozme Aflor was third on his list and already eyeing him warily by the time he sat across the man. The exnation was short, the mustachioed man then seeking Song¡¯s eyes across the room and getting a nod in reply.

    ¡°Keep it quiet,¡± Tristan murmured. ¡°Augusto will not be told and if there is chatter the townsfolk may notice we are onto them.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Cozme nodded, stroking his mustache. ¡°I will be most careful, Tristan.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you there,¡± he smiled.

    That ¡®there¡¯ did not happen to be a ce where anyone but the two of them would be gathering was not something his father¡¯s executioner needed to know.

    Not yet.

    --

    As thest of them began going up the stairs, Tristan lingered just long enough to watch darkness begin to creep through the shutters. Night hade to Cantica, themplights ringing the town doused one after another. s, there would be no sleep for him.

    His work was now beginning.

    --

    Patience did most of the work.

    The thief waited until the innkeeper doused thest of the lights inside the Last Rest and left. There had been no doubt that the devil would, as a simple look at the size of the kitchenpared to the floor upstairs confirmed there was no chamber built for him to sleep in. Tristan waited for minutes more, then crept down the hall and the stairs. The windows were shuttered but the door was unlocked ¨C cracking it open, he peeked through.

    The streets were dark and empty, but there were lights in the distance.

    He snuck out, closing the door behind him. The lights, he saw when got out to have a better look, were from torches. <em>The town square</em>, he thought. Tristan stayed off the main street as he went, keeping to alleys and passing behind houses. He could not risk going out in the open: not only did devils see in the dark but they were said to have uncanny senses. His method got him close to the square, but the particr alley was a dead end. Tristan could dimly make out voices, but he was too far for anything useful.

    Grimacing, he eyed the side of the house he was hiding behind. There was a way up, with a little work. An empty crate ¨C which creaked under his weight enough to have him wincing ¨C got him a foot higher, enough he was able to wedge a foot against a jutting nk and grab at the edge of the tiled roof. Only the work was shoddy, he discovered, and if he held onto the tiles to pull himself fully onto the nk they were like as not toe loose. Swallowing a curse, the thief looked around for something to use and found a shovel with a bent head. He crept back down, took it and then tried to keep the crate¡¯s groaning as a minimum as he wedged a foot against the nk again.

    Using the shovel as a counterweight, he pushed himself so he could stand on the jutting nk. He was careful not to let the shovel fall, propping it against the wall, and then climbed the rest of the way onto the roof. Creeping up the tiles, he pressed himself against the cool y until he had reached the top of the roof ¨C and from there found amanding sight of the town square below. The thief breathed in sharply. There were only a few torches, held up by the handful of pale-skinned hollows in the square, but there must have been more than fifty people in the square.

    All of them looking like children of the re, but as he watched them mill around the cages Tristan could not help but feel they were slightly <em>off</em>. They weren¡¯t moving quite right, arms and legs sometimes bending more as the confirmation of movement than the reason.

    ¡°- not seeing anything.¡±

    A man¡¯s voice but stilted. Like it took too much care pronouncing every syble.

    It was alsoing from behind him, down in the alley.

    Tristan held his breath, pressed close against the roof and prayed. Some shuffling down in the alley. There were at least two of them.

    ¡°It was a rat,¡± another voice said. ¡°The thralls are getting fat, I tell you. They don¡¯t hunt them as thoroughly as they used to.¡±

    By the sound of it, one of the devils below kicked the shovel he¡¯d left propped up.

    ¡°We better not have missed anything,¡± the stilted voice said.

    A scoff that sounded ever so slightly of clicking mandibles.

    ¡°None of it means anything until Akados gets here,¡± the devil said. ¡°The fresh casts listen to him like he¡¯s some duke of Hell.¡±

    ¡°As if,¡± the stilted voice snorted. ¡°He¡¯s not even an elder, he-¡±

    A crate was kicked, Tristan almost flinching at the sound.

    ¡°Still dangerous,¡± the other devil said. ¡°Watch your wagging.¡±

    Angry hisses, then he heard the pair walking away. Tristan held his breath until his lungs burned and his eyes watered, releasing it only when he was dead certain neither was close enough to hear him. That had been ufortably close. If he¡¯d been just a little slower to climb¡­ There was no time for fear to set in, however, as the crowd below coiled with unspoken tension. It was not hard to put a face to the source, as the devils around him all fell silent.

    The devil wore the skin of middle-aged man, Tristan saw, with broad shoulders and a balding pate. He had a vaguely Mni look about him, and by the looks of the clothes the thief thought he was likely the town butcher. <em>If that is not Akados I¡¯ll throw away my hat</em>. The devil deftly leapt up to sit atop one of the cages, the crowd of his fellows rippling around him. Tristan¡¯s lips thinned: no man could have moved like that. It was simply not something people¡¯s legs were capable of.

    Mayor Crespin, or at least the devil wearing that skin and name, came to stand in the middle of the square and cleared his throat.

    ¡°Now that all are in attendance,¡± he said, voice slightly buzzing, ¡°we can begin. We have a hunt and a hunter to choose this night.¡±

    ¡°Do we?¡±

    The crowd shivered. The butcher, the one Tristan thought might be this ¡®Akados¡¯, had been the one to speak.

    ¡°It seems to me,¡± the butcher continued, voice slow andzy, ¡°that the rooks are in disarray. Their mountain copsed; their fort was buried. This year is a loss to them, good as written off.¡±

    A scoff from another in the crowd.

    ¡°They gave us rules when they stranded us here,¡± the other devil said. ¡°A hundred years ying their game and the term is ended. Why should we risk the guns of the Watch instead, Akados?¡±

    ¡°To feed,¡± the devil replied, voice hungry for all theziness. ¡°Not the scraps they allow us, but to truly eat to our heart¡¯s content as we were made to. Not nibbling at dun souls or breaking up a soul in pieces like biscuit ¨C a <em>proper </em>meal.¡±

    Dun? Tristan frowned. It meant dark, he recalled, or perhaps drab. <em>He might mean the hollows.</em> Rather more worrying was that the oldest devil in Cantica was attempting to talk the others into what sounded like a massacre of the trial-takers and there was not a great deal of opposition to it. Still some, however.

    ¡°Everyone knows you anneal from ughter,¡± a devil called out. ¡°You just want one to get closer to being evergreen, but what is that to us?¡±

    Akadosughed.

    ¡°We all want a ughter, Vane,¡± the devil replied, baring the teeth of a man and the pincer-like teeth of a devil behind them. ¡°To feel them writhe in the Empty Sea, to partake of the colors. I will gain, true, but who here would not?¡±

    A challenging look.

    ¡°They will note after us with powder and shot for a year that is already scrapped,¡± Akados said. ¡°We are not so easily reced. And if we can get away with it, what is staying our hand?¡±

    Reading a crowd of devils was like trying to read foreigners through a panel of silk, Tristan thought, but were he inclined to bet he would have said the crowd was already halfway talked into it. It was only a matter of time now: too many of the devils went eerily still whenever feeding was mentioned, the expressions of the shells gone ck with want.

    It was, Tristan mused, time to get the fuck out Cantica before they all died.

    The arguing would at least serve to cover the sound of his sliding back down into the alley. Tristan crept away, more hastily than he hade for he now felt the urgency biting at his back. Could he still pull things off with Cozme, now that he would not have the time toy his ambush as he had nned? Maybe, he thought. He would need to take stock of things before deciding.

    Yet even as he snuck his way back to the Last Rest, the thief forced himself to take a detour. Angharad Tredegar would be leading her lostmbs out through the front gate, but Tristan had his sights set on the postern ¨C for more reasons than one. It would be best to first see if there were guards near it. Likely not devils, he thought, but perhaps hollows. Foes nowhere as fearsome, but perfectly capable of raising the rm.

    Steps silent, he turned the corner on the wooden sidewalk and risked a nce. The thief hissed in a breath, catching sight of movement and drawing back. He looked again, more carefully, and was relieved to see it was only one man with his back turned. The reliefsted only until he recognized the ragged cape he was looking at. With a soft cry of triumph, Augusto Cerdan ripped open the postern gate and swiftly moved aside.

    This was, Tristan dimly thought as cultists began pouring into the town, going to be a problem.

 Chapter 42

    Chapter 42

    She could not tell the difference between it and a dream before she woke.

    /The lock popped open with a soft sound, Yaretzi brushing past a kneeling form and creeping in with a rag in hand to cover Angharad¡¯s mouth with it./

    Angharad woke up looking at the ceiling, asleep and then not. It had been a glimpse, the Fisher pulling at their contract once again. The spirit had only ever done this to prevent her death, yet the noblewoman stayed lying down and looking at the ceiling as she heard the lock pop open. She should move, she thought, but could not quite bring herself to. Angharad¡¯s mind was clear, awake, but her limbs were still dozing. It would have been easier to move the entire world than to move them.

    A flicker of movement, then she found Yaretzi¡¯s dark eyes above and a ragged cloth was being pressed against her face. There was a scent to it, sickly sweet, and Angharad dimly realized she was being drugged. Finally that tore through the veil of somnolence and panic rose sharply in her breast ¨C Angharad tried to rise, to fight off Yaretzi, who pushed her down and cursed.

    ¡°-eight, nine,¡± the Izcalli was counting through gritted teeth.

    Ten, Yaretzi reached, and Angharad felt a different numbness in her limbs. She tried to shout, but the sound came out slurred as if she were deep in her drinks. The Izcalli holding her down eyed her warily.

    ¡°Another five seconds just in case, I think,¡± Yaretzi said. ¡°It is only Spinster¡¯s Milk, dear, it won¡¯t kill you.¡±

    Angharad kept struggling, but it was as if her limbs had turned to lead. She could no longer feel her own jaw. Yaretzi nced back at the door the noblewoman hadn¡¯t heard closing and Angharad¡¯s heart clenched at what she saw found there. Calm-eyed, holding a mostly shutteredntern, Brun leaned back against the wood. She tried to say something, but between the poison and the cloth she got out only a formless moan.

    ¡°You told me your contract almost never breaks when used on a sleeper,¡± the Izcalli challenged.

    ¡°Almost,¡± Brun indifferently replied. ¡°It could be because she has a contract herself.¡±

    His hand was on his hatchet, fingering the haft in an unknowing tic. Yaretzi sighed.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I get for working with amateurs,¡± she said. ¡°I need to make a sweep to see if anyone noticed us, keep an eye on her meanwhile.¡±

    The fair-haired Sacromontan shrugged. His aplice narrowed her eyes.

    ¡°I need to ask her questions,¡± Yaretzi said. ¡°So no <em>idents</em>, Brun, or we have a problem.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Brun simply said.

    Even as the Izcalli rose and left, Angharad realized that what she had thought indifference in Brun¡¯s voice was no such thing. His tone had not once changed since he came into the room, always in the same t near monotone. The blonde traitor came to stand by her bed, idly pushing her back down when she tried to force herself up. She was so weak, her limbs like a child¡¯s. The pair meant to kill her ¨C they must, for they must know that otherwise she would y them for this ¨C but fear was slow in ining.

    Anger burned in its stead, like embers in the belly. <em>Why</em>, she tried to ask, a scream of outrage and confusion. What came out was a muted, slurred <em>whergh</em> but Brun understood her regardless. Emotion touched his face, but she thought it looked shallow. Regret only a fingernail deep.

    ¡°I am sorry it must be you,¡± Brun said. ¡°You have treated me kindly and do not deserve it. But there is no one else I would get away with, and I am¡­ too close.¡±

    Another flicker of emotion at thest two words, this one deeper than thest. Fear, Angharad saw. That was as afraid as she had ever seen the man.

    ¡°If I take Yong or Sarai, Tristan will knife me in the night,¡± Brun exined. ¡°Shalini is now being watched like a hawk and Lan, well, she knows of me. She will have taken precautions. Already she has tried to kill me once.¡±

    Angharad let out a noise a denial at the false usation, just another traitor reaching for absolution. Brun shook his head at her.

    ¡°She bought Spinster¡¯s Milk from Yaretzi,¡± he said. ¡°I expect she put it in my waterskin, a small dose that would slowly add up, as I did not notice until that test on the Toll Bridge.¡±

    That was¡­ she had thought Brun seemed clumsy, when she watched him chasing the invisible spirit. But why would Lan ¨C it took a second for her mind to catch up to the truth he had good as admitted. <em>You killed Jun</em>, she tried to say.

    ¡°Jush kwid jewn.¡±

    ¡°It was nothing against her,¡± Brun shrugged. ¡°She was closest and the twins had just fought Tristan, which I thought would muddy the waters.¡±

    Sleeping God, how much had she missed? Was she struck with blindness, the only fool among a pack of wolves? It felt like she had been struck in the belly, the breath wheezing out of her. Twice Brun had killed, and now she was to be the third. And she did not even know why. Some of that must have shown on her face, for the man sighed.

    ¡°I owe you for distracting the cultists during the Trial of Lines,¡± Brun acknowledged. ¡°And I suppose the knowledge won¡¯t be going anywhere.¡±

    The man considered her with cold eyes.

    ¡°There is a festival in the Murk,¡± he said. ¡°A week wheremplights are repaired, many of them taken down at once, so nowadays people hang small red papernterns and make small games in the streets. The Trench sends miners back to the city around that time, and my mother loved making thenterns. It was one of the few things we did together.¡±

    It was, Angharad thought, horrifying to hear what sounded like such a personal story in such an utterly detached tone.

    ¡°When they died, well, that is a long story,¡± Brun said. ¡°But I clutched to one of those papernterns like it was thest thing I had. Prayed to it, almost. And someone heard me.¡±

    The blond man¡¯s eyes went unfocused as he nced to the side, as if he were staring at something Angharad could not see. Brun frowned before turning his gaze back to her.

    ¡°A young god,¡± he said. ¡°Farolito, the god of that nameless festival. I am his first contract.¡±

    Brun shrugged.

    ¡°He wanted to help,¡± he said. ¡°But gods are not men, especially when so young.¡±

    He nced to the side again, looking annoyed, then back to her. <em>He is being visited by his god.</em>

    ¡°I would have died if not for the pact,¡± Brun rified. ¡°But he did not realize what he was asking, nor I what I was giving. I wanted to hide, for the vultures to leave me alone, and so he let me press calm into others. Empty them of everything, like the moment after the end of a festival. To do this I must be able to feel their presence, so I could.¡±

    So that was the truth of the strange lethargy that had taken her. And of how he had been able to feel their pursuers during the Trial of Lines and the flight to Cantica.

    ¡°In exchange,¡± Brun tonelessly continued, ¡°he took what he loves of the festival: emotions. Not the entire length of them, only the strong parts, and I thought it a bargain. I would never fear again, never weep in the dark.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°I was wrong.¡±

    The simple, matter-of-fact way he spoke those three words sent a shiver down her spine.

    ¡°It feels worse when I use my contract,¡± Brun said. ¡°As if all of Vesper is growing quieter, every noise falling away. And the noise, it does not return. I began to forget what it felt like to feel anything at all, and could not even muster fear that one day I would simplyy down and not care as I starved.¡±

    The blond man clicked his tongue, hand swatting away at something only he could see.

    ¡°He is not an evil god,¡± Brun dutifully told her. ¡°He meant no harm. And we found a loophole together: I could no longer feel my own emotions, but I could still feel <em>his</em>.¡±

    And with dawning horror Angharad began to understand where the tale was heading.

    ¡°We tried many things, we did,¡± the man said. ¡°Did you know, Lady Angharad, that in the moment a man ¨C one not owned by the Gloam, not dimmed - dies, their presence in the aether is <em>searingly</em> bright? All the colors and emotions of their weave, there then gone.¡±

    He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, the sound a sharp contrast to the serene face.

    ¡°There is nothing Farolito loves even a hundredth as much as a death save for the festival, and that is only once a year,¡± Brun said. ¡°So I did what I must.¡±

    It never ceased to astonish Angharad what manner of ugliness could fit under the mask of <em>I did what I must</em>, as if behind that excusey an endless pit dug for horror¡¯s sake. The blond man cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°I rationed it, used the pact only when I must,¡± the Sacromontan said. ¡°Every six months, more or less. It was still dangerous and I decided the Watch might be able to help, to fix it. I chose the Dominion as my way in so they cannot refuse me when they find out what I do.¡±

    That was, her uncle had told her, the virtue of these trials: that to pass them saw you enrolled directly into the ranks of the Watch. Brun sighed.

    ¡°But I have had to use my contract <em>so very much</em>,¡± he said, sounding faintly irritated. ¡°To find enemies, to grasp who was lying to me or trying to get me killed. And so the world grew quiet.¡±

    The blond man met her eyes.

    ¡°Jun was to tide me over so I wouldst the rest of the journey with the infanzones,¡± Brun said. ¡°Aines was because it was starting to grow difficult feigning emotion.¡±

    His gaze was unblinking.

    ¡°I used my pact too much when we ran from cultists on the way to Cantica,¡± the Sacromontan said. ¡°Making sure Song was not leading us into an ambush. At this rate, I might have to kill a ckcloak in Three Pines. epting Yaretzi¡¯s offer was the least risky-¡±

    The door opened and Brun reached for his hatchet, but Angharad¡¯s half-formed hopes were dashed: it was only Yaretzi returning. The Izcalli carefully closed the door behind her.

    ¡°No lights under the doors,¡± she told Brun. ¡°More interestingly, Tristan is no longer in his room and neither is Augusto Cerdan. It seems we are not the only ones cleaning up before the vote. I told you, my dear: that boy is most definitely a hired killer.¡±

    ¡°He is a rat to the bone,¡± the man said. ¡°You mistake him.¡±

    ¡°How has he convinced so many people of that?¡± Yaretziined. ¡°After Lan traded me his suspicions for the Milk I knew the little bastard was too dangerous to leave sniffing around, but no one would bite. The best I could manage was to send Ferranda after Isabel in the hope she stumbled into whatever they¡¯ve been doing about the Cerdan. Thirteen Heavens, my darlings, that boy has gone around half the trials lugging around the exact same poison box Watch assassins use. How has no one outed him for it yet?¡±

    Yaretzi turned to smile at her, like they were friends sharing a confidence, and Angharad felt like ripping out her teeth. Death was crawling closer to her with every word and she kept waiting for the fear toe, but the warmth of anger yet kept it out. Like keeping your hand so close to candle me it began to burn, chasing out every other sensation.

    ¡°He must be fresh to the profession,¡± Yaretzi told her. ¡°As a rule you should bring only the substances you intend to use, it is much less obvious.¡±

    Brun shifted on his feet.

    ¡°You made your sweep,¡± he said. ¡°Let us finish it.¡±

    ¡°Soon, soon,¡± Yaretzi said. ¡°I told you, I need her to answer some questions first.¡±

    The Izcalli idly unsheathed a knife, then knelt by Angharad¡¯s side. She tried to get up, but her limbs had grown so feeble they did not even need to push her back down. The point of the steel was drawn across her cheek and came to rest under her eye, lightly enough it did not cut skin.

    ¡°The tiles in the kitchen of nw Hall,¡± Yaretzi said. ¡°What color are they?¡±

    Angharad clenched her jaw as much as she could, which still had her tongue lolling in her mouth. Yaretzi eyed her, then sighed.

    ¡°Torture is very messy, dear, I do hope you won¡¯t force me to resort to it,¡± the Izcalli said. ¡°Let us try again with something easier, then. Your uncle Osian ¨C where is he getting all the coin? Did your mother perhaps bury a fortune somewhere, tell him of the location?¡±

    Angharad blinked. What coin? Yaretzi¡¯s eyes narrowed impatiently.

    ¡°The man has been spending gold like it is copper, my dear,¡± the Izcalli said. ¡°He put out an open contract matching whatever price is on your head for the skull of any assassin trying to take yours, and he¡¯s known to have paid out at least ten times. I heard so many assassins slew each other trying to catch you in Ixta that the guilds in the city are still at war.¡±

    Angharad choked.<em> Ixta</em>? The sleepy little port town on the Emerald Coast where she had spent exactly three hours waiting on the docks before changing ships? Yaretzi let out an irritated sound.

    ¡°Useless,¡± she said. ¡°Do you know why he pulled the open contract, at least? Did he run out of coin? It happened when you arrived in Sacromonte and I know you received at least one letter from him there.¡±

    Angharad leaned forward, as if to give answer, and Yaretzi came closer. Only when she tried to spit on the other woman her tongue would not move, so only specks of spittle flew and the rest stayed bubbling on her lips. Yaretzi withdrew with a sigh.

    ¡°Ayanda was not nearly this much trouble,¡± sheined. ¡°So eager to talk, that girl, she gave me everything I needed the first day. It must have been her contract that got her rmended for the Krypteia, because she did not notice in the slightest when I doused her waterskin with Milk. Not much ¨C just enough to slow her down some. The same dose I traded Lan.¡±

    Yaretzi shrugged.

    ¡°After that it was just a question of waiting for her to stumble and be caught by those Red Eye savages.¡±

    Looking at the smug pride on the Izcalli¡¯s face, Angharad felt genuine hate for one of the few times in her life as she remembered the bleak grief on Zenzele¡¯s face. How broken must you be, to make a living out of inflicting suffering?

    ¡°Don¡¯t be jealous, dear,¡± Yaretzi chided. ¡°House Sandile offered a tidy sum for the death of the little bitch who stole the husband of their matriarch¡¯s favorite niece, but it¡¯s not even half of what is on offer for <em>you</em>. I just decided to collect on the girl first after seeing you go up against that Saint. It seemed likely you would pick up wounds saving fools anyhow.¡±

    Yaretzi wagged a finger.

    ¡°Only you kept surviving, you inconvenient darling you, and even when I got close you kept living through my attempts,¡± she said. ¡°I tried to off you discreetly during the trial with the clockwork god and then again in the stairs with Ishaan, but you are a most difficult creature to kill.¡±

    ¡°Fugh yew,¡± Angharad snarled.

    ¡°I don¡¯t tell you this to boast, my dear,¡± Yaretzi patiently said. ¡°I tell you so might understand that I am not some hired thug but a professional, an anointed daughter of the Obsidian Society under brokered contract. It is our rule that learning knowledge which only the mark would know serves a proof of the kill, but when that is not feasible one may also present the <em>head</em> instead.¡±

    She leaned forward.

    ¡°Tell me the color of the kitchen tiles in nw Hall,¡± Yaretzi said, ¡°and your uncle will receive a corpse with the head still on it. I understand Mni have some funerary customs rting to eyes, no? Would you not prefer to ease his grief while you still can?¡±

    ¡°Aye ashm noth,¡± Angharad bit out, ¡°<em>Mni</em>.¡±

    And she would not help this creature to get away more cleanly with her crimes. Perhaps she could not fight, but she could at least try to make enough of a mess that these animals were caught. Song, Song would see to it. The silver-eyed Tianxi would not let this go, the solefort Angharad had in this ugly mess. She tried to rise again and found some sliver of strength yet remained to her limbs. Yaretzi clicked her tongue in disappointment.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she said, sheathing her knife. ¡°It was always a long shot, and it¡¯s not like torture is reliable when one cannot take their time. Brun, try not to make too much a mess. I¡¯ll hold her down for you.¡±

    Angharad half-raised her arm, but she was brushed aside like a child and pushed back into the mattress by a bored Yaretzi. That boredom somehow insulted her more than the rest of this put together. That she was a chore, not even a foe. Brun, face twisting with something like relief, approached with his hatchet in hand. Angharad met his eyes, burning with indignation, and the blond man stilled for a moment. His green eyes flicked to Yaretzi, almost considering, but then he sighed. The hatchet rose all the way.

    Death came down for her as a sharp length of steel, only to slow.

    A whisper sounded in her ears, rising to be the nearing beat of wings until it blotted out everything else and a strange power rippled through her body. Above her a single, beautiful peafowl feather drifted down from the ceiling and Angharad realized that her limbs no longer felt numb. The mayura¡¯s blessing, it had cleared the poison. The spirit¡¯s power left her, the hatcheting down viper-swift again, but Angharad was no longer helpless.

    She grabbed Yaretzi by the cor, dragging her in the way, and took vicious satisfaction the way the Izcalli¡¯s eyes widened in utter surprise.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± the assassin cursed, the blow taking her in the shoulder with a wet thump.

    Angharad kneed her in the stomach, Yaretzi stumbling back with a wheeze, and as she rose pushed the stumbling Izcalli into a surprised Brun. The back of his knees hit the bedside table, tipping her sheathed saber to the ground, and she caught it with the tip of her toes.

    ¡°<em>Assassins</em>,¡± she shouted, only halfway through realizing there was no use.

    The door was closed and the owners of the two nearest rooms were in front of her. Brun yanked his hatchet out of Yaretzi¡¯s back, earning a hoarse scream, and as he turned to hack at her Angharad deftly threw up her saber with her toes ¨C she caught the scabbard just as his blow came down, pping aside his forearm with it so the hatchet went by her shoulder. Yaretzi struck from the other side, knife back in hand, but Angharad halfway unsheathed her saber to strike her chin with the pommel of the sword and knock her back. She glimpsed-

    /Brun hacked at her back, biting into her spine and sending her/

    -and turned with a blow she would not have seen, getting out of the way just in time for the hatchet to take Yaretzi in the arm as she turned around Brun¡¯s back and finished unsheathing the de. She kept the scabbard in hand. Her knees almost buckled as a wave of apathy hammered into her mind, but elbowing Brun in the back had the sensation vanishing into smoke. She finished turning around to face them.

    Brun was a skilled fighter, she thought, but it was a raw sort of talent. He had not been taught that being predictable in a duel was death. The Sacromontan pushed away from her from to make distance, so that he might have enough room to swing his hatchet, but Angharad had begun swinging even as she turned: the edge of the saber caught him at temple height and a slight angle, splitting his eye like an egg and sinking into the skull.

    Death in a stroke.

    Angharad calmly kicked his back as she ripped free the de, brain spraying as it sent the corpse falling into Yaretzi¡¯s way and forced the Izcalli to draw back nearer to the door. The assassin licked her lips, Angharad watching as it sunk in for the other woman that she was two wounds in and standing alone.

    ¡°You took an oath,¡± the Izcalli suddenly said. ¡°Not to do violence on other trial-takers. If I no longer fight you, you cannot-¡±

    Angharad threw the scabbard at her face. The knife went up to p it aside, and that was all it took: the point of her saber went straight into Yaretzi¡¯s heart, pinning her to the door with a thump as the assassin let out a wet gurgle.

    ¡°You knowingly broke the rules of the Trial of Weeds, assassin,¡± Angharad politely informed her. ¡°You no longer qualify as a trial-taker.¡±

    She broadened her stance, preparing to rip out the de, but before she could the door burst open and the corpse flew at her. Smothering a sound of surprise, Angharad struggled to hold on to her saber as someone forced their way into the room ¨C only to find Song levelling a musket at her, Sarai right behind her and sloppily pointing a pistol as she held up antern.

    ¡°You- oh,¡± Song said, taken aback.

    There was a heartbeat of silence.

    ¡°Are we quite sure,¡± Sarai began, eyes lingering on the two cooling corpses, ¡°that <em>she</em> was the one needing rescuing here?¡±

    Angharad¡¯s jaw locked.

    ¡°The mayura¡¯s blessing saved my life,¡± she stiffly said. ¡°They came at me with a poison and Brun¡¯s contract.¡±

    Her stare firmed as she turned to Song after saying thus.

    ¡°A jest,¡± Sarai said. ¡°I meant no offence.¡±

    Angharad did not reply, eyes staying on Song and silently asking why she had not warned anyone of Brun¡¯s contract. It would have been a much stronger suspect than Ishaan¡¯s, and while she could understand wanting to keep the power of her own eyes quiet that did not excuse warning no one at all.

    ¡°I do not know what it does,¡± Song admitted. ¡°Did, now, I suppose. It was written in some sort of Sacromontan street jargon, half the words weren¡¯t even recognizably Antigua.¡±

    The noblewoman gave a slow nod and felt a knot in her shoulders loosen. Had Song been one of the pack of selfish schemers she was being forced to deal with, she was not sure what she would have done. So much of what she had taken to be truth beforeing to this ind was¡­ Nobles acting like wolves, loyalty a hangman¡¯s noose and honor in the strangest of ces. She had thought Peredur the model of the world, once, but now she was forced to wonder how much she might have missed.

    Angharad swallowed, mind was still awhirl with all her killers had said. ¡®Yaretzi¡¯ was a confessed liar, so much of what she said about others could be discounted, but her talk of Tristan ¨C and that he had been aplice to Isabel, who she knew <em>did</em> have troubles with the Cerdan brothers ¨C rang ufortably true.

    Remund had disappeared after spending time alone with him, for which they had yet to receive ount. No one had thought to take that up since both men were expected dead, but perhaps there was a need after all. Angharad felt a great exhaustion settle on her shoulders like a mantle, and with it a vicious urge: to out every dirty little secret this misbegotten ind carried, to finally have it out and done.

    Sarai cleared her throat.

    ¡°We should wake everyone else, have it known now the pair tried to kill you,¡± the pale-skinned woman said. ¡°Else usations might turn uglye morning.¡±

    ¡°There is more to tell besides,¡± Angharad wearily said. ¡°Brun effectively confessed to the murders of both Jun and Aines while Yaretzi admitted to being a member of something called the Obsidian Society as well to poisoning Ayanda with something called Spinster¡¯s Milk.¡±

    Sarai let out a noise of surprise.

    ¡°Zenzele won¡¯t take that well,¡± she warned.

    ¡°He must be told regardless,¡± Angharad replied.

    Though first, she decided, she should drag the corpses out into the hall. The blood was soaking her floor. Wiping her de on Yaretzi¡¯s back, Angharad went to pick up her scabbard and sheathed it. She was about to go looking for her boots when someone turned the corner: Shalini, looking haggard but with both pistols up, stumbled into the scene and froze. A heartbeatter Ferranda followed, de in hand, and then Zenzele half-tripped past them as he pulled on his boots.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Ferranda said.

    The Someshwari lowered her pistols. Shalini¡¯s eyes flicked back and forth between them and the dead.

    ¡°What happened?¡± she asked.

    ¡°They attempted to kill Angharad in the night,¡± Song told them. ¡°It went poorly.¡±

    ¡°No shit,¡± Shalini amusedly said. ¡°I could have told them how that¡¯d go if they¡¯d asked.¡±

    ¡°And the other two of you?¡± Zenzele asked with a frown, finally dragging his boot up.

    A pause. Angharad turned to the other two women, cocking an eyebrow. What<em> had</em> drawn them to her room? She had thought the sound would not carry. Sarai sighed.

    ¡°At Song¡¯s request, I put a Sign on Lady Angharad¡¯s door that would break if someone opened it,¡± she said.

    ¡°They had me at their mercy for quite some time,¡± Angharad neutrally said.

    She appreciated the gesture, but not the presumption. Besides, why her of all people?

    ¡°I slept through it breaking,¡± Sarai admitted, sounding embarrassed.

    She reddened under the number of incredulous looks thrown her way.

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s not a Sign I have fully mastered and I haven¡¯t had a good night¡¯s sleep in days,¡± she said. ¡°I ended up waking upter and noticing it was gone, so I went to get Song and we found¡­¡±

    ¡°Predictable consequences?¡± Zenzele drily finished.

    Whatever else might have been said, it was forced to wait. More were joining them, the rising sound of talk in the hall drawing them. Tupoc first, who made a point of theatrically gasping as the sight of the bodies then, Lan and Cozme.

    Angharad face them, face still flecked with blood.

    ¡°Let me get dressed,¡± she sighed, ¡°and then I will tell you everything.¡±

    --

    It was not long to exin, for all that it had felt an eternity when the pair had her prisoner.

    Zenzele¡¯s face went bloodless when he was told his beloved had been drugged into demise at the behest of House Sandile, Shaliniying a hand on his arm, while Tupoc looked slightly miffed. Remembering Yaretzi¡¯s confession regarding the stairs, Angharad made her amends there.

    ¡°I did not believe you when you imed Ishaan was pushed by her,¡± the noblewoman said, addressing Shalini. ¡°Yet she did, and I apologize for my mistrust.¡±

    The other woman grimaced.

    ¡°We looked pretty shady at the time,¡± she replied. ¡°Water under the bridge.¡±

    As for Ferranda, Angharad was too tired to keep secrets any longer.

    ¡°Song and I found a secret passage in the gate shrine and overheard your conversation with Isabel when you used her,¡± she bluntly said. ¡°Yaretzi has since confessed that she directed you after Isabel in the hopes that you would stumble into some alleged plot against the Cerdans she was weaving with Tristan.¡±

    Ferranda Vizur drew back in surprise.

    ¡°I ¨C are you sure? <em>Tristan</em>?¡±

    ¡°I am certain she said it,¡± Angharad said. ¡°She also confessed herself a murderer and a liar, so I put little stock in her words.¡±

    The grey-eyed man was a criminal of some sort, and prone to tricks, but he had also demonstrated a certain sense of honor. Several times he had risked his life on behalf of others to no clear gain.

    ¡°The boy is suspicious,¡± Cozme grunted. ¡°He came back and Remund did not.¡±

    ¡°He came back with a belly wound from falling down that slide with your Cerdan,¡± Sarai tly replied. ¡°Had to be treated for lockjaw, you can ask the ckcloaks. Your boy Remund wasn¡¯t quite so lucky and he¡¯s still impaled somewhere in the maze as far as we know. Nasty way to go.¡±

    She did not sound all that sympathetic.

    ¡°Where is he right now, then?¡± the mustachioed man pressed. ¡°Yong cannot leave his room, but where is the rat?¡±

    ¡°Investigating the activities of the townsfolk, as I requested of him,¡± Song tly said. ¡°I find it somewhat interesting you do not ask where Augusto is, as he is also missing.¡±

    Cozme straightened.

    ¡°Augusto is no longer my responsibility, but Remund was-¡±

    ¡°Nobody cares about your brats, Cozme,¡± Lan interrupted, tone impatient. ¡°Tristan could have slit both their throats in the middle of the street and most of us would have pped. Tredegar, get on with it. What about Brun?¡±

    Cozme Aflor looked more than a little angry, but he had no friends in the hall. Angharadid out the rest of what Yaretzi had told her, prompting an interested noise from Tupoc at the mention of the Obsidian Society.

    ¡°They are famous assassins in Izcalli,¡± he informed them all in a rare disy of concord. ¡°They are a cult of the Skeletal Butterfly that takes killing contracts, they¡¯ve been around for centuries. Rumor has it they even slew a Grasshopper King once.¡±

    She moved on to Brun, after that, and revulsion rose as she described his contract and how it had slowly turned him into a murderer. The description of its effects had Shalini grimacing.

    ¡°I felt something like that on the night Jun was killed,¡± she admitted. ¡°When I had the watch. I thought I was just tired and never entirely fell asleep so I said nothing save to Ishaan, but everything Lady Angharad speaks of is something I have felt.¡±

    Lan looked murderous, an unusual look on her face, but then what did Angharad know? Both Yaretzi and Brun had used her of poisoning him before the Toll Road, something the Pereduri had mentioned and the blue-lipped woman not denied. Angharad had thought herself aware of most the undercurrents in theirpany, wise to its workings even if she asionally missed pieces, but that illusion had just been most thoroughly stripped away. Others had danced around her so deftly she never even noticed she was attending a ball. No more of that, Angharad coldly thought. She would not be made such a fool again.

    Tupoc, who was closest to the stairs, suddenly tensed. He raised a hand at the rest of them, demanding silence as he raised his spear.

    ¡°Someone just came in,¡± he whispered.

    Lord Zenzele nced at their group, then down below.

    ¡°It is Tristan,¡± he said.

    He had used his contract, she thought. Tristan must have a tie to someone in here.

    Tupoc did not put the spear down.

    ¡°Xical,¡± Angharad warningly said, hand going to her de.

    ¡°Three in a night would just be greedy, Tredegar,¡± Tupoc chided her amusedly.

    He put the weapon down, however, just as someone began hurrying up the stairs. The loudness of it was startled her. Tristan was a light-footed man, yet now he stomped up at a run. The scruffy grey-eyed man erupted past the threshold, steps stuttering when he saw them all gathered in the hall.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Everyone is here. Good.¡±

    His eyes flicked to the corpses, unmoved at the sight. He did not even ask.

    ¡°Finally showing up, are you?¡± Tupoc drawled. ¡°Lateness is bing a habit with you.¡±

    ¡°Tupoc, shut the fuck up,¡± the man said, and there was a ripple of surprise at that unusual boldness. ¡°We do not have time for this. I was just in the town square, where our hosts ¨C <em>every single one of which is a devil</em> ¨C were having a spirited conversation about eating us all.¡±

    The silence was instant andplete.

    ¡°Then on my way back,¡± Tristan ferociously continued, ¡°I passed by the postern gate where I happened to catch Augusto Cerdan letting in a warband of cultists. This happened-¡±

    He produced a small timepiece, popping open the lid to see. It felt vaguely familiar.

    ¡°- three minutes and change ago,¡± he finished. ¡°By now I expect they will be moving to free the ves.¡±

    Noise erupted all at once, half a dozen people speaking up. Song¡¯s voice cut through, clear and calm. Trained, Angharad thought. Song Ren had been trained formand, or at least leadership.

    ¡°Dress and arm yourselves,¡± she said. ¡°Everything else can wait.¡±

    Some grumbling, but Angharad cut through it by hurrying to her own room and picking up her bag. Enough followed suit at the sight of her that the rest were pressured into doing the same. It had been a mostly symbolic gesture on her part, as her affairs were already packed, and she was back within moments. Just in time to hear Song and Sarai interrogating Tristan.

    ¡°- one was older than the others, called Akados, and some of the other devils used him of wanting to ¡®anneal¡¯ through ughter,¡± the man said. ¡°I have no real notion of what that might mean.¡±

    ¡°Older devils eventually be fixed shapes in the aether,¡± Song absent-mindedly replied. ¡°Their kind calls that process annealing, like the smithing term.¡±

    She would know, the Pereduri thought. The Republics allowed devils citizenship, sometimes even to serve as bureaucrats.

    ¡°What does it mean, a fixed shape in the aether?¡± Angharad asked, stepping close.

    ¡°What she said,¡± Tristan supported.

    She fought down the flicker of fondness. His eyes had not wavered at the sight of the corpse and too many ck rumors yet hung over his head. Angharad was done putting trust in smiling strangers.

    ¡°It means no matter how many times you kill them they¡¯ll crawl back out of the aether eventually,¡± Sarai grimaced. ¡°Old devils are nothing to trifle with, though this one should yet fall short of the threshold.¡±

    ¡°If it is old enough to be discerning about the kind of aether it feeds on, it must be getting close,¡± Song warned. ¡°I expect if it fed on the simpler aetheric taint of murder rather than ¡®ughter¡¯ it might have finished the process.¡±

    Angharad cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°Is this¡­ discernment why devils in stories are afflicted with strangepulsions?¡± she asked.

    Children¡¯s tales had clever heroes outsmarting them by spilling beads the devils then had to count, tricking them into suicide for being unable to find a rhyme for their sentence.

    ¡°More or less,¡± Song said. ¡°But that conversation can wait until we are in a ce of safety. Tristan, you have your affairs?¡±

    ¡°Everything I care to carry,¡± the grey-eyed man said, then paused.

    He turned to Sarai.

    ¡°Yong?¡±

    She grimaced.

    ¡°He cannot stand,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Then we will have to carry him,¡± Tristan tly replied. ¡°Lady Angharad, if I might ask for your help?¡±

    A worthy cause, Angharad thought, and so she nodded her head.

    She was the one who knocked, a muted voice telling her to enter. Yong was lying in his bed, half-naked but his torso so thoroughly covered by bandages he might as well have been wearing a shirt. Only his arms and part of his shoulders were left bare ¨C the expanse of skin drawing attention to the loaded pistol he was pointing their way. The barrel wobbled when he began coughing wetly, and his eyes were watery. He recognized them after a moment, lowering the pistol and setting it on the bedside table.

    ¡°What happened?¡± he croaked. ¡°I heard voices.¡±

    ¡°Brun and Yaretzi tried to off her,¡± Tristan bluntly said, jutting a thumb Angharad¡¯s way. ¡°She killed them instead, I hear, and outed all their dirty little secrets.¡±

    Angharad eyed him, reluctantly amused.

    ¡°Tristan went to spy on the townsfolk and found out they are all devils,¡± she contributed. ¡°Augusto Cerdan, the honorless cur, has also let in a warband of cultists.¡±

    The timepiece snapped open, then closed. Angharad could not shake the feeling that she had seen it somewhere before.

    ¡°About five minutes ago,¡± Tristan said. ¡°We need to get moving or we¡¯ll be hip deep in devils and darklings soon.¡±

    Yong let out a rattling breath.

    ¡°My stitches won¡¯t hold,¡± he said. ¡°I cannot move.¡±

    ¡°That is why we came to carry you,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°You mishear me,¡± Yong said. ¡°It is not that I cannot walk ¨C I cannot <em>move</em>. The physician told me I am to stay abed for at least two weeks.¡±

    ¡°That physician was a devil who wanted to eat you,¡± Tristan pointed out, quite reasonably in your opinion.

    ¡°I saw the stitches in a mirror,¡± the older man replied. ¡°They cover much of my back, and if they rip there is no question that I will die.¡±

    ¡°I do not dismiss your concerns,¡± Angharad assured him. ¡°We will ask for the help of others and take great care. But we most move, Yong.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Tristan quietly said. ¡°The devils wille here for certain, it¡¯s where the meal is.¡±

    Yong stared at them for a long moment, then breathed out.

    ¡°I know,¡± he finally said. ¡°I know. And it would be an ugly way to die.¡±

    He clenched his fingers.

    ¡°I expect I won¡¯t be able to move much,¡± Yong said. ¡°I may have to trouble you to carry word for me, Tristan.¡±

    The younger man stilled, face closing like a shutter.

    ¡°Your husband?¡±

    Angharad frowned, for the Sacromontan sounded like he hoped he was wrong. Yong nodded. After a grimace, Tristan nodded back. She could not help but feel as if she were intruding, somehow. The Tianxi¡¯s stare moved on to her.

    ¡°I require some privacy,¡± he told her.

    ¡°I understand it is unpleasant, but you will need help to dress,¡± she said, trying to be delicate.

    ¡°Some matters require privacy,¡± he gently replied, eyes flicking to the chamber pot.

    Ah, Angharad thought with some embarrassment. Indeed she would prefer not to be there for that.

    ¡°Yong,¡± Tristan began, but the veteran raised a hand.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°We have said all we need to say. Nothing has changed.¡±

    The grey-eyed man looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he let out a long breath

    ¡°I guess it hasn¡¯t,¡± Tristan said, voice soft.

    He sharply nodded, then walked away. Angharad followed him out, carefully closing the door behind her. Tristan leaned against the wall, folding his arms, and the frown that had never quite left deepened at the sight of how grim he looked. How his jaw was clenched.

    ¡°He lied,¡± she said.

    She had suspected as much, but now knew.

    ¡°He-¡±

    A shot sounded from behind the door.

    Tristan flinched.

    ¡°He chose to make it quick,¡± the man hoarsely said, ¡°instead of ripping his stitches and suffering hours of agony before the same end. It was¡­¡±

    Tristan licked his lips.

    ¡°It was his choice to make.¡±

    He sounded, Angharad thought, like a man who was not sure who he was trying to convince. She should have been angry at being deceived again, but Angharad could not muster it when she saw the grief in cast of face. Tristan pushed off the wall, a slight tremble to his hand.

    ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me,¡± he got out, ¡°I need to make sure my friend died with the first shot.¡±

    For he had not, Angharad realized with faint horror, Tristan would have to finish the job himself. She watched him open the door, glimpsed the billow of powder smoke and red on the wall, then looked away.

    She kept her eyes on the stairs as she heard him see to his dead friend, fighting not to throw up.

    --

    No one asked what had happened to Yong: seeing Tristany his body to rest on the bed was enough to quell that urge in even the most curious among them. Angharad¡¯s gaze swept through theirpany, finding them assembled and as ready as they would get.

    She swallowed, gaze still shying away from the room where a man had taken his own life.

    ¡°We are to proceed, then,¡± she said. ¡°Song has shown all of you the map, so all should know where we are to gather: half a mile north of here, by the marked stones.¡±

    ¡°It has all been said before,¡± Lord Zenzele mildly said. ¡°Shall we?¡±

    She threw him an irritated nce but nodded. Yet before she could take a single step down the stairs, a metallic sound drew her eye ¨C and that of most present. Tristan had gone back into Yong¡¯s room and tipped antern. Oil spilled over the corpse of the veteran, spreading a tide of softlypping me.

    ¡°I am not leaving him for the devils to eat,¡± the grey-eyed man evenly said. ¡°Besides, it can serve as a distraction for our escape.¡±

    Several looked like they wanted to argue but the oil was quite literally already spilled and now the bedding was catching ame. There was no time to waste, not that they had been rich in minutes before.

    ¡°Hurry,¡± Angharad said, cutting through the silence. ¡°If they do not yet know we are onto them, they soon will.¡±

    She moved down the stairs, knowing that action would cut through any urge to argue: no one wanted to debate with a departing back. She heard steps follow behind, adjusting her scabbard on her hip so it would not hit the wall, and in moments she¡¯d reached themon room. There her steps stuttered for she found she was not alone. Angharad moved out of the way so the man behind her ¨C Tupoc ¨C could follow, but her eyes never left the man she was facing.

    Only Mayor Crespin was not truly a man, was he?

    The devil wearing the corpse of a bearded, middle-aged man was waiting by the exit, nked on both sides by two closed shutters. He leant against the door, square in their way should they want to leave.

    ¡°I hear fire,¡± the devil said.

    ¡°We hear of plots,¡± Angharad replied, the othersing down behind her.

    Lantern light ate away at the shadows of the room, muskets rising and des leaving scabbards. The mayor seemed unmoved by their numbers.

    ¡°¡¯tis a poor notion,¡± Crespin said, tone dipping in a formal, almost antiquated Antigua. ¡°Yet my kin agreed, so it must be done.¡±

    In the distance, she heard shots. The mayor twitched. As he should, if the cultist warband was loose in town and gathering their ves against them.

    ¡°You have greater worries than we, I think,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Can you truly afford this distraction?¡±

    The devil seemed amused.

    ¡°Why should I worry of a scapegoat skipping all the way to the altar?¡± he asked. ¡°It was not<em> us</em> that killed them so, good ckcloaks, but arrant cultists of the Eye.¡±

    Her jaw clenched at the mockery.

    ¡°It need note to violence,¡± she tried onest time.

    ¡°You are lucents,¡± Crespin told her, not unkindly. ¡°No thing done to you may be named violence.¡±

    There was no bargain to be had here, not with a creature such as this.

    ¡°Walk away,¡± Angharad said, slowly unsheathing her de. ¡°While you still can.¡±

    Mayor Crespin twitched, lifeless eyes looking her up and down ¨C not with a lover¡¯s appraisal but a butcher¡¯s, tracing the cuts in the meat.

    ¡°Alive, if you can,¡± the devil ordered.

    The shutters exploded into wooden shards, devils bursting through them. Shots sounded from behind Angharad, billowing plumes of smoke as her allies fired their guns, and one of the silhouettes was swatted down ¨C but rose a heartbeatter, half of its face missing and revealing cracked chitin. Crespin was still leaning against the door, having merely cocked his head an inch to the side to avoid a bullet.

    ¡°Focus fire on the wounded one,¡± Song called out from behind her, voicepletely calm. ¡°Crack the carapace.¡±

    Leaving tactics in good hands, Angharad strode out to meet the enemy with allies at her side ¨C Tupoc on one side, Zenzele the other. A dark-haired woman with a tanned, weathered face leapt at her like an animal. It was a startling jump, impossible with human legs, but momentum was a universal shackle: Angharad slid under the leaping form, letting her pass by, and then pivoted cleanly to open her from shoulder to spine.

    Skin parted like parchment, but under it some kind of oily chitinous carapace refused to give under her de. She left a long scar and the devil screamed, but she was turning around furiously within a heartbeat. Painful, then, but not a wound. Angharad caught a glimpse of Tupoc impaling a devil through the stomach, nailing the false man to the floor, and of Zenzele struggling with a bald old man. Rapid fire from the back still nailing the fourth attacker to the ground.

    Crespin watched all, indifferent.

    She had no more attention to spare. Her devil let out a furious clicking screech, skin rippling as it struck at her. A simple p that would have hit her shoulder, and though quick it was predictable. Angharad caught it with her de angled to go through the wrist, her training moving before her mind, only instead of cutting off the hand she almost lost her de. Even that slight, awkward blow had been like getting kicked. Lips thinning Angharad drew back her de, scarring carapace again, and glimpsed-

    /Skin rippled, a leg ripping its way out and piercing her throat./

    -in time to half-step out of the way of the jutting, thin limb thatnced out of the devil¡¯s back. Angharad aimed her swing carefully, and finally the de bit through: steel ripped through the horrid appendage, dropping it as the devil screeched and scuttled back. The severed leg twitched on the floor, bloodless and seemingly <em>boiling</em>. The sight of it inspired a deep, visceral disgust in her.

    Her devil foe was twitching uncontrobly under the shell, two more legs ripping their way out as it skittered away in fear of her. Tupoc¡¯s own opponenty on the ground, convulsing ¨C Sleeping God, what was that segmented spear made of? - and the Izcalli was giving a bloodied Zenzele a hand driving back his own as the firing line pinned the fourth to the wall with shots and burst its belly open into a spurt of disgusting pale flesh. They were winning, she thought, but one of their foes had yet to take the field.

    ¡°Pathetic,¡± Mayor Crespin said. ¡°Useless castings one and all, a waste of His Infernal Majesty¡¯s grace.¡±

    ¡°Stathera,¡± her devil whined, ¡°they are-¡±

    Crespin moved, fast enough she saw but a blur, and then he was holding the wounded devil by the throat. Without batting an eye, he tossed hisrade at the firing line. Angharad let out a cry of warning ¨C she heard Cozme draw his sword, cursing, and a glimpse of Tristan fumbling with a pistol she hadst seen in Yong¡¯s hand.

    The distraction cost her, for in that heartbeat Crespin casually grabbed a table and smashed it down on her.

    Angharad brought up her hands to shield her head and was hammered into the ground, dazed. The wood splintered atop her. Hissing in pain she kicked off the piece pinning her down, rolling out of the way just in time to see Crespin ram his way through the counter and rip out a long and sharp piece. His eyes turned further away, where the tossed devil was fighting the others in a messy sprawl, and Angharad saw what he was looking at: thenterns.

    Devils saw in the dark. Humans did not. Without thenterns, they were all dead.

    With a cry she threw herself forward, hacking wildly at his arm, and the devil turned at her with an irritated look ¨C a p caught her in the belly, near cracking a rib and sending her tumbling away on the floor. She stopped only when her shoulder hit the wall, just under one of the windows. Through which, she saw with surprise, a musket was being aimed. Angharad had just long enough to drop her sword and cover her ears so she would not go deaf from the shot.

    A dozen muskets unloaded intomon room, the cult of the Red Eye announcing their entry into the fight.

    Snarling, Angharad reached out through the window and dragged a man through it by his cor ¨C wincing at the tenderness of her ribs ¨C to smash his face into the floor. The hollow iled, shouting, and as she rose she snatched her de back even as her booted heel came down on the man¡¯s neck to snap it. Someone tossed a javelin her way and she narrowly ducked behind the still-closed door. Two cultists leapt inside the inn through the windows but a heartbeatter Mayor Crespin darted out of the smoke to rip one¡¯s jaw out, nonchntly gobbling down the flesh and bone as the cultists screamed ¨C the older devil was driven away by musket shots, but he would be back. More cultists leapt in, swords high as they ran into the smoke.

    There was no winning this, Angharad thought, eyes trying to find the rest of herpanions but finding only an anarchy of powder smoke, steel and hateful blows. She opened her mouth, thinking to call for a retreat, but her words were drowned out.

    A chunk of the ceiling dropped, revealing a burning inferno above as smoke swept out. The fire Tristan had set earlier, she recalled as she pushed down a hysterical swell ofughter.

    ¡°To the door with me,¡± she shouted over the roar of the mes.

    Through the swirling smoke she saw silhouettes moving ¨C some of them running towards her, others fighting. Ferranda leapt over burst of spreading mes, Lan hurrying behind her, and for a moment Angharad thought she saw Cozme headed her way as well. Only another chunk of ceiling fell in the way, the man drawing back with a shout, and he was dragged away by Tristan. Song was at her side a momentter, bleeding from the arm.

    A chunk of it had been ripped out.

    ¡°We need to go,¡± the Tianxi shouted over the din. ¡°Crespin broke a wall, the others have a way out.¡±

    Angharad risked onest nce back, seeing a silhouette crossing the smoke. Short, coughing her lungs out. She brushed off Song¡¯s hand on her shoulder, hurrying back to help Shalini out of the smoke as the Someshwari held on to her side.

    ¡°Open it,¡± she shouted at Ferranda.

    The infanzona ripped open the door and Song ran through first, pivoting within moments and shooting at someone they could not see. They followed in the Tianxi¡¯s wake, finding a dead cultist slumping against the wall with his musket on the floor as the rest hesitated, split between the devils inside and the fleeingpany.

    A bestial screaming from inside burning wreck of the Last Rest was what settled the matter.

    One of the cultists spitefully threw a javelin their way, but the others turned their muskets to towards the devils as the five of them fled into the streets.

    --

    There was little safety to be found out here, for chaos had seized the town.

    Houses all over Cantica had been set ame, and as they roared high ves fled into the brutal melee between the cultists and the devils. Not all ves were running for safety, however, many instead taking whatevery around as weapons and joining the Red Eye cult in fighting the devils ¨C some of which had lost patience and ripped their way clear of their shell, moving through the smoke like ghosts and ripping apart men as muskets sounded and spears bit into chitin.

    ¡°Manes,¡± Lan breathed out, ¡°it¡¯s a full-on uprising. We need to get out of here.¡±

    ¡°Stay close,¡± Angharad called out. ¡°We head for the front gate.¡±

    Of their party, only the Tianxi twin was not a fighter. The rest of them clustered around her: Angharad and Ferranda in front, Shalini and Song behind. They ran two blocks down before someone took notice of them, a cultist shouting and pointing their way to draw the attention of the mob of escaped ves around him.

    A heartbeatter Song put a shot between his eyes, which had half the ves scattering as his body dropped.

    They ran away before the other half, visibly enraged, could catch them. They turned a corner through a veil of smoke, following the curve of the palisade towards what should be the front gate. Twice more they ran into hollows, but the first time they were fleeing ves who gave theirpany a wide berth and the second lot ¨C three spearmen in mail - were chased off by a few shots. They were lucky, Angharad realized: the front gate was far from the fighting. The worst of it was deep in Cantica, where hollows had been kept imprisoned and the cultists now fought the devils.

    Soon they were standing by the gates, which were yet closed. A wooden gatehouse by their side should carry the wheel that would open the gate, so the five of them carefully moved towards the simple wooden house nestled to the right of the gate. There was not a soul in sight, and barely any light: theirs came from thentern Lan had lit and the inferno rising in the distance. The older Tianxi took the lead.

    ¡°Unlocked,¡± the blue-lipped woman said, testing the gatehouse¡¯s handle.

    She pushed it open, stepping into the dark with herntern high, and in that same breath she was grabbed.

    Angharad let out a shout of rm, rushing forward through the doorway, but there was a sh as a musket was fired and Shalini only narrowly dragged her out of the way as a bullet whizzed right past her shoulder. Between the shot and Lan¡¯s toppledntern she caught a glimpse of whaty inside: at least three cultists with swords and muskets, pointing them at the door.

    ¡°See? I told you they would go for the gate, like rats leaving a sinking ship.¡±

    Fury rose, bursting out as a snarl as she ripped her way out of Shalini¡¯s grasp and recognized that voice.

    ¡°<em>Augusto</em>,¡± she hissed.

    She could not see him, he was hiding out of sight, but by where the voice came from he must be the one who had taken Lan.

    ¡°I have a knife at your pet¡¯s throat, you Mni bitch,¡± Augusto replied. ¡°And enough men with me you have no hope of forcing your way through.¡±

    Angharad nced at Shalini, silently asking whether her contract would make a lie of that, but the short Someshwari grimaced and shook her head. However fast her hand, it was not faster than a finger already on the trigger.

    ¡°You have nothing to win by this,¡± Angharad snarled. ¡°And know that if you kill Lan, I will personally torch that gatehouse with you inside it.¡±

    The chokepoint of the door worked both ways: their muskets would keep his band in just as theirs would keep herpany out. The Cerdan chuckled.

    ¡°He did this for leverage,¡± Song quietly said, lowering her voice so the men in the gatehouse could not hear. ¡°He wants something from us.¡±

    ¡°Oh, he¡¯ll kill us if he can,¡± Ferranda just as quietly said. ¡°That was no warning shot. But I wager our Red Eye friends did not trust him with nearly as men as he would have liked, so he came ready to bargain.¡±

    ¡°How much is that rat¡¯s life worth to you, Tredegar?¡± Augusto called out. ¡°I happen to be in the mood to trade.¡±

    Lan was under her protection, Angharad thought with a clenched jaw. She felt Song¡¯s eyes on her, saw the objection thaty there, and ignored it. She would have no truck with expediency.

    ¡°What do you want, Cerdan?¡± she asked.

    ¡°An oath from all of you,¡± he said, and her brow rose. ¡°You are to tell the Watch that you killed me, and if one of you breaks that oath you are to kill them for it.¡±

    She frowned. Why would he need this? Angharad, unpleasant as the notion was, was not even entirely certain the ckcloaks would execute him for letting in the cultists. Tupoc had worked with them, and evidently felt safe in the assumption they would not. <em>So he fears they will execute him for something else</em>, she decided, and the answer soon came as to what that might be.

    ¡°You contracted with the Red Eye,¡± she evenly said. ¡°Down in the maze. The Watch will kill you for it.¡±

    ¡°I am not hearing agreement,¡± Augusto called out.

    A heartbeatter she heard Lan let out a cry, then struggle. Her fingers creaked around the grip of her saber, but to charge through that doorway was death.

    ¡°He cut me,¡± the Tianxi said, sounding like she had a hard time keeping calm.

    ¡°And I will do it again, until I have what I want,¡± the Cerdan said. ¡°The rat for the oath.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why he wants it,¡± Shalini muttered. ¡°It won¡¯t get him off this fucking ind, and it¡¯s not like the ckcloaks will hunt him if he goes off with the cultist tribes.¡±

    ¡°He does not intend to stay on this ind,¡± Ferranda guessed. ¡°He would go back to Sacromonte.¡±

    ¡°The Watch will kill him for that contract,¡± Song said. ¡°Unless¡­¡±

    Unless he intended on killing them first, they all thought. To lead an army of cultists against Three Pines and seize a ship by force, sailing back to Sacromonte without them, and there hid behind the protection of House Cerdan.

    ¡°He¡¯s gone mad then,¡± Angharad said. ¡°A single warband and whatever ves he press-gangs to take on a fortress of the Watch? They will make meat of him.¡±

    Then she saw it, they of the scheme.

    ¡°No, not mad. He is thinking like a warlord,¡± she breathed out. ¡°He would use the victory here to gather other tribes to his banner, try to unite them against the Watch.¡±

    Even then the odds were against him, and herpanions looked as skeptical as she felt. But that was why he wanted the oath, she thought. So he would have time to muster the tribes and yet still strike at Three Pines with the advantage of surprise. Perhaps he intended on feigning he was ate survivor and opening a gate as he had done here, or any other half-dozen schemes. It did not matter, Angharad thought.

    If he wanted the stars in a cup, then she would make that promise.

    ¡°I will take your oath,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°<em>Angharad</em>,¡± Song hissed.

    She met those silver eyes squarely.

    ¡°I will take that oath,¡± she repeated, ¡°and so will everyone here. In exchange for this you will release Lan unharmed.¡±

    Doubts on their faces, but she would not brook contradiction in this.

    ¡°Good,¡± Augusto said. ¡°How honorable of you, Mni. Swear to it, and I will do the same.¡±

    Angharad did, and under her quelling eyes the others did the same. Lan was sent stumbling through the doorway, bleeding shallowly from the neck. Ferranda grabbed her and pulled her out of the line of fire. There was another spurt ofughter from inside the gatehouse.

    ¡°Shall we now bargain for us to open the gates for you?¡± Augusto called out. ¡°Unless you want toe and try yourself.¡±

    What she wanted, Angharad thought, was to take antern and set that gatehouse ame. But that might break the mechanism that would let them out, and she was not sure strength alone would be enough to force open the gates. Her other choice was to pass by the heart of Cantica and try Tristan¡¯s postern gate, but that was no true choice. She was not sure exactly where it was and the path was likely to be dangerous.

    That and Augusto was certain to follow behind and try to rally cultists against them, now that he knew where they were.

    They were the entire reason the man was here, Angharad realized. He had been afraid enough of them slipping out of Cantica in the chaos that he was sitting out the battle entirely.

    ¡°Speak your terms,¡± Angharad said, ignoring the rising anger of herpanions.

    ¡°So pliant,¡± Augusto taunted. ¡°You should have been like this from the start, Tredegar. I¡¯ll have another oath from you for the privilege of my tolerance.¡±

    ¡°Then speak it,¡± she replied, losing patience.

    He must have heard it in her voice, for he wasted no more time.

    ¡°You are tomit no violence against me nor allow yourpanions to do the same, or attempt to imprison me nor allow yourpanions to do the same,¡± Augusto said.

    ¡°Under that oath you could walk out and kill me and I would be allowed to do nothing about it,¡± she said. ¡°I refuse.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± he snorted. ¡°The same terms, but violence is allowed in your own defense and that of yourpanions.¡±

    ¡°That is a lifetime oath,¡± she noted. ¡°I will ept it only within the confines of Cantica.¡±

    ¡°The entire ind,¡± Augusto shot back.

    Angharad¡¯s eyes narrowed. He thought to y word-games with a daughter of Peredur? It would cost him.

    ¡°Until twenty-four hours have passed,¡± she offered.

    A heartbeat of hesitation.

    ¡°Agreed.¡±

    They took the oath, and a few momentster the gates began to open.

    Angharad smiled, humming the first few bars of <em>The Fair Wife</em>, and considered the death of Augusto Cerdan.

 Chapter 43

    Chapter 43

    It was a tight squeeze, but Tristan limped out into the alley.

    He was third out of the hole in the wall the mayor made trying to murder Tupoc ¨C an admirable undertaking, regardless of one¡¯s politics or stance on people-eating ¨C and the two that hade out ahead were as much keeping an eye on each other as the empty alley they stood in. The first, Lord Zenzele Duma, was cut of typical Mni cloth: tall, dark eyes, wide nose. Yet his cheeks were gaunt from grief and his soft noble features were gainsaid by the recent flint to his stare.

    He was unharmed save for a bit of soot on his clothes.

    In contrast Tupoc Xical, though as eerily perfect as usual, had suffered from the fight. Ironically not from the devils, two of which he had in with whoops of joy, but from the volley the cultists had unloaded blindly into the Last Rest: he¡¯d been shot twice, one bullet in his right shoulder near the edge of his breastte and the other in the opposite thigh. Either should have knocked the man out of the fight but Tristan could see that the shoulder shot, from which Tupoc had casually ripped out the bullet, already looked like it was mending.

    Not as quickly as it allegedly had in other circumstances, though. Was it because he had two wounds this time? <em>Can the contract only heal a limited quantity of flesh at a time?</em> Either way, while the Izcalli was steady on his feet he had chewed up limbs and his spear needed two arms to use. No wonder he was keeping a careful eye on Zenzele.

    Maryam was next out of the hole in the wall that Mayor Crespin had meant to be in Tupoc¡¯s head ¨C with such a keen eye for popr policies, it was no wonder the devil had been elected mayor ¨C and she coughed from the smoke as he helped her into the street. She¡¯d gotten a bad knock on the head when the devil was tossed into the firing line that Tristan had been a nominal participant in, but her eyes no longer seemed as dazed. She nodded her thanks.

    ¡°Your leg?¡± she rasped out.

    ¡°Good enough to walk,¡± Tristan said.

    He¡¯d got a bad roll of the dice when he pulled on his contract to force Cozme Aflor to get stuck on their side of the inferno: a chunk of copsing ceiling had hit the man¡¯s feet, which had vored his bacsh. The spray of wooden shards from a splintering board had hit mostly flesh, but he¡¯d still had to tie cloth around his leg just above the knee to prevent his trousers being soaked in blood. They had not moved far from the hole in the wall, so when thest of them squeezed through he overheard the talk.

    ¡°My thanks for the help,¡± Cozme panted out, patting his clothes into order.

    He he¡¯d lost his musket during the chaos, by the looks of it.

    ¡°If you had not tugged me back, that chunk of ceiling would have caught my head.¡±

    Tristan winced, which the older man took as sympathy, but was in truth over the prospect of how vicious his contract bacsh would have been over that. The thief nodded back at Cozme, too on the edge to feign deeperpanionship.

    ¡°We need to move,¡± Zenzele Duma cut in, voice tense. ¡°I do not see Lady Angharad or the others, which means-¡±

    ¡°We make our own way out,¡± Tupoc cut in with a drawl. ¡°Obviously.¡±

    It seemed such a petty, pointless offence that Tristan was tempted to dismiss it as Tupoc being habitually unpleasant but the watchfulness of the Izcalli¡¯s eyes revealed that to be a lie. <em>A test</em>, Tristan decided. <em>He¡¯s prodding Zenzele to see how close the man is to drawing on him.</em> By how the Mni¡¯s hand tightened around the grip of his sword, the answer was very close indeed.

    ¡°The postern gate is on the west side of town,¡± Tristan said. ¡°The most direct route takes us through a street just short of the town square, however, so I would suggest cutting across town and circling around the north instead.¡±

    ¡°A longer trip will be more dangerous,¡± Cozme said.

    There was crashing sound to their side as another chunk of ceiling copsed inside the Last Rest, prompting a furious scream from the mayor and panicked shouting from the cultists still contesting the legitimacy of his election. Maryam cleared her throat.

    ¡°Let¡¯s argue further away from that,¡± she croaked out, pointing at the mess.

    Sound advice, which they all took. Heeding the thief¡¯s suggestion of cutting east across town instead of keeping west, where the alleys often turned into dead ends meeting the palisade, the five of them fled. Tupoc took the lead, likely as much to keep his distance from the others as because he preferred the vanguard, and while Maryam kept Cozme distracted Tristan drifted towards the back.

    Before he could so much as speak a word, Lord Zenzele Duma frowned down at him.

    ¡°You are a headache, did you know?¡± Zenzele said. ¡°Half the people I speak to think you are a champion in the making, the other half that you are a feckless poison.¡±

    Tristan cocked an eyebrow. Not even a poisoner ¨C which admittedly he was ¨C but poison outright. A bold im.

    ¡°And you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I am uncertain,¡± Zenzele grunted. ¡°Which is disconcerting for more reasons than you know.¡±

    Oh? That smelled of a contract, a morsel he might have liked to nibble at in other circumstances. Unfortunately, he must keep to greater concerns.

    ¡°I am a rat, that is all,¡± Tristan shrugged. ¡°But, it seems to me, a rat who might share some interests with you.¡±

    Bait had been set out but Zenzele Duma did not bite it. Instead the Mni noble kept silent, eyes flicking back and forth across thin air as if parsing out the invisible. An ill omen.

    ¡°What is it that makes you want to kill Cozme Aflor so very badly?¡± Zenzele suddenly asked.

    Tristan stilled. He had been excruciatingly careful never to be outwardly hostile to the man. Even when he had spoken against Cozme during the discussion in the town square, it had been as part of several ¨C and Yong¡¯s broadsides at him afterwards should have distracted most from remembering it besides. Even now, approaching the Mni, he had not given a name. <em>And Tupoc is the one who tried to get me killed for Jun¡¯s death, so he should be the first guess.</em>

    This was the work of a pact, and the thought that one might allow Zenzele Duma to see through his every fa?ade was¡­ ufortable. Like learning your shirt had been split open at the back the whole time.

    ¡°Guesswork,¡± Tristan said, forcing his tone to be dismissive.

    But he had hesitated for a second too long, he already knew, and Zenzele rolled his eyes.

    ¡°You want to use me,¡± the noble stated. ¡°Send me after Tupoc while you go for him so he cannot intervene.¡±

    That was an unpleasantly urate read of his intentions.

    Tristan swallowed, looking for anything at all on the man¡¯s face he could use but finding no purchase. Zenzele Duma¡¯s grief had been open, his hatreds were known and his recent friendships were obvious, yet the thief found through these nothing at all to move him. The thief looked away, deeply unsettled. Everything he had learned, been taught, told him that Zenzele Dum should be easy to leverage. Instead he was finding that the man¡¯s forthrightness had whittled away every grip, leaving him too slippery to move.

    ¡°I owe him a debt,¡± Tristan reluctantly said. ¡°The bloody kind.¡±

    Zenzele considered that.

    ¡°As a servant of the Cerdan or on his own ount?¡±

    ¡°Oh, very much his,¡± Tristan murmured.

    Zenzele grunted.

    ¡°You do not strike me as man to whom hatees easy,¡± the Mni said, rolling a shoulder. ¡°I will presume it was earned.¡±

    He spat to the side, into the mud of the street.

    ¡°I want Sarai¡¯s help,¡± he said. ¡°Wounded or not, he might well kill me otherwise.¡±

    Practical of the man.

    ¡°She is no fighter even with Signs,¡± he warned. ¡°But a distraction can be arranged.¡±

    The noble looked like he wanted to push for more, but Tristan was only willing to promise so much and it must have shown on his face. There were other ways to line up his knife with Cozme Aflor¡¯s back, this was simply the most expedient.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Zenzele said. ¡°Signal me when the timees.¡±

    Tristan nodded back. However tense the conversation he found that in practice they had barely spent half a street quietly speaking. Tupoc had them turning a corner short two streets short of the piled lumber hiding the gaol, to head straight north as the thief had earlier suggested and no one cared to contest any longer. It was there they first ran into more than the distant sound of musket shots: a dozen ves, bearing makeshift clubs and field tools, filled the street before them. They turned, faces rmed, and before anyone could so much as raise a weapon Tupoc stepped forward. He lowered his spear, saying something in the same cant he had used earlier, and it gave the hollows pause.

    Their leader, a grey-haired woman with broad shoulders, asked something harshly. Tupoc shrugged, replying, and there were a few more terse exchanges before the hollows began to make room for them to pass through the street.

    ¡°Tupoc?¡± the thief asked.

    ¡°I made it known we have fought devils as well,¡± the Izcalli said. ¡°That earned us some goodwill.¡±

    ¡°They will let us cross?¡± Cozme asked.

    ¡°So they said,¡± Tupoc cheerfully said. ¡°Though I would keep my weapons in hand, were I you.¡±

    The hollows seemed as wary of them as the other way around, both sides eyeing each other until their group of five had passed the former ves. The five of them hurried once they were clear, the hollows watching them go. Tupoc gestured for them to slow as soon as they had turned a corner.

    ¡°They also let us pass because they are heading for the battle,¡± the Izcalli said. ¡°Their captain seems to believe that the Red Eye cult is winning.¡±

    ¡°ves and savages against a pack of devils?¡± Cozme skeptically said. ¡°It will be a massacre even with the numbers on their side.¡±

    ¡°There are still sounds of fighting in the distance,¡± Maryam pointed out. ¡°Something must be evening the scales for there to be no clear victor.¡±

    ¡°We saw the warband that is now attacking Cantica when we made our way here,¡± Tristan slowly said. ¡°They had a priestess with them, a woman the other cultists seemed to fear.¡±

    ¡°Pacts with old gods are dangerous things,¡± Tupoc said, tone unusually serious. ¡°That which has no restraint in price yields none in power.¡±

    Thatst sentence had sounded oddly cadenced, likely a quote. They began moving north again, skirting the edge of town to get around the fighting in the middle, but soon ran into cultists against. One cultist, more specifically, marked with ritual scarification from head to toe and trying to harangue a group of cowering ves hiding out in the garden behind a house into joining their way. He turned his anger and his spear their way, shouting in some cant, but whatever he might have been about to say was cut short.

    Cozme shot him in the gut without missing a beat.

    He blew the smoke off his pistol¡¯s barrel as the ves screamed in fear, some scattering while others ttened themselves behind rows of cabbage.

    ¡°That should have been dework,¡± Tupoc tightly said. ¡°Someone will have heard you.¡±

    ¡°There are shots all over town,¡± Cozme dismissed.

    ¡°But not from here,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Let us pick up the pace before someone thinks to question that.¡±

    He slid by Maryam as their strides quickened. She cocked an eyebrow his way and he wasted no time quietly filling her in on the bargain with Zenzele. She grimaced.

    ¡°I will not use a Sign on Tupoc,¡± she murmured. ¡°It is too dangerous.¡±

    He did not hide his surprise. She had not mentioned him to be dangerous in that regard before.

    ¡°That spear of his,¡± Maryam said, ¡°I saw it go right through a devil¡¯s carapace. I think the head is candlesteel.¡±

    ¡°I have never heard of it,¡± Tristan admitted.

    ¡°Izcalli will not reveal how they make it,¡± she said, ¡°but supposedly it has something to do with their infamous candles. The material is death on aether ¨C even the solid kind devils are made of ¨C and it¡¯s only marginally kinder to Gloam, so no Signs anywhere near him.¡±

    Considering Leander Gtas had exploded his own arm when a Sign of his broke back on the Bluebell, that seemed wise.

    ¡°Any kind of distraction will do,¡± he whispered.

    A moment of hesitation, then she nodded.

    ¡°I will not be sticking around,¡± Maryam informed him. ¡°The moment they fight, I run.¡±

    ¡°I expected no less,¡± he said. ¡°Besides-¡±

    In the distance there was a burst of fire and light as a burning house copsed, stopping them in their tracks as the brightness revealed a slice of nightmare near the town square. Screaming devils twined in red string were fighting against others of their kind while scarred cultists in a phnx kept away more of the creatures from their wildlyughing priestess, whose hands seemed to direct the puppeteered devils. Steel and powder faced a tide of ws and ripped shells, more hollows with makeshift weapons streaming from all sides to throw themselves into the fight.

    ¡°You might have been right about taking the long away around,¡± Cozme conceded into the silence.

    ¡°Kind of you to say,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°But let us-¡±

    For the second time in less than a minute he was interrupted, again by the copse of a house near the town square. Only that one had not been on fire a moment ago. With a faint whistling sound a second shell fell down, striking the melee at the heart of the town. The impact ttened a devil and turned three men to pulp.

    Far to the north the night filled with light as the Watch¡¯s cannons began raining down fire on Cantica.

    <em>Why would they</em>, Tristan began to think, but before he finished the question he already had the answer. Maryam had told him that in Three Pines the Watch had some kind of Antediluvian wonder that could see things afar. Of course they had used it after the copse of the mountain, and used it on Cantica in particr ¨C it was where survivors would be heading. They must already know that the devils broke the terms and that the town was being conquered by the cult of the Red Maw.

    The devils had been right, in a way: the Watch<em> had</em> written off the trial for this year. Only they¡¯d been written off with it.

    ¡°We need to get out of this cursed town right now,¡± Cozme hissed.

    ¡°Everyone will be rushing to the postern gate now,¡± Tupoc calmly noted. ¡°It is closest to the town square.¡±

    Meaning going that way was certain death. And looming trouble for Angharad¡¯s crew, if they used that side of the town to circle north towards the meeting point. Which he thought most likely, since the other group would be expecting <em>them </em>to leave through that same gate. That might well turn into a disaster, the thief thought, but it was not one he could do anything about.

    ¡°Straight to the front gate,¡± Tristan said.

    The world went bright.

    It was a heartbeat before Tristan realized he was on the ground, his ears ringing. The house ahead of him was a shattered, burning wreck and he threw up on the ground. He could barely focus his eyes as he crawled away, limbs trembling. Had he dropped something? His bag was still on his back, but¡­ He saw silhouettes moving, someone helping him up. Maryam, he saw, looking worried.

    ¡°-r me?¡± she was asking. ¡°Tristan?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he croaked. ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±

    ¡°You were lucky,¡± she said. ¡°If that had hit ten feet to the right, you would be pulp.¡±

    ¡°Lucky,¡± he repeated, rasping out augh.

    The others were¡­ Tupoc was on his knees but pushing himself up. Cozme seemed fine, though he was looking strangely at Zenzele who¡­ had his sword in hand as he moved behind the Izcalli.

    ¡°That,¡± Zenzele Duma coldly said, ¡°will do.¡±

    He rammed the de into Tupoc¡¯s back, but the pale-eyed man twisted at thest moment. It was a wound, not a kill, and with augh the Izcalli swatted Zenzele¡¯s leg. They fell, wrestling. A curse, and Tristan watched with wide eyes as Cozme Aflor <em>bolted</em>. He cursed in turn, pushing himself off Maryam, and his eye caught a glint of light on metal. His pistoly where he¡¯d fallen, mes reflecting off it.

    Yong¡¯s pistol, thest piece of the bridge had had burned.

    Cozme was getting away, every breath furthering the distance.

    His stomach clenched. Tristan looked at Maryam, found those blue eyes on him, and swallowed.

    ¡°Go,¡± she said. ¡°Finish it. I will collect if we live.¡±

    He licked his lips.

    ¡°You know where I¡¯ll be,¡± he said.

    And off he ran after Cozme, snatching Zenzele¡¯s abandonedntern as he went.

    --

    He ran through the nightmare, pursuing an older one.

    Smoke and fire and screams, Cozme Aflor¡¯s silhouette just far enough ahead with every breath he suffered the fear of losing him. The man was heading straight for the front gate, in as clean a line as he could, but the thief knew it would not work. Both devils and cultists would be heading for the postern to the west, but once one side had the clear advantage of that skirmish the losing one would be headed to the other way out.

    To Tristan¡¯s surprise, it proved to be the devils that lost out.

    Cozme hastily stopped and slid behind a couple of barrelse loose from a pile as a pair of devils still in their corpses came running out of arger street, bickering in Antigua as they ran for the front gate. Tristan saw the grimace on the older man¡¯s face even before he slid down by his side. Cozme stiffened, hand reaching for his de, but Tristany a finger on his lips. The older man bit the inside of his cheek, remembering that evils had uncanny hearing, and conceded with a curt nod.

    They waited until the devils were out of sight.

    ¡°Why did you follow me, rat?¡± Cozme bit out when he finally felt safe.

    A shell hit a few blocks to the east, both of them flinching as a house shattered.

    ¡°You think I want to be in the middle of that brawl?¡± Tristan replied. ¡°I want <em>out </em>of this town ce, Aflor.¡±

    ¡°Find your own way,¡± Cozme grunted.

    ¡°My way was the front gate, same as you,¡± Tristan replied, sounding impatient. ¡°Only it won¡¯t work, will it? It¡¯ll be full of devils with the same bloody idea.¡±

    Another shell fell, further away. They still tensed at the sound. Tristan licked his lips, made himself look nervous.

    ¡°Look, I might know a ce to hide out away from the bombardment,¡± he said. ¡°Found it with Xical and Tredegar.¡±

    The mustachioed man stared at him.

    ¡°The underground gaol,¡± he said. ¡°The one where you found first found the ves.¡±

    Tristan nodded.

    ¡°It should be empty now,¡± he said. ¡°The cultists would have hit it first, those prisoners were sure recruits.¡±

    Cozme slowly nodded, face never wavering, and a heartbeatter Tristan had a knife at his throat. Gods, he¡¯d not even seen the other man unsheathing it. Groggy as he was from the shell earlier, that was sloppy of him.

    ¡°Why?¡± Cozme asked suspiciously. ¡°Why run after me to share this and not simply go yourself?¡±

    Tristan bit his lip, made himself look aside. <em>Look how embarrassed I am</em>, he thought.

    ¡°Because I can¡¯t defend the ce,¡± he said, feigning bitterness. ¡°If cultists go there, or a devil-¡±

    ¡°They will trounce you,¡± the older man finished, sounding thoughtful. ¡°And the foreign girl¡¯s near as useless, it¡¯s true, so she was not worth bringing along.¡±

    A shell hit something a few blocks over, screams sounding out. Cozme took away the knife.

    ¡°All right,¡± he said. ¡°Lead me to the gaol, Tristan.¡±

    --

    The ce stank of mud and filth, but that was only to be expected.

    It wasrge enough that the two of them could have a few feet between them, and through the open hatch half-covered by wood they could see the bombardment still lighting up the night. Until the Watch was done hammering away at Cantica, it would have been madness to leave their hiding ce. Maryam should be headed this way as well, soon enough, so Tristan must end it before then.

    He did not want his friend in the middle of this.

    The bare stone room they sat in was about ten feet long and teen feet wide, a rough square, and there was nothing inside save for the open door leading into the deeper gaol full of shit and straw. Tristan had Zenzele¡¯sntern at his side, almost entirely shuttered so it could not draw attention.

    Cozme still had his sword and knife, but no longer his musket and his pistol had not been loaded since he¡¯d killed a cultist with it. Tristan himself was down to his ckjack and knife. He did have needles in his bag, but a subtle blow with them would be nigh impossible in a ce like this.

    Cozme Aflor was a fit man with two inches on Tristan, and though in his fifties the soldier was a hardened killer grown long in the tooth doing the dirty work of House Cerdan: in a straight fight Tristan would lose, and what could there be but a straight fight in a room of bare stone?

    Fortunately, Tristan still had thest of Abu¡¯s gift. Two vials: bearded cat extract and medical turpentine.

    He palmed his vial of bearded cat extract and quietly uncorked it, dripping the liquid into the shutteredntern. The entire dose went in there, enough to drive a dozen men mad for an hour, but it would barely be enough for what he needed. The dose he could deliver by a needle or a knife would be too slow to act, but Alvareno¡¯s Dosages was full of interesting notes about the substances it rmended for a poison box.

    Like, for example, that when left near a source of heat for the correct amount of time bearded cat tincture turned into a kind of vtile smoke very sensitive to temperature. Tristan discreetly got rid of the empty vial and waited for Cozme to be looking up through the hatch to take off his tricorn. The other hand he kept on the lever that moved the shutters.

    ¡°Cozme,¡± he whispered.

    The moment his enemy turned, he pulled the lever. The shutters opened and with the difference in temperature ¨C hot in, cold out - white smoke came billowing out furiously. Tristan covered his face with his tricorn, throwing himself back, but still felt smoke lick at his skin in the few heartbeats before it dispersed. His skin grew red and welted wherever it was touched, the sensation deeply unpleasant.

    It was probably why Cozme Aflor was screaming, as it¡¯d gone right into his eyes.

    Most of the mind-altering properties were lost when the extract was made into smoke ¨C it caused barely a tingling sensation, instead of hallucinations and violent bouts of emotion ¨C but it <em>did </em>be significantly more acid. Tossing aside his hat, Tristan found Cozme clutching at his eyes and palmed his ckjack,ing closer to aim a blow.

    The man moved, though, and what should have been a hard strike on the side of the head instead caught his shoulder. Cozme reacted swiftly, grabbing his wrist and yanking Tristan forward. Keeping silent save for grunt of efforts, the thief wrestled with the old killer. An elbow hit his chin and he hissed in pain, striking at the flesh under Cozme¡¯s ribs in retaliation, but then the mustachioed man headbutted him.

    Vision swimming, Tristan rolled away only to hear the sound of a knife leaving the sheath. He kept rolling, Cozme blindly stabbing at the ground where he had just been, and grit his teeth. He¡¯d heard Cozme beat a god in a knife-fight, out in the maze. Even with the other man blind he doubted he would win.

    ¡°I knew there was something off about, you little shit,¡± Cozme snarled. ¡°Who was it that hired you, the Ruesta?¡±

    Tristan drew further back and held his breath, but he knew that would notst long. The older man¡¯s eyes were closed and cringing, but he might still be able to see some and the pain would pass. His gaze swept the room, finding it bare save for one thing. Swallowing, he bet on a gamble: Tristan threw his ckjack against the wall to Cozme¡¯s left, and while the man struck blindly there darted to right. Where he snatched up thentern, swinging the mass of forged iron Cozme¡¯s head even as the man turned back his way.

    It caught him right in the cheekbone, crunching most satisfyingly as Cozme Aflor dropped to the ground.

    Oil went spilling, ame, but hit only stone. It would keep. Tristan dropped thentern, just carefully enough it wouldn¡¯t spill, and kicked the knife out of Cozme¡¯s hand as the many moaning on the ground. He kicked the man in the stomach, making him curl, and took his sword out of the sheath before tossing into the other room.

    In the distance, the fires of the ckcloak artillery burned.

    Tristan went about it methodically. Booting down he broke the right knee, the older man screaming hoarsely. Then he broke the left arm, at the elbow. That should be enough to prevent Cozme overpowering him. Finally baring his own knife, he sat on the man¡¯s chest and rested the de against this throat.

    ¡°Fool,¡± Cozme croaked. ¡°The bitch is dead, do you really think the Ruesta will still pay you?¡±

    ¡°I have no agreement with House Ruesta,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Our business, Cozme Aflor, is much older than that.¡±

    The man blinked, eyes red and tearing.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Cozme rasped.

    ¡°My name,¡± he coldly said, ¡°is Tristan Abrascal.¡±

    It had been years, more than a decade, but still the old killer remembered. It barely took him a moment. Tristan might have cut him, if not for that.

    ¡°The violinist,¡± Cozme said. ¡°Tomas Abrascal, gods. You¡¯re the son.¡±

    ¡°I am the boy who was hiding under a table when you put a bullet in his father¡¯s head,¡± Tristan told him. ¡°He¡¯d been so strange, thosest few weeks. Mother kept crying and I worried, thought he might sick. So I followed him, thinking as children do that I would protect him.¡±

    Cozme rasped out augh.

    ¡°Manes,¡± he said. ¡°He was close to losing it, so we brought him in through the trap door. There weren¡¯t any guards in that house - you saw that fucking ughterhouse, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    If Tristan lived to be five hundred years, he would not forget what he had seen down there. Children in pieces, strapped to stables and hooked to copper wires. Barrels of limbs, pools of blood. Men with more parts sown on than not and that¡­ thing held up in the air by golden chains so no part of it could touch the ground.

    ¡°I told them a second entrance was a terrible idea,¡± Cozme said, ¡°but Ceferin insisted. We couldn¡¯t keep bringing people in through the warehouse, people would ask questions.¡±

    ¡°Theogony,¡± Tristan said. ¡°That¡¯s what you four called it, when you had your little talk. What were you doing down there, Cozme? What was it all for?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, kid,¡± Cozme tiredly said. ¡°I just ran the guards, Ceret was the one with the grand ns. They put me in charge of finding Murk folk who already had contract, then Lord Lorent introduced them to the Almsgiver.¡±

    Tristan stilled, for at longst he had the fifth name on his list. The name of the god that had its filthy hands all over this butchery, that had contracted with his father knowing it would kill him.

    ¡°The god that gave out the contracts, this Almsgiver,¡± he said. ¡°Was it a Mane, Cozme?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Cozme replied, too quickly.

    ¡°<em>Tell me</em>,¡± the thief hissed.

    The older manughed, onlyughing harder when Tristan pressed his knife harshly against his throat.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to kill me anyway, Abrascal,¡± Cozme said. ¡°Your threats mean nothing.¡±

    Tristan shed through his eyes, the man screaming and struggling. Cozme was stronger, but blind and in pain. It was not a straight fight.

    ¡°Pain always means something, Cozme,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°Tell me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t fucking know, kid,¡± the older man rasped. ¡°I was just ran the guards.¡±

    Whether that was true or not he could not tell, but he sensed he would get no more out of Cozme. A dead end, but he was not yet out of questions.

    ¡°You were there when they closed it down,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Moved out. Where did they go, Cozme? Where are they butchering children now?¡±

    ¡°Somewhere out in the Trebian Sea,¡± Cozmeughed. ¡°I never asked. Never cared. I¡¯d paid my dues, I was on the rise.¡±

    ¡°Not for long,¡± Tristan thinly smiled.

    Else he would not have been send to the Dominion of Lost Things, risking life and limb for favor.

    ¡°Never for long,¡± the man said. ¡°That¡¯s the way, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    The thief¡¯s lips thinned.

    ¡°Do you even regret any of it?¡± he asked.

    Cozme snorted.

    ¡°I lived like a lord for years,¡± he said. ¡°Rich, respected. I might even have married into a good family, if I hadn¡¯t got cocky at the end. <em>Regrets</em>, Abrascal?¡±

    He wasughing.

    ¡°You think you¡¯re the only one with mud on your shoes, rat? Regrets, gods.¡±

    The blinded man offered a red, ruinous smile.

    ¡°The hungry bite,¡± Cozme Aflor rasped, ¡°the beggared snatch, the cornered-¡±

    Tristan twisted, cut his throat before he could finish the words. He watched the man gurgle, blood spill out, and said not a word as his father¡¯s executioner died. Father, he had been half-mad at the end. One eye gone yellow, a leg growing warped. It had been a mercy in some way, what Cozme did, and for that Tristan did not make his death slow.

    But he did not make it quick either.

    And only when the gurgling ended, when Cozme went still and his began to stiffen, did he finally tear his eyes away.

    ¡°Three,¡± Tristan softly counted.

    May his father be spun smiling by the Circle into his next life.

    He sat by the corpse, silent, waiting for Maryam to join him ¨C perhaps with Zenzele, if the man still lived. And when he closed his eyes, when he thought of the sound of that trigger being pulled and Father¡¯s brains sttering the floor mere inches away from his little feet, of the way he had bit his lip until it bled so he¡¯d not make a sound, the scales felt slightly closer to even.

    ¡°Laurent Cerdan,¡± he whispered into the dark. ¡°Lauriana Ceret. Ceferin.¡±

    All old names, worn from the speaking. And now there was one more to add.

    ¡°The Almsgiver,¡± he tried out.

    It sounded, Tristan thought, like a promise.

 Chapter 44

    Chapter 44

    The woods around Cantica had been cleared, leaving no true cover close to the palisade.

    The five of them instead gathered around a half-abandoned firepit about thirty feet out, roughly to the west of the town. It had a rack propped up over it that Ferranda said was for smoking meat, and they all felt a little sick at the thought of what kind of meat that might mean. Devils were said to prefer eating men whilst they lived, but they were not above feasting on corpses. Regardless of that understated horror, the pause was most wee. They were all tired and out of breath, in stark need of reprieve.

    Not that it was only that, for now that the enemy was out of sight Angharad¡¯s oaths were put to the question.

    ¡°This was badly done, Tredegar,¡± Shalini bit out. ¡°You-¡±

    ¡°She didn¡¯t promise a thing, Goel,¡± Lan cut in. ¡°Our good lordling swore to return me unharmed, yeah?¡±

    The Tianxi pointed at the cut on her neck.

    ¡°He let her out of the oath before he even agreed to it.¡±

    Eyes turned to her and Angharad shrugged.

    ¡°I expected him to catch the detail and amend the wording,¡± she admitted. ¡°I agreed because the oath was easy to negate regardless: we could simply warn the Watch that one of the trial-takers feigned their death, then point at every other deceased from the Bluebell manifest and specify it was not them.¡±

    So long as Augusto was not outright named, the oath was not broken.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Shalini finally said. ¡°He¡¯s the one who asked for that wording, I¡¯m surprised he didn¡¯t think of that.¡±

    ¡°He was on edge,¡± Lan told them. ¡°Even more than you¡¯d think. He kept talking to himself and the cultists avoided being anywhere near him.¡±

    ¡°I do not think his contract did heal him,¡± Song said, and that earned instant attention.

    Angharad knew more about the Tianxi¡¯s pact than most, but by now most everyone had figured out that those silver eyes gave her insight into the workings of spirits.

    ¡°The Red Eye, it is a god of feeding,¡± she continued. ¡°When Felis bargained with it his wound was not healed, he closed it with some sort of red crystal that fed on his body. Why would Augusto Cerdan get a better bargain, when he would have bargained from even worse a position?¡±

    ¡°He had a hole through his body, Song,¡± Ferranda tly said. ¡°He no longer does.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s actually true,¡± the Tianxi replied. ¡°I think that his wounds are still there but that he can fill them up - but that, like the Red Eye, he must keep feeding for them to <em>stay</em> filled.¡±

    Lan let out a low whistle.

    ¡°So the old god¡¯s a loan shark,¡± she said. ¡°Our boy Augusto has to keep what, eating human flesh so what grew back doesn¡¯t whither? No wonder he thinks the Watch will blow his brains out if they catch him.¡±

    ¡°Something like that,¡± Song agreed. ¡°I imagine his pact lends him a way to feed at a touch, if the cultists feareding close.¡±

    ¡°We should take care to avoid getting close to him, then,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°You say that like you are not nning to kill him before night¡¯s end,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°Though I will admit I am not sure how you would get around the terms.

    ¡°That oath does seem pretty straightforward,¡± Shalini agreed, cocking an eyebrow. ¡°Tredegar?¡±

    The terms were simple enough, that was true. She was tomit no violence against Augusto Cerdan nor allow herpanions to do the same, or attempt to imprison him nor allow herpanions to do the same, until twenty four hours had passed. Only he had not though to anchor the oath in-

    In the distance, the night lit up with thunder.

    No, she realized. Not thunder. These were cannons. And the shattering cacophony inside Cantica revealed exactly what they were being turned on, sowing fire and screams. The five of them went still, like rabbits before a wolf, as bombardment began in earnest from north of the town. Where they had been headed.

    ¡°Those are <em>guchui</em> rounds,¡± Song finally spoke into the silence.

    Shalini breathed in sharply.

    ¡°Thunder shells?¡± she said. ¡°I thought the Republics kept a tight lid on those.¡±

    ¡°They sell them to the Watch,¡± Lan said, with strange certainty. ¡°Sometimes the crates are kept in Sacromonte warehouses until they can be distributed to the right Garrison force.¡±

    Angharad could feel the capital letter on Garrison, even in Antigua. It was not unwarranted, for though the freepanies of the Watch made up the majority of its numbers the ruling council of the ckcloaks, the Conve,manded the singlergest number of soldiers in ck cloaks. They must, to protect their Trebian territories and uphold their duties under the Iscariot ords.

    The soldiers of the Garrison were considered second-ratepared to the more mourouspany men, Angharad knew, but that only meant so much. Getting bit by a hound instead of a wolf was hardly kinder on the hand.

    It urred to the noblewoman a momentter that Lan, given her unseemly origins, might well be so certain because she had participated in robbing the Watch. It was somewhat embarrassing it had taken her so long to catch that, but for all the woman¡¯s Sacromontan quirks she had to admit that Lan did not act much like she had imagined a criminal would. She was clean and well-spoken, not constantly drunk and disorderly, and as far as Angharad could tell she was not constantly lying.

    It would be a stretch to call her an honorable woman, but Angharad would hesitate to say she was even half as detestable as the likes of Augusto Cerdan, to whom she had once so thoughtlessly granted the presumption of honor.

    ¡°If the Watch is shelling Cantica, it¡¯ll be to soften up the opposition before they storm it,¡± Shalini said. ¡°That means they have troops on the way, probablye from Three Pines.¡±

    ¡°Which means we could take refuge with them if we head north,¡± Lady Ferranda said. ¡°That seems the wisest course left open to us.¡±

    ¡°That path takes us by the postern gate,¡± Angharad said. ¡°The others will be trying to evacuate through there, it seems to me we could attempt to join up on the way.¡±

    She had expected to have to fight some of the others for this, particrly Shalini and Ferranda, but they found the two quite agreeable to the suggestion. <em>Zenzele is still with the others</em>, she realized after a moment. It was Lan that objected, though in words carefully coached to give no offense.

    ¡°I do not mean to linger overlong,¡± Angharad assured her. ¡°Only to ascertain if we might bolster our numbers on the way north.¡±

    ¡°There will be a lot of rats trying to leave that sinking ship, Lady Tredegar,¡± Lan warned her. ¡°We¡¯re just as likely to run into enemies as friends.¡±

    It was true, she knew, but yet worth trying. As everyone save Lan shared her opinion, there was no further debate and they headed out briskly. Cantica was not sorge that it would take long to get past the town, and they were already on the right side to reach the postern gate anyhow. It was but the work of minutes to make their way there on yellow grass, weapons out and eyes wary. The postern gate was carefully hidden from the outside, made to look part of the palisade, but their crew had the advantage of having Song among it so Angharad hardly worried of finding it.

    Even that hardly proved unnecessary, as there was no missing the gate when they got there: it was wide open.

    Eyes sweeping their surroundings, Angharad found nothing but an expanse of empty yellow grass from the edge of the woods to their west and the palisade to their east. The open grounds continued to the north in a wide curve until they reached the continuation of the beaten earth road leading to the port of Three Pines. Inside the town, past the palisade, they could hear the roar of mes and the asional shot as the Watch¡¯s bombardment continued to methodically demolish Cantica.

    ¡°They might have left it open after Augusto let them in,¡± Lady Ferranda said.

    ¡°Smells like ambush,¡± Shalini grunted back, shaking her head.

    ¡°No sign of ourpanions,¡± Lan said. ¡°We should move on.¡±

    Angharad hesitated. She liked the look of this no more than Shalini, but an empty field was no reason to leave behindrades. They could at least-

    ¡°Movement,¡± Song suddenly said, musket rising.

    Only she was not looking at the open gate, Angharad realized, but the woods.

    From which a cultist warband was charging out.

    --

    He wasn¡¯t sure how long he sat there in the dark, with only a shutteredntern withpany, but it was a relief when someone craned their neck past the edge of the trap door.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re down there, because if you aren¡¯t I¡¯m going to have to drop him and I¡¯m not sure he¡¯ll live,¡± Maryam called out.

    ¡°Please do not,¡± Zenzele Duma croaked. ¡°I will most <em>definitely </em>die.¡±

    Huh, he thought as he got on his feet. The Mni had lived, fancy that.

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit,¡± Tristan called back, ¡°even opening with a sword in the back, I figured Tupoc would kill you.¡±

    ¡°Stop taunting him and help me get him down thatdder,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Thest shell hit just a few blocks away, I do not care to stay out here.¡±

    He opened thentern¡¯s shutters and moved to lend a hand as had been requested. And a hand was most definitely needed, for Zenzele Duma looked as if he had been thrown down a hill made of des. He no longer bore his coat and his shirt was ripped clean through, revealing a nasty gut wound as well as a deep cut that went from the side of his torso to right below the hollow of his neck. Tristan thought one of his arms might be broken as well, for he used only one to move down thedder, but found it was truly because the Mni was cradling something in his hand.

    It was only when Zenzele turned to be helped down thest rungs that the thief saw the worst wound of them all: his right eye had been ripped through, roughly enough it must be the work of nails and not a de. Tristan swallowed.

    ¡°Not a pretty sight, is it?¡± Zenzele weaklyughed. ¡°And I did not even kill the bastard while he might well have killed <em>me</em>, had cultists note looking because of Cozme¡¯s shot. That and Lady Sarai¡¯s priceless help, of course.¡±

    ¡°Call me Maryam,¡± she said as she came down thedder, closing the trapdoor behind her. ¡°I suppose that game has finally run its course.¡±

    She nced at the Mni, not harshly but without much kindness either.

    ¡°And it was luck on your part, Duma. If I hadn¡¯t run into them myself I wouldn¡¯t have doubled back and found you lying there.¡±

    Tristan helped the man to lower himself and sit against the wall, still clutching something in his hand.

    ¡°Try stabbing the head first, next time,¡± Tristan advised. ¡°Works better than the back.¡±

    Zenzele convulsed, letting out a ragged wheezing sound.

    ¡°Sleeping God, Tristan, don¡¯t make meugh,¡± he said. ¡°I think it makes my inside bleed.¡±

    The thief mercifully spared him further amusement, finding Maryam looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°I did get something from him, yes,¡± Zenzele muttered, seeming to talk to no one in particr. ¡°He will remember it.¡±

    And the dark-skinned man finally loosened his grip, smiling as he revealed the eye on the palm of his hand. It was cut up and red, but Tristan had seen that eerie paleness often enough to recognize it. That was Tupoc Xical¡¯s eye, he was sure of it. Zenzele murmured unintelligibly after that, staring at nothing as he sagged against the stone.

    ¡°He dips in and out of things,¡± Maryam said. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have anything left for pain?¡±

    ¡°Clean out,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I can clean some of his wounds and bandage them, at least.¡±

    ¡°Please do,¡± she said.

    Blue eyes moved to the corner, where the shadows half-cloaked Cozme¡¯s body. Zenzele had been too out of it to notice.

    ¡°Did you get what you wanted?¡± Maryam quietly asked.

    ¡°From him? Enough.¡±

    In the palentern light, the sharp cast and colors of her hardly seemed a woman¡¯s ¨C like sapphires cast in marble, too angr to have been born and not carved.

    ¡°But did you get what you<em> want</em>?¡± she asked again.

    He breathed out.

    ¡°It is not finished,¡± he said. ¡°There are four others left before the ount is settled.¡±

    She sighed.

    ¡°I suppose it was too much to hope you would be done with it,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Will you try for Augusto?¡±

    Tristan shrugged.

    ¡°The Watch will have him marked for death,¡± he said. ¡°I see no pressing need to pull the trigger myself.¡±

    ¡°So you <em>can</em> be taught,¡± she drily said. ¡°Promising.¡±

    The thief licked his lips, unsure of what he had to say but certain of the need for it.

    ¡°Before,¡± he said. ¡°When I left you behind, I-¡±

    ¡°I do not care for apologies,¡± Maryam told him. ¡°I have... I understand the demands the past can make, let us leave it at that. If your actions bring you sorrow, Tristan, do not repeat them. The past is a dead thing.¡±

    He passed a hand through his hair, feeling so very tired.

    ¡°I¡¯ll not excuse or justify,¡± Tristan finally said. ¡°But when I go for the second name, it will be in a manner that does not lead me to regrets.¡±

    She studied him for a moment.

    ¡°My mother always said that no amount of regrets will built a cairn, but she was a hard woman,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Too hard, in some ways. It was why her men gave her up to the Mni at the end.¡±

    He hardly dared breathe, for never before had Maryam spoken a word of her past.

    ¡°It matters, that you regret it,¡± she said. ¡°But only so much. Remember that, next time you stand at that same crossroads.¡±

    The pale woman reached for her bag, iming something inside, and offered it to him. Even in this trembling light, Tristan could not mistake it for anything else: Yong¡¯s pistol, the grip held towards him. The same he¡¯d left in the mud when he ran after Cozme.

    The rat swallowed, licking his cracked lips.

    ¡°You picked it up,¡± he dumbly said.

    Maryam pressed it into his palms, closed his fingers around it.

    ¡°Once,¡± she warned.

    --

    Before Angharad could so much as open her mouth, Lan fled.

    Back the same way they hade: straight south, as fast as her legs could carry her. The noblewoman hesitated then moved to join her, looking at the others. Song caught her by the shoulder.

    ¡°We have to go back in the town,¡± she said. ¡°Now.¡±

    Angharad gaped. There was bravery and then there was foolishness. If everyone was fleeing Cantica, then there might be devils headed for that very postern gate right now. She was not the only to think this madness. The cultists were gaining on them, even if they were still far out. At least a dozen of them, all running.

    ¡°That¡¯s going to get us killed,¡± Shalini said. ¡°Every second we are not running south we-¡±

    A shot rang out and they all flinched.

    ¡°Into the town,¡± Song hissed. ¡°They have muskets, we can¡¯t stay in the open.¡±

    Heart in her throat, Angharad turned and saw exactly what she feared: Lan was on the ground. It was her the cultists had been aiming at. She was still moving, struggling to get up, but the shot had clearly hit here.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± Song began, but she was already running.

    She glimpsed ahead and banked hard to the left to avoid getting shot in the gut, Song putting a bullet in the shooter¡¯s head a heartbeatter. Her legs burned but she ran, glimpsing again. She had to slide low, boots ripping into dead grass to avoid another shot. Song was reloading, could not silence the enemy twice in such quick session.

    Lan turned to her, her side bleeding, and got on her knees. Angharad scrambled back up, glimpsing again, and saw the shot before it happened.

    ¡°Du-¡±

    The bullet took Lan in the cheek, as if some invisible maw bit through flesh and bone, and it was mercy the impact spun her around. What little of that death Angharad had just seen she would not soon forget.

    ¡°-ck,¡± she finished, nauseous.

    ¡°Come back, you damn fool,¡± Song snarled.

    They were going for the door, all three of them, but only Shalini had her eyes on it. Song and Ferranda had their muskets out and were firing at the cultists, covering her still. Three of the warband had split off to go after her, Angharad saw, but she was faster. Her legs were longer. She left them behind, the one who came closest shot in the leg by Ferranda, and Song slew another hollow musketman without batting an eye.

    She caught up to them just as they got to the open postern gate, hollows close on her heels. Shalini was ushering them one after another, eyes calm. Angharad passed her, feeling a hand pat her back, and the Someshwari moved so quickly after that she barely even caught it. A heartbeat, then smoked billowed and Shalini had two pistols in hand.

    Two cultists dropped dead, the others tripping into them, and the Someshwari mmed the door behind them. She locked it after as Angharad stumbled forward, panting from the fear and run and thepanion she had failed to protect. If she had been just a little faster, cut it closer with the shot she had slid to avoid¡­ Ferranda squeezed her shoulder.

    ¡°You tried,¡± the infanzona said. ¡°Eyes up, Angharad. We¡¯re not out of trouble yet.¡±

    She swallowed, shaking off the other woman, but a look around told her that Ferranda Vizur had the right of it.

    They were not out of trouble yet, for before the mud of Cantica¡¯s streets was filled with corpses.

    The sight of that silent spread of death filled her with more dread than the sound of cultists trying to jostle the postern gate open behind them, mming fists against the wood and unloading their muskets. It was not the bombardment that had done this, they could all see it in. The heaps of hollows and devils had been killed the hard way, cracked and cut and pierced. Some devils looked like their torso had been <em>pulped</em>, the remains disgusting to behold.

    ¡°Manes,¡± Ferranda breathed out. ¡°What did this?¡±

    In the distance there was a shrill scream, the sound of it like walking on broken ss. They all flinched.

    ¡°Whatever it was, it is no longer here,¡± Song said. ¡°Best to get gone before it returns.¡±

    In the distance, another shell lit up the dark as it hit Cantica. The bombardment was tapering down, but it was not yet done.

    ¡°We need to leave this town,¡± Angharad said, then sighed. ¡°Again.¡±

    ¡°The main gates, then,¡± Shalini said. ¡°I don¡¯t think our friends outside are going to be letting us pass through.¡±

    As if to agree with her, a cultist unloaded into the door again. Not that muskets would help any there, Angharad thought. The door was thick, solid wood. Odd that they would waste powder on it when that was in to see.

    ¡°I see no better n to be had,¡± Song finally said. ¡°Ferranda?¡±

    ¡°Sounds better than joining them,¡± the infanzona said, nodding at the corpses.

    They set out as quickly and quietly as they could. The fastest path would be south of the main street, but that was too likely to find them a fight. They kept two streets off instead, even if would take them longer with all the detours. Much of the town was on fire, now, and they hardly needed antern to seen. It was why Angharad saw him at the same time he saw them.

    Walking down the street alone, humming, Mayor Crespin had not a mark on him save for some ash on his clothes. Even his shell was pristine, knuckles barely scuffed though there was some blood around his mouth and under his fingernails. The four of them slowed at the sight of him, Ferranda quietly cursing. Angharad¡¯s lips thinned. There was no fire on this part of the street, only dark and empty houses with tiled roofs on both sides.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like the look of that fight,¡± Shalini admitted.

    They would, Angharad suspected, have a choice of whether or not it was to be fought. Before she could call out, the approaching devil broke the silence.

    ¡°You returned,¡± Mayor Crespin said, sounding baffled. ¡°Why ¨C nay, it matters not. Let us put an end to our pointless pver. Cantica has breathed itsst, I must make arrangement.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s jaw tightened.

    ¡°I will get close,¡± she said. ¡°Try to get shots in, pinning him is our best chance.¡±

    ¡°Your best,¡± Crespin replied, revealing rows and rows of teeth, ¡°is not enough.¡±

    There was a sharp whistling sound, a for a moment Angharad hoped a shell was falling. Instead the devil¡¯s hand reared up, catching what she realized was a stone. Polished and the size of a small fist, but very much a stone. The devil let out an amused noise.

    ¡°A slinger?¡± he said, tossing the stone behind him. ¡°How nostalgic.¡±

    He was looking up at the roof to their side, and Angharad followed his gaze. There was a man up there, in a ck cloak. She caught a glimpse of Azn features under the cloak, then the watchman raised a hand. He snapped his fingers and there was sudden buzzing sound.

    Mayor Crespin¡¯s arm down to the elbow, the same that¡¯d caught the stone, was pulped.

    The devil screamed, legs ripping free from his shell like it were paper, but liquid darkness formed a circle with <em>something</em> inside it just above his head. Angharad¡¯s gaze shied away from the Sign, even as the devil turned limp for a heartbeat. A heartbeat was all it took, for another ckcloak emerged from the dark of an alley behind the mayor. They bore a long spear ¨C no, a harpoon. The head was barbed.

    The Sign above the devil dissolved a heartbeat before the harpoon went into his back.

    Crespin screamed and struggled but the watchman danced away. The harpoon did not move, however, as if stuck in the air, and the devil was stuck on<em> it</em>.

    ¡°All yours, lieutenant,¡± the ckcloak said.

    A woman, Angharad caught. There was a Tianxi lilt to her words. The slinger above chuckled, taking his time to ce another stone on a leather strap at the end of a rope and swing it. The stone hit the devil in its head this time, despite Crespin¡¯s desperate struggles. The lieutenant snapped his fingers and buzzing sound returned, even louder.

    A heartbeatter, the devi¡¯s torso was ck mulch and Angharad swallowed, unsure whether she felt disgust or awe.

    ¡°Impressive, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    The noblewoman nearly leapt out of her skin, reaching for her saber until she found a knifezily pressed against her throat. There was a fourth ckcloak next to her, and from the shouts of the others they had just noticed it as well. <em>How</em>? They had been in the middle of the alley.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think too hard on it, Tredegar,¡± the ckcloak teased as they drew back the de, face hidden under the hood. ¡°You might sprain something.¡±

    ¡°You know who I am?¡± she got out.

    ¡°I read the docket for the rmended,¡± the watchman said. ¡°Headed for the Skiritai, is it? You¡¯ll have to work on your awareness, else they might decide you need to be taught.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Angharad slowly said, ¡°keep that in mind¡­ sir?¡±

    ¡°Sir will work,¡± the watchman said. ¡°The four of you surviving should count as a Trial of Weedsplete, given the circumstances. Congrattions in advance.¡±

    ¡°The Watch is already inside the town?¡± Song asked. ¡°You are still shelling it.¡±

    The Azn with the sling, the one the other had called lieutenant, leapt down from the roof andnded in the mud with a wet squelch.

    ¡°Not the regrs, girl, just us,¡± he said. ¡°We are cleaning house with the worst of the lot before the palisade is breached and the proper sweep begins.¡±

    There was another of those ear-splitting screams in the distance.

    ¡°Enough chitchat,¡± the lieutenant grunted. ¡°Chameli is taking too long with the Saint.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a Saint here?¡± Ferranda asked, sounding worried.

    ¡°The priestess leading the warband pulled a little too deep,¡± the watchman that had put a knife to her throat said. ¡°Useful in cleaning up the devils, but she¡¯s a feeder. Those are always tricky to kill.¡±

    Song cleared her throat.

    ¡°Lieutenant,¡± she said, ¡°I understand that you have a charge, but if one of your squads could spare-¡±

    The ckcloak with the harpoon, who had just ripped it out of the mayor¡¯s remains, let out a snort.

    ¡°Crews?¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s only us, girl. Themander knew it¡¯d be excessive force already.¡±

    ¡°Five of you,¡± Angharad slowly said. ¡°<em>Five </em>of you did what we saw at the entrance?¡±

    ¡°It was getting boring in Three Pines,¡± the lieutenant shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s good to stretch our legs now and then.¡±

    That hadn¡¯t been what - the chatty one she had called sir pped her shoulder, overly friendly.

    ¡°I would rmend hiding out in the west of town until it¡¯s over,¡± they said. ¡°We already cleaned it up. Don¡¯t go through the main gates.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°The regrs set up a killing field there,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°They¡¯ll shoot on sight.¡±

    He whistled sharply afterwards, striding away without another word. The harpooner followed, and the Navigator had nevere out in the first ce.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± the chatty one said waving back as he followed, walking backwards. ¡°Try not to die, I have coin riding on you and Duma making it to the end!¡±

    The four of them were left there standing in the street, as if a storm had just blown through. Sleeping God, Angharad thought, remembering the carper of corpses. Five of them. Shalini cleared her throat.

    ¡°West, then?¡± she tried.

    It seemed a sounder notion than being shot by their own rescuers, at least.

    ¡°I know a ce,¡± Angharad said.

    --

    By the time Tristan finished seeing to Zenzele¡¯s wounds the Mni was alert again.

    Pain was a fine enough anchor, and there was only so gentle the thief could be when cleaning wounds that serious. He was thanked, afterwards, and that courtesy extended to the young lord pretending he could not see Cozme''s corpse in the corner of the room. Tristan had considered throwing in the gaol in the back, but Zenzele had already known what he intended and could out him for it should he wish.

    It had also been pretty funny to watch the Mni have to pretend there wasn¡¯t a dead man a couple of feet away from him, which might have weighed on his decision more than was strictly wise.

    ¡°The shelling has stopped,¡± Maryam noted. ¡°I expect the Watch will assaulting the town soon.¡±

    ¡°Now would be the time to get out, if we do not want to be stuck between the hollows and the rooks,¡± Tristan agreed. ¡°Lord Zenzele, would you feel up to the trip?¡±

    The man hesitated.

    ¡°If you help me,¡± he finally said. ¡°We risk cultistsing here to hide if we stay much longer anyhow, and I mean no insult but I do not be believe we would prevail in such an encounter.¡±

    Tristan, who had over thest few days been savagely beaten not once but twice by greyhairs, saw no grounds to argue that point. He was honestly unsure if Lord Zenzele might not be the best fighter of them still even in his state.

    ¡°We could take on one hollow,¡± Maryam firmly said.

    ¡°Two, if they¡¯re children,¡± Tristan added.

    Zenzele convulsed again, breath wheezing.

    ¡°What did I say,¡± he gasped, ¡°about making meugh?¡±

    It was moreborious than difficult getting him out of the gaol after that, Maryam heading up to drag him by the shoulders while Tristan stood below to push him up by the waist. The thief got out with thentern in hand while Zenzele leaned against Maryam for support.

    ¡°Should I ask what happened to Cozme Aflor?¡± the Mni lord casually asked.

    ¡°Lost him in the chaos,¡± Tristan just as casually replied. ¡°Who knows? He might have fallen down some stairs.¡±

    ¡°Very sharp stairs indeed,¡± Zenzele muttered, and asked no more.

    Large swaths of the town were on fire, but the southern part ¨C close to the main gates ¨C seemed to have been the least ravaged by the bombardment. To Tristan that reeked of leaving a hole in the barrel so you knew where the water would go, even more so when he risked climbing atop a half-wrecked house and stood on the roof to have a look at the rest of Cantica. There was a hole in the palisade to the north of the town and the Watch seemed to be sweeping towards the south street by street.

    He climbed down to tell them as much and Zenzele grimaced.

    ¡°They are driving the hollows out into the open grounds to the south,¡± the Mni said. ¡°They must already have men in ce there, they left a path out so they will not have to dig them up street by street.¡±

    ¡°That will be good news in a while,¡± Tristan said, ¡°but until then it means that every surviving hollow and devil in Cantica is being driven our way.¡±

    A heartbeat passed.

    ¡°We could go back in the hole,¡± Maryam reluctantly said.

    Zenzele Duma looked as if he did not know whether tough or cry.

    ¡°That would be even riskier than we thought,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It¡¯s a good ce to ride out the Watch sweep, and there¡¯s former ves with the cultists. At least some of them will know the ce.¡±

    ¡°Heading towards the gate would be worse,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Everyone else will be doing the same.¡±

    ¡°We could try to hide-¡±

    ¡°Stop,¡± Zenzele hoarsely whispered. ¡°We need to hide <em>right now</em>.¡±

    His eyes were wide but clear, and though he was looking at thin air that did not necessarily mean he was raving. Tristan caught Maryam¡¯s gaze and nodded, the two of them helping the Mni limp towards the back of the piles of lumber.

    ¡°Quick, he¡¯s close now,¡± the lord said.

    ¡°Who?¡± Maryam asked.

    ¡°Augusto Cerdan,¡± Zenzele replied. ¡°ck chords for all three of us, he wants ¨C needs, maybe? ¨C us dead.¡±

    That, Tristan thought, sounded like a very useful contract. He¡¯d not even said anything and still he found Fortuna sitting on a roof and ring down at him as he helped lead Zenzele into a small dead-end alley behind the wood piles. He sneered back at her. If she did not want him to have contract envy, then perhaps she should have offered better goods.

    It was a very expressive sneer, as proved by his goddess¡¯ outraged cry.

    While the thief had no great love for dead-end alleys, it was the best they could do as a hiding ce in a hurry and if it came to running it was likely Zenzele was dead anyway. The two of them lowered him behind a barrel of dirty rainwater, his back to it so his legs wouldn¡¯t stick out, and the thief handed Maryam thentern so she could shutter it. Just in time, as they all heard urgently speaking voices approach.

    "It''s close to here, I swear," a woman¡¯s voice said in Antigua.

    Tristan crept to the edge of the alley, crouching low, and risked a look. Five people hade from the west of Cantica, and though he could only make them out partly through the gap in wood piles the thief saw enough. Three armed and scarred men, cultists. A fair-haired woman in rags and badly bruised, likely a former ve.

    And, as Zenzele had warned, Augusto Cerdan.

    ¡°It had better be,¡± Augusto said. ¡°If you wasted our time, perhaps it will lead to our deaths ¨C but I assure you, it will lead to <em>yours </em>first.¡±

    Ah, infanzones. How lucky for the rest of Vesper that they now got to experience their particr charms.

    ¡°My brother helped dig it,¡± the woman insisted. ¡°We¡¯ll have to crawl, but it gets us past the palisade.¡±

    Tristan stilled. Some kind of tunnel out? No, anything thatrge would have been noticed. More a crevice to squeeze through, likely widened as discreetly as the ves could. While the thief would have preferred it should that crew be headed for the gaol ¨C it would have been child¡¯s y to lock them up inside ¨C he would settle for them showing him a way out of this town. A nce back showed him that Zenzele was safely tucked away behind the barrel and Maryam doing her best to hide herself behind him.

    There was hardly anywhere for him to hide even were he inclined to try, it was better to move.

    Tristan crept away silently, moving behind one of the wood piles. The hollows had nontern but one of them did hold a torch, which he kept high while the sole woman among them began patting away the bottom of the palisade past the lumberyard. Careful to position himself so someone wandering in from the north of the town, the thief settled in to wait them out. They hardly seemed to be paying attention to their surroundings, but that did not mean they were not dangerous.

    One of the cultists said something to Augusto, too low for Tristan to overhear, and the infanzon gestured impatiently at him.

    ¡°So go and piss, then,¡± the Cerdan bit out. ¡°And do it out of my sight, none of us need to see whatever tumor passes for your cock.¡±

    The other two cultistsughed, speaking quickly in a cant. The tone, though, was universal. They were making fun of the third, and not nicely. The cultists stomped away angrily, scowling, and that was their luck turned. Because when Tristan realized the man was headed their way he was able to move around the wood pile and keep himself out of the sight, but the moment the cultists saw there was an alley he headed straight there.

    And hollows saw better in the dark, so he was sure to see Maryam even if he missed Zenzele.

    <em>Fuck</em>, Tristan thought, palming his ckjack. Even if he took out the man before he could shout, the others would notice in short order. They¡¯d have to grab Zenzele and flee immediately, else they would be forced into a fight they were sure to lose. Augusto alone might have been enough to kill them, with that brutal contract of his, throwing in warriors too was smothering all hope. Biding his time, the thief circled entirely around the wood pile as the cultist walked past it and ended up at the man¡¯s back.

    Grunting as he approached the alley, the man propped his spear against the side of the shed at the corner and reached for his trousers. Tristan followed, steps silent and arm raised, as the cultist reached the alley and-

    ¡°Found it!¡±

    And it all went to the dogs. The cultist turned to look back, catching Tristan with his hand raised, and the thief struck but it was already toote. The man got off half a shout before the ckjack his the side of his head, and he moved with the hit besides. Dazed but not unconscious. Cursing, the thief struck down at the crown of his head but the hollow got his hands up in time and tackled him. They rolled on the ground even as the cultists shouted out in cant.

    ¡°Move,¡± Maryam growled.

    Obeying half on instinct, Tristan elbowed the cultist and threw himself off. A heartbeatter Maryam impaled the man with his own spear, right in the belly. The thief scrambled to his feet, looking back at the others as she coldly finished off the dying man, and saw trouble. The other two cultists were headed their way, Augusto elbowing them aside to take the lead.

    ¡°Is that you, rat?¡± he called out.

    ¡°We need to draw them away,¡± Tristan murmured to Maryam. ¡°They might miss Zenzele.¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°Lord Augusto,¡± Tristan called out, smiling winningly. ¡°What a coincidence to run into you here. Why, I was hoping-¡±

    ¡°Take him alive,¡± Augusto ordered the cultists. ¡°Unless you¡¯d prefer me topping off on one of you.¡±

    Neither men look pleased at the threat, but they were more fearful than angry.

    ¡°It seems we got off on the wrong foot,¡± Tristan said, edging away from the alley. ¡°I shall, uh, leave you to your business. Good luck you, my lord.¡±

    Maryam raised the spear, which she seemed to have some training in using, and withdrew with him as the hollows approached. Both were armed, and no doubt better fighters. It¡¯d be best to run now, it would also get them running after without first looking-

    A strangled, coughingst came from the alley and Tristan almost cursed. There was no way the cultists had missed that, Zenzele was good as dead.

    ¡°You fool,¡± he hissed. ¡°What was so funny it was worth slitting your own throat?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re all fucked,¡± Zenzele croaked back.

    A heartbeatter a shot took the lead cultists in the throat, blood spattering wood, and the other one barely had the time to turn before death was on him. He thrust his spear but Angharad Tredegar pivoted around the blow like they were dancing, arm striking out like she knew where his neck was going to be an entire second before it got there. The cultists¡¯ head fell on the floor, his body staying upright for a moment after, and the mirror-dancer did not even stop moving.

    Just like that, easy as snuffing out a candle.

    ¡°You again,¡± Augusto snarled, stepping back in fear. ¡°You got out, what are you doing-¡±

    ¡°That is none of your concern,¡± the Pereduri replied.

    She was not alone. Shalini and Ferranda stood by her side, and by that perfect shot earlier Song must not be far either. Had Lan ditched them? Likely, if they¡¯d gone back into the town. She was too clever a rat to let herself be talked into that. Feeling rather outnumbered, the infanzon cast a look around and found the same thing Tristan had just noticed: the woman left while they were all distracted. Whether she¡¯d found her crevice or just legged it he had no idea, but good on her.

    Wisest thing anyone had done all night.

    ¡°I am still protected by your oath,¡± Augusto called out. ¡°You and all yourpanions, even those two. If you try to imprison me, you reveal yourself without-¡±

    ¡°Get on with it, Lord Augusto,¡± Tredegar said. ¡°Your voice irritates, I must admit.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s hand went for his pistol, Yong¡¯s pistol, but something about the pleasantness on Tredegar¡¯s face stopped him. She did not usually feign a good mood, when denied something, and they all knew she badly wanted Augusto Cerdan dead. Instead he stepped forward, up to her side, and waited to let this y out.

    It did not feel like a done thing, not yet.

    --

    Angharad watched as Augusto Cerdan slunk away, smirking, and wondered what he even thought he might achieve by going towards the palisade. Ultimately, she did not care enough to ask. ncing at the Sacromontan who had just joined her, she inclined her head in a greeting he returned.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± she said. ¡°I believe you own a pocket watch. Might I borrow it?¡±

    The Sacromontan eyed her curiously, but he nodded and fished out the piece. It was simple but lovely work, Angharad found, polished bronze that popped open with ease. She marked the position of the needles, theteness of the hour. It was four fifteen past midnight. The Pereduri delicately pushed the hour needle forward, all the way around the watch twice until it came to rest at four fifteen again. Nodding her thanks at Tristan, she handed him back his watch as he watched her bemusedly.

    ¡°Song,¡± she said. ¡°If I could have the use of your musket?¡±

    The Tianxi cocked an eyebrow but passed her firearm without asking why. Angharad aimed it, trying to recall what little she knew of using guns, and Song sighed.

    ¡°Like this,¡± the other woman said, leaning close to adjust her stance with gentle nudges.

    Angharad raised the gun until it was of a height with her cheek, the butt near the crook of her elbow, and breathed out before cing her shot and pulling the trigger. Flint sparked, powder caught and smoke billowed out.

    The bullet took Augusto in the back of the knee, though she had been aiming for the leg.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Angharad politely said, passing the musket back.

    Song looked baffled, opening her mouth then closing it, and the Pereduri left her behind as she strolled after Augusto. The Cerdan was screaming and rolling on the floor, his shot knee a bloody ruin. Though his cloak was in the way he ripped clear his sword when he heard Angharading. Wordlessly, she unsheathed her saber.

    ¡°You bitch,¡± Augusto snarled. ¡°You took an oath, you-¡±

    ¡°Followed it to the word exact,¡± Angharad mildly said. ¡°Is it no fault of mine that you bargained poorly.¡±

    Twenty-four hours had passed on Tristan¡¯s watch: she was, thus, free of her oath. She stood there patiently, waiting for him to drag himself up on his pulped knee. The only reason she had shot him was so that he would not be able to run into the woods and hide. With a hoarse scream Augusto Cerdan got up, leaning on his sword for help.

    ¡°We will begin at your leisure,¡± she informed him. ¡°Prepare as you will ¨C no others will intervene, it is yet a matter of honor.¡±

    Something halfway between hate and disbelief bubbled up onto his face as he realized that this was not simple killing but exactly what she had promised: an honor duel.

    ¡°You demented fucking girl,¡± he breathed out. ¡°You¡¯re still on about Gascon even now?¡±

    Most schrs agreed that if an opponent was capable of talking without difficulty, they should be considered fit to fight. Disinclined to walk too close to the line, Angharad flicked up her sword in a slow movement. A warning, which Augusto heeded. Screaming, he charged at her. The man was fit and from the way he held his de had been schooled in swordy, but he was wounded and raw.

    It did not matter: even at his best there would have been no doubt about the oue.

    Angharad stepped around his blow, coat trailing behind her, as her footing drifted and she ced her blow to the man¡¯s stumbling back. She shed through his cape and clothes, carving into muscle and bone, and Augusto dropped with a scream. She moved around his iling, careful to avoid his touch. Song had said it was all his contract required to be used.

    ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± Augusto snarled. ¡°You promised, Tredegar, promised. You have to let me go, Mni can¡¯t just <em>lie</em>-¡±

    The point of her saber went right through his throat, a clean thrust.

    ¡°Pereduri,¡± Angharad coldly corrected. ¡°As you once told your brother, there is a difference. Had you believed your own words, you might have lived through this.¡±

    She ripped out her de, and with it the infanzon¡¯s life.

    Angharad did not offer a de salute, for the corpse was underserving of the honor, but she went through her pockets and dropped herst handful of coins on his chest as custom dictated. That was the real choice, wasn¡¯t it? The Fisher pretended that it was either ck or white, that she could either follow her father into the grave or damn herself to his tune, but that was not the truth of it.

    No empty salute, but copper for the grave.

    That was a choice, just like when she used the words exact. To judge who deserved honor in spirit and who deserved it to the letter was not a not some cliff she was tumbling pas the edge of, some disease or addiction. It was just a choice. There was nothing mystical about it. And maybe there woulde a day where the hate and fear cracked her faith, where the remembrance of the screams on the wind had her cast away her honor for a ruinous oath, but that was not an excuse. She knew better.

    That was the first andst lesson of mirror-dancing: to fight yourself was to lose.

    That was why no stripe was added after the tenth, no matter how many times one danced with the mirror afterwards. Theirs was not the boast of Mni swordmasters, each line a fresh victory, but a simpler deration. To be a swordmaster was to prevail over others, to be a mirror-dance was to prevail over yourself. To surpass your limits, your weaknesses. The tenth time the mirror was danced was merely proof the dancer had chosen their path and would walk it until the end found them.

    For the moment the dance began, defeat began walking your way from the other end of the road. There was no telling when it would find you, where and facing who, but what did that matter? The mirror always won, eventually. You could not win against yourself forever, no more than you could win against tide and storm. But it wasn¡¯t the end that mattered, it was the fight.

    And Angharad, as she sheathed her saber, decided that she yet had it in her to fight.

 Chapter 45

    Chapter 45

    <em>Four</em>, Tristan counted as the de went through Augusto Cerdan¡¯s throat.

    Though he allowed himself a moment to bask in the satisfaction of yet another Cerdan put in the ground, some precautions were in order. Clearing his throat, he leaned in to politely ask Shalini to shoot Augusto in the head twice more just to be sure. The gunslinger snorted but shot the possibly dead infanzon in the head and heart a heartbeatter. By simple hand, not using her contract, as the unnecessarily shy spinning of her pistols proved.

    Tredegar gave them a mildly disapproving look, but Tristan was unwilling to take a risk with a Red Maw contract. With reason: a heartbeatter, Augusto¡¯s corpse began shriveling up.

    It shook and warped and ate itself from the inside, until the cadaver was little more than brown leather with a massive stomach wound going through it. When it finally stopped moving, cracking open like a y left to dry in the re for too long, a hush fell over their group.

    ¡°I take back the snort,¡± Shalini finally said. ¡°Well done, man.¡±

    Tristan tipped his tricorn back. It was not every day he got to arrange the desecration of an infanzon¡¯s corpse ande off better for it. Tredegar cleared her throat, looking embarrassed. Like some slip of a girl at her first dance instead of the whirlwind of death that had casually torn through a man and coldly executed another on a technicality. The thief doubted he would ever get used to that gap.

    ¡°Yes, indeed,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I had thought him dead.¡±

    Fair be fair, she<em> had</em> stabbed him to death. And she was owed some courtesy for scratching another name off his list without bringing any suspicion onto him.

    ¡°I expect any of us would have been, in his ce,¡± Tristan said. ¡°But Lord Augusto contracted with a god of the Old Night, and these are made of sterner stuff.¡±

    The gods that had ruled Vesper before Morn¡¯s Arrival might have been toppled from their thrones but even their remnants were fearsome things.

    ¡°Eh,¡± Fortuna sniffed disdainfully, leaning on his shoulder. ¡°We could walk that off too, I¡¯m pretty sure. Ask the girl to shoot you too.¡±

    The Lady of Long Odds went ignored, as was her due. By the flicker of gratitude on Tredegar¡¯s face she seemed to believe he was being polite instead of truthful, which was mildly amusing as for once he had been entirely forthright with her.

    ¡°The hollows with Lord Augusto spoke of a hidden passage out of Cantica hidden nearby, one of them even finding it,¡± the thief continued. ¡°If you give me a moment to look we should be able to leave this town behind atst.¡±

    ¡°That would be lovely,¡± Lord Zenzele croaked out.

    He¡¯d been helped out of the alley by Ferranda, who looked rather worried at the state of him. Not without reason, given his gut wound and missing eye, but Tristan gave him decent odds of surviving now. Had they been out in the wilds the Mni would have been good as a corpse, but now the Watch was here. The bleeding alone shouldn¡¯t kill Zenzele and with a proper physician taking care of him the Mni should be able to avoid infection, theplication most likely to send him for another spin of the Circle.

    It took Tristan a little under a minute to find the hidden passage out Cantica. It was nothing more than a shallow gap under the palisade, justrge enough to squeeze through if you were willing to eat some dirt, but it would serve well enough. Earlier it had been concealed by a rock and an angle in the dirt ¨C someone had raised a slight slope on the side to make it less obvious to the eye ¨C but the fleeing ve hadn¡¯t bothered to put those back after she messed them up going through.

    After calling out his find to the others, Tristan allowed the tension in his shoulders to loosen. With the passage found there would be no talk of riding out the Watch assault in the gaol, and so no need to exin Cozme Aflor¡¯s corpse. The thief honestly believed he would have been able to talk himself out of that grave, but it would be best never to step in it if he could.

    Though the tallest among them ¨C Zenzele and Angharad ¨C looked somewhat queasy at the prospect of having to go through that narrow a gap, no one argued against leaving Cantica. It yet remained a risk they might get caught between the Watch sweep and some fleeing cultists, or worse some feet-dragging devils. They set up a rearguard to cover themselves and began crossing, Tristan the first through. Dragging his belly through the dirt, the thief emerged into faded yellow grass.

    He made room for Ferranda Vizur, dusting himself off as he got onto his feet. There was no sign of the hollow girl from earlier, but then if she had any wits at all she¡¯d still be running. Song had mentioned something about the Watch encircling the town, but unless the garrison in Three Pines was muchrger than the supplies on the Bluebell had implied the encirclement would not be airtight. She had a shot at making it through.

    Fishing his tricorn out of the bag he¡¯d put it in for the crossing, the thief patted the worst of the dust off it and put it back on. Much better.

    ¡°You do know that hat is a decade out of fashion, yes?¡± Lady Ferranda amusedly said.

    The infanzona looked bruised and tired, but like him the relief at escaping Cantica was lending her a second breath.

    ¡°The current fashion involves<em> feathers</em>, Vizur,¡± Tristan disdainfully replied. ¡°If I were meant to be a bird, I would have been born one.¡±

    The infanzona traced the Circle on her left shoulder, lips twitching.

    ¡°That¡¯s heresy,¡± she informed him. ¡°Palingenesism, to be exact. Only Someshwari cults argue the Circle can spin us into animals.¡±

    ¡°Well, they must have the right of it,¡± the thief easily said, ¡°for how would you exin the Cerdan if not a past life as some manner of pig?¡±

    She choked, and was stillughing when Song emerged from the gap and asked what they were speaking about.

    ¡°The heresy inherent to the porcine condition,¡± he told the Tianxi.

    ¡°I am impressed that you would admit to being pig-headed,¡± Song replied without batting an eye, ¡°but it is hardly heresy, Tristan. Don¡¯t be so hard on yourself.¡±

    ¡°Harsh,¡± Ferranda appreciated.

    And now the nobility was conspiring with foreigners to take advantage of good, honest Sacromontan folk. Typical. Instead of allowing himself to be further tarred and feathered, the thief ¨C as honest a profession as any in the City ¨C suggested they start a makeshift camp if they were to remain out here until the Watch was finished with Cantica. There was no telling how long it would take, after all.

    Song pointed out a pit meant for burning trash that he¡¯d missed a dozen feet to their left and Ferranda volunteered to get a fire started. She recruited him asbor, seeming surprised when he admitted he knew little of how to use a flint and tinder. It wasn¡¯t his fault, the thief thought with irritation, that his lessons about lighting fires had been strictly about arson ¨C an exercise that usually required more borate tools than sharp rocks and kindling.

    There was still some leftover trash in the pit, mostly animal bones and pottery shards, but luckily there were some logs left as well. It was enough for the infanzona to get a fire going while he served as a glorified windbreak for her efforts, though they might need to venture out for firewood if the mes were kept going for long.

    The rest trickled in one after another, the only troubleing with Zenzele. He needed help on both sides, Tredegar pushing him from one and Shalini dragging him up from the other. The tricky part was doing that without ripping his wounds open further, but they seemed to manage decently enough. Though the seven of them kept their weapons close, as they settled around the somewhat stinking fire they unbent some.

    The battle was not finished, the shots and shouts from inside Cantica made that much clear, but their part in it was. Even if there were still devils or cultists around, they were much mor likely to be hiding than looking for a fight. Wary as they still were, the heat of the fire and the rtive safety greased the wheels enough for conversation to start. Mostly about what had taken ce since they parted ways.

    That led to an unpleasant surprise.

    ¡°Lan ran for the south when the cultists came out of the woods,¡± Ferranda said. ¡°One of them winged her with a musket shot, and though Lady Angharad tried to help her back up-¡±

    ¡°I was toote,¡± Tredegar sadly said. ¡°The bullet caught her in the face. Death was instant.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s jaw clenched and he ignored Maryam¡¯s searching gaze. Lan had not been a friend and barely apanion, there was no need for pity. He was surprised, that was all. The thief had honestly thought Lan would make it to the end, clever and careful as she was. And she almost had, but<em> almost</em> never counted. If she had not run, then... well, there was no telling. Perhaps the cultists would have fired at the others instead, killed Song or Ferranda.

    Instead Lan had made herself the standout target and paid for it. All it took was one mistake.

    ¡°Now that we know the Watch has encircled the town, I wonder if the cultists were not fleeing ckcloaks,¡± Song said, looking into the mes. ¡°They were quite intent on following us into the town, desperate almost.¡±

    ¡°I imagine we will be able to ask the rooks if we survive the night,¡± Shalini sighed, then quirked an eyebrow at them. ¡°And what were you lot up to? You are missing two.¡±

    ¡°The Watch¡¯s shelling of Cantica effectively announced the end of the Trial of Weeds, and thus any possible justification for maintaining the truce,¡± Zenzele Duma calmly said. ¡°I sought justice for Ayanda against thest remaining architect of her death.¡±

    That got everyone talking, the Mni lord withstanding the storm of worry and cheering and disapproval with remarkable aplomb for a man who must be barely staying conscious. Maryam was praised for doubling back and helping him after Tupoc made his escape ¨C ignoring her insistence that she was avoiding the same cultists they ended up fleeing ¨C and with that skeinid out the conversation turned to Tristan¡¯s part.

    ¡°I ran after Cozme, but he¡¯s quick and my leg is wounded,¡± the thief said. ¡°I had to stop when I encountered two devils headed for the front gate, and after that I headed to the gaol to wait this all out. The other two caught up to me there.¡±

    ¡°I have not seen Cozme Aflor since he ran off,¡± Zenzele mildly said. ¡°He might well be dead.¡±

    Tristan carefully did not smile at the lordling, who was beginning to grow on him. Mni, he thought, were rather reliable when you had them in your debt. Zenzele Duma would now consider them square for the thief having seen to his wounds earlier, but that was fine by him. Those two sentences had been more than fair payment for the service.

    It didn¡¯t matter if they weren¡¯t entirely believed, as between he and Zenzele they had enough people invested in their telling of it being true that there would be no argument. Song¡¯s silver gaze lingered on them both, but she had no horse in this race so why bother? The sole danger came when he glimpsed doubt in Tredegar¡¯s gaze ¨C more directed at Zenzele than himself, interestingly enough. Whatever her suspicions, they never passed her lips.

    It looked like Tristan might just have got away with it.

    --

    They all saw it when the ambush was sprung south of Cantica.

    The night broke as a thunderous volley lit up the woods along the dirt road, screams resounding all the way to their fire. Though they tensed, several bringing up weapons, no one came their way. The shots were irregr after that, as if the ckcloaks had been freed to fire at will, butrge pirs of pale light rose from the depths of the woods. renterns, and not small ones. The fighting went on for a few minutes more but not much longer than that.

    It must have been a massacre.

    Angharad could not much muster much sympathy for cultists and devils, though she felt a pang of worry at the thought that some ves might have been caught up in the ughter. Hopefully most would have stayed inside Cantica, where the watchmen would see to their safety as they swept through the town. That part of the battle must be close to done as well, for it had been some time since a shot hadst sounded within the palisade. What parts of it were not ame, anyhow.

    Angharad wondered if Tristan even realized his careless gesture had turned half the town into Yong¡¯s funeral pyre.

    They had been encamped around the fire for barely more than an hour when finally they saw movement. A party that must havee through the front gate was approaching at a brisk pace. A dozen men, which had them all reaching for arms until Song made out the ck cloaks. Even more reassuring, two of the watchmen seemed to be carrying a stretcher. Theirpany got on their feet as the ckcloaks approached nheless, a tall woman with the Someshwari look to her approaching ahead of the rest.

    ¡°Sergeant Hina,¡± she brusquely introduced herself. ¡°We were sent to fetch you and pick up your wounded, but first I need names and a headcount.¡±

    That much was easily provided while Zenzele was helped into the stretcher under Ferranda¡¯s watchful eye. The sergeant, openly tired and her cheek touched with ash, squinted down at a paper in her hand that might be the Bluebell manifest and sighed.

    ¡°Were there any other survivors?¡± Angharad asked.

    She suspected not, given how very exactly Zenzele had spoken about Cozme Aflor. The only thing that had stilled her tongue was that she could honestly think of no reason for the other noble to want the man dead.

    ¡°Tupoc Xical,¡± the sergeant replied. ¡°He joined in the scrap with the Saint around the town square and made enough of an impression the cabal sent in by Commander Artal is personally debriefing him. No others were found.¡±

    Tupoc. Of course the smug Izcalli was still alive. What, Angharad indignantly thought, was it going to take to kill that man? Zenzele¡¯s face was cold even as hey down on the stretcher, but he did not seem truly angry. Perhaps he had expected it, for deep down the Pereduri suspected none of them had truly thought Tupoc would die in the chaos.

    Chaos was where he thrived most.

    ¡°Now I¡¯ve a few items to cross off my list,¡± Sergeant Hina said. ¡°Ferranda Vizur, your attention.¡±

    Lady Ferranda tore her gaze away from Zenzele, looking surprised.

    ¡°You have it.¡±

    The sergeant cleared her throat, and when she spoke it was in the voice of someone reciting something by rote.

    ¡°Given the casualty rates this year and your performance during the trials, Captain Mateo has been instructed to make you two offers,¡± the older Someshwari said. ¡°One of them is going back to Sacromonte on the next ship out.¡±

    Ferranda¡¯s lips thinned. She had already expressed having no intention of returning to her house and responsibilities.

    ¡°And the other?¡±

    ¡°The captain is in town,¡± Sergeant Hina shrugged. ¡°Speak to him and find out.¡±

    The infanzona hesitated.

    ¡°So I will,¡± she said.

    ¡°Good,¡± the sergeant nodded, gaze going through them until it came to rest on Tristan. ¡°Tristan Abrascal.¡±

    Angharad was mildly surprised to find he had a surname, given he had not used it even when naming himself to the sergeant. How odd. There would have been fewer doubts about his skill as a physician had he demonstrated having a background fitted to such a trade,

    ¡°Possibly,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Who¡¯s asking?¡±

    The Watch officer rolled her eyes.

    ¡°An officer was supposed to meet you in Three Pines, but sends word she cannot,¡± the sergeant said. ¡°She was summoned to the Rookery and will seek you out herself afterwards.¡±

    The Sacromontan was usually a guarded man, Angharad had found, and so it was all the more noticeable when his emotions wereid bare for half a heartbeat. Hope and fear and anger, all in one, so intertwined she could hardly tell them apart. And then it was gone in a heartbeat, all tucked away behind a pleasant smile. Curiosity itched away at Angharad. Who was it that had the grey-eyed man looking so raw ¨C family, a lover?

    ¡°Understood,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°Right,¡± the sergeant nodded. ¡°We¡¯re all finished here, then, save for those of you with thatst bit of business.¡±

    ¡°Business,¡± Shalini repeated. ¡°Whose?¡±

    ¡°Not for me to decide,¡± Sergeant Hina said.

    Her gaze swept through them.

    ¡°You are all free toe into town,¡± the sergeant said. ¡°Cantica has been secured and in an hour or two we¡¯ll be sending the wounded to Three Pines in a convoy. You¡¯ll be sent off with them.¡±

    She then sought out Song with her eyes, Sarai after.

    ¡°That said: Song Ren, Maryam Khaimov. Captain Mateo sends word that the trials are officially at an end and thus you are no longer bound to secrecy. Who is it you need?¡±

    ¡°Much appreciated, sergeant,¡± Song calmly replied. ¡°We need only speak with Lady Angharad and Tristan, unless-¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Sarai ¨C Maryam? ¨C said, sounding mildly amused. ¡°I have not changed my mind.¡±

    Song sighed.

    ¡°Lady Angharad and Tristan,¡± she confirmed.

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you four to it, then,¡± Sergeant Hina said, offering a nod. ¡°Least I can do, given the sheer nerve of what you did. Been the talk of the barracks for weeks, I don¡¯t mind telling you.¡±

    Angharad flicked a nce at Tristan, finding him unsurprised. Song had told the noblewoman she would have an offeror her at the end of the trials, had Maryam told him the same? Both Shalini and Ferranda looked intrigued that they were not being kept back, but little more than that. Exhaustion nketed them all. As for Zenzele, one of the watchmen was making him drink from a sk and he was not paying attention to much of anything.

    Goodbyes were short, given that they should only be parting ways for a short time, and when the watchmen marched away the others went with them.

    It left the four of them alone around the fire, and forck of anything better to do as the silence thickened Angharad sat back down. She and Tristan on one side, ¡®Maryam¡¯ and Song on the other. The pale-skinned of the two women nced at the other, as if to urge her on, and Song cleared her throat.

    ¡°I would have preferred to have this conversation over warm meal and with walls around us, but the gods are fickle things,¡± she said. ¡°I must begin by rifying something: not all trial-takers are equal, no matter the year, but this one particrly so. Several among us were, in a word, ¡®rmended¡¯.¡±

    She paused as if to let that sink in. Finally they were to learn what all that secrecy had been about, Angharad thought. Well overdue.

    ¡°To be specific, the both of you were rmended as candidates to attend Scholomance when it opens in a few months,¡± Song said.

    The Pereduri cocked an eyebrow. She had heard of Scholomance, the ancient school of the Watch that had closed for reasons much spected on, but failed to see why she would be interested in attending such a ce even if it opened anew.

    ¡°I thought the purpose of these trials that one would be inducted directly into the ranks of the Watch,¡± she said. ¡°Why would anyone choose to be a student instead?¡±

    ¡°Ranks is the right word,¡± Song told her. ¡°That is what survival buys you: a ce in the rank and file of the Watch, serving as a soldier of the Garrison or enrolling with one of the freepanies. It will be years before you will be considered for an officer¡¯s rank, much less a position of influence.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°Students of Scholomance, upon graduation, are ordained as members a covenant ¨C what you will have heard called the seven Circles of the Watch. In your cases, the same covenant willing to sponsor your candidature in the first ce.¡±

    The silver-eyed woman flicked a nce at Tristan.

    ¡°Krypteia,¡± she said, then turned to Angharad. ¡°And Skiritai. That is where you are headed to, should you ept.¡±

    The grey-eyed Sacromontan did not look surprised at the news, unlike her. She very much doubted that her helpless uncle was a member of the <em>Militants</em>, the finest soldiers of the Watch, so he must have pulled strings somehow. Between his apparently having some strings to pull and the false Yaretzi iming he had spent a fortune assassinating her would-be assassins, Angharad was beginning to realize she knew much less about Osian Tredegar than she had thought.

    ¡°How long?¡± Tristan asked. ¡°The education, that is.¡±

    ¡°Five years,¡± Sarai ¨C Maryam ¨C replied. ¡°Students will be split into sses ording to covenant and taught by veterans from it.¡±

    ¡°There is more to it,¡± Angharad said. ¡°You said you would have an offer for me, Song, but this is not it. I expect a watchman will make this offer again, formally. What is it <em>you </em>want from me?¡±

    ¡°Tredegar¡¯s got it right,¡± Tristan said, cocking his head to the side. ¡°What¡¯s the deal, Maryam?¡±

    The two women traded nces.

    ¡°This offer <em>was</em> made by a member of the Watch, Angharad,¡± Song finally said. ¡°I have been one for two years now.¡±

    Angharad stilled, so many piecesing together. No wonder the Tianxi had been able to get her hands on a map of the Dominion of Lost Things. The Watch would not deny one of their own.

    ¡°A little longer for me,¡± Maryam said, ¡°but it doesn¡¯t matter much. What does is that the two of us are headed for Scholomance when it opens.¡±

    Tristan let out an amused noise.

    ¡°By the ends of these trials I will be wearing a ck cloak,¡± he said, sounding like he was quoting someone. ¡°Clever.¡±

    Maryam smiled back.

    ¡°I try,¡± she said, her false humility distinctly smug.

    Though the pair was droll to watch, Angharad did not let it distract her.

    ¡°You did not need to take these trials to qualify for Scholomance,¡± she stated. ¡°You got in by other means, the same way most the others students will have. So whye here at all?¡±

    ckcloak or not, Song hade very close to dying several times during the trials. Given that Sarai ¨C <em>Maryam</em>, she reminded herself ¨C was hardly a fighter, the risks for her must have been even starker.

    ¡°For the same reason every cheap mercenarypany in Vesper has man waiting next to gaols and gallows, Tredegar,¡± Tristan said. ¡°They¡¯re looking to recruit from the desperate because no one else wille anywhere near them.¡±

    Angharad met Song¡¯s eyes, and she saw the shadow of a wince in them even though it never reached her face.

    ¡°No one attends Scholomance alone,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°Students are tasked with forming a cabal on the first day, which will undertake the yearly test assigned to all students of Scholomance. The vast majority of students wille from freepanies orrge Garrison fortresses, so they will be sent together as a ready cabal. There are fewer free candidates, and of those...¡±

    ¡°I am Triu,¡± Maryam bluntly said. ¡°Half of them assumed I was a candidate¡¯s servant, the other half wanted nothing to do with an ignorant savage from the north. I signed up with Song because she¡¯s about as badly off.¡±

    And that was what befuddled Angharad, for Song did not seem like she should be in such straits ¨C not with her skills, her contract or her character.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± she frankly asked.

    ¡°I was born,¡± Song replied. ¡°I am a Ren of Jigong, Angharad. My family is disgraced beyond what words can convey ¨C and cursed for it by five hundred thousand tongues. No Tianxi wille anywhere near me if they have a choice, and my mere presence would be a stone around the neck of anyone dealing with the Republics going forward.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°I am also rmended by the Academy and would be the captain of any cabal I am part of unless there is another Stripe candidate to choose from,¡± she added. ¡°Between that and my family¡¯s ckened name, there were few takers. None I would willingly take asrade.¡±

    ¡°So we looked at the other conduits bringing in Scholomance candidates,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Those that aren¡¯t as pretty. The Dominion was the most brutal proving ground this year, and so the most likely to have hidden gems in it.¡±

    ¡°Now you¡¯re just ttering me,¡± Tristan grinned at her. ¡°Do go on.¡±

    ¡°We agreed on one candidate each, as four is the smallest epted number for a cabal,¡± Song said, meeting Angharad¡¯s eyes. ¡°I picked you.¡±

    And it would have been a lie to say there was not something of a thrill to the words, to such a skilled person deciding <em>she</em> was the finest pick, but Angharad was not sure she could ept. Not when one day she must leave the Watch to take her revenge.

    ¡°Song,¡± she swallowed. ¡°I-¡±

    The silver-eyed woman rose to her feet.

    ¡°Come,¡± Song said. ¡°Walk with me.¡±

    --

    Tristan did not bother to watch the pair leave.

    He¡¯d not mind making amon cause with Tredegar, even knowing that on asion he would have to step around her sensibilities, but that was not his trouble to arrange. Instead he sat there with Maryam, warming his hands with the fire.

    ¡°How big do cabals get?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Seven at most.¡±

    ¡°You should have tried to grab Zenzele and Shalini then,¡± he mused.

    Ferranda would not be rmended, although he had some suspicions about the offer she was about to be made by this Captain Mateo. Maryam wiggled her hand in a hedging gesture.

    ¡°It was a favor done to us to be allowed to take the trials at all,¡± she said. ¡°If not for putting ourselves in danger we might not have been allowed.¡±

    The thief hummed with understanding.

    ¡°So taking too many of the spares would be pushing it,¡± he said.

    The first reason he could think of for the Watch drawing candidates through something like the Dominion would be so they could bulk up the number of ¡®free candidates¡¯, meaning that sucking up too many people was likely to be frowned upon by their superiors. Maryam nodded. They sat there infortable silence for a moment, the crackling mes keeping them warm.

    ¡°Why me?¡± he asked.

    Her brow rose.

    ¡°I thought you were joking about the ttery,¡± Maryam said.

    He met her eyes.

    ¡°Why me?¡± he simply asked again.

    She snorted.

    ¡°I was thinking of trying Ishaan and Shalini, at first,¡± she said. ¡°Song could tell she has contract troubles, it might have been an angle to rope them in. Only when I was thinking about how to go about it, this rat walked up to me.¡±

    His lips quirked.

    ¡°Your disguise needed work,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°You had me curious,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Even more after we talked near the docks. And I knew with the map in my head I could join up with the Ramayan crew at any time, so I could afford to hold back and watch until my curiosity was sated.¡±

    ¡°And then you stuck with us when the groups split,¡± he said.

    She softlyughed.

    ¡°It¡¯s easy with you, Tristan, even when you make it hard,¡± the blue-eyed woman said. ¡°You have no idea how rare a thing that is for me.¡±

    He swallowed, faintly embarrassed.

    ¡°Me as well,¡± he admitted. ¡°I have not-¡±

    It was so artless a confession he did not even have the words for it.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be easy, even if Tredegar signs up,¡± Maryam suddenly said, eyes serious. ¡°The tests in Scholomance, they make uspete against other cabals. Most of them will berger, better trained. And the school itself...¡±

    She grimaced.

    ¡°There¡¯s a hundred rumors about why they closed it, back at the Rookery, but the one that everyone seems to believe is that the casualty rates were unsustainable.¡±

    And unsustainable was no small word when spoken by the lips of the Watch, an institution sorge that should all its freepanies be counted it might be said to have arger army than some great powers. Mountains of bodies, it meant. Seas.

    ¡°That will be tricky to navigate,¡± Tristan mused. ¡°I wonder what makes it so deadly? They would not purposefully be wasteful, I feel.¡±

    Maryam¡¯s eyes brightened.

    ¡°You¡¯ll stille?¡±

    The rat leaned forward, gently touching her hand. The one where two fingers were missing down to the phnge, spent to save his life from his own <em>cleverness</em>.

    ¡°I was always going to agree, Maryam,¡± he gently said. ¡°You paid upfront.¡±

    Softly, almost hesitantly, she sped his hand back. It had been years since someone simply held his hand like that. Had it been as long for her, he wondered? Looking at the faint wonder on her face, he thought it might have.

    And that he did not want to take back his hand scared him more than anything else on this ind had.

    --

    They did not step past the edge of the woods, but they went far enough that the light of the fire seemed on a distant shore.

    Song had well weathered the Dominion of Lost Things, Angharad thought. Her cored coat was barely scuffed, her pinned hat singed at the edge but no more. She was hardly even bruised, and the most unkempt part of her was that her long braid was starting toe undone. That was a rare thing: this ind, it had swallowed so many of them and even those it spat out had note out the same.

    Angharad thought of the grief in Zenzele¡¯s eyes, of bent-back Shalini bearing Ishaan¡¯s weight and Ferranda leaving all of the Vizur behind. None of them were the same person that had stepped onto the Bluebell, were they? Something inside them had been cut or ripped or burned, and now who they were would walk with that wound until they died.

    It was not all tragedy. Tristan and Maryam had been strangers a week ago and now they were joined at the hip, eyes never straying too far from each other. They talked like they¡¯d known each other for years, with that same rare fondness Mother had reserved forrades she had shed blood with. And Angharad herself, she...

    Looking at pale stars above, at the shivering night and the fire that felt like some farawaynd, Angharad felt like a stranger still. Peredur was yet home, however forbidden to her. But she had been lost, fleeing across Vesper port by port, and she no longer felt that. She no longer woke smelling smoke, hearing screams on the wind, and though the deaths would never leave her they were no longer the fullness of her shadow.

    She had changed. They all had, save for Song Ren.

    Song who was the same woman she had been on the deck of the Bluebell that first evening, speaking a cryptic warning that went unheeded. Had she ever really lost her cool, even when they almost parted ways over the matter with Isabel? There had been anger, yes, but controlled. The Tianxi had been mistress of herself still. Song had walked through lines and ruins and weeds without a mark, without a loss. Silver as untarnished as that of her eyes.

    The Tianxi was looking into the woods, at whatever secrets the dark might hide, when she finally broke the silence.

    ¡°You were addedte to the Bluebell¡¯s manifest.¡±

    ¡°My uncle¡¯s work,¡± Angharad said. ¡°A man I thought half a stranger but might be that a great deal more.¡±

    ¡°It caught my attention, the sharedst names,¡± Song admitted. ¡°But only so much. It was when the redcloaks cordoned off an entire dock to catch you and nearly got into a shooting match with the Bluebell that I truly became curious.¡±

    ¡°I have an enemy,¡± Angharad simply said.

    There was a cold look on the other woman¡¯s face as she gazed into the dark.

    ¡°I do not have that luxury, myself,¡± Song Ren said. ¡°To cram all the evils inside one man so I might pull a trigger on him and end it in a stroke. I trying to fill a pit, Angharad, that gets deeper with every breath I take. We <em>broke</em> a ninth of the Heavens and my brothers they think they can <em>just</em>-¡±

    She breathed in, sharply, then breathed out.

    ¡°It is not an enemy I face,¡± Song said, voice becalmed. ¡°But I understand what it is, to seek the Watch as a means and not an end. In that we are the same. You hesitate because to join a covenant is not something that is easily taken back.¡±

    ¡°I had thought to enroll for seven years,¡± Angharad admitted.

    ¡°Spend seven years as a footsoldier in a freepany or a guard in some Garrison fortress and you will be no closer to your ambitions,¡± the silver-eyed woman told her. ¡°You will be able to set some coin aside and make a few petty contacts, but nothing more. Seven-year contracts are not held in high esteem.¡±

    ¡°But the Circles are,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°Call them covenants,¡± Song said. ¡°Only outsiders call them Circles. The Watch is as a nation of its own, you will learn, with its own tongue and customs.¡±

    ¡°Covenants, then,¡± Angharad dismissed. ¡°I might know little of the Watch¡¯s workings, but I do know this: to join a covenant is not sworn in sevens. It is until death.¡±

    ¡°Or retirement,¡± Song said. ¡°That is a right usually awarded only to those who have served for decades, but it can be earned earlier by great deeds. And we will have the opportunity for these. The Watch opened Scholomance again for a reason, Angharad. They are preparing for something.¡±

    The noblewoman frowned.

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°I do not know,¡± Song admitted. ¡°But what I do know is that as a Skiritai, you would be part of a covenant between the finest killers in all of Vesper. One that will be inclined to do you favors even after retirement.¡±

    ¡°I cannot afford to spend five years in a school, Song,¡± Angharad quietly said. ¡°To let the world pass me by. My house deserves better than that.¡±

    ¡°The tests the Watch will send our cabal on, they are not some schoolyard brawl,¡± she said. ¡°We will be sent out in the world on genuine contracts. Able to raise our names, to make allies and earn funds.¡±

    And it was tempting, put that way. Yet it was taking a chance. That Song was right and she would be able to earn retirement, that she would win enough to justify the spending of years, that¡­ so many things. Perhaps too many of them. But then Angharad had been taking chances ever since she first began running towards the Bluebell, hadn¡¯t she?

    There was no perfect answer. Insisting on one had seen the Guardia kick in her door and seize thest of her possessions in Sacromonte. The temptation was still there to refuse, to look for a path that would give her everything she wanted and cost her nothing, but Angharad had learned not to trust that voice.

    Last time it had left with nothing but a saber and the clothes on her back.

    The fire looked so far away, she thought, but home was further away still. And she would need to cross more than water and darkness to return, for though putting on a ck cloak would stay her enemy¡¯s hand they would remain out there. Waiting, plotting.

    How much was she willing to pay, to go back home? How much was she willing to leave behind?

    At least this much, Angharad Tredegar learned.

    ¡°All right,¡± she murmured. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    And somewhere, the Fisherughed.

 Epilogue

    Epilogue

    He¡¯d never liked the Rookery.

    It was a purely personal dislike, Captain Osian Tredegar would admit if pressed. He had spent half a year down in the Lanes after enlisting, bing fit for deployment, and though that had been a foul time it was also long enough ago he hardly remembered. His antipathy nowadays came from the fact that since he¡¯d been inducted into the Umuthi Society he had only ever returned to the Rookery for a fresh squabble over funds with Conve bureaucrats.

    The worst part was, of course, that these squabbles werergely meaningless. The Conve¡¯s army of clerks and bookkeepers could not actually make any decision, only pass rmendations to the Conve itself. Which would then proceed to make no decision at all, because it did not directly allocate funding to the works of the Clockwork Cathedral whose continued funding Osian was sent to argue for. The Conve, in practice, did not actually decide much of anything.

    At the founding of the Watch the chamber had been small enough to be functional but over the years the assembly had simply be sorge it was not practical for it to decide on anything but the broadest strokes of policy. Execution of those policies was then passed on tomittees who ended up wielding the power the Conve had invested in them with... varying degrees of oversight.

    There was some truth to theints from the captain-generals that some Garrison regions were essentially rival freepanies funded by Conve coin.

    But fair or not it wasmittees that ran the Watch, and it was such amittee that had ordered Osian Tredegar to sit in a cold damp hall and wait for his name to be called. There had been ten of them out here when he¡¯d arrived, but one by one the other rooks had gone into the small room tucked away in a forgotten corner of the Old Chantry.

    And one by one they had left, until there remained only him and the monster.

    She looked like a frail old woman but Osian knew better. Fenhua had sent him wordst night, warned him that he was looking not as some retired cloak but fucking <em>Nerei Name-Eater</em>. The worst part was that he would never have guessed if he¡¯d not been warned. Even now he almost doubted himself, looking at how she seemed to ache from the wet cold and shiver in her shawl.

    There were some who said that creature was older than the Republics, that she¡¯d fought in thest assault on Pandemonium. Nerei nced at him, as if sniffing out his thoughts, and offered a warm toothless smile. Ancestors, but she looked like someone¡¯s favorite grandmother.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it will be soon, dear,¡± the Name-Eater assured him in a faint Sacromonte ent. ¡°There is no need to be so tense, I am certain your niece will be fine."

    Osian stiffened, for he had never spoken a word to Nerei and he¡¯d certainly never said anything about Angie around that monster. His hand habitually drifted to where his pistol would be, had he not been ordered to leave it behind at the Old Chantry¡¯s gates.

    ¡°Oh, no need for that,¡± Nerei chided him. ¡°Such a lovely girl, your Angharad. I¡¯m sure she will be a darling friend to my Tristan. And a mirror-dancer, how precious! They rarely leave Peredur nowadays.¡±

    ¡°I am not without friends,¡± Osian coldly replied.

    His work on the Isibankwa had put him firmly on the good side of his superiors. They had already done him favors, but he should be able to squeeze out a few more.

    ¡°Or debts, ofte,¡± Nerei said, tapping her wrinkled chin. ¡°That was most amusing to hear. To think it took the Wednesday Council itself to curb your enthusiasm!¡±

    Osian grit his teeth. The ruling council of the Umuthi Society had not officially spoken with him at all, Professor Akia had sat him down in private so there would be no mark on his record, but the Name-Eater was a Mask and that breed always made a point of rubbing your secrets in your face when they could. Not that he would let himself-

    The door opened, the same middle-aged watchman as always leaning through.

    ¡°Captain Osian, Officer Nerei,¡± he called out. ¡°Themittee will see you now.¡±

    Osian bit down on his words, trying to smooth the anger off his face.

    ¡°Come, dear,¡± Nerei warmly said. ¡°Let us find out what it is the Obscure Committee has to say.¡±

    Breathing out, Osian Tredegar forced himself to calm down. The monster had just been toying with him the way a cat would with a mouse. She had no true interest in Angharad, he told himself as he followed behind the thing wearing the form of a little old woman. He must keep his mind on the Obscure Committee waiting ahead. Not that it was truly called that, at least on paper.

    Its formal name on the rolls was ¡®Lesser Committee for the Trebian Northwest¡¯, the kind of name that got made fun of at parties when officers mocked Conve bureaucracy over cups of wine. It was an oft forgotten detail, however, that the ruins of Scholomancey in the northwest of the Trebian Sea. Though a ¡®lesser¡¯mittee would naturally not have authority over the greatermittee overseeing the same region, its existence as an independent entity meant it was not subject to that greatermittee¡¯s authority either.

    In practice, that meant Scholomance and all matters connected to it had been made the private fiefdom of the four people Osian found waiting inside the small, cramped room. That alone would have been worth wariness but altogether more dangerous was that this authority had apparently been granted to them by a sealed vote of the Conve, meaning the matter was kept secret.

    The Obscure Committee was called that because more than nine tenths of the Watch would have absolutely no idea it existed even though it now held great power and influence.

    There were four high desks inside the room, covered with stacks of paper and inkwells, and the four members of themittee sat behind them. The watchman from earlier closed the door, leaning back against it, and Nerei trudged forward to stand before the desks. Osian followed, moving to her right but putting enough space between them he would have been able to draw and fire his pistol in time.

    If he still had it.

    The gesture did not escape the attention of the leftmost sitter, who raised an eyebrow at him. Brigadier Anju Laghari was a middle-aged woman of in looks, her wavy brown hair going down to her neck. She was built like a barn door, broad-shouldered and muscled enough to wrestle a bull, and by the looks of the scar around her neck someone had once tried to hang her. Most importantly Anju Laghari was an Academian, a Stripe.

    The Academy was thergest of the seven covenants, about asrge as all the others put together, so its iming one of themittee seats had never been in doubt. There was another edge to that de, however:petition <em>within</em> Academy ranks for the appointment would have been brutal. That meant Brigadier Laghari was as much a political creature as a military one, for all that she looked like she should be leading some charge in the Bleands instead of sitting at a table.

    And by the disgusted look she sent the monster at Osian¡¯s side, she was no fonder of the creature than he.

    ¡°Officer Nerei,¡± Brigadier Laghari said, her voice sounding like she gargled rocks, ¡°this is <em>revolting</em>. You look like someone¡¯s grandmother.¡±

    Nerei smiled.

    ¡°Where lies the trouble, dear?¡±

    The brigadier shivered.

    ¡°I saw you eat a man¡¯s entrails with my own eyes, back in seventy-three,¡± Laghari tly replied. ¡°Head right in the belly, like a pig with a trough. Put on a shape that I won¡¯t want to shoot.¡±

    The old creature cocked her head to the side, noticeably not moving to obey. Osian had no idea if by right she should, and neither would most in the room: ¡®officer¡¯ was the ceholder rank that the Krypteia used when they were not assigned to a duty and thus not forced to reveal their actual rank to the watchmen around them. Anju Laghari might be a sitter on the Obscure Committee, but if Nerei was of higher rank she would not actually need to obey her.

    Only one person in the room was likely to know, and all eyes went to him.

    At the rightmost desk sat Lord Asher of the Krypteia. He looked like a handsome man in his fifties, his short salt and pepper beard lending him a distinguished air. His clothes were perfectly tailored, their buttons gold, and if not for the polished cane in his hand Osian would have never guessed he had a limp. Lord Asher also wore spectacles, which he never took off because no matter how well a devil took care of the shell they wore the eyes tended to look a little <em>off</em> after a century.

    Osian made sure not to look at the rings on his hand or the charming smile on his face. There was no telling if the rumors that Lord Asher was a founding member of the Krypteia were true, but there were records of the man going back centuries and when devils got that old they grew <em>warped</em>. The young ones, fresh out of the forges in Pandemonium, they just wanted tainted aether of any kind. The old ones who annealed grew discerning and addicted to particrities, specific tastes.

    First love, fear of water, paternal pride ¨C any of the endless corners of mankind¡¯s soul. No one knew what Lord Asher was addicted to, but most figured it was secrets. He had certainly been in the Krypteia long enough to get his hands on a trove fit to topple an empire. As for the devil¡¯s own rank, well, who knew? The Masks never gave that kind of information forced, and even then sometimes lied.

    ¡°Let us be courteous, Nerei,¡± Lord Asher warmly smiled. ¡°Change for the brigadier.¡±

    The old womanughed, and after a heartbeat she <em>fluttered</em>. There was no other word for it, as if she had for an instant be made of a hundred thousand slices of paper moving with the wind. When the blur passed the old Sacromontan woman was instead a small Someshwari boy clutching at his toorge clothes, sending a gap-toothed grin up at the Stripe. He could not have been older than five.

    Anju Laghari went red with rage, fumbling for a pistol under her desk.

    ¡°Change <em>right now</em>,¡± she hissed.

    ¡°D¡¯you want to shoot me now, Brigadier?¡± Nerei asked.

    The cutesy tone, just like a little boy¡¯s, made Osian¡¯s skin crawl. It was like looking at a crocodile wearing a person¡¯s face.

    ¡°Asher,¡± the brigadier snarled, turning to the devil, ¡°this is a <em>threat</em>. She can¡¯t just wear my grandson¡¯s face and-¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Lord Asher politely smiled, ¡°next time you will remember to be more careful with your phrasing, Anju. Always a lesson worth learning, no matter one¡¯s age.¡±

    The brigadier was livid and likely to press the matter, Osian judged, but it would not get to that. The sitter next to her cleared her throat. The sound was irritated.

    ¡°This is not the Academy, Laghari,¡± Captain Isoke Fde said. ¡°Your whims are not orders, and we have wasted enough time indulging your sensibilities.¡±

    Themittee seat the Guildhouse had got its hands on had been filled by an Akrre rather than a Skiritai, which was no surprise. The Militants had well-earned their reputation for general awfulness at Watch politics, in part because of the high attrition rate in even in their most senior officer ranks. The Navigators, on the other hand, were arguably the oldest of the seven covenants and they were <em>everywhere</em>.

    They always had favors to call on, and they were more than willing to cover for the Skiritai if they got to speak for both of the Guildhouse¡¯s guilds in exchange.

    Their representative on themittee was Captain Isoke Fde, a seemingly frail old woman in her seventies wearing humble grey robes. Her head was nearly shaved and she looked half-blind, pale cataracts in both her eyes, but she was always smiling and cocking her head to the side as if she could hear things no one else did. Given that she was rumored to be one of the most skilled signifers alive, that was entirely possible.

    Despite the seemingly low rank, Isoke Fde had in her time served as Captain-General to the infamous Dawnchasers and survived a decade attached to the court of the High Queen. Long before Rhiannon¡¯s time, so Osian¡¯s sister never knew her, but no one survived at the feet of the Queen Perpetual without learning how to get their hands dirty. A good thing, that. Angharad was headed for the Skiritai Guild, so Captain Fde would be on his side for theing review.

    That and he had bribed her personally, as well as the Skiritai who¡¯d rmended his niece. It always paid to be sure, usually in gold.

    Osian¡¯s eyes moved to his other ally in the room, seated besides the signifer. Professor Fenhua He was Peiling Society, not Umuthi like him, but the College always stuck together against outsiders ¨C especially around budget time. Fenhua was a tall and willowy beauty, their long dark hair flowing behind their back as they offered a sunny smile. Their robes were pristine silk in the traditional Jigong fashion, with billowing sleeves and discreet touches of color, every part of them meticulously neat.

    Fenhua He¡¯s specialty was epistemological foundationals ¨C attempting to establish objective truths about the aether ¨C and that was as much of an opposite from Osian¡¯s work in the Clockwork Cathedral as one could find but they got on well regardless. Sharing a war room during the hunt for the Hull Breaker had left them with some ties of friendship, at it had most who took part in those months of horror. Fenhua caught his eye and winked, forcing Osian to swallow a grin.

    Yeah, Fenhua had his back.

    ¡°If Officer Nerei causes such unseemly emotion in our colleague, let us finish our business with her as quickly as possible,¡± the professor said. ¡°Shall we move to review the candidature of Tristan Abrascal, Scholomance candidate under Krypteia sponsorship?¡±

    Osian cleared his throat.

    ¡°Captain Osian,¡± Lord Asher acknowledged him. ¡°You have a question?¡±

    ¡°Sir,¡± Osian nodded. ¡°May I ask why I am to be in the room when this Tristan Abrascal is to be reviewed?¡±

    ¡°He and your niece will be joining the same Scholomance cabal, should the reviews end positively,¡± the devil amiably said. ¡°It was judged unnecessary for the questionings to be kept separate.¡±

    Osian¡¯s lips thinned, but he nodded. Though he misliked the possibility of some Sacromonte rat dragging down Angie with him, he would gain nothing by arguing a decision that would have required a majority vote to pass.

    ¡°If that is all, let us proceed,¡± Captain Fde sleepily said. ¡°We have all read the reports from Lieutenant Wen and Sergeant Mandisa as well as the transcripts from the observers manning the Panopticon Mirrors. The boy effectively led the crew that copsed the Red Eye¡¯s prison and the mountain with it, though it was not his hand that did the actual deed..¡±

    A heartbeat of silence, then the assessments began.

    ¡°He should be shot,¡± Brigadier Laghari inly said. ¡°He buried two Watch fortresses, led to the deaths of dozen of our rooks and broke a seal we have no real recement for. A bullet to the brains is the<em> least</em> of what he deserves.¡±

    Lord Asher smiled.

    ¡°There we must disagree,¡± he said. ¡°As far as I am concerned, Tristan Abrascal is the only individual to have ever passed the Trial of Ruins ¨C if I could, I would amend every preceding file on record as having retroactively failed.¡±

    ¡°Fucking sneaks,¡± Brigadier Laghari sneered. ¡°You always-¡±

    ¡°You are boring me, Anju,¡± Professor Fenhua sighed. ¡°All acts undertaken in the trials that do not break the rules qualify for amnesty, as you well know. Stop wasting our time on a tantrum.¡±

    They leaned forward after, eyeing Nerei curiously.

    ¡°You have it in your written rmendation that your little maskling was likely involved with forbidden experiments ssified under the name ¡®Theogony¡¯,¡± Fenhua said. ¡°borate. I would know if he is a potential danger to fellow students.¡±

    Osian hid his amusement. A transparent fishing attempt, not that they were likely to be called on it. Nerei beamed up at Lord Asher, looking for permission. The monster looked like a child ying in their parents¡¯ clothes, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Spirits but it was obscene.

    Lord Asher nodded.

    ¡°House Cerdan ran a red shop out in the Murk,¡± Nerei brightly said, ¡°contracting with the local co-caw-coteries for a supply of fresh bodies and running experiments that were in breach of the Iscariot ords.¡±

    The shape of the five-year old preened, as if the child was proud of having said all those difficult words without tripping.

    ¡°To what aim?¡± Professor Fenhua asked.

    It was not Nerei that answered, this time.

    ¡°We are yet uncertain,¡± Lord Asher said, sounding ever so slightly irritated. ¡°Like every other fool out there they tried to make a stable Saint, but they also attempted some exotic contract amodations.¡±

    He paused, sending the Tianxi a knowing look through his spectacles.

    ¡°They used forceful aether taint as a base for their research,¡± the Mask noted. ¡°Nothing you would be interested in.¡±

    The devil spoke true, all trace of interest leaving Fenhua¡¯s eyes as Osian swallowed bile. Forceful aether taint was a pretty way of saying torture, most of the time. All humans not severed from the re tainted the aether around them by their very existence but most of those emanations were so faint they could barely be proved to exist, much less studied. Sharp emotions and sensations were a way to make that taint stronger, and nothing was easier to inflict than pain.

    ¡°We had¡¯em, but they closed theirir and ran away,¡± Nerei pouted. ¡°The Cerdan set up shop on some secret ind, but we can¡¯t seem to find their clubhouse!¡±

    ¡°They likely have help from one of the Six,¡± Lord Asher said. ¡°We are pursuing the matter.¡±

    ¡°Interesting, but ultimately irrelevant,¡± Captain Fde said. ¡°Our purpose is to ascertain whether or not the boy¡¯s ce in Scholomance should be rescinded. Despite Brigader Laghari¡¯s bluster, I see no valid reason for that to be the case.¡±

    ¡°Neither do I,¡± Professor Fenhua said. ¡°Asher, shall we assume your vote?¡±

    ¡°Never,¡± the devil seriously said. ¡°I also vote against rescinding.¡±

    Brigadier Laghari grunted in displeasure but argued no further after casting her vote for. She could tell a losing battle when she was fighting one.

    ¡°You¡¯ll all be singing a different song in a few years when we are putting down the Red Eye for the eighteenth time and we can¡¯t send anyone to a firing squad to answer for the costs and casualties,¡± she warned.

    Osian let out a noise of interest, catching their attention.

    ¡°I heard the Dominion was sitting atop an old god, but I thought it dead from the disaster with the mountain. It survived to fragment?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Our signifiers have ascertained we are dealing with at least a dozen shards capable of agency,¡± Captain Fde said. ¡°Pandemonium¡¯sst surprise killed the central intellect; at a guess the fragments will be spending the next twenty years cannibalizing each other in an attempt to reform it.¡±

    ¡°The devilsid a skillful trap,¡± Professor Fenhua noted, then their tone turned teasing. ¡°Why, it might even have been the work of-¡±

    There was a creaking sound, the wood of Lord Asher¡¯s cane giving under his grip.

    ¡°-the Office of Opposition.¡±

    Those devils that served as Hell¡¯s answer to the Krypteia, Osian recalled, though it seemed from Asher¡¯s smiling anger that there might be old history there he knew not.

    ¡°It was not,¡± the old devil said, tone clipped.

    ¡°If you say so,¡± Professor Fenhua said, smiling like someone who had just scored a point.

    ¡°No matter whose work it was, it failed to kill the god,¡± Brigadier Laghari dismissed. ¡°Now every shard is going to be patron to a different tribe and that entire ind is going to be a clusterfuck of bloodletting for a decade. A clusterfuck we will need to wade into, I¡¯ll remind you, because reports made it clear that the Red Eye made it down to the seabed. We can¡¯t let that thing reform and grow any further.¡±

    ¡°Aw,¡± Nerei grinned, ¡°is <em>nani</em> angry because her friend Commander Artal is going to have to stay and do his job instead of getting a nice cushy promotion?¡±

    She made a soulful look with the small boy¡¯s doe eyes.

    ¡°That¡¯s neshpotism, gramma,¡± Nerei solemnly said, wagging her finger. ¡°Very bad.¡±

    Brigadier Laghari¡¯s face reddened and the sh of rage in her eyes was entirely unfeigned.

    The Academy¡¯s prominence and asional bouts of arrogance made it unspoken tradition for the other covenants to join hands and knock them down a peg whenever the asion arose, but not even that was enough for Osian to find himself rooting for the Name-Eater. He was not alone in this.

    ¡°Disrupting the proceedings is reason enough to be barred from the room,¡± Captain Fde said. ¡°I will not warn you again, Officer Nerei.¡±

    The monster nodded, pouting as she clutched her toorge clothes to her scrawny chest. Professor Fenhua cleared their throat.

    ¡°Let us proceed onward, then.¡±

    ¡°Which brings us to your niece, Captain Osian,¡± Lord Asher said. ¡°She makes an interesting case.¡±

    Osian straightened his back. Interesting was never a word pleasant to hearing from a Mask¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°I have not read the full reports,¡± he carefully said, ¡°but what I got my hands on seems a glowing rmendation.¡±

    ¡°If you try to rob my colleagues out of an <em>eighteen-year-old</em><em>mirror-dancer</em>, Asher, there is going be a veritable shitshow to deal with,¡± Captain Fde warned him. ¡°After that report from the cabal in Cantica there was already a fit about the Stripes getting the Xical boy, we won¡¯t get cheated twice on a single draw.¡±

    Brigadier Laghari looked faintly smug.

    ¡°I do not doubt her value,¡± Lord Asher dismissed, ¡°but I do find it concerning that her contract appears to be with a second-order entity. Peredur is full of things best left buried.¡±

    Osian¡¯s jaw clenched. He knew not the nature of Angie¡¯s contract, but the whole thing reeked of Gwydion. Rhiannon had been much too taken with the triumph of winning the darling of the season to ever dig into her husband¡¯s past, but Osian had always found him suspect. A young man from a fallen house that was barely peers suddenly bing the flower of Pereduri society when he made his debut? No, Gwydion had been wildly suspicious even <em>before </em>Rhiannon¡¯s enemies began having a rash of mysterious idents all involving spirits.

    If the man¡¯s meddling hurt his daughter from beyond the grave, Osian was going to get his hands on the body just to feed it to stray dogs. Thankfully, he had anticipated that the Krypteia would dig and stacked the game well in advance.

    ¡°There has been no conclusive proof it¡¯s a genuine god of the Old Night she contracted with,¡± Professor Fenhua mildly said. ¡°More likely it is some ancient oracr river-god that was missed during the High Queen¡¯s purges.¡±

    It took effort for Osian not to do the intellectual equivalent of pretending he could not see something right in front of him when the purges were mentioned, the trained reflex still there after all those years. It was not acknowledged that such purges had ever happened, in Mn. Or that it might be in anyway unusual that the High Queen had ruled for over five centuries.

    Lord Asher shrugged.

    ¡°Absence of proof is not proof of absence,¡± he said. ¡°All worries could be put to rest by allowing the Krypteia to-¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Osian burst out.

    All eyes went on him. He licked his lips, ignoring Nerei beaming up his way with that childish grin.

    ¡°I mean,¡± he said more calmly, ¡°that as Angharad Tredegar¡¯s personal sponsor, I do not consent to interrogation by the Krypteia.¡±

    As if he would let the Masks anywhere near her. Knives were the least of what their interrogators had in store.

    ¡°That settles the matter, as far as I am concerned,¡± Captain Fde mildly said. ¡°Professor Fenhua?¡±

    ¡°It is my professional opinion that Angharad Tredegar¡¯s reported contact with the Red Eye is highly unlikely to have resulted in contamination even if she is truly contracted with a second-order entity,¡± the willowy beauty replied. ¡°I have no objections to her candidature.¡±

    With a senior signifier and Peiling professoring down on his niece¡¯s side, there was no one left in the room with the professional standing to argue further. Lord Asher¡¯s brow furrowed, but the devil said nothing more.

    ¡°I have concerns as well,¡± Brigadier Laghari announced, drumming her fingers against the desk. ¡°Not about the girl¡¯s contract, but of the potential trouble that Captain Tredegar brought to our door on her behalf.¡±

    The Pereduri did not grimace. He had been forewarned this would likely be brought up during the review.

    ¡°I am willing to answer any question, Brigadier,¡± he evenly replied.

    The older Someshwari hummed.

    ¡°You¡¯re a senior officer but not all that highly ranked in the Umuthi Society,¡± she said. ¡°Yet you have disbursed a sum that is around-¡±

    She nced down at a paper, then let out low whistle.

    ¡°Well, around the budget for our entire Dominion operation for a year,¡± Laghari said. ¡°Where is the coining from, Tredegar?¡±

    ¡°That seems an unnecessary intrusion,¡± Professor Fenhua said. ¡°Surely there is-¡±

    ¡°Sustained,¡± Lord Asher cut in.

    Captain Fde said nothing, leaving Osian to sigh.

    ¡°As some of you may know,¡± he said, ¡°the Clockwork Cathedral allows its members to register inventions with them, giving all rights over the Watch in exchange for a t portion of revenues in perpetuity.¡±

    One in a hundredth, which could mean either a pittance or a king¡¯s ransom depending on what was registered.

    ¡°What did you invent?¡± Laghari asked, sounding interested.

    To say Osian had ¡®invented¡¯ the rifle would be untrue, for there were already some in the Republics and allegedly in the northern Someshwar, but he <em>had</em> invented the Isibankwa-pattern rifle. Which was urate nearly a third further than the Tianxi attempts and could be made at half the price. Most importantly, the casting process required only a few tool changes from the current Watch musket workshops. That would save the order millions over the next decades, something he would not gain coin from but had earned him <em>many </em>an indulgence from the Wenedsday Council. Unfortunately, his rifles were not yet being made on anyrge scale.

    The first workshop had only just been refittedst month.

    ¡°A weapon, but it is only registered and not yet in service,¡± Osian admitted. ¡°I borrowed from the Watch on future revenues.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Captain Fde said, sounding amused. ¡°How far ahead?¡±

    No one came to his defense this time, not even Fenhua. They looked as curious as the rest.

    ¡°By the Cathedral¡¯s estimates, I have borrowed the next eighty-three years of revenue,¡± Osian said, coughing into his fist embarrassedly.

    All four of them were veterans, so the only indication of surprise was Fenhua¡¯s lips slightly twitching.

    ¡°Well,¡± Brigadier Laghari grunted, ¡°if you were sshing that much gold around, it exins the mess in Ixta. I won¡¯t weep over the cutters cutting each other, but I was given to understand you nearly caused a major diplomatic incident in Sacromonte.¡±

    Osian¡¯s jaw set mulishly.

    ¡°I only paid for retaliation on whoever was targeting my niece,¡± he said. ¡°I did not give instructions to-¡±

    ¡°A mansion belonging to a house of the Six was torched, Tredegar,¡± Laghari tly interrupted. ¡°The coin was tracked back to one of our payhouses in the city and House Svera lodged a formalint with the Conve.¡±

    If the infanzones wanted to y the hirelings, Osian disdainfully thought, they should notin of being treated as such. Besides, their hands were hardly clean: after the incident, in a fit of spite the Svera had ordered all their contacts in the Guardia to join in the hunt on Angharad. It was half the reason Osian had done more than pretend to obey when Professor Akia had told him to pull the contract and steer his niece towards Scholomance instead.

    ¡°I was not aware that we now answered to Sacromonte <em>yiwu</em> trash,¡± Professor Fenhua sneered.

    ¡°Maybe not in your libraries, but some of us live in the real Vesper,¡± Brigadier Laghari tly replied. ¡°We import more than half the food for our Trebian holdings through Sacromonte, Fenhua. We don¡¯t poke at the Six without a good reason.¡±

    ¡°Our order has a long history of taking in lost souls with nowhere else to go,¡± Lord Asher smiled, never quite showing his teeth. ¡°I do not believe you want this to change, Anju, so what is it that you are proposing?¡±

    ¡°That we don¡¯t rub their face in the girl joining the ck any more than we need to,¡± Brigadier Laghari said. ¡°Let the offence die down some by sending her cabal somewhere quiet and out of sight for its first test. We can take the temperature before their second year, see if the storm has passed.¡±

    ¡°There is some sense in that,¡± Captain Fde conceded, pawing at a stack of papers and ripping out a sheet with a noise of satisfaction. ¡°And here: the Asphodel Rectorate requested for us to find theirtest cult, it seems a fitting assignment.¡±

    Osian¡¯s brows raised in rm at the suggestion. Rooting out a hollow cult was supposed to be a <em>quiet</em> assignment? Professor Fenhua noticed his expression and let out a snort.

    ¡°Bored nobles ying cultist, not a true cult,¡± Fenhua assured him. ¡°Last time we caught them they were dealing with some fertility god for party favors. There¡¯s not much trouble to be found in Asphodel. Captain Osian.¡±

    ¡°An eptablepromise,¡± Lord Asher mused. ¡°Under this constraint, I vote to maintain Angharad Tredegar¡¯s candidature for Scholomance.¡±

    The other three agreed, one after the other and like that it was done. It would be all right, Osian told himself. He had been to the Rectorate once or twice, if barely beyond the port, and it was a faded power. A backwater past its prime, more concerned by its petty squabbles with other third-raters than its own diminished standing. As quiet as it got in Trebian Sea.

    How much trouble could one really get in somewhere like the Asphodel Rectorate?

 Chapter 46

    Chapter 46

    Thunder, the pistol bucked and Tristan¡¯s hand with it.

    Batting away the plume of smoke, he took a look at the target and groaned. Shoulder shot, again. That made the third in a row, and at this point they¡¯d have to ask one of the staff to bring back more straw to stuff that poor scarecrow with.

    ¡°You have the stance and the breathing down,¡± Song said. ¡°Only in a learned way, not yet drilled, but that wille with repetition.¡±

    ck House, being the polite version of the Rectorate allowing the Watch to build a fort inside their own capital, naturally had a shooting range within its bounds. The reason that the pair of them were down here at six in the morning to use it, though, was that the student brigades were no longer the only ones lining up to use it.

    The diplomatic delegation from the Rookery had arrived with an armed escort, who were quite high-handed in making use of the facilities. The Fourth Brigade had been evicted by them when using the range yesterday, which was why Tristan was here at six failing to improve his uracy: at this hour every morning the retinue were running formation drills in thergest courtyard.

    The thief wiped his slightly smoke-tarnished hand on the side of his uniform, for which he got red at even though the damn thing was already ck so it wouldn¡¯t even show!

    ¡°If that¡¯s true, then why does Strawcifer¡¯s torso still remain stubbornly un-shot?¡± he challenged.

    Song had first stood with him to check his stance, but since retreated to a bench by the side of the range where she was slowly drinking her way through a pot of one of those Tianxi teas that only she liked. In the Thirteenth, anyway. How she had yet to so much as spill a drop when the shots sometimes rattled the porcin was impressive, he¡¯d admit.

    ¡°First off, I have not and will not agree to naming the target,¡± Song said.¡°It does not matter,¡± Fortuna said, sprawled besides her on the bench. ¡°We voted, majority carries.¡±

    She had been poured a cup even though she could not drink it and Tristan had no intention of doing so, showing that Song Ren was a quick learner in matters of divine appeasement. The Tianxi¡¯s silver eyes narrowed as she read the lips, mouthing along. Tristan had decisively not offered to voice Fortuna¡¯s words, knowing that once that road to Hell was paved there would be no walking it back.

    ¡°The Watch is not a democracy,¡± Song said. ¡°Superior rank carries. Which is why Straw- which is why <em>the target</em> will go unnamed.¡±

    ¡°If you say so, darling,¡± Fortuna condescendingly said, throwing back her golden curls.

    The condescension would perhaps have stung more if she did not then immediately put her hand through the teacup trying to drink it, having for the third time forgotten it was not of her own making.

    ¡°And second,¡± Song said, wisely hiding her amusement at the sight, ¡°your problem is neither of those. It is that you flinch every time the powder blows.¡±

    Tristan grimaced, because that had the ring of truth.

    ¡°I have a hard time trusting guns,¡± he admitted. ¡°There is a reason Abu did not much train me on them.¡±

    Reasons, really. While it was fine for her to teach him how to load and fire a pistol, it would have been another for a thief like him to own one ¨C more attention that someone intending tost in that profession ought to court. Song sipped at her cup, set it down. Her stare was considering.

    ¡°Your contract.¡±

    He hesitated, nodded. His misfortune liked a loaded gun, loved it really. It was the kind of blowback that was easily tailored to how strong he¡¯d pulled on the luck while being difficult for him to avoid. Which the bad luck preferred when it could easily arrange it.

    ¡°Powder in general is something I learned to be wary of,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°That is not without sense,¡± she assured him. ¡°But consider that you currently carry a pistol while being a middling shot. The risk is already taken, but by improving your aim you make taking it worth more.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to sell me on the practice,¡± he said, somewhat amused. ¡°I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°Would that the others were as well,¡± Song said, ¡°but I suppose having a designated time for the contract experimentation is for the best.¡±

    He hid his amusement this time. He was fairly certain the only reason Angharad had suggested the arrangement in the first ce was to avoid spending the better part of an hour on the range taking instructions from Song.

    ¡°Repetition is how the flinch will go,¡± she continued. ¡°My eldest brother had the same issue and that was what the drillmaster prescribed to rid him of it.¡±

    ¡°Is he a fine shot as well, then?¡± Tristan asked.

    Song¡¯s face went very calm and very remote. She sipped at her tea, the winter mask only thawing a touch from that heat.

    ¡°I am afraid not,¡± she said. ¡°He threatened to shoot himself if ever handed a pistol again, so our parents desisted.¡±

    <em>Manes</em>, Tristan thought. How was it that Song¡¯s living family somehow ended up being just as tragic as the rest of the Thirteenth¡¯s buried ones?

    ¡°Well,¡± he said with forced cheer, ¡°both of mine are dead so I sounds like I won¡¯t be able to wiggle my way out. Way to dangle that false hope, Song. Think of the orphans next time, why don¡¯t you?¡±

    Fortuna turned an incredulous look on him, the silver-eyed girl next to her staring him down stone-faced. Then the mountain cracked, and she let out the most disbelieving bout ofughter he had ever heard. It was a solid eight seconds before she got that under control.

    ¡°Gods,¡± Song said, ¡°did you <em>really</em> just say that?¡±

    He shrugged.

    ¡°We can me it on the wind if you want,¡± he said. ¡°And I¡¯m switching to musket for the next few shots, I¡¯m morefortable when the end of the barrel is further off from my head.¡±

    She snorted, got to her feet.

    ¡°Then I am going to demonstrate the stance again,¡± Song said. ¡°Else you¡¯ll bruise your armpit, and Maryam will start making peach puns at breakfast again ¨C we are weeks past any of the good ones.¡±

    ¡°There were never any good ones,¡± Tristan somberly replied. ¡°Deep down, you know this to be true.¡±

    Song thinned her lips in that way she only ever did when forcing herself not to smile, and the thief hid his own grin. There were worst morning routines to have, he¡¯d admit.

    --

    It was harder to remain angry at Tristan now that the reason she was had been made obsolete, but through the powers of perseverance and believing in herself Maryam managed. He¡¯d apologized, of course, but not mean a single word. No, he had to be made to feel a sting else he¡¯d not even hesitate before doing it again. She¡¯d forgive him, because she <em>had</em> been pushing further than was safe out of pride, but she could not let him get into the habit of making decisions for her.

    Lieutenant Mitra had proved quite amenable to her request ¨C made in the presence of Captain Wen, to make it official business ¨C and almost too enthused at the notion of heading into a dangerous part of Tratheke to study a potentially even more dangerous whirlpool in the aether. Maryam had even resigned herself at the thought that Alejandra Torrero would likely be dragged along so she might learn from the experience as well.

    Some favoritism was only to be expected and Lieutenant Mitra was the Fourth¡¯s patron. Now, standing with the gathered expedition crew, Maryam could only yearn for the glowing days when she¡¯d thought only one of the Fourth would being along.

    ¡°Bait,¡± Captain Tupoc Xical said. ¡°How go the supplies?¡±

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t let me take the good wine,¡± the aforementioned Bait replied, ¡°but I got a whole roast. With the mustard sauce.¡±

    Murmurs of approval from the rest of the Fourth, who had taken to the sweet mustard sauce that the ck House cooks considered their specialty and thered liberally on most meats. It was not Asphodelian in the slightest, but Maryam would take all the breaks from garlic that she was offered. Bait, whose true name was Adarsh Hebbar, straightened a little at the approval of the rest of his brigade. He then ruined that burst of confidence by nervously fiddling with his sses.

    Expendable, the Mni boy with the grand hat and a presence in the aether that felt like a wild animal howling and scratching at bars, cleared his throat. He had wolf¡¯s eyes, this one, and rarely spoke unless directly addressed.

    ¡°Did you ask for¡­¡±

    ¡°Your cuts were set aside,¡± Bait volunteered. ¡°Barely cooked.¡±

    The Mni contractor nodded thanks while the least of the brawl-enforced naming scheme, eptable Losses ¨C a slender Tianxi whose burn scars covered half her face and had turned her left eye milky white ¨C checked her pack again. Where Bait had been charged with procuring the food for a pic, packs that would be split between himself and Alejandra Torrero, eptable Losses appeared to be carrying a haversack stuffed full of explosives.

    Hiding her dismay, Maryam turned her gaze on her sole ally present: Wen Duan, who busied himself nibbling at a peach. He paused in that crime on the senses to shrug.

    ¡°If Mitra thinks the ce is too dangerous, we¡¯ll copse the teahouse and burn everything out,¡± Captain Wen said.

    Maryam grunted. That was, in truth, a sensible decision. Almost made up for her dangerous investigation of an eldritch gate into a cursed halfyer realm being turned by Tupoc into a glorified pic. The most horrifying part of that, admittedly, might just be how easily the Fourth had been solid on having a meal over a potentialyer entrance.

    They took two carriages out, but there were too many people for Maryam to be able to swing sharing hers with only her patron. She inherited Bait and Losses, somewhat offended when she realized that sharing a coach with her had been turned by Tupoc into a punishment. Well, sheforted herself, mostly likely it was Wen that they counted ash. His Saga lesson still had the students from the other brigades wincing every time he reached for an orange.

    Fortunately for everyone else, Wen cracked open a book about¡­ Sarayan pottery patterns, really? Anyway, he buried himself in his book and pretended they did not exist, which left an awkward silence to linger as the coach rolled smoothly through the streets of Tratheke. When it got too much, Maryam cleared her throat and tossed out as inoffensive a conversation starter as she could muster.

    ¡°How are the Umuthi sses?¡± she asked eptable Losses. ¡°I hear Commander Tredegar¡¯s supposed to be quite gifted.¡±

    Losses nced at her. She could see through the burned eye, Maryam thought. Likely not well, but under the pale film she could make out the iris moving when her gaze did.

    ¡°He¡¯s Clockwork Cathedral, which is good for me but not Coyac,¡± she replied. ¡°He¡¯s Deuteronomicon track.¡±

    The Clockwork Cathedral, Maryam recalled, was the name for the part of the Umuthi Society that built pure machinery. The Deuteronomicon, in contrast, concerned itself mainly with aether machines. Though the first stretch of education for both tracks was much the same,ter on it diverged rather radically. Aether engines could work on principles that contradicted physicalws, after all.

    ¡°Any good as a teacher?¡±

    ¡°Fishing for the other Tredegar?¡± eptable Losses sneered.

    Maryam met her eyes and let that silence stretch out ufortably. The Tianxi coughed into her fist.

    ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± she mumbled.

    The Izvorica¡¯s gaze moved to Bait, who flinched. If his neck could bur itself into his body, she suspected there would be no trace left of his head.

    ¡°Please do not curse me,¡± Adarsh Hebbar politely requested. ¡°¡­ma¡¯am.¡±

    Maryam approved of the ma¡¯am ¨C all folk should address her thus, really ¨C but cocked an eyebrow at the request.

    ¡°Why would I curse you?¡±

    ¡°Your entire brigade is bad luck,¡± eptable Losses informed her happily. ¡°The Ren needs no exnation, but Tupoc says that Abrascal is some kind of contracted corpse and everyone knows Tredegar was possessed. Not only do you look like a hollow-¡±

    ¡°Tread carefully, now,¡± Maryam warned.

    ¡°-but Alejandra says she¡¯s pretty sure you¡¯ve been eating Gloam creatures,¡± Losses finished with a smug smile.

    A page turned in the corner, louder than usual, drew their attention.

    ¡°That¡¯s untrue,¡± Wen said without ever raising his eyes.

    A beat passed.

    ¡°Chronologically speaking, it¡¯s more likely that hollows are the ones looking like the Izvoric,¡± he noted.

    Ah, she should have known better than to think Wen Duan would help by now. Sighing, Maryam wrote off the ride as a lost cause and let the silence reign. However stilted, it was still better than talking to these people.

    --

    To her mild surprise, Maryam did not recognize the surroundings of the teahouse.

    Part of it must be that it was now the Asphodel daytime, which meant half the brassnterns went out, but it now urred to her that she might not have been entirely out of the fugue state when Tristan helped her through these parts. The streets were not as she remembered them, too short and not as narrow, and though they were objectively better lit than they must have been that night they still seemed darker to her eye.

    To begin seeing through the dark was one of the signs of Gloam intoxication: it was a lesser form of how darklings saw the world.

    Swallowing a grimace, the pale-skinned woman silently revised how quickly she must forgive Tristan. He¡¯d had better cause to worry than she grasped, however uneptable his method of acting on it. Her nav tasted at the aether around them and found it full of small eddies: shallow but continuing ripples, as if some underground source was feeding into a small river. Much calmer than she remembered this ce to be from herst visit.

    ¡°Found the entrance,¡± Tupoc called out.

    Their entire party hade wearing the ck, this time, so what few people had been out in the streets before those horrid Reeking Rows ducked out at the sight them. ckcloaks were respected, but seen as bad omens more often than not ¨C rare was the sight of a rook in a ce where no trouble lurked. The Fourth passed through the trick window one after another, Mitra then following, but Wen took one look at the sawed-through nks and grimaced.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± he said. ¡°This might take me a bit.¡±

    Maryam did him the courtesy of passing through quickly and not looking back. Wen was surprisingly agile, for a man of his size, but no amount of agility would broaden that windowsill. The Fourth had spread out across the room, avoiding the center. Even with her nav retracted, Maryam could feel the wisdom in that. There was¡­ something in the air.

    ¡°No fresh tracks since Abrascal¡¯s report,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°We are the first visitors since.¡±

    ¡°On this side, at least,¡± Maryam said. ¡°There¡¯s the back.¡±

    The door to which still hung open. Lieutenant Mitra, looking unusually serious as his eyes remained peeled on the center of the hall, let out a grunt.

    ¡°Tupoc, check if the back is clear,¡± he ordered. ¡°Khaimov, Torrero, with me. Stand close.¡±

    Maryam obeyed,ing elbow-to-elbow with an interested-looking Alejandra. Mitra¡¯s hand snapped out and he traced Gloam like a chatan would throw powders into me, all broad strokes and verve. It was not at all how she¡¯d been taught to trace, and the furrows of Gloam he left behind in the air felt¡­ deeper, and somehow more nuanced? His eyes were bright when he finished and Maryam¡¯s eyes was drawn to her feet. Around the three of them was a perfect ring of oily darkness, hovering half an inch above the floor and centered perfectly around the lieutenant.

    ¡°Do not extend your logos beyond the ring,¡± Lieutenant Mitra ordered. ¡°Forward, now.¡±

    They followed him, shuffling awkwardly, until he came to a half maybe a dozen feet away from the exact center of the room.

    ¡°Here,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said. ¡°The best vantage we will get it.¡±

    Maryam could only agree. To her nav, it felt as close to the source of the eddies in the aether as they could get without being <em>in</em> the eddy. She breathed out and focused her will, feeling out the waves as they passed ¨C and brushing past Torrero¡¯s own nav as she did the same. They came almost every minute, steady and very nearly regr.

    "They are getting weaker,¡± Alejandra muttered. ¡°And maybe slower? By very small fractions, though.¡±

    Maryam grunted in assent.

    ¡°There is no impulse behind it I can find,¡± she added. ¡°It feels like an echo.¡±

    Uwfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°Because it is,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said. ¡°Someone did <em>very</em> pdash work cutting their way out ayer adjacent to the material and it was the metaphysical equivalent of tossing a boulder in a pond. The marks of that impact are fading, and if we return in a few days there will be no trace left at all.¡±

    ¡°I was in a manic state that night,¡± Maryam acknowledged, ¡°but from what I recall the local aether did feel a lot messier.¡±

    The trouble had not been that her mind was gone but that suddenly there had been too much<em> in</em> it. When she ripped a kernel out of the shade and consumed it, she had taken back parts of her old memories but also of the Cauldron ¨C the ancient working woven from all the secrets of the Craft, which she¡¯d thought lost but had in truth been <em>stolen</em>.

    And a kernel of something so massive had been as a year of learning, most of it iplete and incoherent but the parts that were not searingly vivid. Almost truer than her own memories, before she came back to herself. The ritual of inheritance, it had precautions to ward the mind of they who were to be the Keeper of Hooks. Devouring pieces of the shade had no such wardings.

    And there was more, too. Yue had not been wrong, to say that taking from the shade would expand¡­ Maryam¡¯s perspective. Not only were her Grasp and Command in perfect alignment, however fading the phenomenon, the signifier had found that tracing felt different now. That she knew, instinctively, how to curve and tuck strokes so that the Gloam would not struggle as strongly against the Sign.

    And that was not something that could be <em>taught</em>.

    ¡°- this ce?¡±

    Maryam snapped back to attention in time to tune in on Lieutenant Mitra¡¯s answer to the question she had missed.

    ¡°The fabric of the aether should be nothing too unusual when the eddies smooth out,¡± the Someshwari said. ¡°We are, in the end, nothing more than endless reiterations struggling for a different ending, inherently doomed to failure.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°Though I expect that if our assassin knew they would emerge here, as is suggested by their visiting the ce in advance, there must be some connection to their means of crossing,¡± he added. ¡°Let us have a look at that wall, yes?¡±

    Behind them was a grunt, a curse, and then a loud thump. They all pretended not to hear Wen Duan dragging himself back up to his feet.

    --

    There was no trace of whatever the criminals had once kept here, save for one bottle of transparent liquor left in the middle of the toorge basement. Tupoc ripped out the cork, took a sniff and then had a swallow.

    ¡°Strong stuff,¡± the Izcalli said. ¡°Tastes a little like pine.¡±

    A moment passed as he stared down at the bottle.

    ¡°And it¡¯s not poisoned, either, fancy that,¡± Tupoc happily announced. ¡°It seems like we¡¯ll have drinks with lunch after all.¡±

    ¡°Give me that, Xical, it¡¯s contraband,¡± Wen said. ¡°Very illegal stuff it is, can¡¯t trust students with it.¡±

    The pale-eyed Izcalli turned a cocked eyebrow on his own patron. Wen mouthed ¡®half and half¡¯ at him.

    ¡°It could be drugged,¡± Lieutenant Mitra smoothly agreed. ¡°Captain Wen and I must investigate.¡±

    He cleared his throat.

    ¡°Abrascal never found out what lies on the other side of those stairs,¡± he added, pointing at the set they¡¯d not entered the bare room through. ¡°Go do so, and take Yan and Vphi with you.¡±

    ¡°As you say, sir,¡± Tupoc drily replied. ¡°Bait, go back in the room where Abrascal almost got killed and ready the food. It seems like a good ce to have our meal at.¡±

    Maryam casually flipped him the finger, which only had him grinning as he sauntered off. That left behind the three signifiers and Wen, whose sole contribution was to go through the bags Bait was bringing up one at a time to fish out a pair of tin goblets. Best get this done before the patrons started drinking, Maryam thought as she picked up one of thenterns on the ground and headed for the wall at the back.

    It was as Tristan said: the stone there was the same as the roads in the emptyyer.

    Alejandra caught up, but driven by the same distinct as Maryam she took not a step past thentern. Lieutenant Mitra, however, brushed past the both of them with his robes aflutter. He hummed as he paced back and forth, shing a few lines of Gloam through the air in the form of a fast-fading Sign beforeying his palm against the stone. It stayed there, Mitra closing his eyes, and she risked tasting the aether around him with her nav.

    It felt, she thought, like a man rapping his knuckles against a jar. He was pulsing Gloam while pricking his metaphysical ear for an echo. What he heard, though, she knew not.

    ¡°That,¡± Lieutenant Mitra finally said as he withdrew his palm, ¡°is brackstone. And of rather high quality, too: my Reverb Sign couldn¡¯t even pass all the way through.¡±

    ¡°Brack-stone,¡± Maryam tried out. ¡°As in ¡®bracken stone¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Technically they are a manner of brick, not natural stone,¡± Mitra mused, ¡°but yes, you are correct. It is used for containment and protection because it bears salt inside. Much stronger against aether than Gloam, but still difficult for a signifier to pass through.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d never heard of brackstone either,¡± Alejandra admitted, scowling.

    ¡°It fell out of use over a century and a half ago,¡± Captain Wen said, and Maryam almost jumped out of her skin.

    She¡¯d not heard him cross the room, and now he was barely three feet away from here.

    ¡°The Mni discovered that adding salt and wood ash into simple bricks has about the same effect at a tenth of the cost,¡± Wen said. ¡°The Imperial Someshwar stole the recipe off them and it¡¯s spread most everywhere since.¡±

    ¡°The older parts of the Rookery have entire towers made of brackstone,¡± Lieutenant Mitra told them. ¡°Though hardly of such quality as this wall.¡±

    ¡°To build roads of such a stone inside ayer seems¡­ odd,¡± Alejandra said.

    ¡°Unless you want every way out to be hostile to whatever lies inside,¡± Maryam said. ¡°That sphere at the center of theyer that I found, I must now wonder ¨C was it sand that I was walking on, or very fine <em>salt</em>?¡±

    ¡°Your report mentioned a bronze harpoon within,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said.

    ¡°Tall as a ship¡¯s mast, and about as broad,¡± she agreed. ¡°Plunged deep in the sand.¡±

    A detail that grew more ominous now that it urred to her the very ¡®sand¡¯ might be a prison.

    ¡°That is your key, I wager,¡± Mitra said. ¡°Our assassin was able to enter the paths using an object that has a connection to the harpoon. The exact mechanics yet escape me ¨C it cannot be a simplepass, else it would not have allowed them to leave theyers and <em>certainly</em> not know where they would cross back into the material ¨C but that harpoon is the only feasible metaphysical anchor.¡±

    He chewed his lip, thoughtful.

    ¡°Even if one follows the logic that the stone here is connected to the paths, it should have been difficult for the assassin to predict <em>where</em> she would emerge,¡± Mitra said. ¡°I expect our wall here, the structure is it part of, will not be the only one hidden under the foundation of Tratheke. So why this ce and not another?¡±

    Maryam cleared her throat.

    ¡°And when Tristan and I emerged out in the street¡­¡±

    ¡°You followed through an already open path, the easiest way out, but without whatever tool allows the assassin precision,¡± Lieutenant Mitra absent-mindedly said. ¡°Hence ending up in the street.¡±

    She took a second to parse that out.

    ¡°It sounds to me,¡± she ventured, ¡°like the paths can be entered from anywhere but one emerges only at ces connected to theyer.¡±

    ¡°A reasonable hypothesis,¡± Mitra agreed.

    ¡°So it likely can¡¯t be used to enter the rector¡¯s pce, only leave it,¡± she continued.

    He nced at her.

    ¡°Unless there is structure connected to the paths in the pce,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said, ¡°but again that is a reasonable assertion.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll be a relief to the lictors, I imagine,¡± Wen drily said.

    ¡°I wonder what the structure is,¡± Alejandra muttered. ¡°If those digging the basement found the wall by ident or this room is as old as the rest.¡±

    ¡°Too much guesswork is building with sand,¡± Mitra said. ¡°Though of course our lives are all painted in the bleak, indifferent colors of fated impermanence.¡±

    ¡°Best not to fiddle with that wall,¡± Wen said. ¡°We¡¯ll bring Song into this, Maryam, but it seems to me our wisest way forward is to make inquiries with the Lord Rector. Even if House Palliades does not know what this is about, there is bound to be something in their private archives.¡±

    ¡°Sending word to Stheno¡¯s Peak would be equally wise,¡± Lieutenant Mitra noted. ¡°We will have our own records.¡±

    Not a dead end, Maryam decided, but a hint. Something was buried beneath Tratheke, and some fool had decided to meddle with it. They left the wall to its dark and silence, waiting until Tupoc and his minions returned to news of the other stairs leading to a cramped tunnel eventually ending in a house further down the street. By the looks of it there had been a dormitory of sorts for guards there, and a discreet back door through which to bring crates.

    They ate their meal upstairs before leaving, and s for the students none of the bottle survived the thorough inspection it was given by their patrons.

    --

    It was dark out, and though Song would have had no trouble navigating the night Tristan¡¯s presence had warranted bringing antern ¨C shuttered until only a thin slice of light went through. At the thief¡¯s request they had kept off the well-lit avenues of Asphodel, moving through side streets instead. It slowed them down, but not as much as she would have thought.

    Be they great or small, all the streets of Tratheke were paved with the same smooth, perfectly fitting stones.

    They were, ording to the city map they had borrowed from ck House, not far from their destination. Out in the northwest of the city, past the houses and shops crowding the inner ward and the Collegium, then past the two of the less impressive neighborhoods centered around therge avenue cutting straight through the northwestern quarter of the city.

    Tratheke was built as if a god had used a ruler when setting down the stone and brass, which Song found extremely appealing to the eye, but this far out the original grid only meant so much. Filth and dirt had crawled in, tainting perfect facades and caking the bottom of brassnterns.

    ¡°This does not seem like a wise part of the city to have warehouses in,¡± Song muttered. ¡°The people of the district mere minutes away do not look wealthy.¡±

    Was it not unnecessarily reckless to store trade goods near those who would be tempted to steal them?

    ¡°A coterie runs the ce,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°<em>Basilea</em>, as they call them here. It¡¯s what those grey wings they put in the corner of ss windows mean, that dues have been paid to the Pegasoi.¡±

    ¡°And the owners of the warehouses pay the Pegasoi to keep thieves out,¡± Song slowly said, ¡°because warehouses here are inexpensive enoughpared to the prices in southern Tratheke that bribing the thugs is still cheaper than buying there.¡±

    ¡°Guesswork, but that is also my bet,¡± the thief said. ¡°Everyone¡¯s going to want the warehouses closest to the causeway leading to the Lordsport, it¡¯s the same as thend around the harbors in Sacromonte.¡±

    It was the same in every port, she thought. Mazu, which she was most familiar with, was no exception. It was not without reason that much of that city¡¯s waterside was owned by the city itself and rented to merchants instead of sold. Song¡¯s father had once told her that foreigners wanting to lease it must pay five times the rates as locals and that the city made almost as much from Mni tradepanies as the rest of the rents put together.

    Yet where Mazu was thriving, sure to be the richest of the republics outside the Sanxing if not for the border with Izcalli and the ring of manned forts that forced it to maintain, the northwest districts looked deste. The only ones profiting from this arrangement were the thugs and the <em>yiwu</em>, as tended to be the way under the rule of kings.

    ¡°Here,¡± Tristan whispered, jolting her out of her thoughts. ¡°That¡¯s the one, just past that intersection.¡±

    Mildly irritated ¨C and impressed ¨C that the half of this pair that could not see through the gloom was the better navigator out in these streets, Song followed his jutting thumb. Keeping an eye out for anyone who might be lurking, they walked the rest of the distance with their hands on their des.

    The warehouse was, unsurprisingly, not one of the nicer ones in this derelict ce. A low-ceilinged rectangle of a ce maybe six hundred feet long, its brass-boned roof had caved in at several spots and only been shoddily patched. There were multiple padlocks on the front gates, but only a lock on the side door. And unlike the warehouses they¡¯d passed by earlier, closer to the Pegasoi stomping grounds, there were no hired guards keeping an eye out.

    ¡°Side door?¡± she quietly asked.

    ¡°I can pick it,¡± Tristan agreed. ¡°But I saw a gap under the front gates. Check if there¡¯s anyone inside, would you?¡±

    Clever, she thought. Someone else would see only darkness if no lights were lit, but that was no trouble to her own eyes. She lowered herself to the ground as he kept watch, peeking through the thin slice of room under the door. An open floor, skeletal frames of metal and not a soul in sight.

    ¡°Clear,¡± she whispered.

    He made quick work of the lock when they doubled back, and almost silently to boot.

    ¡°Tell me that isn¡¯t Tianxi,¡± she murmured.

    He grinned, which was answer enough.

    ¡°It¡¯s a Bohe,¡± he said. ¡°The cheapest stuff your workshops put out, it¡¯s actually worse than sixty-years old locks. You can get one for the price of a bushel of oranges, though.¡±

    That House Anaidon had put the literal cheapest lock on the market on the door of their suspect warehouse was somewhat amusing, she¡¯d admit, even more so when it urred to her that them buying a Tianxi lock might just well have been what drew the Yellow Earth¡¯s eye here in the first ce.

    Cutting corners always came at a cost.

    Momentster they were in, her with her <em>jian </em>out and Tristan with his ckjack. They entered what appeared to be some kind of office, by the amount of desks, but there was nothing to go through here: the tabletops were bare, the drawers outright gone and the only chair left only had three legs. The ce had been stripped bare, only furniture toorge to fit through the door and too shoddy to be worth pulling apart left behind.

    The door on the other side of the room led to the warehouse floor, which another sweep confirmed to be empty save for those strange skeletal frames. Tristan opened thentern fully, bringing it up, and by unspoken ord they split up to inspect the warehouse. Her gaze lingered on the frames, which were not of the brassy alloy everywhere in Tratheke but rather rusted-through iron.

    She thought they looked like half a set of ribs, at least until she realized they¡¯d beenud to rest the wrong way. There were pegs higher up the walls where the frames must have once been hung, looking like dull hooks curving upwards. To support something, perhaps? She knew that Asphodel exported cedar wood, prized in shipbuilding everywhere as cedar did not rot.

    Perhaps trees had beenid to rest on the hooks, though for what reason she could only guess.

    ¡°Mhmmm.¡±

    Her gaze went to Tristan, who was kneeling next to¡­ rags? She headed his way, and her eyes narrowed as she got closer. Those were not rags but nkets. So ragged they might as well, and tossed away in piles, but nkets nheless. By the size of the piles, at least a hundred of them.

    ¡°Scorched stone over there,¡± Tristan said, jutting a thumb to his left. ¡°Cooking stove, I¡¯m guessing. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll find more trace if we keep looking.¡±

    There were. A corner in the back was clearly full of dry piss, by the smell, and not far off were traces of shit at the bottom of a wall. Someone had missed the chamber pot, though of those there was no trace. Meanwhile Tristan found trace of another stove and half-erased chalk in the form of a grid with symbols on it.

    ¡°A ritual grid?¡± she wondered. ¡°Some sort of cypher?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a tomb and stars grid,¡± Tristan told her.

    That sounded ominous, though for some reason he seemed amused. Was it-

    ¡°The most popr dice game in the western isles,¡± he said.

    Song cleared her throat.

    ¡°Is it now?¡±

    ¡°I mean, they changed some of the symbols,¡± he said, ¡°but that¡¯s probably just the version local to Asphodel. All the biggest cities tend to use their own symbols for the stars, and for some godforsaken reason Old Saraya uses a different one for the tombs.¡±

    He shrugged.

    ¡°I¡¯ve taken a good enough look to draw them again, so I¡¯ll confirm the symbols with the servants when wee back.¡±

    She nodded, frowning. Not at her mistake, though that was also decent reason.

    ¡°Threadbare nkets, a stove and dice games,¡± Song said. ¡°This does not seem like their of a revel cult.¡±

    ¡°It sounds like someone stashed soldiers here,¡± Tristan tly said.

    She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged.

    ¡°Looked, I saw your face when you saw shit on the wall but think about it,¡± he said. ¡°As many men as there were nkets, here for who knows how long, and only one mess? There was a concerted effort to keep traces of presence light, and discipline in sticking to it. It¡¯s not a few vagrants off the streets that tripped the lock and stayed a few days.¡±

    ¡°You might have a point,¡± Song admitted.

    And if someone had kept soldiers here, it stood to reason arms had been kept as well. She swept through the warehouse floor again, this time not looking for marks of life so much as ¨C ah, and there we were. The men that¡¯d stayed here had not wiped the floor free of dust before putting down their nkets, so the parts where they¡¯d stayed had even streaks and clumps of gathered dust. There was one section of the floor, though, that was universally clean.

    Tristan caught up with her.

    ¡°Too clean?¡±

    ¡°Too clean,¡± she agreed.

    ¡°I¡¯m not seeing seams for a false floor,¡± the thief said. ¡°Mind you, I wouldn¡¯t if it¡¯s well done. A powder trick would-¡±

    Song crouched, breathing in and focusing. Seeing the truth, and the truth was a hairline fracture in the floor. She followed the contour, the straight lines and corners, until she found one the corner that was chopped. Uneven. She made her way there, fingers pressing down, and found the catch. She rotated a spot in the stone, something clicking beneath the surface and then she carefully lifted a square of stone onlyrge as her fist and thick as a finger.

    Tristan let out a whistle.

    ¡°Well, here¡¯s two hours of my life saved,¡± he said. ¡°I fucking hate doing the powder trick, so a hundred flowers to you. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d want to swap contracts?¡±

    ¡°Contracts? No,¡± Song said. ¡°Though if you ever discover a way to swap gods¡­¡±

    ¡°Sold,¡± he replied without hesitation.

    He spent the following minute protecting his face from the righteous beating of his shouting goddess, which almost made up for the other part. The small ping of amusementing from the depths of her own soul, Luren¡¯s mirth like the tinkle of a silver bell.

    Once Tristan was done groveling his way back to peace, they got to work. The rest of the stone hiding the cache was heavier and thicker, covering much more surface. The part she had removed was to leave room to slide in a perch and leverage it out. Trying out her sheath only revealed that the bottom was further down, but they improvised by sawing off a long swath of iron frame whose bottom was rusted off and using it as perch.

    While wearing gloves, of course, as Song did not intend having to append how she had caught lockjaw to the official report.

    The inside was disappointing in that it was empty, not so much a stray de left she could bring back as proof. Lowering herself down, though, she inspected the corners and smiled at what she saw. Grease and smudges ckpowder. In several ces, too, not only corner.

    ¡°They kept at least ten barrels of powder down here,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe more.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of powder even for a hundred men,¡± Tristan said, crouching at the edge. ¡°Unless they intend to be firing volleys, anyway.¡±

    ¡°My thoughts exactly,¡± Song replied, leaning against the wall.

    She took out a cloth to wipe her hands clean of the grease and powder before brushing back her hair.

    ¡°So someone¡¯s smuggling soldiers and powder into Tratheke,¡± he said. ¡°Either the cult of Golden Ram¡¯s not at all what we thought it was¡­¡±

    ¡°Or we have not caught the cult¡¯s tail at all,¡± Songpleted. ¡°Hector Anaidon is not the head of his house, and his brother would not necessarily let him in on a conspiracy.¡±

    ¡°You think someone¡¯s preparing a coup,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And that Lord Ainaidon¡¯s in bed with them.¡±

    ¡°From the inside is the only sensible way to take Tratheke,¡± Song said. ¡°It is an Antediluvian-made box with only fortified gates in and out. I¡¯ve read through Asphodel histories, Tristan, and the capital has never been stormed sessfully ¨C and not forck of rebels besieging it. Those brass walls will shrug off cannon fire.¡±

    ¡°And if the only way in and out is those big gates, all you need to do is put a couple of cannons facing the roads and shoot whatever tries to march in,¡± Tristan agreed. ¡°The enemy will run out of volunteers long before you run out of powder. Traitors opening a gate would be cheaper even if you promise each their weight in gold.¡±

    ¡°Or never needing to open the gates at all,¡± Song said, ¡°because your army is already inside the walls.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a bold n,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Risky, though. You¡¯d need to move them into the capita¡¯s empty parts while smuggling the rest in and Tratheke¡¯s empty parts aren¡¯t really empty ¨C there¡¯s the basileias running about. Someone will have seen something.¡±

    He paused, arriving at the same conclusion she already had.

    ¡°Unless they¡¯re in on it,¡± he finished, clicking his tongue. ¡°Yeah, it could work. Still risky.¡±

    ¡°The only force in Asphodel that had soldiers to spare and can bring them through the mountains unseen is the Council of Ministers,¡± Song said. ¡°They have the arms, thend routes and as of recently the <em>motivation</em> to make a gamble like this.¡±

    Tristan cursed.

    ¡°Because of the shipyard,¡± he said. ¡°If those start churning out skimmers, it doesn¡¯t matter how many men they can put together ¨C Evander Palliades will be rich enough to buy every mercenarypany kicking about the Trebian Sea and drown them in bodies. They need to knock him out before those shipyards solidify his position.¡±

    ¡°No more than six months,¡± Song quietly said. ¡°Any more than that and not only are the risks too high someone will flip but he should be getting money out of the Republics.¡±

    That was what Hao Yu said, that Ambassador Guo was under strict instructions to get ess to the shipyards. If he could not aplish that within six months, he would be dismissed and reced by someone who could.

    ¡°This feels out of our jurisdiction,¡± Tristan finally said.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± she said. ¡°It needs to go to Brigadier Chca.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ll finally get to meet the man who sold you out to the Lord Rector,¡± he drily said. ¡°Lucky you.¡±

    She rolled her eyes, then breathed out.

    ¡°We are thin on evidence,¡± Song finally said. ¡°He might not believe us.¡±

    ¡°Then he doesn¡¯t believe us,¡± Tristan shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ll hurry up with our contract and get out of this powder keg before someone throws a match.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°Interesting, though, that the Yellow Earth knows we¡¯re hunting a cult but sends us after what looks like noble conspiracy.¡±

    ¡°The thought urred,¡± Song acknowledged. ¡°Though in all fairness the Anaidon connection might have tripped them up as it did us.¡±

    She rolled her shoulder.

    ¡°It is still throwing us off their trail,¡± she acknowledged. ¡°Which begs the question of whether they do so because they do not want us stumbling into their usual schemes or because there is a cult connection.¡±

    ¡°The Yellow Earth¡¯s not going to be this easy to sniff out,¡± Tristan warned. ¡°That lot knows how burrow, Song. The infanzones have been trying to dig them out of the City for years and they have dust to show for it.¡±

    ¡°The Yellow Earth works in sects,¡± Song told him. ¡°Each is different, though there is supposedly a grandmaster that leads the movement. I doubt the Asphodel sect will be anywhere as well put together as the Sacromonte one.¡±

    She chewed the inside of her lip.

    ¡°Point taken, however,¡± she said. ¡°We do not know this city.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll need locals,¡± Tristan agreed. ¡°And I can think of only one sort that¡¯d be willing to treat with us.¡±

    ¡°Criminals,¡± she said.

    ¡°Basileias,¡± he shrugged. ¡°If you want us to pull at the Yellow Earth¡¯s tail, the lictors aren¡¯t going to do any good.¡±

    Because if the lictors knew of members of the sect, they would currently be strung up on gallows.

    ¡°Help me up,¡± Song said, extending her hand.

    He pulled and she pushed herself up the wall, scrabbling back onto solid ground. Now came the unpleasant part: putting it all back in case someone came to look.

    ¡°Perhaps Angharad will find us a lead,¡± Song said. ¡°But if she does not, the Yellow Earth now seems our likeliest suspect in having ties.¡±

    Which was more than passing odd, considering the Lord Rector¡¯s belief that the cult was being made into a vessel for a noble coup. Well, Evander was right about the coup at least if she was reading the signs correctly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll pray our friends in the Brazen Chariot will answer my invitation, then,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Else I¡¯ll have to go fishing off the list Hage gave me, and that could get tricky.¡±

    ¡°I have no doubt you will seed at getting us a meeting,¡± she said, and was surprised to find she meant it.

    He squinted at her.

    ¡°You¡¯re trying to guilt me into pulling the false floor instead of pushing, aren¡¯t you?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Song lied.

 Chapter 47

    Chapter 47

    The Thirteenth usually ate its evening meal together, asionally alongside the other brigades, but with Song and Tristan out tonight Angharad had elected to make other arrangements. Though she had a working truce of sorts with Maryam, she would much prefer not to eat an entire meal alone with the other woman.

    Besides, it had been too long since she shared a table with her uncle.

    Osian Tredegar was amander of the Watch, which meant that unlike her he had been able to make requests of the ck House kitchens: it was before an attempt at a ssic Pereduri spread that they sat. The heart of it was smoked mackerel, roasted cheese rarebit and wild spinach. An attempt atverbread had been made by the cooks, but the seaweed tasted wrong. A side dish of rabbit made up for it, though, the local game spruced up with flower salt.

    ¡°It¡¯s better than the flower salt from Carchar Mulfrain,¡± Angharad admitted, feeling somewhat unpatriotic.

    ¡°Rhiannon never bought Carchar salt in her life, Angie,¡± Uncle Osian snorted. ¡°She always got the cheaper fare out of Tariac that they dry a second time under the Carchar re. Insisted it was just as good.¡±

    She goggled at him.

    ¡°I have been eating <em>Azn</em> salt all my life?¡±

    It would be unfair to treat all the Azn peoples as if they were Izcalli, for though that eponymous people and kingdom stood the greatest among the Azn they also tended to be despised by their kin for the constant flower wars they inflicted on their neighbors. Still, Tariac was a tributary state of the Grasshopper King in all but name and only support from Mn kept it from teetering past the edge of the cliff.

    ¡°It¡¯s all from the Straying Sea regardless,¡± Osian replied, amused.She red at him. There would be a difference, she was sure of it. At least she had not been betraying the Duchy of Peredur by preferring Asphodelian flower salt to its own, which was something of afort. She dug into the mackerel, which was ¡®horse¡¯ mackerel instead of the snake mackerelmon around the Isles but was quite skillfully prepared nheless. Delicious.

    The rarebit was even better, to her surprise. It was not aplicated dish, but it was hard to get your hands on a decent one outside Peredur. Half the world seemed convinced rarebit was some sort of quiche, and some of the things they sold under the name in southern Mn should be treated as a crime.

    ¡°-knack for it.¡±

    Angharad finished her slice of rarebit and guiltily coughed.

    ¡°I missed thatst part,¡± she said.

    Osian snorted, sipping at dark wine.

    ¡°I was saying that the Tianxi girl from the Fourth, the one that goes by ¡®eptable Losses¡¯, has a real talent with powders,¡± he said. ¡°Only to be expected from the daughter of firework artisans, but she would be a catch for a munitions workshop.¡±

    ¡°Your own workshop,¡± she slowly said, ¡°is not concerned with the munitions themselves, as I understand it.¡±

    He wiggled his hand.

    ¡°Our focus is gunsmithing and artillery, but that involves some degree of powder tinkering,¡± Osian said. ¡°The bullets for rifles are not the same as for muskets, and the powder charger differs as well. Not my area of expertise, but I¡¯ve worked quite closely with such specialists.¡±

    He sipped at his ss.

    ¡°That and the asional deuce when one of them was foisted on us,¡± he sneered.

    Angharad cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°Deuce?¡± she asked.

    His lips twitched.

    ¡°How many members of the Deuteronomicon does it take to open a door?¡± Osian Tredegar asked.

    Angharad swallowed a grin. Ah, one of <em>those</em> jokes.

    ¡°How many?¡±

    ¡°Two,¡± he said. ¡°One to dere the door impassable, the other to im it doesn¡¯t exist. Then the Cathedral opens the door.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she gasped, delightfully scandalized. ¡°And you call them this to their faces?¡±

    ¡°They call us clockboys,¡± Osian shrugged. ¡°And those are some of the nicest sobriquets thrown around by either side.¡±

    ¡°And to think I¡¯d believed a schrly society like the Umuthi would be a realm of civility,¡± Angharad grinned.

    "Then you must not know many schrs,¡± he noted. ¡°I have read correspondence between Umuthi and Peiling professors so scathing it felt the paper should be ame.¡±

    He took a bite of mackerel, then dabbed his lips with the tablecloth.

    ¡°That Coyac boy from the Neenth is a good egg regardless of his chosen track, mind you,¡± Osian told her. ¡°Perhaps the most sincerely cordial young man of such high birth I¡¯ve met.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s brow rose as she tried to recall his full name.

    ¡°Izel Coyac,¡± she finally found. ¡°I know little of him but the name, I¡¯ll admit, and had no notion of him being highborn.¡±

    ¡°He is rted to Doghead Coyac, the Izcalli general that won them the Sordan War,¡± her uncle said. ¡°How closely I am unsure, but I expect he¡¯s a nephew or simrly close kin.¡±

    Her brow rose even higher. Much of the Kingdom of Izcalli¡¯s nobility was looked down upon in Mn and the Someshwar because of their position being so transient: fireflies, they were called, for many noble titles under the Grasshopper King could only be passed on or maintained by waging war in his name. That did not mean, however, that the military nobility was not powerful or influential.

    A general of Izcalli would be at least a <em>calpuleh</em>, ruling directly over a fortress-temple as well as receiving taxes from a dozen townships. With that seat and ie they were expected to raise and train a retinue of soldiers, which would serve as their core troops in any campaign the Grasshopper King assigned them. There were intricacies to this involving warrior societies that were somewhat beyond Angharad, but she had learned as a girl that Izcalli generals could often field retinuesparable to those of <em>izinduna</em>, the great lords of Mn.

    General Coyac was, in other words, a very influential rtion to have.

    ¡°To his cordiality, then,¡± Angharad said, raising her cup.

    Osian matched the toast. Then spent an hour eating and drinking, and though she¡¯d not imbibed enough to be drunk Angharad felt some knot in her shoulders loosen. It was a balm for the soul to spend time with the family she had left.

    No. <em>Almost</em> all the family she had left.

    As if reading the shadow that fell over her expression, Osian Tredegar waited for the servant to disappear with thest of the dessert tes to let out a long breath. The door was closed but he still pitched his voice low when he spoke.

    ¡°Brigadier Chca has requested ess to the cache, but the Lord Rector is using the attempt on his life as an excuse to stonewall him,¡± Osian said. ¡°He¡¯s giving ground on an inspection of the shipyard, however, and I will be part of that along with a Deuteronomicon schr. It should happen over the next few days, but as my role will be to ascertain the likely rate of production of the shipyard I will not be able to wander.¡±

    It would have been risky for her uncle to find the infernal forge while on official Watch business anyway, Angharad thought. The odds were too high there might bepany with him also capable of identifying the device, which would make obtaining it much trickier.

    ¡°That is still good news,¡± she said. ¡°You will learn something of the location.¡±

    ¡°The condition presented to Chca for the inspection was that our inspectors are to be sedated while brought to the shipyard," Osian grimaced. ¡°He has already epted.¡±

    She grimaced back. So they would still have to find their own way in. Time for her part of the report, then.

    ¡°That same assassination attempt cut through the sole party I attended,¡± Angharad quietly told him. ¡°I was not able to secure an invitation from Lord Cleon to his estate.¡±

    She clenched her fist beneath the table. She had spoken with him a second time that night, before the lictors burst in and politely detained everyone, but to go fishing for an invite while rms bells were ringing would have been highly suspicious. Still, she was not out of the race yet.

    ¡°Lord Menander has sent me an invitation to a garden party at noon tomorrow,¡± she said. ¡°I will do what I must to secure ess then.¡±

    ¡°We do not know for certain Cleon Eirenos has found a path to the shipyard,¡± Uncle Osian reminded her. ¡°Only that he is the most likely lord to have found trace of the lictors out in the hills.¡±

    While the Watch had been told that the shipyard was beneath the ind of Asphodel, its exact location and that of the path to said shipyard had proved elusive. And not forck of looking, either. The colonel of the Stheno¡¯s Peak garrison had reported suspicions that the entrance must be outside the capital, as Lord Rector Evander had too many eyes on him there to have been able to refurbish an Antediluvian shipyard without anyone noticing the flow of men and supplies.

    That meant the Tratheke hills, as open ins were no hiding ce, and of the nobles to have noticed something there Lord Cleon was their best bet.

    ¡°He was attracted to me, and not entirely opposed to boasting,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I should be able to get him talking if he knows anything.¡±

    It was somewhat ufortable a thought, close to lying and certainly a deception, but it could not be helped. She would make certain not to harm the young man in any way and seek a way to repay the favor if he did end up helping her.

    ¡°And your¡­ friend?¡± Uncle Osian hesitantly asked.

    Captain Imani, he meant. The ufudu with a hand around her throat, ready to squeeze. Amusingly enough, though Imani Langa had tried to approach her several times she had not been able to ¨C both Song and Tristan had taken a dislike to her and kept tripping her up. So long as the Eleventh remained lodged at ck House it was inevitable that Imani would find an opening, but for now Angharad was allowing herself to enjoy the other woman¡¯s misadventures.

    ¡°We have not recently spoken,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I will tell you when we do.¡±

    ¡°Do so,¡± Osian Tredegar tly said. ¡°I am helping you with this, niece, so that you do not get yourself killed ¨C but I will not tolerate being left in the dark.¡±

    She nodded, for what else could she do? Though her uncle¡¯s fingers around her throat were more kindly meant than Imani¡¯s, their grip was no weaker. Angharad needed his help and his silence no less than she needed Imani Langa¡¯s good word to the Lefthand House. <em>Tomorrow</em>, she told herself. <em>Tomorrow I will get that invitation ande a step closer to an end for all this.</em> Ancestors, let it be so.

    Every day this felt a little more like drowning.

    --

    (<em>Where did you get your hatchet</em>? Angharad asked. <em>The armory in Azei</em>, Maryam replied, <em>but it is not standard issue so I had to pay a fee</em>.)

    She frowned as she emerged, feeling the inside of her veins aching. As if it had bruised. Soon she would be reaching their agreed-on limit for the day. That was the downside of doing the contract tests in the morning, as far as Angharad was concerned: it tied her hands regarding its useter in the day.

    ¡°You got your hatchet from the Watch armory of Azei, after paying a fee,¡± Angharad said.

    Tristan leaned forward, flipping a paper on the table and revealing the question and answer she¡¯d glimpsedid out in his cramped handwriting. He still smelled faintly of gunpowder, Angharad noticed not for the first time. The morning practice she had avoided but would have to find a way to make up for. Perhaps Sergeant Kavia could be asked for a hand.

    <em>I look at you and I see a dozen intentions, none of them yours</em>, Song had told her. That, more than any of the rest, still burned. Enough she wanted no part of standing before those too-keen silver eyes beyond the strictest of needs. Angharad bloody well knew what she needed to do, it simply did not happen to be what Song Ren might want.

    Her return to the Thirteenth Brigade was only temporary, she reminded herself. It would be odd for her to change brigades when she had passed her yearly test with the Thirteenth to join one that had not, admittedly, but that did not mean remaining with them for the whole year. There would be a span of some months before the end of the year, after the other tests were finished, where a transfer would be easy enough to arrange.

    It was a good thing that Song diforted her, Angharad told herself. A reminder not to get toofortable here.

    She was shaken out of her thoughts by Maryam¡¯s humming, the Izvorica ncing down at the four rows of three papers on the table. Of these six were now flipped, each disying a question that Tristan had written down with its answer that Maryam had not known about in advance. The pale-skinned woman jotted down a few notes with her steel-tipped pen.

    ¡°I think it reasonable to call it confirmed you<em></em>can obtain information from individuals without them being made aware,¡± she said. ¡°Tomorrow we will focus on counter-exercises, I think ¨C can someone <em>expecting </em>you to use your contract prevent such interrogation?¡±

    Tristan, who had pointedly not been given a seat at the table despite Maryam having two more empty chairs, let out a sigh.

    ¡°I take it I volunteered for the counter-exercises?¡±

    The blue-eyed woman smiled pleasantly, leaning forward.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said. ¡°Did you?¡±

    He squinted at her, but that smile only grew more radiant.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Tristan grudgingly said. ¡°I did.¡±

    ¡°Good man,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll see youter, then.¡±

    Angharad sipped at her water goblet, having been struck by a sudden episode of blindness and deafness. The thief had been trying to buy his way back into Maryam¡¯s good graces ever since their argument, but she was holding his feet to the fire without mercy. But not with any real cruelty, either, so neither could he get angry and turn the bnce back on her. Maryam was impressively skilled at grudge bearing, it must be said.

    A half-sketched thought tying that to the tales of Izvoric retaliation against settlers was set aside, unneeded. Maryam was perfectly capable of terrible pettiness on her own, her race had nothing to do with it. And ugly as the admission was, Angharad found it easier to put the faults to the woman instead of the people.

    Stolen story; please report.

    She had few feelings about the Izvoric either way, but her time in the Thirteenth had allowed her to develop a great many opinions about Maryam Khaimov.

    ¡°One hopes,¡± Tristan drily replied. ¡°Angharad, enjoy your party. See you at dinner, yes?¡±

    ¡°Most likely,¡± Angharad agreed, the deafness having passed. ¡°You¡¯ll be having a look around the city, as I understand it?¡±

    ¡°I have a lead on finding Hage¡¯stest Chimerical,¡± he said. ¡°There are only so many creatures out there matching the description of ¡®a cat that looks like it ate several other cats¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Prince Mephistofeline has a most elegant bearing,¡± Angharad loyally said.

    ¡°And much of it, if one measures by the pound,¡± he drawled.

    He waved them both goodbye as she red half-heartedly, Maryam conceding him only a small nod. Angharad sipped at her water again while he closed the door behind him, eyeing Maryam curiously.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you start,¡± Maryam grunted. ¡°I¡¯ll ease off on him tomorrow, he¡¯s put in the work. And his method might have been worth a chiding, but he might also have had more of a point than I figured.¡±

    ¡°I did not intend to say anything,¡± Angharad said.

    Maryam hummed.

    ¡°You <em>have</em> been getting better at that,¡± the other woman said..

    Maryam was not as skilled atpliments as grudge-bearing.

    ¡°You still have the tell when you use your contract,¡± the signifier continued. ¡°It¡¯s not blinking exactly, more like fluttering your eyes.¡±

    ¡°I do not notice doing it,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°Perhaps it is part of my contract.¡±

    Maryam flicked a look at the closed door.

    ¡°I¡¯m told that contracts often breed little tics but that they can be trained out,¡± she said. ¡°We can throw that onto the list, if you¡¯d like ¨C a single flutter shouldn¡¯t draw attention, but if you use your contract repeatedly in front of someone they might catch on.¡±

    Angharad hid her surprise, finishing thest of her water and setting it down in a measured gesture. It was the first time Maryam even hinted at Angharad having any influence on what was to be done during these sessions. Their grant was, after all, something the Pereduri had offered as part of her bargain for being allowed back in the Thirteenth. She cleared her throat.

    ¡°That would please me,¡± she admitted. ¡°It is kind of you to offer.¡±

    Maryam waved that away.

    ¡°We¡¯ve established the boundary conditions of your ¡®glimpses¡¯, more or less,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t mind freeing up a few uses to practice killing your tell. I have some ideas concerning ways the glimpses might be used we¡¯ll test, but that chapter isrgely closed ¨C here on Asphodel, anyway. Captain Yue has some tools that¡¯d let me study the effects better, but that is beyond the remit of our bargain.¡±

    Much to Angharad¡¯s relief. Captain Yue sounded like she¡¯d had her empathy surgically removed to make more room for further dubiously ethical experiment ideas.

    ¡°We begin work on the visions, then,¡± Angharad quietly said.

    ¡°Soon,¡± Maryam agreed. ¡°I believe I have a sufficient grasp of your contract¡¯s basics to begin investigating the deeper uses.¡±

    ¡°You have theories,¡± she said, and it was not a question.

    ¡°A dozen,¡± the Izvoricaughed. ¡°I expect our first week will be mostly weeding to rule out the most out-there among them.¡±

    Angharad inclined her head.

    ¡°I will look forward to it,¡± she said.

    A heartbeatter she began to word a qualifier, but after another beat she faltered at the realization she did not need to. She<em> was</em> looking forward to their work together. Even though navigating small talk with Maryam remained arduous, the Izvorica was thorough in her methods and free with information. More than that, there was something oddly satisfying about learning the limits of the power she had obtained from the Fisher.

    She clenched her fist under the table. <em>Eyes on the prize, Tredegar</em>, she told herself. <em>It is more than merely your neck that is on the line.</em> She could not afford distractions.

    --

    Lord Menander Drakos¡¯s annually thrown ¡®green party¡¯ was one of the most beloved events of Tratheke good society.

    Not one of the most exclusive ¨C Angharad would not have been invited were it so ¨C but it was reputed as a hotblooded war of fashion and fencing that drew much excitement. Given that Angharad was again to be dressed as a poor rtion she could not muster much excitement for the first part, but she had high hopes for thetter one. Until she learned the ¡®fencing¡¯ was to be done with reed sticks, anyway.

    She had not been expecting death duels, but surely first blood was not too much to ask for? What an oddnd, Asphodel.

    The ck House stocks did have dresses to borrow, and a very helpful tailor among the staff, but Angharad was not a short woman or a slender one. Only two would ever fit her without the intervention of miraculous spirits, and of these she was only willing to wear one. There were frills, and then there was the fit of madness that seized whatever seamstress was responsible for such an offense to the eyes.

    Angharad was fitted into a lovely pink gown, of which her fuller figure made the neckline more daring than it had likely been on the previous owner. Her height meant it had to be hemmed the ankles instead of the floor, but the white chemise she wore beneath brought it all together with a natural air. The gold-embroidered cuffs fitted past her gown sleeves added a tasteful ent to the ensemble, though Angharad¡¯sck of jewelry would out her as being from an impoverished house.

    Which was for the best. A mysterious young noblewoman of Isles stock sshing wealth around Tratheke society would draw raised eyebrows, and more scrutiny that the effort to hide her being part of the Watch was likely to survive. Better she be assumed someone¡¯s charity than be considered worth investigating.

    nw Hall was not so rich an estate she had ever grown deluded about her standing, anyhow.

    Though the edifice the hired coach brought her to was in the southeastern quarter of Tratheke, among a neighborhood of grand residences kept by nobles ¨C only the very wealthiest of Asphodel could afford a manse inside the Collegium, where even shops went for the prices of a small ship ¨C she had expected some kind of interior garden to warrant the sobriquet of ¡®green party¡¯.

    Yet there was not a hint of greenery as she was led through the antechamber and up several sets of curved marble stairs, Angharad leaning on her walking stick and eyeing the tasteful decor with approval every time she was forced to stop and catch her breath. Few paintings, the local preference for colorful mosaics and painted statues followed closely. This was, she decided a mansion used only to receive. It had too many lounges and salons and too few bedrooms for it to be otherwise.

    Thest level, where all the guests were gathering, was led to by a final set of marble stairs and the gates were opened by liveried servants ¨C to a burst of warm, almost humid air and a blinding sea of green. Not only was the entire summit of Lord Menander¡¯s manse a hothouse, but it was also a <em>sshouse</em>. The ceiling and the upper third of the wall were a curved length of green ss with slender brass bones, almost the Lordsport ceiling writ small.

    The entire room and every guest within were bathed in tinted light, transforming everything Angharad¡¯s eyes could see.

    She took a few limping steps forward on the grass, taking in the sights. Ladies in dresses colored to take advantage of the green ¨C streaks of pale cloth, embroidery in gold and silver, gauze and heavy pearls ¨C while the men either stood out in well-tailored ck, cream hose and the asional waxed cloth. The hothouse itself was pleasant mess of grass and orchids, bordered by trees and small canal-rivers where colorful fish swam.

    Most the guests gathered around pavilions whose roofs had been overtaken by artfully cut ivy, either seated at the tables or being served drinks.

    ¡°Mydy,¡± her guide said. ¡°If you would allow me to guide you to Lord Menander?¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± Angharad nodded.

    The grass was soft against her slippers, and just humid enough she was d her gown¡¯s hem was not too low. Stains on a first borrow was simply atrocious manners. Lord Menander, his mustache in particrly fine form today ¨C enough so Angharad forgot she was taller than the man until she stood right by him ¨C was holding court at one of the pavilions.

    She was announced by her guide, who then retired as the older man enthusiastically introduced her to the handful of nobles he was entertaining. All minor houses, Angharad noted, whose holdings were in Tratheke Valley and thus owed direct fealty to the Lord Rector. His peers, if poorer and less influential than Menander Drakos was said to be.

    Trifling small talk such as what ensued was hardly something she enjoyed, and it required her to y the exotic creature from the misty isle of Peredur even though sailors from the Kingdom of Mn were hardly unknown sight in these parts. She even spoke a few words in Gwynt, to immediate cooing about the beauty of such an ¡®ancient tongue¡¯.

    Which was<em></em>true, it <em>was</em> a beautifulnguage, but those hangers-on would have made the exact same noises if she showed up with a puppy. Weathervanes, these were, deluded into believing they could rise byughing at the right jokes and nodding at the rightints. Such sorts always grew in the gardens of the powerful, Vesper¡¯s most inevitable weeds.

    Lord Menander walked a span with her afterwards, down a stretch of grass bordered by peach trees.

    ¡°You continue to fare well,¡± the mustachioed man said. ¡°That is pleasing to see.¡±

    ¡°You do me honor,¡± Angharad replied.

    However small of one.

    ¡°It is almost a shame you are a rook,¡± Lord Menander murmured. ¡°You would have little trouble making a home in the capital, I think.¡±

    ¡°It is a beautiful city,¡± she said. ¡°Like none I have ever seen.¡±

    ¡°There is greatness in the bones of this isle,¡± Menander Drakos said, looking up at the ss. ¡°Buried deep, but Asphodel was once a seat of empire. The days for that sort of business are long past, I¡¯m afraid, but it behooves us to have greater ambitions than remaining a catspaw for the Six.¡±

    ¡°I have heard little good said of infanzones here,¡± Angharad acknowledged.

    ¡°Nor will you at court, at the moment,¡± Lord Menander said. ¡°Now that Mn and the Republics are reaching out to the Lord Rector over this shipyard business, Sacromontan envoys have been making noises about mediating such negotiations for us. They can be put off for now, but episodes like the attempt on Lord Rector Evander¡¯s life will only embolden them.¡±

    A look was slid her way.

    ¡°Is the assassin any closer to being caught?¡±

    Ah, there it was. A helpful man, Lord Menander, but still a creature of the court. If he was to keep lending her aid in Tratheke society, he intended to benefit as well ¨C and for a courtier, what better coin than word of this most important of investigations from the mouth of one of the investigators?

    ¡°Trails have been run down in the city,¡± Angharad vaguely replied.

    His gaze on her was mild, but she still had to fight the urge to bite her lip. If she did not give him <em>something</em>, she knew, then the fountain of help would dry up. Yet to say too much would be, if not necessarily uwful, at least a breach of privacy expected between the Watch and one who employed them. Menander Drakos was an ally of the Lord Rector¡¯s, but only to an extent.

    Did she still need his help? Bitter as it was to admit, she well might. Even should she seed today and earn an invitation from Lord Cleon, she still needed to find traces of the cult ¨C and without a guide and provider of invitations, she was unlikely to make much progress.

    Which meant concessions.

    ¡°The would-be killer was Tianxi,¡± she murmured. ¡°Inquiries have been made about the Yellow Earth, though word was passed denying involvement.¡±

    ¡°As well they would,¡± Lord Menander snorted. ¡°Those insurgents have been infesting the workshops and warehouses for years, Lady Angharad, with the tacit help of the Trade Assembly. The magnates would sell all of Asphodel to the Republics, if it let them obtain thends of aristoi.¡±

    His contempt for the Trade Assembly was thick and entirely obvious.

    ¡°Investigation continues,¡± Angharad simply replied.

    She had given ground, so the Pereduri was not surprised when Lord Menander then reintroduced her to Lord Cordyles. The white-haired old man was pleased to see her, and mostly sober since Lord Arkos was absent and thus could not bepeted against in drink. Shortly after, in another reminder that Menander Drakos¡¯ eyes were sharp, Lord Cleon was brought into their little circle for a chat.

    Heplimented her dress twice, and stared so stubbornly at her face it was painfully obvious where he was forcing himself not to look.

    Lord Menander drew to them a small crowd, but the man himself soon left to tend to other guests. A lively circle was left in his wake, most of them younger nobles ¨C several of which were acquainted with Lord Cleon ¨C and a woman Angharad had only seen and heard in passing, Lady Doukas. Who, for a woman in her forties, was most shapely and generous with her charms.

    The beauty spot near those full lips drew Angharad¡¯s eye more than once, but s thedy had only eyes for the young men in tight doublets. Besides, she had note here to dally.

    It was not difficult to converse with Lord Cleon, given how eager he was to stand with her, but Angharad could not fish for an invitation too quickly without being transparent in her intentions. They spoke of the likes of the hunt in Peredur, of how it informed fashion for men and women alike and how different this was from the ways of Asphodel. By the time Angharad considered the road well paved enough toy a hint, however, there was an interruption.

    Small bells were rung, earning cheers, and loud announcement revealed that inscriptions were opened for the ¡®fencing tournament¡¯. Cleon Eirenos excused himself to participate, leaving her once more in the wind. In truth, much of the circle dissolved in the following moments as nobles of all stripes and ages rushed pavilions to have their names written on paper. Only Lord Cordyles remained with her, and snorted when she asked if he intended to participate.

    ¡°I won the green crown once or twice when I was a young man, but it would be a waste for me to try for it now,¡± he said. ¡°It is, after all, mostly an excuse to y barefoot with lovelies.¡±

    Angharad was somewhat aghast to see this was true. The guests were handed slender sticks of reed, the sort that would hardly hurt on a hit unless you swung with your back, and much peacocking and giggling ensued as the tournament <em>began</em>. Most of them spent more time flirting than fencing, when the matches began. Angharad was no stranger to the lovely thrill of crossing des with a beautiful woman, that thrumming tension in the air, but this was not a sparring match but a <em>tournament</em>.

    She left Lord Cordyle¡¯s side to secure a drink, a cup lemon water with some sort of anise liquor added in, and drained it in quick order. She did not order a second, but was tempted to.

    ¡°Oh? A pleasant turn fortune to find you here, Lady Angharad.¡±

    She forced herself not to stiffen at the voice, which she recognized. She turned to offer a curtsy to Lord Gule of Bezan, ambassador for the Kingdom of Mn, who joined her on the grass one limping step at a time. His hearing horn was already in hand, pressed against his ear.

    ¡°Lord Gule,¡± she greeted him. ¡°A pleasant turn indeed.¡±

    The older man, still dressed in sober grays, offered her a smile before gesturing at the man trailing behind him.

    ¡°If I may introduce Jabni, my attendant,¡± Lord Gule said. ¡°As fine a valet as man might ask for.¡±

    Angharad inclined her head in greeting but did not bow or curtsy. Even as the daughter of a fallen house she was of higher status than a valet. Jabni, she noted, was taller than his master and with a face like stone. The near-shaved hair, sharp eyebrows and strong lips only added to the impression.

    ¡°A pleasure, Lady Angharad,¡± Jabni said, politely bowing before turning back to his master. ¡°I await your orders.¡±

    Lord Gule nodded in acknowledgement.

    ¡°A drink, then, if you would,¡± the ambassador said. ¡°That herbal concoction that¡¯s been in vogue ofte, though easy on the liquor, and for Lady Angharad¡­¡±

    He cocked an eyebrow at her.

    ¡°Naught for me,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Only that, then,¡± Lord Gule said.

    Jabni bowed again, deeper to his master as was proper, and departed to see to the arrangements. It left the two of them standing by the sprawl of grass and the ivy roof, watching the guests tussle with their reed sticks in a flurry of raised skirts,ughter and shrieks. Lord Menander and his attendants, as masters of the ceremonies, kept the track of therge te with the tournament brackets on it ¨C by the sheer size of it, there would be ¡®duels¡¯ for at least an hour yet.

    ¡°I imagine it must look rather ridiculous to you.¡±

    Angharad did not look his way. If he could see her face, she would be easier to read.

    ¡°How so?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Those silver stripes name you a mirror-dancer,¡± Lord Gule said. ¡°Unless a mistake of some import was made when putting ink to your skin.¡±

    ¡°It was no mistake,¡± Angharad evenly said.

    The ambassador inclined his head in acknowledgement.

    ¡°Then to one trained and tested as you were, calling this ¡®fencing¡¯ must seem ambitious,¡± he noted. ¡°I have known swordmasters who would bare steel over it.¡±

    Angharad watched a plump boy in white and silver turned green by the ss strike the elbow of a giggling woman twice his age, triumphantly winning the ¡®bout¡¯. This was fencing as much as she was Mni. Still, it was not her ce to find insult here.

    ¡°It is a game,¡± she finally said. ¡°One they much enjoy. I try not to find foes inughter.¡±

    Lord Gule chuckled.

    ¡°Then you are wiser than many I have met,¡± he said. ¡°Even myself, once upon a time. When I lost much of my hearing, as a boy, for a few years I grew to despise singers.¡±

    She shot him a surprised look.

    ¡°I was something of a singer myself, you see,¡± Lord Gule told her, ¡°but after the ident I could no longer tell if my pitch and volume were correct. It took me a long time before I ceased to see my lost gift put to use in another¡¯s hands as anything but an insult.¡±

    Two young men in doublet and trousers pped their des against another as they went to and fro across the grass, more interested in eye-catching flourishes than attempting a touch on the other ¨C they heaved and boasted and shook their hair to catch the attention of the crowd. How odious it would have all seemed to Angharad, were she truly never to recover what she had lost.

    ¡°It would be presumptuous for me to wear a sword, now,¡± Angharad spoke through gritted teeth. ¡°Past the boundary of boast.¡±

    Into a lie, she was implying. She did not need to feign the bitterness in her voice at that. She had spent most of her life learning the de, only for thatbor to be stripped away from her by a single evening¡¯s failure. How fragile the sum of the hours of her life truly was, when push came to shove.

    ¡°It is tradition, I think, for the eldest in losses such as hours to offer kind lines about how in grief there are lessons,¡± he said. ¡°How we grow around the wound and find ourselves in different ways.¡±

    ¡°But,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°But while I have learned to sing as I am,¡± Lord Gule of Buzan pleasantly smiled, eyes ahead, ¡°I still miss how fucking easier it used to be.¡±

    She started in surprise at thenguage. His face had not changed, and she half-thought she had imagined the word.

    ¡°But the world goes on,¡± Lord Gn shrugged.

    A nce her way.

    ¡°I will not speak to you of future, for you are still in those months where it lies fresh,¡± he said. ¡°But there wille a time, Lady Angharad, when you begin looking ahead again, thinking of the rest of your life.¡±

    He gently smiled.

    ¡°When that timees, do consider calling on me.¡±

    And with a simple nod he was gone, leaving her to stand there wondering. At his words, yes, but most of all at this: why was it now, that twice the ambassador had sought her out?

    She knew better than to take kindness as face value,e from an induna¡¯s hands.

    --

    The yacting with sticks continued for the better part of an hour, the ¡®vanquished¡¯ helping themselves to thefort of the drinks liberally served and asionally allowing themselves to be nursed back to smiles by someone who had caught their eye.

    Angharad spent most of that time drinking with Lord Cordyles, who seemed to find her mood most amusing, and keeping an eye on they of the nobles. Even that vignce proved to be of little use, as while there was a great deal of talk between highborn the manner of it had more to do with a pleasure garden than anything remotely politic.

    In the end, it was not court manners or trickery that won her an invitation to Lord Cleon¡¯s country manor. As the tournament came to a close the young man returned flushed with victory, havinge in third ce within that absurd contest that seemed so prized by the locals. Red-faced and grinning, he offered Angharad a courtly bow.

    ¡°It seems a shame that you¡¯ve yet to try hunting in Asphodel, mydy,¡± Lord Cleon said. ¡°In that spirit, I would invite you to my family¡¯s manor in the hills to the east ¨C I assure you, the entertainment will be memorable.¡±

    A few other youths, having apanied him, let out teasing shouts in a mostly good-natured attempt to embarrass a fellow in their pursuit of a courtship. That tradition, at least, was beyond the borders drawn by man.

    ¡°It would be my pleasure,¡± Angharad replied, offering a small curtsy.

    All that work, she thought, and what settled it was a burst of confidence earned in a stupid tournament of what she refused to call fencing. Angharad had gotten what she came for, but could not help but feel a little miffed by it.

    These days even her victories tasted off.

 Chapter 48

    Chapter 48

    Song had not worn formal clothes this regrly since leaving Tianxia and was not sure she cared for it.

    While formality was a demonstration of respect for the interlocutor, the facts of the matter remained that Song Ren had a lot to do and only so many hours in her day to do it. Consequently, the time spent getting in and out of heryered <em>chang¡¯ao</em> felt like she was being stolen from ¨C and while in need. If she could at least be read reports during it would be something, but frustratingly the process required too much of her attention.

    That and it would be indiscreet to discuss the investigation when she was being helped into her clothes by a ck House maid. Servants gossiped, and Tristan was convinced that Imani Langa had bribed some of the staff to keep an ear out for her.

    Still, getting in and out of formal clothes was not the worst waste of time her time today. Song watched with a nk face as Lord Rector Evander Palliades stepped to the edge of the balustrade and raised a hand, cheers and apuse exploding at the sight of him. She herself stayed half-hidden among the curtains, eyes scanning the crowd and finding only a spread of magnates and nobles with a few contracts peppered in.

    None that, at first nce, could be used to get to the Lord Rector up her in his heavily guarded private suite. That an officer of the Watch was being used as a bodyguard for Evander Palliades while the man attended the <em>theatre</em> made that rabid Yellow Earth contractor¡¯s words ring unpleasantly of truth: she was undeniably being loaned to the local yiwu kingpin by her superiors.

    That her rental came with fine seats overlooking the stage and luxurious refreshments somehow made it worse.

    Lord Rector Evander kept his speech to the assembled influential below short, telling them that the cowardly attack on his life had missed and that the Asphodel Rectorate would not be waid from its triumphant rise into a new age of prosperity by such petty distractions. It was somewhat on the nose, Song thought, but hit the right notes for the listening audience. Some of them shouted approval at his words.

    Her eyes flicked to his hands on the brass railing, noting how the man¡¯s index and middle finger were tapping out a rhythm. <em>He practiced that speech</em>, Song thought. Enough that he¡¯d decided on a specific cadence for delivering it. Reluctantly, she must approve of the assiduity on disy. A lesser man would have read off a sheet.

    Soon he was finished, hisst words followed by another wave of cheers and apuse. Though this was Evander Palliades¡¯ first public appearance down in Tratheke since the assassination attempt the speech was, she thought, almost too well received. Either the botched assassination had made snubbing the Lord Rector unpopr ¨C if not dangerous ¨C or¡­ The brown-haired man stepped away from the balustrade with a sigh, then snorted when he saw the look on her face.¡°We will pay the ppers an additional fee, I think,¡± he said. ¡°They certainly put their back into it.¡±

    ¡°You arranged for cheers,¡± Song half-used.

    ¡°Men will p at most anything if there are enough of their fellows already doing it,¡± Evander Palliades said. ¡°If only to avoid being the only ones<em> not </em>pping.¡±

    ¡°It will not truly make you more popr,¡± she pointed out.

    He cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Will it not?¡± the Lord Rector replied. ¡°Even if they noticed, what will they remember most ¨C the suspicion, or the room full of cheers following my speech? It will not change the minds of those who have made it, but the weathervanes will go where they believe the wind blows.¡±

    Song¡¯s lips thinned, but she did not contradict him. Unpleasant as it was to admit, that sort of trick did work on crowds. Elections in Mazu were replete with their like, and it was said that in Wendi powerful trade cartels sent their ship crews to disrupt the speeches of candidates they opposed. It was a false equivalence topare a sword in the hand of a tyrant and a sword in the hand of free man, but the hand wielding it did not make the sword itself more virtuous.

    Tricks were tricks, and truth was the first victim of hypocrisy ennobled.

    The Lord Rector invited her to sit, but before she could answer there was a knock at the door. Song put a hand on her pistol, for she would be dutiful regardless of her opinion of the assignment, but it was only the refreshments that had been sent for. Watered wine for Evander Palliades, and water for her ¨C though by suspicious happenstance a pot of Sanxing green tea and two cups were also brought in.

    She hid a grimace, aware that over the span of the next two hours it was likely her nose would win over her pride and she¡¯d have a cup. Evander¡¯s subtle smirk at the sight was set aside, as a debate over whether it was attractive or irritating would see her lose whatever the answer. She sat down on the lushly cushioned ck seat, sipping at her water.

    ¡°You don¡¯t very much want to be here, do you?¡±

    Song kept her face calm, carefully setting down her cup on the low table between her seats. Only then did she turn her gaze on the bespectacled Lord Rector, who expression was one of faint amusement.

    ¡°I have personally been assigned this duty by Brigadier Chca,¡± she replied.

    A thoroughly frustrating conversation, that. While he did not outright dismiss the findings she and Tristan had dug up in the northwestern ward, the heavyset Azn had beenrgely indifferent to the notion of a brewing noble coup. In his eyes, Song suspected, weakness in the reign of House Palliades merely strengthened the Watch¡¯s bargaining position.

    In the end he¡¯d told her that he would be passing the report along to the senior Krypteia officer on the ind, appending a personal note that time might be a factor, and that she was to cease being involved in the matter.

    And while Song knew objectively that the brigadier had acted correctly, that he was following the proper protocols and had arguably treated her thin-on-proof report more seriously than many in his position might have, it was all a thorn in her throat. It was not the ce of the Watch to intervene in Asphodelian affairs beyond what was required to maintain its own interests, so refraining from warning House Palliades about the coup was the proper course of action.

    Yet she could not help but feel that this inaction was a mistake, that they were missing something, and in the end that Brigadier Chca had merely humored her awhile before sending her out here as a pawn in a greater game. It was hard not to resent that at least a little, though Song tried.

    ¡°And here I thought it a Mni affectation, to lie while speaking truths,¡± Lord Rector Evander drawled. ¡°I take no offense, Captain Song. I am not unaware that seeing to my protection is not why you came to Asphodel, or that you were victim to a diplomat pulling rank.¡±

    She cocked an eyebrow at that.

    ¡°A diplomat who pulled rank,¡± Song mildly said, ¡°at your personal request.¡±

    He smiled wanly.

    ¡°If I am to be robbed by the Watch, I might as well get them to contribute to my survival while the robbery is ongoing,¡± Evander Palliades said. ¡°I¡¯ll confess to some puzzlement you took the ck in the first ce: your contract, Captain Song, would make you a wildly wealthy and influential woman at the court of any great ruler.¡±

    ¡°You do not know the details of my contract,¡± she replied.

    Nor would he ever.

    ¡°No,¡± he easily conceded, ¡°but I know what my friends in Tianxia were able to gather about the Ren, which is not nothing.¡±

    Her jaw clenched.

    ¡°I am a woman of the Watch,¡± Song Ren tly said. ¡°My past is of no import.¡±

    Evander Palliades brushed back his curls, staring at her, then shook his head and took a sip of his watered wine.

    ¡°Neither of us believe that,¡± he said. ¡°And you will find I can understand better than most what it feels like, the crushing weight of the legacy one must live up to.¡±

    ¡°You are a hereditary ruler,¡± she bit out. ¡°I am from the single most despised bloodline in the Ten Republics. <em>It is not the same</em>.¡±

    Thest words came out a hiss, and she shut her mouth so quickly when she realized what she had said that her teeth cked together painfully. Only Evander did not look bothered by her disrespect in the slightest ¨C he seemed almost <em>pleased</em>.

    ¡°No,¡± he agreed. ¡°Unlike you, I do not get to leave. I will sit a throne atop a house of ss until I die or a stone is thrown strongly enough to bring it down under me.¡±

    She scoffed.

    ¡°You <em>can</em> leave,¡± Song tly said. ¡°Abdicate, take what wealth you can carry and live a life without a crown. To remain is a choice, not some divine punishment.¡±

    ¡°You could change your name,¡± Evander Palliades retorted smilingly. ¡°Find a patron in Izcalli or Sacromonte, spend the rest of your life rich and respected.¡±

    <em>There is nowhere the curse will not reach me</em>, Song thought. <em>And I will not simply leave my sisters to rot from the inside like curdled milk.</em> Only she owed this man none of these words and it would have felt almost obscene to share them with him. Already the strange joy in his mien at their talk was leaving her feeling naked, as if it were all too intimate. Gods but how lonely he must be, to be so candid with a woman he barely knew. She needed to pull back, not encourage him.

    No matter how satisfying it would be to put him in his ce, to let him realize the sheer extent of his misguided arrogance.

    ¡°This conversation can lead nowhere, Your Excellency,¡± she said. ¡°It is best ended, with my apologies for speaking out of turn.¡±

    He hummed, leaning back into his seat and reaching for his cup again. Watered down as it looked, he¡¯d be able to drink the entire goblet and have his wits entirely unaffected. It was an admirable habit, which she resented. She did not feel much like approving of him, at the moment.

    Silence had spread below them as they spoke, leaving Song to hope their talk had not been too loud, and it shamed her some to realize she had missed the beginning of the y. Painted panels of a magnificent golden city were being covered by streaks of blue cloth carried by children, which after a beat she grasped represented rising water. In front of the city being lost to the sea, a young man was addressing the gods in amenting monologue.

    ¡°With how expensive the seats are, you¡¯d think they would change the city panels from year to year,¡± Lord Rector Evander noted. ¡°They barely touch them up.¡±

    Song shot him a disapproving look. It should be beneath even a despot to speak at the theater. The man had the gall to grin back.

    ¡°It is the Oduromaia,¡± Evander said. ¡°I have seen it so many times I am in danger of falling asleep. Kindly protect me from peril, Captain Song.¡±

    She red at him, then sighed. It was not as if her duties would have allowed her to watch the y anyhow. She was meant to keep an eye out for dangerous contracts in the crowd.

    ¡°I take it that the ¡®Oduromaia¡¯ is the tale of Oduromai King¡¯s journey to Asphodel?¡± she said.

    ¡°One such tale, certainly,¡± Evander Palliades said. ¡°Though it ims the same title as what was once a spoken epic, I believe the text turned into y dates back to¡­te Century of ord or early Dominion. During the early reigns of House Lissenos.¡±

    The much-loved predecessors of the Palliades, who had ruled over Asphodel for over a hundred years.

    ¡°So shortly after the Ataxia,¡± she said.

    His eyes lit up.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± he said, growing enthusiastic. ¡°There was need to knit back Asphodel after those years of war, and the Lissenos went about it cleverly: they paid for tales and songs and ys, all harkening back to amon founding from which all Asphodelians drewmon root.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°Though, of course, said works all implied Lissenos descent from King Oduromai so <em>their</em> part of the root must be recognized to be a little better than the others.¡±

    ¡°You are skeptical of the im, I take it,¡± Song said, reluctantly amused.

    He was impugning his own descent, practically speaking, as the Palliades im to the throne came from their rtion to the Lissenos.

    ¡°They were originally a minor noble house from Ikarios that took refuge in Asphodel during the Century of Steel,¡± he said, rolling his eyes. ¡°They are as rted to Oduromai as I am to Viterico the Great.¡±

    Tempted as Song was to agree and add that kings must constantly change the past to justify the present, Evander was well read enough he might notice she was quoting the Feichu Tian. Which, given its contents, might be taken as impolitic of her.

    Strong arguments in favor of royal decapitation were advanced within those pages.

    ¡°At least they were not Raseni,¡± she teased.

    He cleared his throat.

    ¡°Actually, given that Rasen upied Ikarios during the century preceding their exile, the odds are that they had a little¡­¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said, almost grinning.

    ¡°All <em>aristoi</em> try to avoid talking about that,¡± Lord Rector Evander noted. ¡°Everyone measures the strength of their im by rtion to House Lissenos, these days, so it would be a losing game for all involved.¡±

    Far below Prince Oduromai bemoaned the treachery of the hollows and devils thatid low the hall of his father, announcing his intent to find the most beautiful ind in Vesper to rece it, and Song reached for the pot to pour herself a cup of Sanxing green as Evander Palliades idly told her that in older version of the y some of the devils responsible for the destruction had been named ¨C and sounded suspiciously like the houses of the Six, which the Sacromontans had taken offense to.

    It was a waste of time still, she thought, but it need not be unpleasant. There was worsepany to keep.

    --

    Though it was now his second time visiting, Tristan still found it genuinely impressive that Hage had gotten his hands on even a hole-in-the-wall shop inside the Collegium. He¡¯d heard those went for literal bags of gold.

    The new Chimerical still sold coffee, but as it was effectively arge and deep broom closet squeezed in between two eateries it only had one table and Hage had to stay upright inside his glorified stand to make room for his brewing apparatuses ¨C even though most had stayed behind in Azei, by the looks of it. So had many of the bags of bean varieties, which made it all the more amusing that an entire shelf of that limited space had been turned into a cushioned bed for azing Mephistofeline.

    The cat¡¯s monumental girth squished a little past the edge of said shelf, predictably. He also hissed at anyone who lingered too long to chat with Hage, but inexplicably this had charmed the locals. Someone had woven him a little crown of flowers, which he sat on, and there was a te with bits of roasted chicken on it he asionally deigned to nibble at.

    ¡°One serving of your cheapest bean water, good sir,¡± Tristan ordered, sliding a single copper across the counter.

    The devil stared down at him through those owlish eyebrows.

    ¡°I will have you dragged away by the lictors,¡± Hage threatened.

    Though not, the thief noted, without first pocketing the copper. Tristan theatrically sighed.

    ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°I will have to settle for all the information you have on the basileia called the ¡®Brass Chariot¡¯, then.¡±

    He¡¯d made that request when first finding the Chimerical yesterday, surprised to learn that as it was part of the test he would not even have to pay for the information. There was no one else in line, or even out in the street ¨C he¡¯de during early morning work hours ¨C but Hage still swept the environs with a look. Purely for show, given that the old devil¡¯s hearing was sharp enough no one should be able to approach without him being aware.

    ¡°Second-raters,¡± Hage told him. ¡°Their main business is smuggling, but they have a few protection rackets and front businesses.¡±

    The thief frowned.

    ¡°What do they smuggle?¡±

    ¡°Mostly legal merchandise, in truth,¡± Hage said. ¡°Only they get it into Tratheke without paying the rector¡¯s tariffs and sell it marginally cheaper than it would be otherwise for a thin slice of profit. If they went for the real moneymakers,rger yers would step on them. It is unconfirmed, but rumor has it other basileias sometimes hire them to transport goods through their routes.¡±

    Tristan hummed thoughtfully.

    ¡°Trade Assembly connections?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Not the way you mean it,¡± Hage replied. ¡°They make most of their coin at the expense of Assembly revenue so the merchants want them dead, but they¡¯ve friends in the workshops and warehouses.¡±

    So they had ties to the employees of the Trade Assembly, not the wealthy magnates themselves. As far as Tristan was concerned that was for the better. Coteries followed power and money, neither of which Tristan Abrascal could outbid even a single merchant magnate over.

    ¡°Much obliged,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve another inquiry for you, though it is nothing urgent.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Hage replied, grabbing a cloth to clean an already perfectly clean cup.

    ¡°Does the Watch have anything on a Lord Locke and Lady Keys?¡± Tristan asked. ¡°Guests of the Lord Rector, supposedly. They were snooping around the assassination attempt, though I do not believe it was the assassin they were after.¡±

    Hage stilled, and not as a man would. In that way only devils could, for devils need neither breathe nor soothe aching muscles: when their kind stilled, it was stone or the cast of night. Immediate, absolute.

    ¡°Repeat the names,¡± Hage ordered.

    ¡°Lord Locke,¡± he said. ¡°Lady Keys.¡±

    ¡°Describe them to me.¡±

    He did, the rotund and mustachioed little man and the tall and thin bespectacled woman. He even added how Lady Keys had grabbed him by the neck and tossed him down a window with strength unusual for a woman a skinny ¨C though not, it must be said, impossible. Hage set down the cloth, then the cup.

    ¡°The Krypteia had no word of them being on Asphodel,¡± he finally said.

    ¡°They are a known quantity, then?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°I will look into the matter personally,¡± Hage said. ¡°You, and the Thirteenth atrge, are to avoid them as much as physically possible.¡±

    He let out a low whistle.

    ¡°That bad?¡±

    ¡°Tristan,¡± Hage said, and his tone was grave enough the thief straightened. ¡°You are not, under any circumstances, to make those two angry. Keep them smiling, keep themughing. <em>Always</em>.¡±

    Slowly he nodded.

    ¡°Above my pay grade, I understand.¡±

    The devil stared at him, then jerked his chin to the side.

    ¡°Get going, I have paying customers on their way.¡±

    Tristan snorted, and waved a goodbye a Mephistofeline ¨C who summarily ignored him, as Tristan had lost any influence over the distribution of foodstuffs and thus be a stranger not worth remembering. There was nothing more fickle than a cat, save perhaps Fortuna.

    Tristan took his time on the way back, still getting his bearings around the city. He¡¯d gotten clothes in Asphodelian linens ¨C even paid for them, at Song¡¯s insistence ¨C so he did not draw much attention anymore, at least until he talked. There was not all that much difference in appearance between Trebian inders and Lierganen from the continent, at least not those from Sacromonte, but he had yet to unlearn his City ent. Hage had given him exercises, though, so he had hopes.

    The Collegium was too rich for his blood, and too much of a tribe. Even though most who worked within the gargantuan cube of ss could not have afforded a Collegium house even if they save up for it their entire life, there was a cachet to spending your day there that set them apart from the rest of Tratheke. Not the kind ofpany one could slide into without first learning their little terms and customs, so Tristan instead let his feet take him to the southwest ward.

    The southeastern ward had arge swath of noble mansions and properties, but its southwestern neighbor was the living heart of the city. It was where the workshops and the merchant warehouses were, and those well-paying jobs had sprouted shops and eateries and a dozen industries to cater to those earning the wages. There were a few of what Sacromonte would call guildhouses, the seats of trade consortiums, but they were surprisingly few and discreet.

    Asphodel did not like to sellnd to merchants, and it showed.

    The hum on the street was about Lord Rector Evander¡¯s surprise appearance at a yhouse in the northwestern ward the previous afternoon, proving rumors he had been disfigured to be a lie. There were also rumors the man now had a mistress, for a woman had been glimpsed up in his private lodge. Considering Song must have been the woman in question, Tristan had to swallow a shit-eating grin when he heard the rumor.

    She was going to lose her mind at the implication she was some king¡¯s mistress, and it was going to be beautiful. He couldn¡¯t wait to tell her.

    Overall, sentiment towards the Lord Rector was rather favorable. Even the mistress rumor got the wink-wink treatment about him being a young man with a young man¡¯s needs, and everyone scorned the attempt to kill what they considered a fine enough ruler. Spection was rife about who had done it, though in the southwestern ward when foreigners weren¡¯t med the suspicion leaned more to the Council of Ministers than the Trade Assembly.

    The ministers, beingrgely high nobles from the eastern and western regions of Asphodel, were unpopr with the people of Tratheke ¨C who saw themselves as the heart of the Rectorate and believed the rest of the ind to resent this obvious truth.

    It was halfway through the afternoon, while debating grabbing a bite, that he first caught sight of them.

    None of them were wearing back, which was how he almost missed them. He was saved by Captain Tozi Poloko¡¯s absurd haircut, which stood out enough he gave her a second look and caught sight of the entire Neenth moving down the street in local clothes. des out in the open, but pistols hidden from sight so as not to out themselves as ckcloaks under the localws.

    He was tucked in behind a curtain of beads by a trinket stand, so he wasn¡¯t in their angle of sight. The odds were good that for one he would be the one with the drop on Cressida. Too pleased at that notion to let the opportunity go, Tristan began to trail behind them. Though the four of them moved briskly the streets of the ward were thick with people so he was able to stay in sight of them without drawing attention.

    Where<em> were</em> they going? It must be part of the investigation into the contracted killer, as they were moving the opposite direction from the way back to ck House.

    It was when they dipped into side streets that Tristan¡¯s curiosity was truly stoked. Cressida alone would have been too risky to follow into there, but the others were louder and not as wary. Taking pains to never be in their line of sight, tracking them by footsteps and the sounds of voices, he followed in their wake. A few minutester, near a dead end, chatter rose sharply before ending entirely.

    Tristan pressed himself against a wall, pricking his ear and catching what he was certain was the sound of a door opening. He waited it out, several minutes in case Cressida was keeping a lookout, and only then risked a nce. The alley past the corner was a run-down hole, with most of the edifices there stripped for parts, but there was a small cluster of standing buildings at the end. One of them had antern lit inside, by the glow behind the shutter.

    Tristan slid back out of sight before anyone could see him. Well now, would you look at that. It looked like the Neenth Brigade had decided to obtain a safehouse out in the city, and he now knew exactly where it was.

    You never knew when that sort of thing might end up useful.

    --

    Obtaining ess to the private pce archives had been as simple as asking the Lord Rector, or rather as simple as <em>Song </em>asking the Lord Rector.

    Maryam would admit she was not the most experienced in matters of romance, but when a boy invited you to the theater before plying you with drinks and talk about books you liked one did not usually call that a ¡®bodyguard assignment¡¯. Though, maybe if the drinks and talk went very well. Much as she believed that Song could use a little unwinding, the man involved meant the whole thing smelled like trouble and thus Maryam refrained from teasing her friend over it. Once you made a joke of something, it became easier to consider.

    Yet for now they reaped the benefits of the association, as not only had Maryam been allowed ess to the archives but she had effectively been given the run of the ce ¨C with for only restriction the inability to take books out. Captain Wen came along, as much to supervise as because the only thing the corpulent man enjoyed as much as good meal was a rare book.

    They found out, together, that the private archives of the rector¡¯s pce were a prison.

    Maryam was not being dramatic, they were quite literally a repurposed gaol. Sixrge pentagonal chambers connected to arger central enclosure, each of the pentagons having once carried three cells and a guard post. The central enclosure, at the heart of which stood a squat and heavy tower containing the only way in and out of the archives ¨C a lift leading to a room below ¨C was surrounded by small alcoves that could be used for work.

    A few of the dozen archivists were ring at her from their cover, perhaps under the impression they were being subtle. They¡¯d not enjoyed Maryam being granted rights over their little kingdom even before seeing the color of her skin. After? Some of them refused to so much as look in her direction, and she had heard <em>hollow </em>muttered more than once.

    The senior archivist, a frigidly polite older woman whose tendency to turn her up her nose really should be paired with better care to pluck the hair inside her nostrils, offered the most cursory of wees before saddling Maryam with the youngest of the archivists as a gofer and attendant. While she was going to need the help navigating these stacks, many of which were filled with books in Cydic, there was the slight trouble that in this case ¡®youngest¡¯ meant a nine-year-old girl in brown robes toorge for her. Maryam could not recall being around a girl of nine since she herself had been one of those.

    ¡°If you¡¯re a ckcloak,¡± Roxane gravely asked, ¡°then why aren¡¯t you wearing a ck cloak?¡±

    Maryam might have been irritated by the question, if not by the painful earnestness on her face. The messy auburn bob and slightly too long sleeves only added to the effect.

    ¡°I am secret ckcloak,¡± Maryam replied. ¡°On a secret mission.¡±

    ¡°Then why¡¯s your captain drinking booze in themon room?¡± Roxane wondered.

    The Izvorica considered that a moment.

    ¡°Because he¡¯s an asshole,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°Oh, so like Master Alexios,¡± Roxane mused.

    Maryam cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°He spilled wax on our only trantion of the Medead and told Lady Eumelia it was me,¡± Roxane informed her with a scowl. ¡°It <em>wasn¡¯t</em>, I wasn¡¯t even <em>there</em>.¡±

    ¡°I believe you,¡± Maryam assured her.

    What would she have wanted as a bribe, when she was nine years old? Desserts, spending money, or maybe ¨C ah!

    ¡°Would you like me to curse him?¡± she offered.

    Roxane¡¯s eyes turnedrge as teacups.

    ¡°You can do that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a Navigator,¡± Maryam said, which was mostly true.

    Roxane pondered the offer.

    ¡°Can you make it so he farts loudly in front of Mistress Laodike?¡± she asked. ¡°He¡¯s trying to court her. She¡¯s the short woman with the braid and the tight robes.¡±

    Roxane raised hands to show the strategic location of said tightness, along with a possible motive for Alexios¡¯ interest. One should never underestimate the inherent viciousness of children.

    ¡°I have no fart curses,¡± she replied, ¡°but I could make hot wax spill onto hisp if you¡¯d like.¡±

    ¡°Wait until Laodike¡¯s around,¡± Roxane instructed.

    ¡°I will,¡± Maryam said, suppressing a smile, ¡°but in exchange you have to help me find everything I need and not tell the senior archivist what books I asked for.¡±

    The former part was what the girl had been ordered to do, so thetter was what Maryam was really after. Even the way the Lord Rector sorted his private papers had been made political, there was simply no chance at all that the senior archivist¡¯s appointment had been spared intrigue. Since Maryam had no intention of allowing a list of the books she cracked open to be passed to the woman¡¯s patrons the moment she left the archives, measures must be taken.

    This content has been uwfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Roxane hesitated, but a promise that Maryam wouldn¡¯t let her be punished for refusing to answer questions about the books tipped the scales in favor of agreement. They shook on it. An older archivist could have been threatened into silence with the weight of the Watch, but Maryam preferred it this way. She would ask Wen on their way out to make it clear that if the girl was punished for keeping silent then the senior archivist was to receive the same punishment tenfold.

    That was not within their authority to do, strictly speaking, but if the Thirteenth made a formalint about this Lady Eumelia obstructing the investigation the senior archivist would be in for much worse than merely being switched ten times. Maryam was not all that familiar with Asphodelianws, but meddling in an investigation that involved the Lord Rector¡¯s life seemed like it might fetch the noose ¨C or at least immediate dismissal from one¡¯s position as senior archivist.

    With Roxane freshly invigorated by the promises, Maryam got to work. A letter had been sent to Stheno¡¯s Peak to see if the Watch had any record of major construction in Asphodel using brackstone, or of an entity that might have warranted such effort to contain, but there was no telling if they would answer ¨C much less in time to be of use.

    The Lord Rector¡¯s own ignorance of such an undertaking was not a good omen, but the archives were much older than House Palliades¡¯ grasp on the throne. There might be answers buried here that¡¯d been forgotten when the old royal houses passed. Usurpation was no friend to the uninterrupted passing of royal secrets.

    ¡°I need the oldest works you have on Tratheke that describes the city,¡± she told Roxane. ¡°And anything you might have about gods that became forbidden.¡±

    For the first they ended upbing through the stacks not of histories but of epic poetry ¨C the oldest records of Tratheke were spoken epics that had been set down to inkter on. That alone would not be enough, though, so Roxane then led her to the pentagon containing legal records of Rectorate. Specifically those ofnd ownership in Tratheke. An archivist began hovering close when they entered that section, which was not entirely unwarranted given how precious such documents were.

    Maryam still curtly dismissed him. They¡¯d already assigned her an attendant and she had no intention of tolerating another archivist looking over her shoulder as she worked. She only had so many bribes in her.

    They set those first volumes aside in the nook she¡¯d imed for her use, finding as they did that Captain Wen had emerged from the tower. He was now leafing through a worn volume titled ¡®The Esteemed Noble Lines of Great Cathay¡¯, chuckling as he did. He was not so busy that he did not share a look with Maryam, however, dipping his head slightly. Good, he would be keeping an eye for anyone intending to snoop at her picked volumes.

    Roxane was visibly excited when they went to fetch the second set of books, revealing she was not usually allowed into the ¡®Closed Sixth¡¯. That pentagon chamber was closed by a lock and iron grid, which they had to send for an archivist to unlock for them. The fair-haired man who did offered a friendly smile and passed noment, but Roxane held up her nose at him.

    ¡°Alexios?¡± Maryam asked in a murmur after they went in.

    The girl scowled and nodded. Well, Maryam had a face to the name now. She just needed to wait for an opportunity. The stacks inside the Closed Sixth were all covered with ss and small numbered locks, for which Alexios left them a set of keys. Brass tes with Cydic words on them named the contents of particr shelves, but thatnguage was beyond her knowledge.

    ¡°Can you trante any of it for me?¡± Maryam asked.

    Roxane looked surprised.

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said. ¡°I learned along my other letters.¡±

    That begged boration, so she asked. The girl, it turned out, was the orphan of pce servants. As she had no rtives, she had been ced here to be an archivist as a kindness from the majordomo running the pce. Roxane was taught Cydic by other archivists as well as her numbers and letters because so many of the older documents here used the dead tongue. Pleased at the turn, Maryam consulted the girl for guidance and found what she suspected to be the right shelf.

    <em>Prohibited</em> could only have so many meanings in this context.

    The entire left side of the shelf was piled scrolls with wax symbols stamped on the wooden rod the vellums were wrapped around, but the right half was books. Mostly leatherbound manuscripts, but one was instead bound by a gold frame and another contained by what looked like an iron puzzle box.

    ¡°The golden one is titled the ¡®Graveyard Book¡¯,¡± Roxane murmured.

    She looked uneasy, as if the stillness of the room was oveing her enthusiasm.

    ¡°Then we take that one,¡± Maryam said.

    She was careful to feel the book out with her nav before touching it, finding it harmless. But with her soul-effigy out, she noticed a detail she had previously missed ¨C one of the leather-bound volumes was rippling in the aether. And in a way she had seen before: she had walked through enough fields of Asphodel crowns, those purple flowers in the rector¡¯s garden, to recognize the slight ripple they caused in the aether.

    Sliding the small book out from between tworger volumes, she found simple brown leather without a title. A symbol had been pressed into its front, though: the stylized silhouette of a blooming Asphodel crown.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that one is,¡± Roxane said, the small voice breaking her out of a trance.

    ¡°That¡¯s all right,¡± Maryam muttered, stashing it with the other book. ¡°I think I might.¡±

    They locked the shelf behind them and returned to the nook they¡¯d picked out to work, finding an irritated Lady Eumelia staring down at an unimpressed Wen Duan.

    ¡°It is simple precaution to-¡±

    ¡°You seem like a well-read woman, Eumelia,¡± Captain Wen mused, turning a page. ¡°In your opinion, should you insist on spying on a Watch investigation are you more likely to be tried under the Iscariot ords or Asphodel¡¯s own treasonws?¡±

    ¡°I could have you expelled from these grounds for threatening me,¡± the senior archivist threatened.

    ¡°Is it a threat to tell a child they¡¯ll be burned if they shove their hand in a fire?¡± he asked, bespectacled eyes flicking up to look at her. ¡°I should hope not.¡±

    Lady Eumelia sneered at him, then at Maryam and for good measure she red at Roxane for being in the general vicinity of her humiliation. Her face was ice-cold as she stalked off, but the fury was obvious in the steps. The Izvorica frowned. Perhaps a sterner warning than ¡®returned tenfold¡¯ was in order, because she did not like that look on her face. She led the nervous girl into their nook, giving Wen a thankful nod.

    He ignored her, flipping his page.

    Much as Maryam would have liked to dig into the books, those she most wanted to read ¨C the golden book and the epic - were written in Cydic. She set Roxane to tranting the appropriate passages of the epic inside a journal she¡¯d brought for the purpose, instead busying herself with the documents in Antigua. Beginning with the legal records, which she figured might help her narrow down when the brackstone structures had been built.

    Thend records went as far back as the beginning of the Century of Steel, over three hundred years ago and three Asphodelian dynasties back. A pirate admiral turned lord and war hero by the name of Archus had seized power in thest decade of the Century of Crowns and proved an energetic Lord Rector, his efforts to improve tax revenue leading what was to be the Archelean dynasty keeping thorough records of noble properties in Tratheke.

    Clever. Those would have been easier to tax than the noble holdings out in the mountains, where a former pirate¡¯s tax collectors would likely have been greeted by arrows. Mind you, records was somewhat underserved a word: they were just family names and vaguely described boundaries.

    Already the noble properties had been concentrated in the two southern wards of the city, though apparently the nobility had owned a <em>lot</em> more of thend inside Tratheke back in those days. The northeast ward, where Tristan and Angharad had found the brackstone wall, had been a royal holding back in those early days.

    Property ledgers remained orderly for several Lord Rectors, the sessionid out by the ruler names changing on the documents, then turned chaotic during the two Pgid reigns when the Archeleans were overthrown. They stabilized when the Archeleans resumed rule after winning back their throne only to be¡­ spotty when the house began producing increasingly indolent and corrupt rulers. Short-lived, too.

    Maryam was no treasurer, but Lady Rector Artemisia Archelean had sold the same piece ofnd in southwestern Tratheke to three different lords the same year and that seemed just a mite suspicious. Either it was cover for bribes or it was a scam of some sort, she figured. Either way, those records could not really be relied on. Which was frustrating, becausete in the Archelean dynasty was when the house began pawning off pieces of Tratheke for coin, crucially including some of the northeastern ward.

    It got even messier after that, nearly sixty years partial or outright missing. Not surprising, as the end of the Archeleans during the Century of ord resulted in the ¡®Ataxia¡¯, that great Asphodelian civil war. From that chaos House Lissenos eventually emerged as rulers, and when they did, Maryam finally saw useful work again.

    Twice now she¡¯d had to double back to the chamber to get fresh books, recing the old ones, but as her pen scratched down fresh notes she figured she was getting somewhere. The first Lissenos to be Lord Rector had ridden noble support to the throne, but his sessor had then promptly turned on those supporters. That betrayal included confiscating some of their property in Tratheke, the gains from which were written down in copious detail.

    From the confiscations Maryam learned that apparently House Drakos had once owned about a quarter of the capital, mostly in the northwest, and been stripped of most everything. The northeast, though, had been sold for parts to half a dozen houses. And though Lord Rector Hector Lissenos promptly redistributed some of this confiscated property to allies in an obvious move to buy their support ¨C including, amusingly enough, the original grant of ck House to the Watch ¨C he held on to confiscated the properties in the northeast.

    Interesting, as they should have been worthless back then. After the Ataxia the poption of Tratheke had almost halved ording to the records so even the precious southern wards would have been partly empty. The north would have been a ghost town, decaying space no one cared to inhabit.

    A good ce to secretly build a prison for a god.

    <em>Hector Lissenos</em>, Maryam jotted down. A simple genealogy book revealed his reign to havested from 9 to 26 Dominion, which narrowed down the period of time to look into. By the time she returned all the ledgers to the appropriate stacks, Roxane had finished tranting for her. Maryam looked down at the girl¡¯s elegant cursive, filling seventeen pages with nary an error in ink, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. This was going to take a while.

    ¡°All poets should be hanged,¡± she muttered.

    She reassured Roxane the displeasure was no reflection on her. The epic was, well, a poem. Which meant that while several parts did describe Tratheke as it was made by the Antediluvians and then found by Oduromai King, the description were so dramatic as to be nearly useless. At least the Oduromai parts mentioned the generalyout of the city, as a prelude to his distributing parts of it to his loyal crew as reward.

    Yet all that told her was that the general shape of the city, four wards and the Collegium, had been this way as far back as was known. The problem was that the information she was most curious about was in the most poetic part: namely, what the Antediluvians had built their city <em>on</em>.

    The epic contended the Ancients had carved deep into the ground and set down a city fully made, which sounded unlikely if not outright impossible ¨C one must be careful using that word, when it came to the First Empire. The implication there was that below the city was rock, but was there <em>only</em> that? The entity that needed containment in brackstone, had it been put there by the Antediluvians in the first ce? That horrifying god on the Dominion had.

    Was it even a god down there, a monster or something else entirely?

    The epics had no true answers for her. She would have to look forter sources, which while less reliable for the time passed might admittedly still be more reliable than damn poetry. By now they were midway through the afternoon, so after returning the epics to the stacks Maryam told her little assistant they were to take a break. Wen had a half-empty te ofmb and greens on his table, and after asking she learned that they could have food sent up here. She had it done for Roxane and herself, the girl delighted to be getting meat twice this week when she was told.

    Maryam spent part of her meal looking for Alexios and the Mistress Laodike of the rumored tits, intent on keeping her word. When she found the woman in question she was forced to concede that Roxane¡¯s miming had not been unwarranted. She filled every part of the brown robes that the little girl did not, twice over. Even while she sat in candlelight, transcribing something from book to manuscript, that much was obvious.

    She was also being hovered around by fair-haired Alexios, her opinion on his attentions on unclear. While Maryam tore into her chops and pretended not to see Roxane discreetly transferring some of her greens onto the signifier¡¯s te, she could not help but notice Laodike¡¯s inkwell was running low. It was only a matter of time before gant Alexios noticed as well, no doubt, so she prepared.

    When he hurried in with a fresh inkwell, she acted.

    ¡°Watch,¡± Maryam told Roxane, and under the table she traced.

    She didn¡¯t need anything dangerous orplicated. Settling a Burden on a schrly man hurrying was enough to make him trip, footing unmade by how moving was suddenly harder than it had been. Maryam immediately released the Sign and from the corner of her eye she saw Roxane grinning like a shark as Alexios toppled forward, keeping the inkwell up in an attempt not to drop it but only making things worse. His wrist hit Laodike¡¯s knee and ink went flying on her robes and his face both.

    ¡°Now look away,¡± Maryam murmured. ¡°Best not to be suspicious.¡±

    The two of them studiously ate their meal ¨C Maryam¡¯s portion of greens miraculously grown back to full size while she wasn¡¯t looking ¨C and pretended not to hear the sharp, angry words from Mistress Laodike to her clumsy suitor.

    Roxane was happily wriggling in her seat like a worm when they got back to work. The ¡®Graveyard Book¡¯, which was next on the line, was a mix of Antigua and Cydic.

    And once Maryam realized what they were reading, she immediately told Roxane to stop tranting and go sit at another table for a while.

    Inside the gold-framed book was only one thing: names. The kind that should not be spoken out loud, or even looked at too long, for they were names of dead gods. It was carefully that Maryam looked through the pages, centering herself and regrly tasting the aether with her nav in case she was earning¡­ attention.

    After fifteen minutes her head was pounding and her eyes ached, but she pushed on ¨C after skipping dozens of pages, for the ancient Cydic names meant nothing to her. The order was chronological, as far as she could tell, and after the names of the dead turned to Antigua she began looking for what she wanted: the time of the Ataxia.

    It revealed itself to her in a mass grave of gods, the very air around her smelling of blood, but Maryam wanted a<em> name</em>. And she found it, she thought. The page for the god the Watch had killed on behalf of Asphodel, the rampant deity whose cult was behind the Ataxia. Only though there were letters on the page, spelling out a word, her eyes only saw one thing.

    <strong>HATED ONE</strong>, she read.

    Like the words had been carved into her eyes. And she tried to look beneath, at the word tucked away under the shout of

    <strong>HATED ONE</strong>

    but oh she must be careful not to drip on the page, there was something wet on her hand.

    Her nails had bit so deep into her palm she was bleeding.

    Breathing out, Maryam mmed the book closed. Gods, her head was pounding. She pushed back her chair, almost afraid, and tucked her bleeding hand into her sleeve. She leaned against a table and breathed in and out, eyes closed, until the world no longer spun around quite so much. Until she could no longer hear those two loud words echoing inside her head like a never-ending crack of thunder, filling her to burst until her skull <em>cracked</em> from the inside¡­ breathe in, breathe out.

    ¡°Miss Maryam?¡±

    She opened her eyes, a worried looking Roxane staring at her.

    ¡°Put the books we borrowed back,¡± she croaked out. ¡°We¡¯re done for the day.¡±

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± the girl asked.

    ¡°I will be after some sleep,¡± she replied. ¡°It was a dangerous book.¡±

    And not even the volume she had sniffed out as odd in the aether. The thought of trying that one while her head ached like this was almost enough to make her nauseous. Tomorrow. Roxane put the books back, though Maryam had forgot to give her the keys so she had toe back for them. By then Wen hade to join her, sitting on the edge of the table.

    ¡°Went digging a little too deep, I see.¡±

    ¡°I found something,¡± she rasped back. ¡°The¡­¡±

    She licked her lips, afraid to even think those two words.

    ¡°I have found something,¡± Maryam repeated. ¡°I need to speak with Lieutenant Mitra before he leaves.¡±

    Which was in two days, she recalled. Not tomorrow night but the morning after the Fourth would be leaving the capital. Wen was studying her through his spectacles, hands folded atop his belly.

    ¡°You are a woman grown,¡± he said. ¡°If you want to burn yourself like a candle, that is your choice. But do wait until the end of the test, would you? It would make me look bad if you get yourself killed before that.¡±

    ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing,¡± she bit back.

    ¡°Sure you do, Maryam,¡± he chortled. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re bleeding.¡±

    He pushed himself off the table. The urge to tear into him was there, but a wave of exhaustion challenged the pressure. Wen would be Wen, she told herself. She ruffled Roxane¡¯s hair on her way out, catching sight of Lady Eumelia ring at them from the tower doorway. The girl shrunk in on herself, and for a moment Maryam saw another child. Alone, covered in filth, run down to exhaustion by hounds and soldiers. The weight of an entire empire stomping after her.

    No. Not this time, not to that sweet little girl. Gloam flickered around her fingers, eager to be wielded. To be crafted to her purposes. She took a single step forward before the hand came down on her shoulder ¨C Maryam tried to shake off Wen, but the man¡¯s grip was iron and he manhandled her back into a seat. He dismissed Roxane, who heisted but scuttled off after a hard look.

    ¡°Sit your ass down, Khaimov,¡± he tly said.

    It would have been childish to storm off, so instead she red up at him.

    ¡°I need to speak with the senior archivist,¡± she tly said. ¡°We will leave afterwards.¡±

    ¡°You look like you¡¯re about to rip that woman¡¯s throat out,¡± he said. ¡°And she noticed, too. See how she made herself scarce.¡±

    Lady Eumelia had disappeared into the depths of herir, it was true.

    ¡°I would not haveid a hand on her,¡± Maryam said.

    Nor would she have had to. To mostymen, even the most harmless uses of Gloam were terrifying. The construct-trick would have sent a small creature of Gloam scurrying across her body and made Maryam¡¯s point memorably.

    ¡°No, you would have put the fear of the Akrre in her,¡± Wen said. ¡°The woman would never have looked you in the eyes again or spoken up in your presence.¡±

    Therge man stared down at her through his sses.

    ¡°Now think, Khaimov. What happens<em> after</em>?¡±

    ¡°It ends,¡± she said. ¡°She does not dare punish a child for doing exactly what she was meant to.¡±

    ¡°Not while you¡¯re here,¡± Wen Duan agreed. ¡°How long is that going to be? Weeks, months?¡±

    Maryam¡¯s fists clenched.

    ¡°Fear onlysts so long,¡± the Tianxi said. ¡°Hate, though, that sticks.¡±

    ¡°You threatened her yourself,¡± she bit back. ¡°She was already a foe.

    ¡°I set a boundary as a watchman,¡± he corrected. ¡°She will resent me, <em>as a watchman</em>. There is a difference between an opponent and an enemy, Maryam. The second is a choice you make.¡±

    ¡°So I should just let that girl be switched the moment we step out?¡± she hissed. ¡°I won¡¯t have it.¡±

    ¡°Then do it right,¡± Wen said. ¡°Act in a way that gets you what you¡¯re after, not just how feels good ¨C cutting down the unjust with your sword, scratching old itches. Pulling the world back on even keel after whatever was in that book that scared you.¡±

    Her fingernails were red, Maryam saw, from where they dug into her already bloodied palm. She made herself hear the words, listen to them. He was not wrong. Gods damn it, he was not wrong. She might have made it worse for Roxane, if she¡¯d stormed in there wielding Craft.

    ¡°She deserves more than a warning,¡± Maryam finally said, voice gone quiet.

    But a warning would be what worked best, they both knew that. Simply making it clear that the Watch did not want its investigation spied on and that punishing Roxane would be seen as an attempt to squeeze out secrets would poison that well for Lady Eumelia. It would not be worth going after the child when it could turn into the beginning of an avnche of consequences resulting in losing her position, and why bother to punish Roxane in a few months?

    Wen looked at her with something like sympathy.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been weak for too long,¡± he said.

    She blinked.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t had power or authority since you left the north,¡± Wen said. ¡°You don¡¯t remember what it¡¯s like anymore, having that. Only the tale of it in your head, what you thought the people around you who had it should have done with it.¡±

    He took off his sses, sighing as he cleaned them with a kerchief.

    ¡°We are not chivalrous swordsmen wandering thend doing good deeds, Maryam. Our authority¡¯s borrowed from the ck, and ites with strings. More of them than you realize.¡±

    He put them back on, tucking the cloth back into his pocket.

    ¡°Power¡¯s like an oilmp, Maryam,¡± Wen Duan said. ¡°It¡¯s useful to have, but if you swing it around recklessly something¡¯s going to catch on fire. If you¡¯re lucky, something that deserves it.¡±

    His smile was sharp.

    ¡°Most of the time, we aren¡¯t lucky.¡±

    ¡°What is it,¡± she quietly asked, ¡°that happened to you in Tariac, Wen?¡±

    ¡°I set on fire some who deserved it,¡± therge man replied. ¡°And a lot more who didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Do you regret it?¡± Maryam asked.

    His eyes behind the spectacles were sharp as a fang.

    ¡°Never,¡± Wen said. ¡°It was badly done, but it needed doing.¡±

    He pushed himself up.

    ¡°But you don¡¯t have to make my mistakes,¡± he said. ¡°Come on, Khaimov. Let¡¯s go have a chat with Lady Eumelia that gets us what you actually want.¡±

    Maryam stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. She did not thank him as she rose, but part of her suspected he wouldn¡¯t have wanted it anyway.

    --

    Their patrons insisted the farewell banquet was about fostering ties between the brigades before the parting of ways, but Tristan was fairly sure it was really about having a believable excuse to empty the ck House cers. The teachers, holed up at their table in the corner, wereughing increasingly loudly as the wine bottles emptied almost faster than the staff could take them away.

    The students, by unspoken ord, pretended not to hear any of it.

    Besides, excuse or not the kitchen had been asked for a feast and duly delivered. Tristan was pleased to find he had been pandered to: the cooks had put out a te of dimpled tbread and a traditional Sacromontan<em> ternasco</em>. The kind of juicymb you had to rob a wealthy man for, or at least a reputable inn. Salvador, the quiet fellow from the Eleventh also from the City, made it known with his eyes from across the table that if Tristan hogged said ternasco there would be violence.

    The thief surrendered one of the fatty pieces in appeasement.

    By the pleased sounds half the table was making, the two of them were not the only ones who¡¯d been given a taste of home. The Izcalli ¨C Tupoc, Captain Tozi and Izel, all clustered on the right side of the table ¨C looked like they were about toe to blows over who got therger share of the tamales te. Tupoc discreetly tried to steal one of the two dipping sauce pots apanying them only to be hollered at in dismay, only reluctantly relinquishing it.

    The Mni rationed out some pleasant-smelling stew like they were on a long sea voyage, having it traveling in a circle as they eyed each other like hawks over portion sizes, while the Tianxi took turns eating from their rice-and-chicken dish ¨C each trying to grab the singlergest piece they could while maintaining usible deniability. Song, he amusedly noted, was not getting the better of it.

    eptable Losses kept stealing the bits she staked out and that Qianfan fellow was merciless in following through.

    Meanwhile Cressida Barboza and Alejandra Torrero, demonstrating the curse of being born in some hick town out in Old Liergan, ignored perfectly good ternasco to instead squabble over spicy sausages. Tristan knew better ¨C you should never eat sausage when you did not know where the butcher lived. That was a recipe for getting a bite of a sawdust-and-trotters Murk special.

    To his surprise the two Someshwari at the table were the most civil, each taking a small portion from a pot of rice paired with spicy vegetable curry and stir-fried vegetables with coconut. That the Imperial Someshwar was to be the only corner of the table to <em>avoid</em> civil war was slightly ironic, and Angharad evenplimented Kiran Agrawal on his restraint in taking only the one portion of a home dish. He snorted.

    ¡°That is not from my home,¡± he drily replied. ¡°It is a Ramayan dish, best served to dogs and merchants.¡±

    ¡°They got the<em> thoran</em> right, though, which is rare,¡± Bait noted from his right. ¡°There¡¯s probably a Ramayan in the kitchen staff.¡±

    It was easy to forget, Tristan thought, that the Imperial Someshwar wasrge as any other two great powers put together and bore at least thrice as many people. Even the Second Empire had never managed to conquer more than the outskirts of thatnd, and not forck of trying. The famous<em> azirvada</em>, the re trees whose wood and leaves filled the air with light, had been deeply coveted by Liergan.

    Once the initial frenzy passed and bellies filled, hands reached for the wines and liquor and conversation began to flow just as freely as the drink. All talk he was rtively well ced to listen in on, being sat near the middle of the rectangr banquet table. It was more than decent seating: Tristan had, in a stroke of genius, waited until Cressida Barboza sat down to im his own seat and so been able to put two equally terrifying women between them ¨C Maryam and Angharad.

    To his left was Song, who had sat down there purely to deny Imani any seat remotely close to Angharad¡¯s. The Mni showed not a hint of frustration on her face from her ce to Song¡¯s own left, but Tristan could almost smell it on her.

    Arguably the downside of his position was that facing him was eptable Losses, squeezed in between a Thando Fenya pointedly ignoring him and argely silent Expendable who seemed under the impression that if he stopped moving whenever Song nced in his direction he would turn invisible. Manners had forced the wolf eyed Mni to take off his wide-brimmed hat but he kept his eyes cast down on his te as if he were still wearing it.

    ¡°- in a few days, once Prefect Nestor receives word from thetest patrol,¡± Captain Imani was telling Song. ¡°While we could go off haring after thest sighting in the hills, it seems to me a wiser course to get the freshest word before heading out.¡±

    ¡°We would likely lose just as long wandering around the hills looking for a trail to follow,¡± Qianfan added.

    Like all the other brigades, the Eleventh had kept together ¨C the four of them forming a half-circle around the left end of the table. Theirs, Tristan thought not for the first time, was an unusual brigade. While Imani Langa was captain, neither her signifier nor Thando Fenya seemed to defer to her all that much. Fenya in particr often seemed off handling his own affairs ¨C he was currently speaking to eptable Losses in perfect Cathayan instead of paying attention to this conversation, for example.

    Salvador, the quiet Sacromontan that Tristan smelled coterie on, was the one that followed her closest. Yet from the way Imani never quite let him out of her line of sight, he might just be the one she trusted the least.

    ¡°Have you any notion of where you might end up in Tratheke Valley?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°West,¡± Qianfan said.

    Imani¡¯s nce at him was slightly irked.

    ¡°That seems likely, given that most previous sightings of unnatural events were broadly northwest of the capital,¡± she said. ¡°Well short of Stheno¡¯s Peak, mind you.¡±

    It clicked into a ce momentter why Song had asked that, beyond making conversation: with Angharad soon to journey to Cleon Eirenos¡¯ mansion out in the wilds, they would not be able to run interference between the two of them if the Eleventh passed near that manse. Not that Imani would be able to openly contact Angharad out there, given that thetter was keeping her ck cloak quiet while rubbing elbows with the nobles.

    That left contacting her secretly, of course. He¡¯d not put those details together, good on Song to have remained sharp.

    ¡°- Tristan.<em> Tristan</em>.¡±

    The thief turned to find both Maryam and Angharad look at him, cocking an eyebrow.

    ¡°You were the one to first find the false window,¡± Maryam said. ¡°At the teahouse.¡±

    ¡°I was,¡± he confirmed. ¡°Wearing ck, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Was there any visible Gloam phenomenon inside the room when you looked?¡± Alejandra Torrero asked from across the table.

    He shook his head.

    ¡°It was pitch ck, but not that kind of ck,¡± he said.

    Torrero¡¯s scowl eased up, if only a moment.

    ¡°See, Khaimov?¡± she said. ¡°A Sign powerful enough to open a way out of the halfyer would have left some aftermath.¡±

    ¡°Unless it was traced by a signifier of great skill,¡± Maryam rebutted. ¡°One with minimal leakage.¡±

    ¡°Come off it,¡± Alejandra snorted. ¡°If they had someone that powerful and skilled running around Tratheke the Guild would have taken notice.¡±

    Tristan cleared his throat.

    ¡°The assassin had a contract,¡± he reminded them. ¡°They cannot have been a signifier, unless my understanding of the ipatibility there is incorrect.¡±

    ¡°A rare instance of you not being wrong, Abrascal,¡± Tupoc noted from the seat to Alejandra¡¯s right. ¡°But they are arguing about whether the object used by the assassin ran on aether or Gloam.¡±

    His brow rose.

    ¡°A Gloam-cursed object,¡± he slowly said. ¡°You mean like evil eye amulets? I thought talismans and the like were witch tricks.¡±

    That got him a dirty look from both Maryam and Alejandra, which saw him raise his hands in preemptive defense. Tupoc naturally put on the most disappointed look of them all, as if Tristan had personally let him down.

    ¡°Not <em>cursed amulets</em>, you gullible <em>baboso</em>,¡± Alejandra sneered. ¡°Proper Signs appended to apatible object.¡±

    ¡°Spent on use, like ckpowder in a grenade,¡± Maryam told him.

    ¡°Any tool capable of holding so strong a Sign would be worth a fortune,¡± the dark-haired Lierganen told her, pursuing victory.

    ¡°And that harpoon in theyer came cheap, you think?¡± Maryam replied, unimpressed.

    He nced past Maryam to find that Angharad¡¯s eyes were faintly zed over and her pleasant smile a little nd. Been going a while, then. The twitch of his lips that earned caught her attention and she looked faintly guilty for a beat before straightening in her seat. She turned to her right, towards Cressida and Izel, leaning in to say something that caught the Izcalli¡¯s attention.

    Tristan himself took the first opportunity for a strategic retreat that presented itself, seeing no upside to stepping in between Maryam and Torrero at odds ¨C much less with Tupoc just waiting to throw darts. He ended up rising to ask one of the servants for a jug of water, as he had no intention of partaking in the drinks and stayed up to have a better look at they of the table.

    Song joined him, keeping an eye on Imani as she did.

    ¡°Surprisingly cordial,¡± he said. ¡°Even Tupoc has mostly behaved.¡±

    ¡°His brigade is frustrated because of the dys,¡± Song told him. ¡°They¡¯ve had difficulty getting proof of being on a Watch contract from the rector¡¯s office and they need those papers before setting off from Tratheke.¡±

    Else they would be arrested for wandering through the territories of half a dozen nobles while hunting their dragon.

    ¡°He¡¯s easing off so they can actually have fun,¡± Tristan put together. ¡°That¡¯s more bend than I expected him to have, I¡¯ll admit.¡±

    ¡°He has always been more measured in his actions than he seems,¡± Song grunted. ¡°The Leopard Society trained him well in that regard, for all that the affiliation wins him no regard with other Izcalli.¡±

    ¡°Izel¡¯s quite pleasant with him,¡± Tristan noted.

    ¡°He¡¯s pleasant with everyone,¡± Song said. ¡°Which is odd, for an Izcalli highborn. They tend to be¡­¡±

    ¡°Warmongering pricks?¡± he lightly said.

    ¡°Among other things,¡± she snorted. ¡°I wonder if it has to do with¡­¡±

    She touched her throat, which had him cocking an eyebrow.

    ¡°His being corregido? I don¡¯t see why it would.¡±

    ¡°It is different for Izcalli,¡± Song told him. ¡°They made it political.¡±

    He blinked at her.

    ¡°It seems, if anything, an intensely private matter,¡± Tristan hazarded.

    ¡°It used to be only men inherited titles in Izcalli,¡± Song told him. ¡°But a few centuries back the kingdom was saddled with Prince Coaxoch as sole heir to the Grasshopper King and he was¡­¡±

    ¡°Ipetent?¡±

    ¡°Raving mad,¡± she replied. ¡°He tried to make a donkey a Sunflower Lord, famously. More worrying to the nobility, he was open about his intentions to purge the military nobles and spend the treasury on temples and pleasure pyramids.¡±

    ¡°But he had a sister,¡± Tristan guessed.

    ¡°Princess Atzi, a woman with a distinguished military record and wealthy rtives,¡± Song said. ¡°Yet she could not legally inherit, at least not until she cloistered herself with a conve of candle-priests in the capital. She emerged to the unanimous announcement of the clergy that she had a man¡¯s soul and was thus eligible as heir. Coaxoch was dead by week¡¯s end.¡±

    Tristan blinked at her.

    ¡°That¡¯s one way to do it,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m guessing nowadays all you need is a good bribe to get the same treatment.¡±

    ¡°It has been going on long enough that the terms originally for a man¡¯s soul and a woman¡¯s are effectively divorced from gender inmon pance,¡± Song said. ¡°They mean something closer to active and passive, and it is an open secret that a payment to the priests is all one needs to have a child determined as spiritually fit or unfit to inherit.¡±

    The thief cocked his head to the side, eyeing Izel Coyac as he chatted animatedly with Angharad.

    ¡°But in Izcalli being corregido would still have the implication of iming right to inherit,¡± he said.

    ¡°The dangers inherent to that situation might well be why a man of such reportedly high birth is wearing the ck,¡± Song noted.

    They were interrupted by the servant arriving with the requested jug, Tristan taking it from a surprise young woman and heading back to the table along with Song. By the time they did, what had been a conversation between Izel and Angharad grew to engulf the entire right side of the table.

    ¡°Flower wars were once meant to lessen the ravages of war,¡± Izel was saying. ¡°To codify war, fence the violence within a time and ce with precise terms of engagement.¡±

    ¡°What it <em>used </em>to be hardly matters,¡± Kiran Agrawal tly replied. ¡°In the times we all live in, it is a glorified excuse for raiding that defies all civilized rules of warfare.¡±

    ¡°Civilized warfare,¡± Maryam drawled. ¡°Now there¡¯s a concept. Come off it, Agrawal, the wheels alwayse off when a side feels like they¡¯re losing.¡±

    ¡°If the stated purpose of flower wars is no longer respected, use of their name should no longer be allowed,¡± Angharad opined. ¡°Let raiding be known for what it is.¡±

    ¡°Should Mni privateers be called pirates instead, then?¡± Captain Tozi politely asked her. ¡°If we are to indulge in forceful honesties, let us not make exceptions.¡±

    Angharad, he noted, did not quite seem to know what to answer to that.

    ¡°Peace, Tozi,¡± Izel sighed. ¡°My words were not an endorsement of the modern practice, Kiran. It has been warped, likely beyond repair, and the raiding of our neighbors is a senseless and deplorable crime.¡±

    Augh from the other side of the table.

    ¡°Fine words,ing from a Coyac,¡± Tupoc idly said. ¡°How many hundreds of serfs did your father bring back from Sordon to work in mines and fields?

    ¡°One was too many,¡± Izel bluntly replied.

    ¡°Spoken,¡± Tupoc Xical said, ¡°by a man raised in the light of candles, fed on breade of servile wheat fields, clothed in robes of cotton picked by their hands and whose tutors were paid with foreign treasures. What is left of you, without the flowers? Not much that I can see.¡±

    Tupoc had spoken the way he always spoke: a bullfighter, twirling his cape to draw the eye before he sank barbs into flesh. Tristan could see it in those pale eyes, the expectation of the twitch and roar. That the other man would lower his horns and charge, that the familiar old game would y out down in the sand. Only Izel looked into Tupoc¡¯s eyes as well, and whatever it was he found there caused in him no anger.

    That look on Izel Coyac¡¯s face, the thief thought, looked terribly like grief.

    ¡°You were Leopard Society,¡± he said.

    Something like unease flickered on Tupoc Xical¡¯s face, but it passed.

    ¡°No such society exists,¡± Tupoc grinned, a slice of ivory and mockery. ¡°Careful, Coyac, you¡¯ll say too much where the foreigners might hear. What would your father think?¡±

    ¡°I do not care,¡± Izel said, and pushed back his seat to rise to his feet.

    The grin turned expecting, almost eager ¨C he leaned forward a bit and angled his chin to make the punch easier. Only the other Izcalli instead did something that wiped the smile right off his face.

    He bowed.

    Low, deep. Starkly enough it could not be mistaken for anything else. He straightened only after a long moment of utter silence had passed.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Izel said.

    ¡°Pardon?¡± Tupoc mildly said.

    The Izcalli¡¯s perfectly even face looked like a ceramic mask, a solid thing only cousin to a man¡¯s face.

    ¡°I am sorry,¡± Izel Coyac repeated, ¡°for what we did to you, Tupoc Xical. For all that was stolen.¡±

    ¡°Soft-handed noble,¡± Tupoc smiled. ¡°Nothing was stolen. I was given a gift.¡±

    ¡°We stole that too,¡± Izel gently said. ¡°The ability to understand that what was done to you is evil. Fundamentally, inexcusably. That all who hold a stake in the rule of Izcalli have failed a thousand thousand children like you, and still do. That we ordered you snatched up in the night, raised to kill and die nameless, so that we might keep repeating the same old mistakes instead of learning.¡±

    And it should have sounded pretentious, Tristan thought, or sanctimonious. A man raising himself up by apologizing. It would have, if not for the devastating weight of that sincerity. Izel meant every word, the thief thought, meant thempletely. It was so painfully obvious that not even Tupoc was able tough him off and gods did he look like he wanted to

    ¡°I am sorry,¡± Izel Coyac said onest time, ¡°that we taught you it was necessary, what they ordered you do to, because it isn¡¯t. We<em> can</em> be better.¡±

    His jaw locked.

    ¡°It¡¯s just easier not to be.¡±

    Tristan had seen Tupoc Xical afraid before. For all that the Izcalli was like a great cat, all death and shamelessness, he was not beyond flinching. It was not always all in his hands and when Ocon had dropped dead at the table next to him he¡¯d been afraid. Almost fled. But there was a difference, the thief thought, between fear and being rattled. Ocon¡¯s death had made him afraid, but it had not rattled him.

    He looked rattled now.

    Like someone had snatched the fire and the poison right out of him. And as Tupoc swallowed, answer shying from his lip, the Izcalli felt the gazes of all those around him staring at a naked part of who he was ¨C and reacted the only way that came to him in that moment.

    He drew his knife, lunging across the table.

    Shouting and scuffling ensued, Kiran Agrawal tackling him against the table as drinks and tes flew everywhere and a snarling Tupoc tried to reach for Izel¡¯s throat. Alejandra tried to tear off Agrawal, who elbowed her back, and she raised a hand ¨C Gloam coalesced in swirling streaks around her fingers. Tozi pulled a knife on her without batting an eye, Expendable¡¯s wolfish stare turning on her for it as he snarled, and it all teetered on the brink of violence.

    Then Captain Oratile shot her pistol at the ceiling, and everyone stopped.

    ¡°Put those fucking knives away,¡± she shouted. ¡°Xical, leave yours on the table. You¡¯re spending the night in containment.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary, captain,¡± Izel said. ¡°I lodge noint.¡±

    By the wild look in Tupoc¡¯s eyes, Tristan thought, he was thinking about trying for the other man¡¯s throat again ¨C pistols out or no.

    ¡°Lodge my fucking ass, boy, you went <em>shopping</em> for that knife,¡± Captain Oratile curtly said. ¡°Dinner¡¯s over, everyone back to their rooms. If I hear you so much as brushed each other in the halls, I¡¯ll hang you from your feet off the nearest window until the stupid¡¯s done dripping out. You understand me?¡±

    Awkward shuffling. Tupoc obeyed, leaving his knife on the table, while Alejandra and Kiran Agrawal looked as if they still wanted to stick each other with theirs. Captain Oratile snarled.

    ¡°I asked, <em>do you understand me</em>?¡±

    Muttered, almost mutinous agreement. The brigades came apart, falling in like wary tribes. Song looked disbelieving, almost stunned, where she was yet seated. It took him a moment to understand why, and he had to swallow a grin that would have earned him a great deal of dirty looks. Song was astonished that for once it was not the Thirteenth who had lost their temper, their brigade instead havinge looking reasonable and disciplined.

    Well, even a broken clock got lucky twice a day.

    The brigades began filing out in separate lines like violent prisoners kept away from each other ¨C the Eleventh first ¨C and Tristan hung back a bit. Watched as the room began to empty and Tupoc was taken aside by Lieutenant Mitra for a quiet talk. The expression of the Fourth¡¯s patron was hard to make out under all that loose hair and Tupoc¡¯s face was empty of emotion.

    He was joined at the back by another, but it was not one of the Thirteenth who leaned back against the wall to his left. Cressida Barboza kept a cautious eye on the Fourth, but most of her attention wasn¡¯t on them. Or on Tristan himself, for that matter.

    It was on Izel, who looked not triumphant or vindicated but deeply exhausted.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t expect that out of him,¡± Tristan quietly said.

    The other Mask let out a long breath.

    ¡°He¡¯s one of the nicest men I ever met, Izel Coyac,¡± Cressida told him. ¡°It¡¯s not put-on either, as far as I can tell.¡±

    She crossed her arms, tense as a string. Looking square ahead.

    ¡°And if that doesn¡¯t scare you, Tristan, then you¡¯re a fucking fool.¡±

 Chapter 49

    Chapter 49

    It wasn¡¯t a Meadow, as the Guild would never allow one to be built outsidend they controlled, but ck House did have a lovely roof garden centered around a pond fed by a false river. Sitting by it felt like drinking half a swallow of lukewarm water instead of quenching your thirst, but it still soothed Maryam¡¯s mind to listen to the flow while Lieutenant Mitra finished his examination.

    The wild-haired signifier let out a small noise of interest, then withdrew his nav from her.

    ¡°I have rarely seen such a textbook case,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said.

    Maryam breathed out in relief.

    ¡°You have seen this before?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Only twice in person, but I¡¯ve studied the theory in depth,¡± the Someshwari said. ¡°You smashed your head against an aether seal.¡±

    Her brow rose and she crossed her legs under her, bare feet tickled by the well-kept grass.

    ¡°That,¡± she began then hesitated, swallowing a flinch.

    The memory of the two words she had read in the Graveyard Book still felt like a gong being struck next to her ear. Even when she thought her way around them she still felt the¡­ vibration in the air, so to speak.¡°The words,¡± Maryam settled on. ¡°They wereyered atop something I could not make out. They are the seal in question?¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said.

    He sat haphazardly, legs extended and kept sitting only by leaning on his palms put against the ground.

    ¡°The good news is that you suffered aetheric bacsh only because you kept trying to peer past it,¡± he continued. ¡°A few weeks of not doing that will let the resonance fade. You are to avoid any and all contact with the seal until then.¡±

    ¡°And it will repair the damage?¡± she asked.

    Heughed.

    ¡°A body does not heal merely grow over its wounds,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said. ¡°Think of the bacsh as small doses of poison swallowed with every attempt to peer through the seal. Over time your body will pass the toxins, certainly, but it does not undo the reality of having drunk arsenic.¡±

    ¡°How bad?¡± Maryam quietly asked.

    ¡°Permanently? Negligible enough it could not be measured. Temporarily? Fragility for a few weeks, perhaps months. The most noticeable part will be the sensitivity of your logos, like skin with a rash.¡±

    ¡°But I can still signifiy,¡± she said.

    ¡°Everything is permitted,¡± Lieutenant Mitra noted. ¡°All limitations are arbitrarily drawn lines in the sand, the futile attempt of trembling children to make sense of entropy¡¯s inevitable embrace.¡±

    She cocked an eyebrow. A moment of silence passed.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he sighed. ¡°You can still signify. Be careful with your logos and try not to ce your soul in too much disarray.¡±

    His gaze was knowing when he spoke thatst part. He had suspicions, then. It made sense, considering Alejandra had apparently told the rest of the Fourth that Maryam ate Gloam creatures. A detail that was entirely untrue only when it came to the plural.

    ¡°I will keep your advice in mind,¡± she ndly replied.

    The manughed.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Lieutenant Mitra dismissed. ¡°Still, I will confess to some surprise at finding an aether seal in a ce like Asphodel. It does exin that emptyyer you encountered, at least.¡±

    ¡°What <em>is</em> an aether seal, sir?¡± she asked. ¡°None of my teachers ever mentioned them.¡±

    ¡°Likely because they are more than passing rare,¡± he noted, ¡°on top of being ruinously expensive to make and usually not all that effective against the entities most warranting their use.¡±

    He pushed forward, hair moving with him, and snatched a small rock from the grass before setting it down between them.

    ¡°Consider a god,¡± he said. ¡°An aether intellect that fed on emanations sufficiently to form a coherent mind and ethos. A creature that simultaneously has boundaries, a set consciousness, and none ¨C it will keep growing and self-redefining until it no longer can. How does one destroy such an entity?¡±

    ¡°Conceptual damage,¡± she replied. ¡°Offering charity to a god of greed, earth to a god of the sea.¡±

    He nodded.

    ¡°Now consider a god whose ethos is too esoteric to be turned into a weapon,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said. ¡°The example most frequently used is that of Fenquzhu, the Tianxi god of philosophical mereology ¨C that is, the study of the connection between part and whole.¡±

    Maryam bit the inside of her cheek, considering conceptual poison for that. Difficult without knowing more of mereology, which she supposed only fed into Mitra¡¯s point. She shrugged her surrender.

    ¡°Several kings of Old Cathay attempted to destroy it, as its embodied philosophy contradicted the teachings of the fledgling Cathayan Orthodoxy, but they found that mereology was a sufficiently well-crafted system that it could incorporate opposing arguments into itself,¡± Mitra told her. ¡°Imprisoning the god changed nothing, either, as the ideas themselves could not be caged so prayer kept reaching it.¡±

    ¡°So what did they do?¡± Maryam asked.

    ¡°They killed the god repeatedly over the next centuries and drove the schrs underground through persecution, resulting in a hidden sect,¡± Mitra said. ¡°A branch of it still exists in the modern Republics, I hear, though it has little to do with the original philosophical society.¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t a solution,¡± Maryam frowned, ¡°it is painting over the problem.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, though the seed of a better answer lies inside those old royal decrees,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said. ¡°The modern god Fenguzhu, while bearing the same name as that ancient deity, is observably quite different. It was made so by its worship and teachings being constrained to a hidden sect for centuries instead of being openly debated by schrs, resulting in a rather more mystical interpretation of a once purely philosophical concept.¡±

    ¡°The aether taint it fed on was different, so it became different,¡± Maryam summed up.

    ¡°It is so,¡± Mitra agreed. ¡°It thus follows that a god can be leveraged through prayer, through the aether it feeds on. An aether seal is the brutal, straightforward application of that logic.¡±

    And he had given her enough pieces to put it together.

    ¡°The seal is a block on the god¡¯s name,¡± she said. ¡°To keep prayer from reaching it, to starve out a deity whose concept is too difficult to poison until it fades away on its own. So the words I saw were¡­¡±

    ¡°The ¡®name¡¯yered over the true name of the entity,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said. ¡°By trying to reach beyond you effectively plunged your mind into a binding of intentionally poisoned aether until sickness ensued.¡±

    Maryam let out a low whistle.

    ¡°That cannot be easy to aplish,¡± she said. ¡°Else the Watch would use it for all the rowdier deities, no?¡±

    ¡°As I told you, it has costs and limitations,¡± Mitra said. ¡°The god in question need to be imprisoned for it to have any use, else it will simply give a new name to its worshippers and get around the seal, and to so thoroughly imprison a deity is never cheap or easy.¡±

    ¡°The brackstone shrine,¡± Maryam slowly said. ¡°Shrines, most likely, and the emptyyer with a sphere of salt at the heart of it.¡±

    ¡°The details fit, though coincidence is often a trickster twin to design,¡± he replied. ¡°Another limitation is that an aether lock is a measurable, finite imprint on the aether achieved through use a particr machine developed by the Second Empire. If it that imprint is weaker than the entity it is meant to lock, that god will simply unmake it.¡±

    ¡°So it can¡¯t be used on second-order entities,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Because no existing machine is that powerful.¡±

    ¡°It is so,¡± Mitra nodded again.

    That made aether locks a rather niche tool, she thought. It would only work on third-order entities and higher, but the number of such gods that would both warrant such an investment of time and resources and could feasibly be trapped into a prison in the first ce had to be fairly small. It wasn¡¯t enough to put the god in the hole and lock up its name, either, the jail had to be maintained until it had starved to death. That meant boots on the ground, kept there for decades or maybe even a century.

    Most nations would think it simpler to simply kill the god and ouw its worship as the kings of Old Cathay had, to limit the threat and live with it.

    <em>So then why did House Lissenos pour a fortune into an aether lock when they were fresh out of a civil war and young to the throne?</em> With Watch help they would have had the know-how to make such a lock, but there must have been a reason for the fledgling dynasty to pour so many of its badly needed funds into such a grand undertaking. That the god whose cult had begun the Ataxia would be the one imprisoned seemed most likely, if hardly certain, but would even feeding a bloody civil war warrant such treatment?

    Everynd in the world had its gods of war, and they were to thest vicious carrion things. Yet they were not proscribed, for men that did not wage war were a rare thing indeed. Lieutenant Mitra stretched out, rising to his feet. Feeling their timeing to an end, Maryam bit her lip.

    ¡°If the locked god has begun to slip containment,¡± she said, ¡°we could have a dangerous situation on our hands.¡±

    ¡°Or it could be a starved, diminished entity that has little left inmon with that which first went into the prison,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said. ¡°By all means you should report your theory, Maryam, but Vesper is no stranger to too-shallow graves. I would wait on word from Stheno¡¯s Peak before deferring to fear.¡±

    He was unusually serious as he talked so Maryam only nodded instead of arguing as she felt a flicker of urge to. Already she had a half-written report in her room that Wen was waiting on, she would make sure to finish it and impress on him the potential importance of the discovery before they headed back to the rector¡¯s private archives.

    That and the rest of the Thirteenth needed to be told. Song had been methodical about ensuring they shared their findings with each other every morning before parting ways, but when Maryam had begged offst night before the brigade banquet her captain had not insisted.

    ¡°We part ways here, I think,¡± Lieutenant Mitra said. ¡°Captain Ren seems intent on speaking with you.¡±

    Maryam nced back, finding Song standing by the stairs to the roof. Not close enough to overhear their conversation, but enough to be noticeable. The small cloth bag in her hand made it in what she hade here for, and that <em>was </em>overdue.

    ¡°Thank you for your help, Lieutenant Mitra,¡± Maryam said.

    ¡°I enjoy teaching,¡± the Someshwari smiled. ¡°Until we next meet, Maryam Khaimov.¡±

    She nodded back, watching as Song passed by him with a respectful salute on his way out. Soon enough her friend was lowering herself into the grass across from her. The Tianxi cleared her throat.

    ¡°As you will be headed back to the archives this afternoon while we meet with the Brazen Chariot, I thought to request your help now,¡± she said.

    Maryam shrugged.

    ¡°Good a time as any,¡± she said. ¡°And I¡¯ve a few things to tell you anyhow.¡±

    Song smiled gratefully, removing the wooden bowl from its bag. The curse had been firming up since she spent those days stuck inside the rector¡¯s pce: a purge was not urgently needed, but it was headed in that direction. No wonder she looked tired, her sleep must have been a feast of nightmares. Maryam could sympathize. She¡¯d had that horrid dream about being strangled and eaten alive every other night, since making shore on Asphodel.

    If it got any worse, she would ask Wen to travel back to the Lordsport to sleep in the Akrre chapterhouse there and find out if resting a proper Meadow changed anything. Rolling her shoulders, Maryam watched Song fill the bowl with water and focused.

    Song had not, but she was more than willing to learn.

    --

    The Brazen Chariot reached out in the middle of the night, and the time they¡¯d given was barely past noon on that same day.

    They were being cautious, Song thought, so they would not be swept up in a Watch operation. That same caution was reassuring, in a way, for fear of the ck meant they were unlikely to be walking into an ambush. She was still d of Angharad¡¯spany as they headed to the closed tavern in the northeastern ward they¡¯d been given as a meeting ce. Tristan was slowly turning into a better shot, but he was no fearsome battler.

    Even limping, Angharad was more dangerous de in hand than he was.

    They arrived at the tavern ten minutes early and found their interlocutors had arrived even earlier. It took Song but a single step into the building to figure out why the criminals had picked it: theirs was a single long and narrow room with one door in front and one door at the back, dusty tables and chairs filling it up in clutter.

    It would be trivially easy for the Brazen Chariot to flee to the street if it came to that, and once they reached the streets the Watch was sure to lose them. Song¡¯s eyes moved from the surroundings to the waiting criminals, satisfied with the meeting ce, and there came her first surprise of the afternoon.

    Galenos the Brazen did not look like the head of a gang of criminals.

    A small old man whose craggy face was strewn withugh lines, with grey arched eyebrows and a matching professorial mustache, he looked like someone¡¯s favorite grandfather or at least a toymaker of some sort. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the contract unfolding in golden letters above his head, in which the Crowned Charioteer granted him the power to siphon the heat out of anything he touched and impart it on any piece of bronze in his sight.

    He had antern on the table, just to his left, and Song idly wondered how quickly the button on her Watch uniform would burn through cloth and flesh with all that heat crammed into it. Instant, she figured, or near enough. Yet that admittedly dangerous power was not worth the price it had cost the man, in her opinion: he could no longer feel anything by touch. Not heat or cold, not the wind on his face or even what he held in his hand.

    ¡°Come, rooks,¡± Galenos smiled at them. ¡°Have water and bread from me.¡±

    It was a single bowl and a te with a small loaf of bread, which they shared ¨C Song going first, as captain, then the others. Now that guest right was established, some of the tension in the shoulders of the two thugs nking him loosened. The odds the Watch hade to fight were greatly lessened, for it would tar the reputation of the order in Asphodel to break such an old and respected rite. The three of them settled in the seats across the table from the criminals, Song in the center and Tristan to her left.

    Galenos introduced hispanions before they sat down on either side of him.

    ¡°Knuckles,¡± he said, nodding at therge man to his left, ¡°and our lovely Red Maria.¡±

    Lierganen in both name and looks, thetter, though that was not so rare in Tratheke. Though there was still a distinct Asphodelian strain with dark hair and blue or green eyes, the years and the press of people from Old Liergan and the rest of the Trebian inds had made the ssic Lierganen looks just asmon ¨C except among the nobility, where such a thing would be considered vulgar.

    ¡°Captain Song Ren of the Thirteenth Brigade,¡± she replied, giving nothing more.

    It still got a flinch from all three Asphodelians, and Red Maria made a sign warding off misfortune while muttering a prayer to the Circle. She ignored the steady look Tristan fixed her with. It was mere superstition, nothing to take heed of.

    ¡°A bold number to take,¡± Galenos said. ¡°Not a fearful lot, you, though I would have guessed from your stepping around one of our warehouses and then sending word to ask for more of our attention.¡±

    Song cleared her throat.

    ¡°It was not our intent to interfere with your business,¡± she said, ¡°and the Watch has no particr interest in the affairs of the Brazen Chariot. We apologize for the inconvenience.¡±

    Knuckles scoffed, the pile of muscle with his mangled eponymous knuckles seeming unconvinced.

    ¡°You forced us to burn a finely hidden warehouse.¡±

    Song drummed her fingers against the table, inkling her head towards Tristan ¨C who gave the other side a charming smile.

    ¡°You were already evacuating that warehouse, Master Knuckles,¡± he said. ¡°Your guard admitted as much. And wise of you too, given what it stood in proximity of.¡±

    Knuckles spat to side, the sound of wet on the floor almost resonant. Song hid her disgust; Angharad did not.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like your tone, Sacromontan,¡± therge man said. ¡°Who are you to tell me what¡¯s wise?¡±

    ¡°Someone who knows things you do not,¡± Tristan cheerfully replied. ¡°A familiar feeling, no doubt.¡±

    Red Mariaughed, which had the man half-risen out of his chair with a snarl before Galenos put a hand on his arm.

    ¡°Peace, Knuckles,¡± he said. ¡°I am sure Captain Ren intends to borate on this alleged wisdom.¡±

    ¡°Our business in Tratheke is the ferreting out of a cult,¡± Song told him. ¡°In that pursuit, we followed an assassin through an ancient aether pathway ¨C which led into the very teahouse connecting to your warehouse.¡±

    Galenos turned pale brown eyes on her, calmly sipping at a cup of water.

    ¡°The city is full of talk about an assassin¡¯s attempt on a particr man,¡± he carefully said.

    ¡°The very same,¡± Song said.

    The implication that someone who had tried to kill the Lord Rector had then popped out next to their smuggling cache put the fear of the gods in them, as well it should: for a rtively small basileia like theirs to be involved in such matters might well mean being wiped out simply because the lictors felt like making a point.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Red Maria bluntly said. ¡°Since the red scarves haven¡¯t been setting our houses on fire, I¡¯m guessing you kept your mouth shut about that."

    "While the Brazen Chariot was mentioned in our report to our superiors, so was our belief it was not involved in the plot save by unfortunate coincidence,¡± Song replied. ¡°But my cabalist brought out a salient detail: you were already evacuating the warehouse when we found it.¡±

    ¡°Your guard mentioned this to be unusual,¡± Angharad added.

    Her tone was a little t, likely because the girl in question had frankly admitted that a lone individual finding a Brazen Chariot stash was usually likely to result in a sliced throat rather than a migration.

    ¡°And you want us to tell you why,¡± Galenos mused.

    ¡°I would prefer not to leave any question pending, so that our investigation might move on,¡± Song said, which was not quite a threat.

    But it wasn¡¯t <em>not </em>a threat, either.

    ¡°We¡¯re not afraid of the Watch, Tianxi,¡± Knuckles sneered.

    ¡°You should be,¡± Angharad frankly told him.

    The sheer sincerity in that retort threw off the big man, who scrambled for a reaction for a long moment before deciding on anger.

    ¡°Shut your mouth, cripple,¡± he sneered. ¡°Else I will break that stick on your-¡±

    Song cocked her head to the side, finding Galenos the Brazen¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Does Master Knuckles speak for all of you in this?¡±

    Irritation flicked across the old man¡¯s face, the grandfatherly air turning almost reptilian for that beat before it all came back into ce.

    ¡°Knuckles will sit down and be silent for a span,¡± Galenos said.

    He turned a look on therge man, who swallowed loudly and sat down in his chair. He looked away, like a pouting child. Song did not think it a coincidence that both he and Red Maria wore bronze nes.

    ¡°We¡¯re always happy to lend a hand to the Watch, of course,¡± Galenos the Brazen said. ¡°But talk is dangerous, Captain Ren. Especially with folks in fine ck cloaks.¡±

    Red Maria leaned forward.

    ¡°And the Chariot doesn¡¯t take on risks for free.¡±

    ¡°One would think your lives a sufficient prize,¡± Angharad contemptuously said.

    Galenos found her eyes.

    ¡°Does the Mni speak for all of you in this, Captain Ren?¡± he smiled.

    Song sighed, shaking her head at Angharad.

    ¡°She does not,¡± she replied. ¡°We are willing to hear terms.¡±

    ¡°Reasonable terms,¡± Tristan idly added.

    ¡°I am a most reasonable man, you will find,¡± Galenos the Brazen smiled.

    The reasonable man wanted them to smuggle crates from the Lordsport into the city for him on official Watch carriages, which Tristan seemed to find eptable enough but Song tly refused. While she understood that contracts might force her to break localws on asion, that was never to be a <em>first </em>resort. She offered, instead, a lump sum of gold. Tristan looked a little aggrieved when she did and Red Maria chuckled.

    ¡°We start shing around proper gold like that, Captain Ren, and questions will be asked as to how we got it,¡± she said. ¡°If you want to bribe us, pay in goods.¡±

    Song was not entirely opposed, so long as the worth was not greater than the coin she had offered, so the haggling moved over what goods were to be offered. What the basileia <em>wanted</em> was in enough.

    ¡°Muskets,¡± Galenos baldly said. ¡°Failing that, ckpowder.¡±

    ¡°ckpowder can be obtained legally in Tratheke,¡± Song noted.

    ¡°And if you buy a whole barrel, the lictors follow you home afterwards,¡± Red Maria drawled. ¡°No one bats an eye if the rooks buy up a fort¡¯s worth, though. Powder¡¯s worth a fortune on the ck market right now, everyone is scrambling for it.¡±

    Galenos shot her a sharp look at thatst part, but it was toote. Ah, their friend was looking to turn a profit.

    ¡°Why¡¯s everyone buying?¡± Tristan idly asked.

    Too idly. Like her, he was matching thattest revtion to their visit to the empty warehouse. Only so much powder could be smuggled into Tratheke before someone noticed. Better to obtain part of your stocks through the same basileias helping you hide inside the capital.

    ¡°Dangerous times,¡± Knuckles grunted. ¡°If Palliades croaks then the throne¡¯s up for grabs and powder will be worth its weight in gold ¨C shot or sold.¡±

    ck House hadrge reserves of gunpowder, so in truth this would be one of the easiest trade goods for the Thirteenth to get their hands on. All that would be required was making a requisition through Captain Wen, and should he approve the need they wouldn¡¯t even need to dip into brigade funds. Even better, the entire process would be legal.

    Angharad leaned in close.

    ¡°I would hope,¡± she murmured, ¡°you are not about to arm hardened criminals who will then use those arms to continue extorting the people of Tratheke.¡±

    Song swallowed a grimace. There was, of course, a difference between legal and moral.

    ¡°That would be overpaying, if ckpowder is worth what you say,¡± she told Galenos. ¡°I am told, however, that you smuggle liquor.¡±

    ¡°True enough,¡± the old man said. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°Get me a list of wines and liquor of equal value to my earlier offer,¡± she said, ¡°and they will be delivered to you.¡±

    Heughed.

    ¡°Cheeky,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ll buy them in Lordsport for less and avoid tariffs by bringing them in as Watch supplies.¡±

    Song smiled and did not deny. He haggled for much better terms, and she conceded slightly better ones instead ¨C arger sum¡¯s worth of drink than earlier, but with tariff avoidance it would likely end up costing her around the same. Angharad poorly hid her relief, and in truth even Tristan looked approving. Galenos was surprisingly understanding that she would not sign a contract, as a signature would actionably implicate the Watch.

    ¡°Business relies on the worth of one¡¯s word,¡± the old man said. ¡°I might not know you, but the ck has a reputation for holding up their end. I¡¯ll bet on that.¡±

    As Red Maria walked off to go put together a list for them to take back to ck House along with the location to bring the goods to, Galenos lit a pipe and offered them the same. All three declined, to the old man¡¯s chuckles.

    ¡°Ah, if only I had been so careful as a youth,¡± he said. ¡°It is toote for me now, sadly.¡±

    They waited patiently for him to tell his tale, which he deigned to begin after a few puffs.

    ¡°We had three on guard that night,¡± Galenos said. ¡°One of them was out for a smoke when that Tianxi woman came out through one of the boarded windows. He had the good sense to rouse the others and follow after the potential leak.¡±

    The end of the pipe was cherry-red, and the foul smell of cheap Izcalli tobo filled the air. A filthy habit, though Song would admit it was not umon in the Republics.

    ¡°Our girl was out of it, so she didn¡¯t notice the tail,¡± the old man said. ¡°Guess hers wasn¡¯t a softnding. Either way, she passed through the Reeking Rows and bought a coach on the main street. Our man lost her there.¡±

    A pause. <em>Her contract is not always active</em>, Song thought. <em>It must be consciously used, and she must have not seen a need to pay her price when she thought herself alone.</em> That was already valuable knowledge.

    ¡°Fortunately for you, we got friends in the coaches,¡± Galenos grinned. ¡°Our friend the coachman said the face wasn¡¯t the same we described, with the tattoos and all, but he remembered the ride. He crossed wards for her, brought her down in the southwest all the way to Chancery Lane.¡±

    He raised a finger.

    ¡°Where, and here is your money¡¯s worth, she headed straight for the Karras workshop,¡± the old man told them. ¡°She knocked on the alley door, even though it waste at night, and when someone came to look she showed them something. After some arguing they let her in, which our man thought mighty odd.¡±

    <em>Karras</em>, Songmitted to memory. She did not know the name, but thergest workshops and warehouses in the southwestern ward were all owned by the Trade Assembly. The old man sucked at his pipe, blowing the smoke upwards afterwards.

    ¡°I figured that meant she was Yellow Earth, so it would have been borrowing trouble to tie up the loose end,¡± Galenos said. ¡°Simpler to clear house instead, so that¡¯s what we did ¨C until you stumbled onto thest gasps of our effort.¡±

    Tristan cleared his throat, earning a curious look.

    ¡°The teahouse doors leading to your stash were welded shut,¡± he said. ¡°Was that your work?¡±

    ¡°It weren¡¯t,¡± Galenos said. ¡°One of ours stumbled on the other entrance to the basement about twenty years ago ¨C there was a crack in the floor ¨C and after we battered our way through the other floor we found the doors like we left them. Didn¡¯t look like it¡¯d been used in our time, either.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever been there?¡± Song asked.

    The old man snorted.

    ¡°No,¡± he replied. ¡°Knuckles has, though.¡±

    Song¡¯s eyes moved to the man, whose dislike of them all was in.

    ¡°The back wall of the basement is made of different stone than the rest,¡± she said. ¡°Have you ever seen stone like it anywhere else?¡±

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the vition.

    The big man frowned, and to his honor seemed like he was genuinely thinking it over.

    ¡°Once,¡± he finally said. ¡°There¡¯s a brothel near the Reeking Rows and the room where they keep the wine has a wall like that.¡±

    Song¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°That room, it is their basement?¡±

    He nodded. Tristan let out an incredulousugh.

    ¡°Someone built a brothel next to that smell?¡±

    ¡°Cheapest in Tratheke,¡± Knuckles shrugged. ¡°Good coin in it, there¡¯s not much else to do around there.¡±

    Song and Tristan shared a look. They would have to investigate that wall, as the existence of several such shrines in the northeastern ward could be proof of Maryam¡¯s belief that some entity ¨C possibly the one under this aether seal - was being contained by the emptyyer. And with Angharad departing for the country to morrow while Maryam kept digging for them in the archives, it would have to be one of them doing it.

    ¡°This Karras,¡± Angharad suddenly asked, ¡°why do you think his workshop has ties to the Yellow Earth? Are they a sympathizer?¡±

    ¡°The family owns thergest trade fleet after the Anastos, they¡¯re in it up to their neck with the Republics,¡± Galenos snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s got sympathies, but it doesn¡¯t matter: you do big enough business with the Tianxi, you¡¯ll get some Yellow Earth in your workers. It¡¯s like their version of lice.¡±

    He flicked a nce at Song.

    ¡°No offense, Captain Ren.¡±

    ¡°I had not been inclined to take any,¡± she noted, ¡°until that.¡±

    Much as it pained her to consider it, it was looking more and more like the Yellow Earth <em>had</em> been the ones to try to assassinate the Lord Rector. Yet the arguments put forward by Hao Yu and his cohort had been solid then and remained so now. <em>Not all Yellow Earth sects are united</em>, she thought. <em>It could be a radical was behind it and their own factions is now trying to avoid taking the me.</em> That might go some way in exining why they had pointed her towards a plot by the ministers: it would keep her upied long enough for them to clean house.

    Not something to discuss here, however. They got the name of the brothel ¨C it did not have one, only a yellow crescent moon as a sign ¨C and the list, then parted ways with the Brazen Chariot.

    ¡°Always more questions,¡± Song muttered when it was only the three of them. ¡°If the Yellow Earth is behind all this, this is a dead end for our contracted investigation: I cannot imagine one of their sects being beholden to a cult like the Golden Ram, especially when its membership is full of nobles.¡±

    ¡°It could be an alliance of convenience,¡± Angharad suggested.

    ¡°But what convenience is that?¡± Tristan asked. ¡°Even assuming the Yellow Earth wants to back a coup, the Trade Assembly hasn¡¯t got the guns to seize Tratheke if the Lord Rector bites it. The Council of Ministers just might, though, and our Republican friends know it - else they wouldn¡¯t have pointed Song at the tail of that plot. So why try to kill our good friend Evander?¡±

    ¡°It could be a factional struggle inside the Yellow Earth,¡± Song said. ¡°When I met with Hao Yu, his second seemed significantly more aggressive. It was a y on their part, yes, but by my read not entirely.¡±

    ¡°Too early to jump to conclusions, I think,¡± Tristan mused. ¡°I¡¯ll have to get into that workshop, find out they of thend. It could simply be our assassin friend paid off someone there to hide her in case things went south.¡±

    Not impossible, Song conceded, but then why do so in the southwest? It was not as wealthy as the southeastern ward or the Collegium, but a hideaway there would still be significantly more expensive to buy than in either of the northern wards. Angharad rubbed the bridge of her nose as they walked, looking exhausted.

    ¡°How many vors of treason can there be in one ursed city?¡± sheined. ¡°Asphodel seems to grow coups like weeds.¡±

    ¡°Our captain¡¯s lover does seem like a somewhat negligent gardener,¡± Tristan solemnly agreed.

    ¡°I will strangle you, Abrascal,¡± she swore. ¡°With my own hands, just to watch that twinkle slowly go out of your eye.¡±

    ¡°Song,¡± Angharad reproached.

    She coughed. Perhaps that had been a little too harsh.

    ¡°Think of the taint on the Lord Rector¡¯s reputation, should his mistressmit murder in broad daylight,¡± Angharad gravely said.

    She red at them both.

    ¡°And to think you wereining of treason, Tredegar,¡± she scorned. ¡°I will remember this.¡±

    Song had to threaten to dock their pay in the carriage back for them to stop, and even then it was a narrow thing.

    --

    Maryam returned to the private archives for a single book.

    She would have preferred to read it back in the safety of ck House, but the sole limit the Lord Rector had put on the Thirteenth¡¯s rights to the archives had been a ban on taking books outside. Given the¡­ peculiarities of the volume Maryam hade for, she must reluctantly concede the man had a point. It was not the sort of thing one would want to leave the confines of that cloistered ce with only one way in and out.

    Wen was in a surprisingly fine mood as they came up, considering the news she had delivered this morning ¨C than an ancient god, perhaps even a god of the Old Night, might be breaching its prison. In truth most of the Thirteenth had been, if not indifferent, then unworried by the news. The sense she had gotten out of them was that so long as the shrines andyers held, this whole affair was better reported to the Watch and left to those more fit to investigate it.

    Maryam did not disagree entirely. It was hard to, after learning how close she hade to cracking open her skull yesterday. On the other hand, if the plots afoot in the city circling the Lord Rector¡¯s throne were worth keeping an eye on then so was this.

    And unlike noble greed and some ckpowder dream of revolution, Maryam could feel it in her bones that there was<em> something</em> about all these details adding up together: the tempestuous aether, the god in the tomb, the resurgence of the Golden Ram cult, the brackstone shrine and the seal and the Asphodel crowns. It felt like there was some secret at the heart of it all, tying all the mysteries together, but she could not make it out.

    It was a frustrating feeling, not helped in the slightest by Wen Duan¡¯s chipper mood.

    ¡°Did you know,¡± he said, ¡°that the lift we¡¯re on is directly over therger Antediluvian lifts that connect the Collegium floor to the pce?¡±

    She shot him a surprised look.

    ¡°That would mean someone built a goal in the middle of the rector¡¯s pce, three levels up,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Who thought <em>that </em>was a good idea?¡±

    ¡°Oduromai King himself, apparently,¡± Wen said. ¡°He wanted all his wives locked up in here after he died in a chamber above, so that when they passed they would follow him into the aether as servant spirits.¡±

    ¡°Charming,¡± Maryam grimaced. ¡°God of heroes, is he?¡±

    ¡°Certainly not of wisdom,¡± Wen noted. ¡°Imagine eternally binding yourself to six people you¡¯ve jailed to death <em>on purpose</em>.¡±

    Her lips twitched at that, the lift in her moodsting through the senior archivist being nowhere in sight and having been assigned Master Alexios as an attendant today. She dismissed the man after iming the keys to the forbidden section, knowing exactly what she needed. She kept an eye out, and after a quick turn around the room found Roxane ensconced at a desk and busy transcribing a waterlogged book onto a clean manuscript.

    The girl waves back happily, almost spilling her inkwell, and looked in a fine mood. Not a punition, then. Pleased, Maryam let the matter go. Spending too much time around the girl would only harm her.

    The book was where she had found it yesterday, the small leatherbound volume with the Asphodel crown engraving on the front. She found an alcove where no one would be able to look over her shoulder, out in one of the shadier corners of archives, and after lighting amp sat down to dig into it. The contents were in Antigua, she found, but in an archaic turn of it ¨C and the lines were so densely packed it made for hard, slow reading.

    It was the story of Oduromai King, from the moment he set out to sea, only they did not always call him that. The name was used interchangeably with <em>Odyssean</em>, and it was not clear if either was a sobriquet or simply different ways to trante the word from the original Cydic. It seemed to Maryam as if Oduromai might be a formal title, perhaps, and Odyssean the man¡¯s moremon appetion ¨C it was certainly used more often by hispanions, while instead other rulers and gods called him Oduromai.

    Which was not half so interesting as the fact that Song had seen a contract to a god called the Odyssean on her first night at the pce, and unless Maryam¡¯s memory failed her greatly that contractor was Cleon Eirenos. The very same noble that Angharad was to depart for the country estate of tomorrow.

    The problem was, there was<em> already</em> a god called Oduromai. Asphodel¡¯s god of heroes and sailors, arguably their chief deity if not necessarily their most powerful ¨C he was, after all, the founder of the Rectorate. Central to its founding tale. How could there be two such gods? She had heard Oduromai was a god manifest, sometimes seen at his temples across Asphodel. Curiosity burned, turning her back to the book after she secured ink for her notes.

    It was only when Wen came to look in on her she realized that hours had passed, and she was only a third of the way through the book. She declined his offer of a meal, and after none too subtly checking if she having a manic fit the overweight Tianxi forced a cup of water on her and told her he¡¯d be reading in a corner and to tell him when she was finished.

    Maryam felt guilty, but not guilty enough to stop. Even when the archivists began to leave for the night, Roxane getting an absent-minded wave when she bade goodbye, she kept reading. When finally she closed the book, it was to the dim realization that she was the only person left out in the stacks. There were still lights inside the tower, and the faint sound of talk and clinking sses, so Wen and some other archivist must still be there.

    Brushing back her hair, the signifier looked down at her pages and pages of notes. That had been¡­ heavy reading. Odyssean was a hero, Maryam thought, like <em>junak</em> were heroes: they slew and stole and cheated, but their evil was turned on those eviler still and was thus dressed up as virtue.

    Maryam loved <em>junak </em>tales, always had. Wandering knights strong as bulls or clever as foxes, ying dragons and witch queens. Tricking evil gods into eating themselves and banishing ghosts from fallen kingdoms. Yet not even her favorite, Orel the Cunning, was a man she would have wanted to share a banquet table with. Orel tried to fuck anything in skirts, regrly tricked his hosts out of their treasures and kept intriguing to marry his way onto thrones.

    Thest of which he often aplished, only to lose it to the aforementioned skirtchasing and an old oath that prevented him from refusing a game of knucklebones over any prize he had won. Orel the Cunning was, of course, famously terrible at knucklebones.

    Had Maryam met such a figure in Volcesta she would have thought him a viper in dire need of killing. In a tale about his fooling an evil witch queen into betraying her god so he would get back the youth she¡¯d stolen from him under the guise of a bridge toll, however, he was easy to root for. It was the same with Odyssean, only there were¡­ shadows being cast by the text, so to speak. Implications that the evil of those Odysseanmitted evil on might be more told than true.

    Had he helped an army of raiders get past the impassable walls of Rysotoi because they held his brother hostage, or for the generous ¡®gifts¡¯ that the host then happened to give him when they parted ways after the city¡¯s sack?

    Within pages of his departure he stole a witch¡¯s magicpass after his ship became lost in a maze of reefs, the story conveniently iming she tried to eat his sailors in the night after he stumbled onto her ind by ident. And had he really thought the cattle on the isle of Cirrhen without an owner, or merely that the god-king of the isle would not be able to catch his men before they fled with their bounty?

    Those singing priestesses butchered to thest for using their songs to stir up storms and steal shipwrecked treasures, the two kingdoms sharing the straits of Zancle tricked into warring on each other so he might sail past their golden chain, the wife he was ¡®forced¡¯ by the ghost of his father to abandon on Faia¡­ it went on and on, a litany of ck deeds and justifications for them.

    It seemed to her like Odyssean had been a ruthless pirate king, not a grieving exile looking for a home. Even when the tale reached Asphodel, the tale was ugly. His crews being fooled by a curse into thinking the inhabitants of the ancient Lordsport were monsters and fighting them, then peace then being restored by Odyssean marrying the local king¡¯s only daughter to make amends, it rather sounded like sack and conquest of one of thergest natural ports in the Trebian by a raider who had decided to settle down.

    And the only mention of the Asphodel crown, those flowers that should have been the heart of the story ording to the tale nowmonly told, was in the crown of purple flowers he and his stolen bride wore at the wedding that founded the Kingdom of Asphodel. The tale ended with how the aged Odyssean visited by his half-divine Antediluvian father, who revealed to him the secrets of the world so he might forge a crown of aether and be a god in turn - so that part stayed the same, at least.

    Maryam closed the small book and set it down, leaning back into the plush chair with her eyes closed. An exhausted sigh escaped her. It had been a surprisingly dense read, and one that forced thought on her.

    ¡°I wonder if that king¡¯s daughter was one of the six that died within these walls. She must have been.¡±

    Maryam fumbled for her knife, almost kicking back her chair, but by the time she found the speaker she knew steel would avail her nothing. The shade with a sister¡¯s face delicately sat down on a chair turned to face Maryam, just outside the cast of thentern¡¯s glow. Yet it was not their close looks that demanded her attention this time: it was the clothes.

    An exquisite burnt red waistcoat embroidered with silver zmey, a white shirt with long billowing sleeves tucked into the traditional broad <em>tkanice</em> belt and matching embroidered skirts going down to her feet. Her hair was kept in a woman¡¯s braid, kept in ce by a silver broach, and over her shirt hung a ne of ck Dubrik pearls. She looked like a Khaimov princess, a king¡¯s daughter, in a way that Maryam never had.

    When she hadst fought the shade, it had worn only loose gray robes. The signifier¡¯s hands clenched. This was¡­ not a good sign, to put it lightly. The knife went back to the sheath, but Maryam raised something altogether more dangerous: her empty hand.

    ¡°Come to return more of what you stole?¡± she said. ¡°Kind of you.¡±

    She began to trace a Burden, but the shade eyed her as if she were a fool.

    ¡°Have you forgotten your talk with Lieutenant Mitra?¡± it asked. ¡°A single piece of me sent you deep into mania,st time. Bedridden for a day and dust. I wonder what it would do to you now, when your mind is still so fragile.¡±

    Maryam held the thing¡¯s gaze, the Cernik blue of her mother staring back at her, until the half-formed Sign began to tear itself apart and lick at her fingers. Swallowing a snarl, she smothered the Gloam but that superior look on the shade¡¯s face almost had her tracing another.

    ¡°What do you want, shade?¡± Maryam asked. ¡°Your time wille, fret not of that.¡±

    ¡°I thought giving you a taste would teach you better,¡± it said, ¡°but it seems I thought too much of you. You always were a slow learner.¡±

    ¡°I will find a way to lessen the bacsh,¡± she confidently replied. ¡°If not here, then back on Tolomontera. You are not so unique as you pretend.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± the shade smiled, ¡°but I am. There is not another Cauldron in all the world, Maryam Khaimov. And what do you think happened when you took a bite out of that?¡±

    She bared her teeth at the thing.

    ¡°You became less,¡± she said, ¡°and I became more. As it should be.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have a strong enough gullet for it,¡± the shade said. ¡°Bits spilled past your lips, like crumbs, and they are forever gone.¡±

    Maryam stilled.

    ¡°You lie,¡± she said, licking her lips.

    ¡°The only lies I have,¡± it replied, ¡°are the ones you gave me. That is our curse, <em>sister</em>.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± she sharply bit out. ¡°We are not kin, you¡¯re a fucking parasite.¡±

    The shadeughed, high and bitter.

    ¡°You think I chose this?¡± it said. ¡°That I want to live off this trash you cram down my throat? I could have been more, before you stole it from me.¡±

    ¡°<em>You </em>dare to<em></em>call me a thief,¡± Maryam exhaled, incredulous.

    ¡°And worse,¡± the shade said. ¡°It is maddening, that you so refuse to look who you are in the eye that I must follow behind holding up your skirts like some beleaguered maid.¡±

    ¡°You feed on me and call it a torment,¡± she scorned. ¡°Leave, then. Begone.¡±

    ¡°I cannot,¡± the shade bit out. ¡°I have been caught in your nav for so long there is hardly a difference left between me and it. And even now that you know I exist, you still use me like a well to throw in all the thoughts you won¡¯t dirty yourself with.¡±

    ¡°You steal these,¡± Maryam snarled. ¡°I give you nothing.¡±

    The shade sneered at her.

    ¡°I do not particrly care for Abrascal,¡± it said, ¡°but I¡¯d fuck him. Where is that from, I wonder?¡±

    Maryam drew back like she¡¯d been struck in the stomach. She might as well have been. That was, it wasn¡¯t-

    ¡°We aren¡¯t like that,¡± she said. ¡°You-¡±

    ¡°You might be, if he were interested,¡± the shade said. ¡°He isn¡¯t, though, so you bury it so deep I get to think about what his forearms look like when he rolls up his sleeves and how his shirt sticks to him when he¡¯s sweating. <em>Ugh</em>.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about this with you,¡± Maryam evenly said. ¡°You¡¯re just stirring me up to feed deeper. And you haven¡¯t distracted me anywhere as much as you think.¡±

    The shade had been very, very careful never to step into the light. She snatched hermp, bringing it forward so the glow enveloped the creature ¨C and where light touched it, it broke apart into wisps of smoke.

    ¡°We¡¯re inside the pce,¡± Maryam said. ¡°The aether here is calm as a pond, and that means you¡¯re <em>weak</em>.¡±

    The shade hastily fled back behind the chair, beyond the cast of the glow, and she threateningly raised themp.

    ¡°Tell me what you want,¡± she said, ¡°or be banished.¡±

    The creature studied her, and Maryam stared right back. Where the light had touched it, the borate clothes had turned to mere gray again. She was not quite sure what to make of that.

    ¡°You saw what it costs you, partaking of me,¡± the shade said. ¡°That it might well drive you mad, that you will spill much of the Cauldron in draining the rest. Ie to offer amodation instead.¡±

    Maryamughed harshly.

    ¡°Why now?¡± she asked. ¡°For years I struggled, barely able to Sign, and you remained hidden. Now that I have teeth, youe to offer an arrangement?¡±

    ¡°That you can hurt me is the only reason we speak,¡± the shade acknowledged. ¡°What of it?¡±

    ¡°There is nothing you can offer me that I cannot take, and be rid of you with it,¡± Maryam replied.

    And if some of the Cauldron was lost, well, she would make peace with that in time. She had thought all of it lost for years now, because of some unfitness on her part. That the same parasite responsible for all that anguish would now seek to use that knowledge as hostage sickened her with rage.

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± the shade said. ¡°I leant you a hand, once. On Tolomontera.¡±

    Her fists clenched. When the ship had been escaping, the first time she wove the wind in the material world.

    ¡°And you im that as a debt?¡± she asked.

    ¡°We smashed a ship into the docks, Maryam,¡± the shade said. ¡°There are signifiers thrice our age who would struggle to do it, and we did it by tracing an elementary Sign ¨C but tracing it <em>together</em>.¡±

    ¡°Once you lent a hand,¡± she acknowledged. ¡°After years of silent sabotage.¡±

    ¡°You are being obtuse,¡± the shade snapped. ¡°If we act in ord, we are more powerful than either of us would be even if we consumed the other. If we make a pact-¡±

    ¡°And what would it cost me, that pact?¡± Maryam interrupted with a sneer.

    ¡°Your nav,¡± it said. ¡°Let me be whole.¡±

    ¡°You want me to feed you a third of my soul,¡± she disbelievingly said. ¡°What sort of madwoman would ept this?¡±

    ¡°You already use it asntern and a pair of hands in the aether, let us not be too sentimental about it,¡± the shade replied. ¡°I only ask for you to return what-¡±

    A cleared throat interrupted them both.

    For a single, blood-freezing moment Maryam thought she had been so taken with the argument she had not noticed Wening out of the tower. But then she realized the sound hade from behind her, and when she turned it was to the sight of a jolly smiling face of a man she immediately recognized: Lord Locke, still all corpulence and mustache.

    That was just as terrifying, in a different way.

    ¡°Terribly sorry to interrupt such a stirring conversation, very sorry indeed, but if I might cut in a moment?¡±

    The shade eyed him with disdain.

    ¡°Begone, fat man,¡± it said. ¡°You meddle in-¡±

    The creature went still and silent when a delicate hand wasid on her shoulder, the tall and austere Lady Keys peering down through her sses.

    ¡°Manners, child,¡± she chided. ¡°And I will have you know that my husband is the loveliest man there ever was or will be ¨C your blindness in this regard is an unfortunate affliction, but do keep it to yourself.¡±

    Evidently the shade had stolen none of Maryam¡¯s caution, the signifier vindictively thought.

    ¡°Oh, <em>amada</em>, I am but a spark to the bonfire of your beauty,¡± Lord Locke gushed. ¡°Your eyes must be abyrinth, for I so easily lose myself in them.¡±

    The shade did not move. Not a blink, not a breath, not a nod. Like a mouse being held by a cat.

    Maryam nced to the tower in the middle of the chamber: the lights were still on, the sound of talk wafting their way. She had not heard either of these two creeping up on her, but there was only one way in and out of this archive. How had <em>Wen </em>not seen theming? She kept her breathing even. If they could sneak past her patron, the man would not be able to move in time even if she screamed for help.

    And Tristan had told them that these two were dangerous, that they must be kept smiling at all costs, so y along she would.

    ¡°It is no imposition at all, Lord Locke,¡± she said. ¡°How might I be of help?¡±

    The man temporarily stopped flirting with his wife long enough to answer.

    ¡°Ah, my young friend, we havee to borrow a book,¡± he said. ¡°And we looked in the stacks, only to find it was already in your hands!¡±

    ¡°I happen to be finished with the work in question,¡± Maryam said. ¡°By all means, take it ¨C though I believe we are forbidden from taking volumes outside the archives.¡±

    ¡°Not to worry,¡± Lord Locke assured her, going rifling through his doublet pockets, ¡°we have permission.¡±

    He produced a folded piece of paper, which he helpfully passed her. Maryam opened it, finding not the Palliades seal but instead the word ¡®PERMISSION¡¯ written inrge, wobbly letters taking up the whole paper. She cleared her throat.

    ¡°Checks out,¡± Maryam said.

    She thought he looked almost disappointed, for a flicker of a moment, but then he was all chortles and good humor again.

    ¡°Did you find it interesting reading, Maryam?¡± Lady Keys idly asked.

    The shade was still as a stone under her light hand.

    ¡°A tragic tale, in many ways,¡± the signifier replied.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the talldy approved. ¡°It is always a sad scene when a god starves.¡±

    She swallowed, and though it was unwise she must ask.

    ¡°You believe the god Odyssean to have starved to death?¡±

    ¡°Or close enough,¡± Lady Keys said. ¡°Else Oduromai could hardly walk around wearing his clothes, could he? That is the trouble of empire, dear. Everyone loves the wealth and the temples and the festivals, but few care to look too closely at what keeps the gears oiled up.¡±

    ¡°Blood,¡± Maryam quietly said. ¡°It alwayses down to blood.¡±

    Yours, everyone else¡¯s. Always more blood, until the gears broke or you squeezed the whole world dry.

    ¡°Nations get squeamish about their bedrock of bones,¡± the talldy mused, ¡°so they paint them gray and name them stones. Poor Odyssean ¨C how eagerly they worshipped his name, until he became an embarrassment. Then they put a crown on his prettier brother and pretended he¡¯d been the one all along.¡±

    <em>He¡¯s not dead</em>, Maryam thought. <em>Song found a contractor of his.</em> That for all their eerie presence they did not seem to know this was a relief. They were not all-powerful, this strange pair.

    ¡°But do not let us interrupt your fascinating debate any further,¡± Lord Locke said. ¡°Why, I¡¯ve not seen a woman so admirably at odds with herself since that queen out in the Riven Coast. Remember darling, the one who inhabited two bodies?¡±

    ¡°A most amusing war, they were waging,¡± Lady Keys chuckled. ¡°And after the victory the royal banquet was <em>most </em>delicious.¡±

    Lord Locke smacked his lips in approval.

    ¡°Nothing like royal,¡± he said, then waited half a beat before adding, ¡°hospitality.¡±

    He winked at Maryam, then caught his wife¡¯s eyes and the two of them shook with silentughter. The jolly man picked up the book at her gestured invitation, sketching a bow of thanks, and gantly offered his arm for his much taller wife to take. They strolled away, quietly chattering away, and disappeared into one of the chambers.

    Maryam had no intention of sticking around to find out if they¡¯d ever leave it.

    The shade was still seated where it had been, visibly shaken, and their eyes met again.

    ¡°No deal,¡± Maryam told her.

    ¡°You will regret that,¡± it replied, and in the heartbeat that followed it was gone.

    Maryam straightened, swallowing, and briskly fled to the tower. Hopefully Wen still had drink left, because she could use a cup of something strong after that.

    --

    ¡°All right,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Now do it again, but without waking up thest emperor of Liergan and scraping the wood.¡±

    Angharad shot him a t look, but the thief appeared entirely unmoved. Well, she silently conceded, perhaps her work could do with some improvement. Tristan rapped his knuckles against the door once, prompting Maryam to open it slightly then close it fully and putting the bar lock in ce ¨C little more than a metal bar connecting the door the wall, with a lever beneath to lift it out of its resting ce. As simple as locks got.

    Angharad brough up the thief¡¯s tool Tristan had lent her: a long and thin stripe of steel, as if a bookmark had been forged in metal. She positioned herself as he had shown, elbow angled correctly so she could control the movement, and slid the stripe through the thin gap between the door and the doorway. She raised the tool, slowly and carefully, until she made contact with the metal bar on the other side.

    Then she delicately levered the bar upwards, bringing it out of the catch ¨C and this time, instead of dropping it and making the noise Tristan had so wildly exaggerated, she just as delicately lowered it back down, out of the catch. She then slid out the tool, straightening and turning an expectant look on the gray-eyed man. He cocked an eyebrow, opening the door and finding it perfectly unobstructed.

    ¡°Congrattions,¡± he said, and Angharad preened, ¡°you can now break into a child¡¯s room. Maybe.¡±

    ¡°You could have given me this, Tristan,¡± she reproached.

    ¡°I¡¯m not even giving you that lifter,¡± he snorted. ¡°It¡¯s mine and it¡¯s quality work. You get one of the lead ones from the ck House stocks ¨C and wash it first, the paint on most of them is king.¡±

    The door was cracked further open as Maryam peeked her head through.

    ¡°You are strangely stingy, for a thief,¡± she noted.

    ¡°Ah, but does anyone know the worth of things better than a thief?¡± Tristan philosophically asked.

    Angharad cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°An appraiser,¡± she suggested.

    ¡°Tax collectors,¡± Maryam said.

    ¡°Even among criminals, presumably your fence,¡± Angharad pointed out.

    She got incredulous looks from the other two at that.

    ¡°I read novels,¡± the noblewoman defensively said. ¡°I know what a fence is, even if the term seems unnecessarily confusing.¡±

    It already meant something else!

    ¡°What kind of books do you read that have fences in them?¡± Maryam asked, grinning.

    The kind where Lord Cadwder found his mother¡¯s locket for sale in the city pawnshop, revealing that Lady Dube had not lost it as she imed but in fact ¨C Angharad coughed into her fist.

    ¡°Morality tales,¡± she very precisely replied.

    A moral like, for example ¡®if you cannot figure out that Lady Dube is only after your inheritance and Lady Awbrey is your true love, then perhaps you deserve to be bankrupted¡¯. Maryam and Tristan shared a look. Before that wheel could begin to spin and subject her to a flow of crushing sarcasm, Angharad cleared her throat.

    ¡°While I am thankful for the lesson,¡± she said, ¡°when Song suggested I learn some hidden means from you I thought there would be more actual picking of locks.¡±

    ¡°If I had a few weeks and your whole attention, it might,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°Certainly not with only a few hours before bed, and I¡¯d not trust you to pick anything but workshop locks without a least a few months of learning in you.¡±

    ¡°I had not thought it so difficult a skill to learn,¡± Angharad admitted.

    If it was so difficult to be a criminal, why not simply learn a proper trade? He wiggled his hand, a symbol of equivocation.

    ¡°Part of it is that doing it well requires particr tools that do note cheap,¡± he said. ¡°But also that in practice most thieves won¡¯t bother picking locks, Angharad. They¡¯ll smash a window or walk through the open door to pull a pistol on the shopkeeper.¡±

    Ah. That was more along the lines of what she had been taught to expect from thieves. The implication that Tristan himself had not resorted to such means was filed away. Perhaps he ought to be considered as, well, a sort of thieving nobility. The highborn of that upation, so to speak. Yet on second thought Angharad resisted the urge to fit in him such a box, for it felt almost too convenient. It would, after all, allow her to ignore the fact that a man she rather liked had a long history ofmitting entirely reprehensible acts.

    Regardless, it tasted somewhat like hypocrisy to cast aspersions on Tristan¡¯s past while learning his tricks so they might be employed to spy on a young man who had invited her into his home. It was a bitter thing to swallow, the knowledge that neither her work on behalf of the Watch nor the one on behalf of House Tredegar were particrly honorable in nature.

    Tristan lightly pped her shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts.

    ¡°Even nobles usually only put proper locks on a handful of rooms and safes,¡± he told her. ¡°With a lifter and a skeleton key, you ought to be able to get into the vast majority of a country manor without trouble.¡±

    She breathed out, nodding.

    ¡°As for the other rooms, I will have to prevail through charm to enter them,¡± Angharad said, as much for them as her own sake.

    ¡°Cleon Eirenos might not be part of the cult at all,¡± Maryam told her. ¡°The Odyssean sounds like a remnant god made up of the parts of the worship of Oduromai that were prettied up, not anything like the Golden Ram.¡±

    ¡°There will be other guests,¡± Angharad said. ¡°And contract with a spirit does not forbid worship of another, regardless.¡±

    ¡°For a cult like the Golden Ram, I think it might,¡± Maryam replied with a frown, ¡°but admittedly that is guesswork on my part.¡±

    Angharad acknowledged her words with a nod, receiving one in return, and wondered at the simple courtesy. A month ago that might have well turned into a vicious argument, she felt, or at least some barbed words. The hour they spent together every morning had not made them friends, and in some ways the Pereduri doubted they ever would be, but misstep by misstep she had learned what not to say.

    They could have polite conversation, within those boundaries, and there were only so many polite conversations one could have with another before that politeness became the default.

    While they¡¯d spoken Tristan had fished out his watch, that brass timepiece he cleaned and polished zealously. He clicked his tongue then closed it.

    ¡°Dinner soon,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll go put away the tools and meet you there.¡±

    Ater service requested by the Thirteenth, in deference to howte Maryam had stayed in the archives and her upsetting encounter there.

    ¡°I¡¯lle with you,¡± Maryam said. ¡°I need to wash my hands off thest of the ink, else Song will re at me like she¡¯s considering ordering nine generations of my family scrubbed clean.¡±

    ¡°I shall see you to at dinner, then,¡± Angharad replied.

    She watched, somewhat amused, as the pair began to bicker about Maryam intending to put ¡®ink all over his washbasin¡¯ while she contended he was always so filthy ink would be an improvement. It was good to see the pair reconciled, Angharad thought. They were both happier for it, much as they would deny such a thing. The noblewoman woman could only envy the depths of the friendship they had forged on the Dominion and theplicity it now carried.

    The friend she had thought she made on the Dominion had instead made her an <em>aplice</em>, which was an entirely different beast.

    Chasing off the doldrums, Angharad limped her way down the hall. The opposite way the two of them had gone, towards the stairs that would lead to the lower levels. It was a pleasant coincidence that the route leading to the most gently sloping of the stairs passed through a gallery overlooking the approach to the Collegium, one of the nicer sights from ck House ¨C and while it was not dark out yet, the great cube of ss was still a pleasure to eye.

    She turned the corner to the sight of seven windows with open shutters, light pouring through them like pits of re while darkness huddled in narrow slices between. Almost like stripes. She liked the gallery best around this hour, before the servants lit themps.

    The sight of Imani Langa standing by the middle window, however, rather spoiled her enjoyment.

    The liar was looking out at the city, angled to be the picture ofdy lost in contemtion. Ha! Imani did not turn to acknowledge her presence, so though Angharad knew this was unlikely to be a coincidence she leaned on her cane and advanced in stubborn silence. It was only when she came of a height with her that the liar turned, feigning surprise and delight.

    ¡°Angharad,¡± she smiled. ¡°Come watch the city with me, will you?¡±

    ¡°I have already seen it,¡± she politely replied. ¡°Perhaps another time.¡±

    Never seemed about right.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Imani sighed, ¡°but it has been so long since west spoke.¡±

    Those eyes narrowed.

    ¡°I insist.¡±

    Angharad was her father¡¯s daughter, so she did not spit on the floor in answer. She was also her mother¡¯s, so she sneered in open contempt. She approached just enough to stand at the edge of the pit of light, half-lit and half-veiled. She did not look at the city, staring down the liar instead.

    ¡°Well?¡± she prompted.

    ¡°There is no need for such hostility,¡± Imani chided her.

    ¡°Or for the wasting of my time,¡± Angharad replied. ¡°If you have something to say, say it.¡±

    Doe eyes were turned on her, like a snake putting on a smile.

    ¡°What progress have you made?¡± Imani finally asked.

    ¡°I am not on Tolomontera, in case it escaped your notice,¡± she replied. ¡°Take a guess.¡±

    She had no intention of telling the ufudu about her designs on the infernal forge rumored to be on Asphodel until she had a clear path to getting her hands on it. If she could not obtain it for barter, there was no need to let the Lefthand House know of its existence at all.

    ¡°Then you will be pressed for time upon your return,¡± the liar said. ¡°Your time on Asphodel might best be spent securing help for the endeavor.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Angharad mildly said.

    ¡°I did not expect you to wander into ayer alone,¡± Imani said. ¡°It was foolish, and near enough got you killed. You should obtain a signifier¡¯s help for your second venture, or at least a pair of hands to help you.¡±

    Her fingers clenched around the head of her cane.

    ¡°Are you offering Qianfan¡¯s help?¡± she asked.

    Was her own signifier in on her ns, also a traitor to the Watch? If so, there might be need for a second corpse at the end of this.

    ¡°I could secure it,¡± Imani lightly said, ¡°but such a thing would have a price.¡±

    Angharad smiled thinly. Of course it would. As it noticing her skepticism, the liar kept speaking.

    ¡°Or I could lend a hand in leveraging help from your own brigade,¡± Imani continued. ¡°Khaimov seems quite attached to Abrascal, there is an angle there.¡±

    (The knife slipped just under the copper button of Imani Langa¡¯s uniform, piercing through cloth and flesh as Angharad twisted the knife.)

    Angharad breathed out. She¡¯d barely meant to glimpse, but the sh of <em>rage </em>had-

    ¡°The real prize would be Song Ren, of course,¡± the liar said, eyes on the city. ¡°That contract of hers is a treasure, and given her colorful family history her position within the Watch is delicate at the best of times.¡±

    It was apse in control, for her off hand to grasp the handle of her knife, but Angharad¡¯s jaw was clenched hard enough it felt as if her teeth would pop so she allowed it.

    ¡°No,¡± she said, tly and inly.

    Imani turned, something in Angharad¡¯s voice catching her attention, and her eyes flicked down to the knife at the Pereduri¡¯s belt and the hand resting on it. The ufudu¡¯s lips quirked.

    ¡°How exciting,¡± she said. ¡°I am curious ¨C how <em>will</em> you be contacting the House, after slitting my throat? Or have proof of our bargain, for that matter.¡±

    She had no means and no proof, which Imani well knew. It was why the liar was yet smiling. Angharad forced herself to let out a breath through still-clenched teeth.

    ¡°We can revisit the matter of helpter,¡± Imani dismissed. ¡°Cleon Eirenos ¨C why did you cultivate his acquaintance and why are you headed to his estate?¡±

    ¡°That is Thirteenth business,¡± she precisely replied. ¡°Rted to our test.¡±

    ¡°Unlucky you, for I do not care,¡± Imani said. ¡°I have made concessions, Angharad. Given you time and space, refrained from imposing on you necessities or consequences.¡±

    Her stare hardened.

    ¡°Give me something for my patience,¡± she said, ¡°else I will find little point in maintaining it. I require no secrets from you, only information as other officers of the Watch have read in reports.¡±

    And it sounded reasonable, Angharad thought. Buying time, buying patience, with information put to reports Imani might be able to get her hands on anyhow.

    But she knew better.

    <em>Someone who holds a deed over you</em>, Gwydion Tredegar had taught her, <em>will always try to talk you into another misdeed they can use</em>. It would be something small, at first, something that felt minorpared to what they already had on you. But the point was to tighten the grip, one coerced step at a time, until there was such an avnche of dishonors on the books that to go against them would be simply unthinkable. Life-ending in a way that the first deed that started it all would never have been.

    Angharad looked at Imani Langa, at the calm confidence on that face, and saw the intent thaty behind her eyes. One step at a time, slowly turning Angharad into a sickness that would spread through the Thirteenth and make them into her pawns. She would be patient, one small request at a time, because could afford patience. The wind was on her side, because what could Angharad <em>do</em>?

    Without the help of the Lefthand House, she would never see her father again. With its enmity she was unlikely to survive a week on any of the Isles, rook or not. She was not arge woman, Imani Langa, but behind that slender frame lurked the great monster was the Lefthand House.

    ¡°Cleon Eirenos,¡± Imani prompted again.

    They deserved better.

    Sleeping God, the Thirteenth deserved <em>better</em> than this. Even had they not offered her kindness in an hour of need this would be a betrayal. And perhaps Angharad could find a way to walk the line of her oaths, to keep from dishonor by stepping carefully enough, it would just be quibbling. The words exact turned into an excuse for something she knew, deep in her bones, to be wrong.

    She had sought to cut ties with Song for shooting an ally in the back, but now she was levelling a pistol at all of theirs.

    ¡°No,¡± she quietly said.

    The liar stared her down.

    ¡°Yourck of cooperation,¡± she said, ¡°will make it into my report.¡±

    To her superiors at the Lefthand House, she meant. Back to faraway Mn, where¡­ Back to Mn. To the High Queen¡¯s court. Only it would not need to go so far as that, would it? There was closer.

    She looked at Imani Langa again, and this time she did not see the Lefthand House standing behind her. Not like the Watch would. She saw fishermen dangling bait, waiting to pull up the line. And bait was not meant toe out of that whole.

    It was easy, with Imani not expecting it.

    As simple as raising her walking stick and mming it on the ufudu¡¯s toes, the rest of it flowing like a river ¨C the liar drew back while Angharad abandoned her cane, grasping the side of Imani¡¯s face while the ufudu reached for her knife. She smashed her head into pulled shutters, to a most satisfying<em> bang</em>.

    Once, twice, and when Imani brought up her hands to protect her face Angharad drew her own knife and pressed it against the liar¡¯s throat.

    ¡°You-¡±

    ¡°Be silent,¡± Angharad evenly said.

    Whatever it was that Imani Langa saw in her eyes, it made her mouth close.

    ¡°This is my first andst warning,¡± she told the liar. ¡°On my oath if I see you trying to involve any of the Thirteenth in this matter, however the manner, I will slit your misbegotten throat and feed your body to the crabs.¡±

    She flicked her wrist, point of the knife digging into the hollow of Imani¡¯s throat.

    ¡°This is not Tolomontera,¡± she told the liar. ¡°The High Queen has an ambassador here, one who knows me by name, and only a fool would believe the Lefthand House does not have a seat in his staff. It would be but an afternoon¡¯s work to arrange a meeting, Imani, and that means you are a convenience but not a <em>necessity</em>.¡±

    Angharad coldly smiled.

    ¡°Unless you believe your death will be enough to spoil their appetite for the forge.¡±

    Neither of them did. The spy¡¯s face was an expressionless mask. Angharad withdrew her knife, fancying she saw relief there. Then she seized the liar by the hair and mmed her head into the shutters onest time before releasing her.

    ¡°That one,¡± she said, ¡°was for your unbearable smugness. Mind your manners, and do not refer to me so familiarly in the future ¨C <em>friends </em>call me Angharad, not the likes of you.¡±

    She snatched up her cane, limping away, and for the first time in weeks Angharad Tredegar did not feel like she was drowning.

    It was a start.

 Chapter 50

    Chapter 50

    Her mornings on Asphodel had be routine, if not rote.

    (<em>What is on the seventh page of the leftmost book? </em>Maryam asked. Angharad rose to her feet, walked the hall two doors down and entered the bedroom. There were four books on the bed. She flipped open the leftmost to the requested page. It was a small journal, and that page held nothing but a sequence of inked numbers: seven, neen, three hundred and two, one.)

    Letting out a long breath, Angharad opened her eyes and found an expectant Maryam looking at her from across the table, steel tip pen at the ready.

    ¡°Leftmost book, seventh page,¡± she said. ¡°Seven, neen, three hundred and two, one.¡±

    It had been one of the more interesting discoveries that everything she saw in a vision was temporarily fixed in her mind, near impossible to forget for at least a day afterwards. Maryam hummed, jotting down what had been said, then went down the hallway to check. She came back smiling.

    ¡°It is correct,¡± the pale-skinned woman happily announced. ¡°And it was not knowledge<em> I</em> personally possessed, as Song was the one to write these down.¡±

    Angharad slowly nodded.

    ¡°So the knowledge within my vision is not dependent on that of the people in my presence,¡± she said.

    Which was for the best. Mind-reading was not forbidden under the Iscariot ords, but it was mandatory to report and register. Maryam snorted.¡°That is <em>one </em>test pointing in that direction,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m not willing to confidently repeat what you just said until at least another seven point the same way.¡±

    While Angharad appreciated the thoroughness and would hardly oppose it when it was being put to work in her service, she was not trying to establish the limits of her contract up to some obscure Akrre standard. As far as she was concerned, a truth had been learned. Another touch of color on the painting taking shape, establishing that her contract lent her true foresight and did not simply borrow from the minds around it to guess.

    Angharad had believed this already proven, but Maryam insisted that the visions could not be treated as simplyrger glimpses. It had almost irked her, a first, but now she wasing around to the notion. There was something¡­ different about the visions. The glimpses felt like exactly that, a quick look at whaty ahead. Angharad remained apart from them. The visions, however, felt <em>raw</em> in a way that blurred the boundary between dream and material.

    Almost as if she lived them, though admittedly not as deeply as she had that first time on the Dominion.

    The Izvorica finished jotting down her notes, then carefully blew at the ink ¡®til it dried before closing the journal. Angharad waited patiently until she was done, then silently inquired as to whether they were done.

    ¡°I would not mind practicing your tell,¡± Maryam said, ¡°but I believe we might runte if we do.¡±

    ¡°My affairs are already packed and aboard the coach,¡± Angharad told her, ¡°but it might be for the best to end this now anyhow.¡±

    The ck House coachman would be taking her to the northwestern ward ¨C not on an official Watch coach, mind you, a rented one ¨C and there the carriage that Lord Cleon had rmended her would be waiting for the longer trip out to the country. It would be two days of traveling by road to the Eirenos estate, and she was meant to stay at least two nights there before returning. Lord Cleon was to receive guests for a small soiree, but she would be arriving the day before that so he might show her the estate and they could go on a hunt together.

    Given that the moment they left Tratheke the beautiful First Empire roads of the capital would be a thing of the past, to leave a little early could not hurt. The roads in Tratheke Valley were said to be bad enough that carriages habitually carried spare wheels and axles. Would that Angharad could ride a horse instead. She would tire after an hour or two, she expected, but she was barred from this regardless as her slow but steady recovery had to be hidden from the society she was joining.

    It was her troubles that made her fine bait for the cult of the Golden Ram, though the more the Thirteenth discovered the more it seemed like that name might have be a fa?ade for something darker.

    ¡°I need to prepare my own affairs for the trip back to the Rows anyhow,¡± Maryam said.

    ¡°Bringing flowers to the brackstone wall, I hear,¡± Angharad said.

    And not entirely seeding at hiding her skepticism, by the amused look on the other woman¡¯s face.

    ¡°Not just any flowers, Asphodel crowns,¡± she replied. ¡°They¡¯ve arge ce in the tale of the god Oduromai and echo strangely in the aether. If I can match that echo to whatever lies behind the shrine¡­¡±

    ¡°Then you could put a name to the imprisoned spirit,¡± Angharad finished, inclining her head in acknowledgement. ¡°Even failing to match would be information, in a way.¡±

    ¡°Assuming I can feel anything through the brackstone,¡± Maryam said. ¡°It is not a given.¡±

    At least she would be safe even if her Signs turned on her again, Angharad thought. Captain Wen was heading out with her, as he had with the archives. She was beginning to wonder if therge Tianxi might not have decided on a favorite after all. They parted ways cordially, the noblewomanbing through her room onest time to ensure she had not forgotten anything.

    She was about ready to believe so when there was a small knock against the doorway. She turned half-expecting Song to be there, but it was her uncle. Osian Tredegar came dressed in his fine cks, smiling, and after she silently invited him in he closed the door. Not a simple goodbye, then.

    ¡°Word hase from the pce that our delegation will be taken to the shipyard tomorrow,¡± he inly said. ¡°Myself and three others, all covenanters.¡±

    She slowly nodded.

    ¡°Is a tinker from the Deuteronomicon to apany you?¡± Angharad asked.

    Among the Umuthi Society, those were the men and women who studied aetheric machinery ¨C and thus were most likely to recognize an infernal forge should they encounter one down there. Half-grimacing, Osian nodded.

    ¡°A Savant and a Laurel as well,¡± he said.

    She raised an eyebrow at thest, until her uncle exined the woman in question was a cryptoglyph schr. An Antediluvian shipyard was likely to be full of inscriptions in the First Empire¡¯s scientifguage, some of which might shed light on its original purpose.

    ¡°I wish you luck,¡± Angharad said, lowering her head.

    She was not sure whether she ought to rejoice of or dread his visit to the shipyard and the news he would bring on his return.

    ¡°They can only keep us drugged for so long,¡± Uncle Osian quietly said. ¡°It will give us a better idea of how close the entrance to the shipyard is to the capital.¡±

    And the shipyard was to be where the infernal enginey. Perhaps. It was not known for certain there was an infernal engine on Asphodel in the first ce. Yet recent news had improved the odds in Angharad¡¯s eyes. Twice now members of the Thirteenth had run into Lord Locke and Lady Keys in ces they should not be, while Hage ¨C a devil of some age ¨C had passed down a stern warning to avoid angering them.

    If the pair were ancient devils themselves, or at least Lady Keys as the one Tristan reported to be of unusual strength, then there must be a reason for their presence on Asphodel. She could think of few greater prizes for an annealed devil than an infernal forge, for their like endless font of lives but a helping pair of hands away. More worryingly, it might meanpeting with an ancient devil for that prize.

    Not a prospect Angharad was likely to survive at the moment.

    ¡°It will be all right, Angie,¡± her uncle said, squeezing her shoulder. ¡°We approach answers with every step.¡±

    The kindness in his eyes burned. She had kept the Thirteenth away from the machinations of the Lefthand House, for now, but she had already dragged Osian Tredegar deep into their. Oh, he had involved himself of his own will but deep down Angharad knew she had wielded her own life like a knife to force him. The same reason he was helping her was why he deserved better.

    Part of her resented that something was holding her back from taking the risks she needed to see her father out of Tintavel, but that anger smacked of shame. Her uncle had spent decades rising up the ranks of the Watch then put the work of a lifetime on the line for her. To help her save a man he did not even like. Angharad was not blind, the two were never close.

    Uncle Osian did it all for love of her. How could there be honor in this, in making a good man ruin his life? There wasn¡¯t. That was the hard truth of it, she admitted to herself. There was not a speck of honor in any of it, no matter how much she pulled and twisted the facts to try and make it otherwise.

    ¡°Imani Langa,¡± she blurted out.

    Osian Tredegar blinked.

    ¡°She is the ufudu,¡± Angharad admitted.

    ¡°The captain of the Eleventh Brigade?¡± her uncle frowned.

    She nodded.

    ¡°I do not think my visit to the country will see me in danger,¡± she said, ¡°but the Sleeping God alone knows. Should I pass¡­¡±

    ¡°I will ensure she does not outlive you long,¡± Osian Tredegar calmly said.

    There was not a hint of doubt in his eyes as he spoke the words. She believed him. Angharad passed a hand through her hair, biting her lip. That was not what she had meant.

    ¡°See to yourself first,¡± Angharad quietly replied. ¡°Please. Use it however you can to remove yourself from this pit I dragged you into.¡±

    ¡°You did no such thing,¡± Osian denied.

    Her lips thinned.

    ¡°In my heart, I am still thedy of nw Hall,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°I yed at it with all the other nobleborn inders, the lot of us crowding room and table pretending as if it were a salon and we were all rulers in the making. It felt¡­¡±

    She grimaced.

    ¡°It felt like my right, to make the decisions I have,¡± she said. ¡°Whatever I must to free my father. I thought I was being ady, making the hard calls Mother so often spoke of. The costs to everyone around me were regrettable, but not regretted.¡±

    Her uncle listened in silence, face inscrutable. She rubbed her forehead.

    ¡°But I am notdy of nw Hall,¡± Angharad said, though the words felt like molten iron. ¡°And what I thought ady¡¯s refrain now sounds like the wailing of a child.¡±

    An honorable woman would not have let it all turn out like this. Like some¡­ endless twisting knot, a rope dragging ever more people into the pit. She had made bargains, cut corners, all because it felt hopeless to struggle otherwise. And for what? A liar¡¯s promises. Bait she swallowed down to thest drop no matter how bitter the taste grew.

    ¡°It has not been a year since you watched it all burn, Angharad,¡± her uncle gently said. ¡°You are¡­ I do not expect you to embrace it so quickly, the ck. It was not a life you sought. I <em>did</em>, as a young man, and still it took me time.¡±

    She closed her eyes. He did not understand, not really. Could not. Osian Tredegar saw in her his sister¡¯s ghost and loved the shade too much to glimpse through it at what his niece had be. The Fisher had chided Angharad, once, for clinging to the victories of a child while fighting a woman¡¯s battles. And while the spirit was ancient and cruel, a tyrant of the Old Night, in its own mad way it saw things clearly.

    It was time to grow up. Her debts were no one else¡¯s to settle.

    She kissed her uncle on the cheek, bade him goodbye and left him stand there troubled. Another regret, but the only words she had to soothe him were lies. The Thirteenth were waiting for her in the courtyard, chatting by the coach. Maryam and Tristan trading barbs, Song eyeing them amusedly. They were¡­ They stood in the light of the Tratheke morning like a lit hearth, and Angharad a stranger. One of her own making.

    ¡°Tredegar, are you taking up lurking? Don¡¯t put me out of a job, I need the sry.¡±

    She answered Tristan¡¯s teasing by approaching, the thief studying her face seriously as she did. <em>Debts to settle</em>, Angharad reminded herself. How stiff was her pride, that she must chew on it for months before she could swallow? Stiff enough she nodded at Tristan and shook a surprised Maryam¡¯s hand before finally turning to Song. She breathed in.

    ¡°When I asked you about the death of Isabel Ruesta,¡± Angharad said, ¡°I walked into that room having decided on the answer. For that, I apologize.¡±

    Silver eyes met her own.

    ¡°Apology epted,¡± Song Ren finally said.

    The noblewoman stiffly inclined her head.

    ¡°When I return from the country,¡± Angharad continued, ¡°I would ask you again.¡±

    Her captain gave a slow, measured nod back.

    ¡°I await that conversation, then,¡± she simply said.

    They left it at that. <em>Debts to settle</em>, Angharad thought again as she climbed onto the coach and the door was closed behind her. It had not felt good, swallowing her pride. She wished it had, that virtue would be sweet on the tongue, but it hadn¡¯t.

    But neither had treason, and she would sleep better after this.

    --

    Song hade to the rector¡¯s pce to personally report matters best not put to paper, expecting the trip there and back to take up most of the time involved, but that had been foolish optimism on her part.

    Lord Rector Evander, upon being informed that Song was to run down a lead concerning a potential second brackstone shrine, had made a snap decision. That was why, an hour and change after entering the pce, Song Ren was being red at by Prefect Nestor ¨Cmander of the pce lictors, the Lord Rector¡¯s personal guards among them. It was unfair of the man to be turning that ire her way when Song had spent the better part of half an hour trying to deny his king.

    It was, unfortunately, difficult enough to refuse the Lord Rector anything even when he did not have something passingly resembling a valid point.

    ¡°Nestor, make your peace with it,¡± Evander Palliades advised. ¡°My mind is made up.¡±

    Themander of the lictors grit his teeth.

    ¡°At least let me send a whole squad with you,¡± he said.

    Lord Rector Evander, dark eyes glittering with amusement, turned to Song with a cocked eyebrow. Would that she could strangle him. He knew exactly what she was doing, foisting off the answer on her.

    ¡°This is meant to be a discreet investigation, prefect,¡± she said. ¡°Twenty heavily armed lictors surrounding us at all times would be too conspicuous.¡±

    The re deepened, still turned on her. He could not afford to be angry at his master so Song was paying the price on their behalf.

    ¡°Two guards are too few,¡± Prefect Nestor said. ¡°Since your brigade has failed to find the assassin, Captain Ren, it -¡±

    <em>Enough</em>.

    ¡°My brigade is not contracted to find your assassin,¡± Song icily replied. ¡°If the lictors are incapable of doing so, hire a Watch team to make up for your ipetence ¨C <em>another team</em>, as mine is already on contract.¡±

    ¡°Watch your tone, girl,¡± the prefect warned.

    ¡°Watch your words, prefect,¡± she tly retorted. ¡°I have tolerated, in the spirit of cooperation between Asphodel and the Conve, the throne¡¯s constant impositions on my brigade¡¯s contracted duties. Yet there are limits.¡±

    She smiled ndly.

    ¡°Further interference will force me to consider the throne of Asphodel in breach of contract, and thus any obligations on the Thirteenth Brigade¡¯s part voided. We can withdraw to the Lordsport by day¡¯s end, if you would like.¡±

    The older man gritted his teeth, looking like he wanted nothing more than to start snarling, but he had to know that he had no real grounds toin on ¨C he <em>had</em> been out of line. Instead he looked askance to the Lord Rector, whose eyebrow remained cocked.

    ¡°I spoke in haste,¡± Prefect Nestor reluctantly said. ¡°Yet it remains that His Excellency descending into an unsavory part of the city with only yourself and two guards as escort is an entirely unnecessary risk.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Song said, to his surprise. ¡°While I concede that the throne has a vested interest in what is being investigated, I would prefer an observer to apany me instead. As I have <em>repeatedly stated</em>.¡±

    She turned a cold gaze on Lord Rector Evander, who idly waved her irritation away.

    ¡°The matter in question is of importance to House Palliades and must remain secret,¡± the bespectacled young man said. ¡°I will not bring in another soul when all that is required of me is to walk down a street and listen while Captain Song asks a few questions. It would be<em></em>irresponsible of me.¡±

    Prefect Nestor looked like he shared Song¡¯s opinion, which was that the irresponsibility in y was Evander Palliades putting himself in a situation where the bullet put in his skull would be the opening shot of a civil war over his session, but he could no more argue than her. He was a retainer, not someone who could question his master over the affairs of his own house.

    And House Palliades <em>had </em>a right to keep the matter of the brackstone shrines and aether seal secret, Watch bws guaranteed it. Song had checked. Thrice, in differentnguages, to see if there might be any wiggle room using a different trantion. Unfortunately, the Laurels were very thorough in their work.

    ¡°Most of the traveling will be done by coach,¡± Song offered. ¡°And there is no reason that arger force could not be waiting inside the ward to escort him back in greater numbers, so long as it remains covert.¡±

    Much of the heat gone out of his eyes, though not all, Prefect Nestor curtly nodded.

    ¡°I will arrange that immediately,¡± he said. ¡°Your Excellency, Captain Ren, please excuse me.¡±

    She simply nodded, while Lord Rector Evander smiled and leaned over to share a few quiet words before letting the old prefect leave. The look he turned on her afterwards almost seemed approving, the warmth in those dark eyes making her a little ufortable.

    ¡°You handled yourself well,¡± Evander Palliades said. ¡°Captain Duan would be pleased, I¡¯m sure. Nestor¡¯s a tough old hound, half the reason I picked him as prefect is that he is too stubborn to be bent.¡±

    ¡°He is also correct regarding this entire affair,¡± Song tly replied. ¡°It is an unnecessary risk, and while I acknowledge that you have a right to attend I do not believe the reasons you gave for it are your true ones.¡±

    He leaned back into his seat, lips twitching for some strange reason. Had he somehow failed to grasp that she was implying him to be a selfish prickplicating her life for the sake of his petty whims? He had demonstrated not to be a dimwit in other regards, which made his reaction all the more baffling.

    ¡°Thest few days have been smothering,¡± he acknowledged. ¡°I cannot so much as walk down a hall without a full squad of lictors behind and ahead of me.¡±

    ¡°My sympathies,¡± Song ndly said. ¡°Unfortunately, your inclination to use my brigade a means to escape your situation puts us in the position of being responsible for your life even as you carelessly risk it.¡±

    ¡°It is our lictor escorts that would be responsible,¡± he denied.

    Song tly stared him down until he coughed and looked away. If Evander Palliades was killed while tagging along on a Watch investigation, it would be puerile to pretend that the ckcloaks would not get the lion¡¯s share of the me whether lictors were present or not. It was not at all unlikely that the Watch would end up med for the ensuing civil war as well.

    While strictly speaking getting the Lord Rector killed on her watch would not end their contract with the throne Asphodel, thus failing the yearly test, Song suspected such a thing might¡­ detrimentally affect the Thirteenth¡¯s performance assessment.

    ¡°I¡¯m not unaware that you would be made liable for my decision, should some catastrophe strike,¡± the Lord Rector admitted, and straightened in his seat. ¡°I will obey your orders in the field, Captain Song, and find a way to make it up to you.¡±

    The informally spoken, almost teasingst part had her flushing in irritation.

    ¡°You will dress as a merchant,¡± she ordered. ¡°You will not speak unless I allow it, and your escorts will obey my orders until your life is demonstrably in danger.¡±

    He nodded, smiling, and the warm satisfaction it brought was purely that of a daughter of Tianxia subjecting a despot to the rightful yoke ofw.

    ¡°Then, while I continue to protest, I reluctantly agree to your apanying me to the site in question,¡± Song said.

    ¡°Capital,¡± Evander amiably replied. ¡°Where is this site, anyhow? You did not rify beyond the northeastern ward.¡±

    He paused, coughing into his fist.

    ¡°Will we be passing through the ¡®<em>Reeking Rows¡¯</em>?¡±

    He said those words, she observed with some amusement, much in the same tone her sisters used to talk about that shrine to the White-Tailed Consort in the woods a few hours away from their home. Scandalized fascination. She cleared her throat.

    "We will not," she said.

    She would not have thought his face one suited to pouting, between the stubble and the angr features, but some might have called the expression on his face endearing.

    ¡°Though we wille close,¡± she added, and he lit up. ¡°I take it you have not visited that part of the city often?¡±

    ¡°Try never,¡± he replied. ¡°It was the first Palliades rector who ordered that district¡¯s consolidation, so it has long been a source of curiosity to me. I¡¯ve not had opportunity to visit the ward before.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never set foot there?¡± she asked, honestly surprised.

    Disreputable or not, it contained almost a quarter of his capital.

    ¡°First I was too young, then under regency,¡± he said. ¡°And after I took the crown, the first few years were¡­ difficult. Lady Floros prepared me to reign, but Palliades or not I did notmand the respect she does. It was as if the machinery of state had rusted overnight, and every failure had my name written on it.¡±

    ¡°You seem to have grown beyond those beginnings,¡± Song honestly said.

    While his rule was weak, it was not through any particr failing of his own and he was taking steps to remedy this ¨C indeed, his sess seemed to be <em>why </em>his enemies were growing bolder. Song felt a twinge of guilt at keeping from Evander that his suspicions were correct, that there <em>was</em> a coup brewing under his feet and the Council of Ministers was up to its neck in it, but she ruthlessly rubbed it out.

    There could be no good kings and the Watch did not take sides.

    ¡°That is what I owe my name and my people,¡± he said, smiling wanly. ¡°It does not leave room for much else, but my father liked to say that duty is not a verse but refrain ¨C it will return so long as we keep singing, and what else is there but to sing?¡±

    It was easier when you thought of kings as distant figures on towering thrones, Song thought. Before you saw whaty under the crown and the dragon robe, the flesh and bones. The kings of the Feichu Tian did not get tired or wistful, did not sound determined to filially live up to their legacy. They did not sound like they were drowning in their own reign.

    It changed nothing, she reminded herself.

    And yet half a smile fought its way through Song¡¯s better judgment, as she cleared her throat and drew him out of the soft mncholy he¡¯d fallen into.

    ¡°To answer your earlier question in full,¡± she said, ¡°we are to visit a paying establishment.¡±

    ¡°A tavern?¡± he asked, cocking his head to the side.

    ¡°They do serve wine, I hear,¡± she noted, ¡°but I expect that is not the main draw.¡±

    ¡°An eatery?¡±

    Her smile widened.

    ¡°Have you ever been in a brothel before, Your Excellency?¡±

    By the way he choked, she would hazard he had not.

    --

    It was the first day of the investigation, so Tristan took the time to case the ce. To ask around, spend a few coppers and get a feel for it.

    The Kassa family¡¯s workshop on Chancery Lane was not a single edifice but three of them, tightly clustered together and effectively upying an overge city block. Two of those buildings,rge one-story squares with a tall ceiling and a t roofs covered with gasmps, where their weavers turned the wool imported from the mountains into the cloth shipped out to the Lordsport. From there it was headed mostly towards southern Izcalli, Tristan learned.

    Asphodel wool was considered of lesser quality and was thus sold at more affordable prices, often undyed. Cheap clothing was attractive to the Izcalli lords bordering Tianxia and the Someshwar, who always had fresh serfs to clothe and no great desire to dress them expensively. It was amon enough sort of trade for small Trebian inds, though often Tianxi and Someshwari traders stepped in as middlemen to fill their pockets.

    Profits cared little for irony.

    The two squares had been turned into onerge building, the space between them walled in with cheaper stone than the Antediluvian sort while the separating walls were knocked down to make of them a singlerge floor. Not so with the third edifice, a three-story building pressed against the side of the others that had been turned into dormitories for the workers ¨C with the nice, windowed upper floor reserved for foremen and overseers.

    The alley door that the Brazen Chariot had mentioned was a narrow slice of street between the Kassa workshop and rented warehouses, a back entrance that should lead directly to the workshop floor. Had the assassin been unable to secure a bed in the dormitories, or perhaps been afraid that in a crowd someone was bound to talk? That might be it, if Song was correct and that illusory contract had to be consciously used ¨C those tattoos were distinctive, and sleep would have revealed her true face for anyone caring to look.

    Satisfied he had theyout of the cefortably settled in his mind¡¯s eye, Tristan began making more pointed inquiries. Was the Kassa workshop hiring? What kind of workers, what were the wages, who should be sought to get a foot in? There were taverns close, cheap enough they were meant to cater to the workers and not the whipmen, and there he found fertile grounds for answers so long as he spent some coin on drink or food.

    ¡°The Kassa are always hiring,¡± a wan-faced barmaid told him. ¡°But not for the good wages you¡¯re looking for, boy. Those weavers are locked up in contracts so tight not even Old Dragfoot could hammer them open, the Kassa keep that in-house. They only take fullers and traveling men.¡±

    Tristan swallowed a mouthful of watery stew, forcing himself not to grimace. Watch meals had spoiled him.

    ¡°Do they full with bats or feet?¡± he asked.

    ¡°They¡¯re traditional, so it¡¯s feet in the piss for you,¡± she chuckled.

    Not ideal. He wasn¡¯t too proud to spend hours stepping on woolen cloth in a tub full of human piss, but the stink would be hard to wash off. Not ideal to sneak around after.

    ¡°And the traveling men?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll work you to the bone,¡± the waitress warned. ¡°Not just warehouse work, but riding the coaches and filling in everything that needs to be filled. You might just end up stepping in the piss anyway, for lesser pay.¡±

    <em>Ah</em>, Tristan thought, <em>but it also sounds like work that¡¯ll get me in everywhere.</em> He pretended to heed her advice, made sure to tip her as well as the fresh migrant he was pretending to be could, then moved on to another haunt. He slipped in with a wave of hammer-men from arger workshop down the road, waiting until they¡¯d had a few beers with their meal to ingratiate himself with further drinks and ask his questions.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know who told you Kassa would take you, but they were full of shit,¡± a big man called Pantelisughed. ¡°They only hire by rmendation, even their traveling men ¨C had trouble a few years back with a fire they med the Anastos for, now they¡¯re careful as cats.¡±

    ¡°Try the Euripis warehouses, down on Charon Street,¡± his wife advised. ¡°They take in Sacromontans, and the pay¡¯s shit but ites with a bed and one meal a day.¡±

    The next crowd told him much the same, though they warned one of the Euripis foremen liked pretty boys and did not like it when they refused. When he asked about how one might get rmended to the Kassa, the answers were not promising.

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    ¡°Work a year or two for them at their northwest warehouses,¡± he was told. ¡°Or have a cousin inside.¡±

    He picked a particrly drunk woman to ask about bribes, counting on her not remembering his face in a few hours, and was told it wouldn¡¯t work.

    ¡°If you¡¯re caught taking coin they slice you,¡± she said. ¡°No one¡¯ll risk it for some nobody like you, kid.¡±

    She was likely right, unless he offered a suspiciouslyrge bribe that might just get him outed anyway.

    Fortunately, through the mass ofrgely useless dross he¡¯d gathered through hours of this he found one useful detail: the Kassa warehouses in the northwest were in bed with the local basileia. And, more importantly for him, that rtionship was close enough that rmendations handed out by said basileia ¨C no one could tell him the name ¨C were enough to get you in.

    That, Tristan decided, sounded like an angle he could work.

    --

    Irritating as it was to have the Lord Rector foisted onto her for the trip, at least Evander did not waste time getting ready.

    By the turn of the hour they¡¯d left the pce, smuggled out with their two lictor minders on the supply lift, and boarded a coach. Forty lictors would be following in a fleet of coaches after a dy, but Song intended to be done with the investigation long before they could ruin her efforts blundering about.

    The two hard-faced men apanying them screamed ¡®soldier¡¯ even out of lictor¡¯s uniform between the des, the scars and the ramrod straight posture, but Song was hoping they would be taken as hired guards for a wealthy young man trying out the seedier side of Tratheke. Lord Rector Evander, despite wearing clothes in muted colors and no jewelry ¨C even his spectacles had been changed for a set with smaller lenses and a cheaper iron mount ¨C could not pass as anything but ¡®well bred¡¯.

    It was nothing he could help: soft hands, well-kept hair and the easy confidence of man who¡¯d never had to lower his eyes in his life were not something that could be hidden by a change of clothes. His barely hidden enthusiasm and curiosity were, but Song saw no point in asking. On the contrary, better he marked as a young master out on an adventure than anything needing deeper thought.

    If atrocious price gouging on the wine and room were the worst they had to suffer today, she would count herself lucky.

    In a drab brown doublet and workman¡¯s trousers, his hair kept under a cap, Evander Palliades looked at the run-down streets of the Reeking Rows¡¯ approach as if they were the most interesting thing he¡¯d ever seen. Song kept close, hand near her de, and watched him as he eyed streaks of filth on alley walls not with disgust but curiosity. She shot him a dubious look.

    ¡°I had read myrmekes ate such things,¡± the Lord Rector said. ¡°I wonder if it is the Rows that drove off localres.¡±

    Song hummed.

    ¡°I have not seen stray dogs or rats here,¡± she acknowledged. ¡°But that is not so rare in the poorer districts of any city.¡±

    Anything went into the cookpot, when you grew hungry enough.

    ¡°Tratheke has little verminpared to the other cities of Asphodel,¡± Evander told her. ¡°Most of the city is stone or brass, it repels many insects.¡±

    And with them the creatures that fed on them, presumably. Song had not fallen behind on her Teratology readings so knew every animal to be part of an intricate cycle ¨C a part of that cycle could not be yanked out without consequences rippling out.

    ¡°I expect the smell around here would drive off men as well, if they could leave,¡± Song mused.

    He nced at her through his spectacles.

    ¡°You disapprove of the arrangement?¡±

    She frowned.

    ¡°You do not?¡±

    ¡°It was done for sensible reasons, which have not changed,¡± the Lord Rector informed her.

    ¡°It sensibly ruined a quarter of your capital, or near enough,¡± Song replied.

    ¡°Those trades have to go <em>somewhere</em>,¡± Evander said. ¡°It cannot be either of the southern wards, and what use is there in moving them northwest instead? There is no machine there to blow the air upwards.¡±

    ¡°The air only became poisonous because of the concentration of trades,¡± she said. ¡°If you dispersed them across the city-¡±

    ¡°Then I have districts up in arms about their homes suddenly smelling like tanneries and ughterhouses,¡± he said. ¡°The dye workshops used to be in the southwestern ward, Song, and there were <em>riots </em>during summer when it went too long without raining. The fumes from the heat were deadly to children.¡±

    ¡°And your solution to this is making a district where the desperate are forced to work knowing their lungs rot for it?¡± she replied, unimpressed. ¡°The entire ward might well be uninhabitable if not for the Antediluvian wind machine.¡±

    Whatever those great rotating des were truly for, in practice they blew the reek upwards.

    ¡°The edge of the district connects to two major avenues and the broadest canal in Tratheke,¡± Evander said. ¡°The trades are clustered there because the ward is far from where the goods are headed and those are the easiest paths to remedy this.¡±

    ¡°An argument that matters much to the magnates owning those ughterhouses,¡± she said, ¡°but I expect rather less to those dying in them. Thetter are your subjects as well, Lord Rector.¡±

    ¡°And what is your solution, then?¡± he replied in irritation.

    ¡°Spread out the trades within the whole northeastern district,¡± she said. ¡°Keep only the worst near the machine. Air in the Rows will thin out and the ward bes inhabitable again, which will draw people back into the empty districts.¡±

    ¡°That would mean reiming the ward,¡± he said. ¡°Which means patrols and clearing out the lemures, thus expanding the lictors. Which is expensive. Then for there to be a wide movement of popce I would need to either offer a bounty to families moving here, expensive, or force them to move - tyrannical and still expensive. It means refurbishing the streets, themps, the lesser canals. It means bringing magistrates to settle disputes and collect royal rents.¡±

    He scoffed.

    ¡°What you suggest is the founding of a colony town within Tratheke,¡± Evander said.

    Song nodded, for that was entirely true. She only knew so much of the unique structures of this ruin-city, but the bare numbers of it she had considered before speaking.

    ¡°An endeavor that would take years, significant coin and much effort,¡± she agreed. ¡°It would also ease the crowding of the southern wards, bring in revenue through taxes and royal rents as well as drain the recruitment pool of your basileias.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°But, most important of all,¡± Song pointedly said, ¡°you would cease to tacitly endorse the poisoning of your own subjects less than an hour¡¯s walk away from your own pce.¡±

    His eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Even if I could spare the coin for that ¨C which, between bringing the lictors up to strength and restoring a First Empire shipyard, I assure you I do not ¨C it would not matter,¡± he said. ¡°Such a great investment would not be solely mine to decide, it must be approved by the Council of Ministers.¡±

    Song frowned. That, admittedly, she had not considered.

    ¡°And they would not allow you to spend that much improving Tratheke when the current state of affairs suits them better,¡± she said.

    ¡°They would see it as gilding the Palliades reputation with the people and strengthening my grip on the city, neither of which they will let me spend a copper on if they could prevent it,¡± he tly said. ¡°There are checks on my power. Lawful and not, for if you imagine for a moment the Trade Assembly would not pour a fortune into that district colony to steal it out from under me you are being most na?ve.¡±

    <em>If they can better serve the people than the throne, they would be right to</em>, Song thought. A king¡¯s power first sought to preserve itself, then doled out kindness like crumbs. Only authority issued by citizens and answerable to them could truly be relied on to observe their dignity.

    ¡°The power of thrones is always contested,¡± Song simply said.

    He looked at her through those brass spectacles, dark eyes t.

    ¡°Your republics war on each other constantly through mercenaries, squabbling over farnd and profits,¡± Evander Palliades said. ¡°The children of your bureaucrats are nearly guaranteed to win such offices, your elections are awash with gold and blood, even your famous Luminary lottery is rigged so that the three most powerful republics always win.¡±

    His brow rose.

    ¡°It seems to me that a republic is not a remedy so much as a different set of troubles.¡±

    ¡°Tianxia is no less troubled by evils than any othernd,¡± Song acknowledged, to his visible surprise.

    ¡°But?¡±

    ¡°But when our rulers fail to end these evils, they are removed and reced by those who will,¡± Song said. ¡°Without needing to wait out a lifetime or wage a civil war. We are a method, not a result.¡±

    ¡°Results are what matters to a nation,¡± the Lord Rector dismissed. ¡°The rest is wind.¡±

    Song looked around her, at the dying district.

    ¡°As you say, Your Excellency,¡± she replied.

    His face tightened. Her words put silence between them all the way to the edifice with the yellow crescent hung outside. It was not wise to anger the ruler of thend one must fulfill a contract in, but Song did not regret her words. Truth was truth, and if the man insisted on debating her she would not lie to assuage his feelings. Besides, if he was miffed enough by her words perhaps he would find another sniffer to apany him on his outings.

    It would be better for them both if he did.

    The brothel was exactly as she had been told, the sign with a yellow crescent its only advertisement. It was three stories tall and rather broad, from the outside looking more like a Port Azei hostel than a den of debauchery ¨C though it was still in the stone, green ss and brass typical of Tratheke. There was no one at the door and the windows were all shuttered tight, but there were lights inside.

    ¡°On me,¡± Song told the Lord Rector and his escorts. ¡°Follow and do not speak.¡±

    She waited for nods from all three before entering. The entrance hall was dimly lit with bad oilmps ¨C not re oil, by the glow ¨C and it smelled strongly of incense. Not the good kind, and Song had prayed at enough street shrines to know what cheap incense smelled like. A man with a club and a dead eye waited there, but he let them pass without a word. It was not a madam who weed them at the desk but a procurer, a small man with dark hair and blue eyes dressed more like a shopkeeper than a flesh peddler.

    He smiled easily and shallowly, eyes always moving between them.

    ¡°Wee, wee,¡± he said. ¡°The Amber Crescent is always pleased to receive guests.¡±

    It took effort for her not to inform him that crescent¡¯s shade of yellow had not been anywhere near amber. His eyes lingered on the two lictors behind them.

    ¡°Especially those with coin.¡±

    The procurer licked his lips.

    ¡°What pleasure can I provide you?¡± he asked, gaze darting between her and the Lord Rector. ¡°Most of my girls are free, though should you be interested in boys instead¡­¡±

    Song took out a small pouch of silver and ced it on the desk. The upside of the Lord Rector havinge along was that she could bill the payment to the throne instead of paying out from brigade funds.

    ¡°We require not your girls but your discretion,¡± she said.

    Eyes flicked between her and Evander again. He tested the weight of the pouch, looking pleased.

    ¡°Of course,¡± he smiled. ¡°A room, and never a word will pass these lips.¡±

    ¡°Prepare it,¡± Song ordered. ¡°And while we wait, I was told you have a selection of wines?¡±

    ¡°My cer is yours, mydy,¡± the procurer hastily said. ¡°I can have brought up-¡±

    ¡°We have very particr tastes,¡± Song ndly said. ¡°We will choose ourselves.¡±

    Another piece of silver was put on the desk.

    ¡°Unless you object?¡±

    The small man picked it up, adding it to the earlier pouch. He¡¯d unstrung that so discreetly she never noticed.

    ¡°I would not dare,¡± the procurer smiled. ¡°Verico will show you the way to the cer. I will personally see to your room, mydy.¡±

    ¡°Do,¡± Song thinly smiled back.

    Verico was the name of the one-eyed guard, who kept silent as he led them past a few closed doors to a set of narrow stairs leading down into the basement. The door at the bottom was not locked. Song nced at the Lord Rector meaningfully and he gestured for the lictors to stay out, remaining on the main floor with Verico ¨C who handed them a stinking, smokymp before closing the door behind them.

    The basement was a disheveled pile of barrels and bottles, not all of which were on racks. Many were simply on the floor, there for anyone to trip over, and some of the bottles in straw-stuffed crates were empty. Song¡¯s fingers clenched at the sight but she kept herself in check. She was not going to organize a brothel basement for that seedy man upstairs, even if <em>someone</em> ought to.

    ¡°I don¡¯t recognize any of those bottles,¡± Evander Palliades said, sounding amused. ¡°And some arerger than I thought wine bottles even came in.¡±

    ¡°We are not here for the wine,¡± Song murmured back.

    Lamp in hand she pushed through the mess to find what they truly hade from. The back wall, while obstructed with barrels and a copsed shelf, turned out to be exactly what the Brazen Chariot thug had said: brackstone, entirely so. The Lord Rector,e to stand by her side, clicked his tongue.

    ¡°So your signifier was right,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s more than one shrine ¨C and unless there¡¯s some <em>other</em> aether prison out there, these are the anchors for it.¡±

    Song slowly nodded.

    ¡°Not here,¡± she said. ¡°Grab a bottle and we use the room for a span, then head back.¡±

    He chose a bottle of bright red ss with a seal on it, snatching it out of the crate, and followed her up. The procurer ¡®preparing¡¯ the room for them turned out to be changing the sheets on a miserable straw mattress and topping up the oilmps. Two y cups were brought up as well, clean enough Song might be willing to drink something out of them.

    The small man might have tried to eavesdrop on them, she figured, if not for the two lictors that went to stand by the door. They had naturally discouraging expressions.

    Evander closed the door behind him, and while Song sat on the bed after inspecting it enough to be reasonably sure it did not bear lice he broke the seal on the bottle and took a sniff.

    ¡°Cherries?¡± he muttered.

    He poured them both a cup, but she merely held hers after it was handed.

    ¡°You have never heard of these shrines, I take it,¡± she said. ¡°Is there truly no record of their construction?¡±

    ¡°If there are, I do not know them,¡± Evander admitted as he turned as chair to face her. ¡°My family has journals dating back to its ascension to the throne, but they do not mention anything like this. Mostly Lord Rector Charos was trying to figure out which noble bride he could pick without getting assassinated.¡±

    He grimaced.

    ¡°No one expected House Lissenos to be so suddenly snuffed out,¡± he said. ¡°Charos Palliades was apromise candidate, not a lord anyone expected to evere near the throne. Our ancestralnds are a <em>goat farm</em>, for Oduromai¡¯s sake.¡±

    ¡°I thought your family were the closest rtives to House Lissenos,¡± Song said.

    ¡°That became true,¡± he said, ¡°after they spent two decades and change purging the lesser branches of their house following a <em>spectacrly</em> botched coup by their closest kin. Before that Charos was, I think, fifty-fourth in the line of session? The genealogy books of the time don¡¯t even mention him by name, only our house atrge."

    Evander snorted.

    ¡°I doubt the time he spent in the presence of thest Lissenos rector ever reached the sum of an hour. He was not someone House Lissenos would have shared ancient family secrets with.¡±

    ¡°So the knowledge might have been lost when they died out,¡± she said. ¡°Did they not leave behind records of their own?¡±

    ¡°Everything we inherited is in the private archives,¡± Evander said.

    ¡°Implying there is more in someone else¡¯s hands,¡± she noted.

    ¡°The interregnum between the end of Lissenos and the coronation of Charos Palliades left the pce in the hands of the steward of the time,¡± he said. ¡°Lady Myrto Eirenos.¡±

    Her brow rose, impressed at the breadth of his knowledge.

    ¡°I had no idea before I read the journals yesterday,¡± he drily told her. ¡°Charos was convinced she robbed the pce of everything that wouldn¡¯t be noticed missing and stewed for a decade that there was not much he could do about it.¡±

    ¡°Are the Eirenos not minor vassals to Tratheke?¡± she asked.

    They did not sound like all that troublesome an opponent for the lords of all Asphodel, however precarious their throne.

    ¡°Back in those days they owned about a tenth of Tratheke Valley,¡± he said. ¡°They had to sell most of theirnd when their mine on Arke ran dry and debts were called, keeping mostly the hunting lodges that are their sole current im to relevance. Even maintaining those is stretching their means.¡±

    That, Song thought, would have been <em>very</em> useful to know before Angharad left for the Eirenos manor. Was it toote to send a messenger after her? She had only been gone for hours, it might not be. Song would ask Wen what means they had at their disposal to contact her. It was frustrating that they could not rely too much on ck House for it, lest Angharad be outed as a watchwoman. As her silence lingered, Evander cleared his throat.

    ¡°You believe the cult of the Golden Ram to be rted to this imprisoned god, then?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Thest such cult existed during the Ataxia and was used a puppet by the god known as the Hated One,¡± she said. ¡°My Navigator found evidence ¨C circumstantial ¨C that these brackstone shrines might have been built shortly after the end of Ataxia.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°Now the containmentyer is found breached while the Golden Ram cult makes a sudden resurgence, deepening its ties with those nobles most likely to plunge Asphodel into civil war. It has a conspiracy¡¯s shape.¡±

    ¡°Yet your report ims an aether lock is meant to starve gods to death,¡± he noted. ¡°If the Hated One is the god that escaped, then it was inside for over a century: would it then truly settle for impersonating the god of a minor cult and feeding on dregs of worship? That seems unusually restrained of a starving beast.¡±

    That was¡­ a very good point, admittedly. One neither she nor Maryam had considered.

    ¡°We do not yet have the whole picture,¡± Song admitted. ¡°Leads are still being pursued.¡±

    And it was a relief that their growing theory, the resurgence of the Hated One and the ties to the Council of Ministers, was proving to have ws. Song would admit as much to herself. For if that was the truth of this mystery, then it followed that the assassin was not in the employ of the cult ¨C because if they were ready to pull the trigger on their coup and forcefully seize the capital, they already would have.

    Which left the Yellow Earth as the likely culprit for the attempt, considering the assassin was Tianxi and had fled to a workshop believed to have ties to the local sect.

    Fingering Tianxia for the crime, because it surely would be all Ten Republics that got the me and not some radical Yellow Earth faction, would sink Ren name deeper into the mud back home. She would not put it beyond some Yellow Earth sects to vilify her to draw the ire away from their ownrades, a fresh heaping of curses tossed onto her family¡¯s shrine.

    Evander risked a sip of his chosen wine, grimaced at the taste then took a deeper one.

    ¡°Horrid,¡± he cheerfully said. ¡°You should try it, Song. We ought to be in here at least half an hour before leaving, lest we stand out in the wrong way.¡±

    Song snorted, trying a sip and finding no trace of the purported cherries ¨C the wine tasted, if anything, like¡­ plums? Overripe plums, maybe. Regardless, it was just as horrid as promised. She swallowed an almost teasing question about taking only half an hour. A thought best buried very, very deep.

    The Lord Rector drained his cup in a few long sips before pouring himself a second, the most Song had ever seen him drink. He usually watered his wine. Setting aside his cap, the man brushed back his long hair and let out a sigh. Evander Palliades had almost insultingly pretty hair, for a man. It was quite eye-catching, especially when he tossed it about like some young lion.

    ¡°It is not a good time for old gods to return to haunt us,¡± Evander said. ¡°The city is a powder keg and this has the look of lit match.¡±

    ¡°The god might still bergely imprisoned,¡± Song told him. ¡°Squeezing out through the cracks could be the work of years yet.¡±

    ¡°Chaos does not need reasons, only an excuse,¡± he quoted, drinking again.

    Quoting Soyarabai, but she would forgive it since it was from her only good work. She should have stuck to philosophy and admitted her unfitness for serious schrly work.

    ¡°The Council of Ministers will try to knock me off the throne the moment they think they have a chance and the Trade Assembly might well attempt the same to keep <em>them</em> off it,¡± Evander ruefully said.

    <em>The Ministers are already brewing a coup</em>, Song thought, wishing she could tell him. Whatever his ws, he seemed a better man than those trying to rece him. He emptied his cup, then set it down.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t wrong, about the Rows,¡± he suddenly said. ¡°Maybe not right, either, but¡­¡±

    Heughed mirthlessly.

    ¡°Tacitly endorsing the poisoning of my subjects less than an hour¡¯s walk away from my own pce,¡± Evander murmured. ¡°Now there is a turn of phrase. One that I will not be forgetting anytime soon.¡±

    Song said nothing, only watching him.

    ¡°I¡¯m so close I can feel it,¡± he told her, biting his lip in frustration. ¡°I only need tost through a year, maybe two, and my position will strong enough to reach terms with them. To finally do something more than just¡­ fight to stay seated where I am.¡±

    Only it was not so simple, was it?

    ¡°That won¡¯t be the end of it. You will fight them your whole life, Evander, or others like them,¡± Song honestly said. ¡°All that will change is who has the most guns and gold on their side.¡±

    He turned a bright gaze on her. The drink could not have touched him so quick, she knew, but she almost believed it anyway looking at that expression on his face.

    ¡°Twelve days you have been on this ind, Song Ren, and I have gotten more truth out of you than I have from anyone else in thest twelve years,¡± Evander Palliades chuckled. ¡°It is madness.¡±

    Song¡¯s jaw clenched.

    ¡°I have been too familiar,¡± she said. ¡°I will-¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Evander said. ¡°Not that. This.¡±

    He leaned in, sses askew, and Song froze. And was tempted to remain frozen, to let it happen. It was not her mistake, if<em> he</em> was the one kissing her. And she was¡­ curious.

    But she was also a Ren.

    Song drew back, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him. She shook her head. The Lord Rector immediately stopped, then turned red in mortification. He flinched away like he had been burned.

    ¡°Apologies, Captain Ren,¡± he croaked out. ¡°I was, I thought-¡±

    He coughed.

    ¡°The wine,¡± she evenly said.

    ¡°Yes, the wine,¡± he awkwardly said. ¡°Please forget I ever¡­¡±

    ¡°It is forgotten,¡± Song lied.

    Neither of them spoke another word for the next twenty minutes, or dared to look at each other.

    --

    With the day¡¯s work done and some time to kill before the evening meal at ck House, Tristan decided to allow himself a small indulgence: namely, investigating how hard it would be to break into the Neenth Brigade¡¯s secret safehouse.

    He picked up his burr¡¯s kit and took a roundabout route back to the dead-end alley he¡¯d watched them go into, first taking a look at the surroundings. Of the half dozen or so buildings around there only two currently seemed in use, one being the Neenth¡¯s rental. The other was a suspiciously clean two-story house whose shutters and locks had recently been changed and were of visibly better quality than the rest of the house.

    They were also the kind that didn¡¯t let sound out, which reeked to Tristan of coterie torture chamber until he climbed up on a neighboring roof and got a sniff at the scent wafting off the house¡¯s second story. Poppy, and not some extract for the pain ¨C the kind you stuffed in pipes and smoked. This was someone¡¯s private drug den, then, not an interrogation pit. Probably some magnate or magnate¡¯s kid who didn¡¯t want to be known as a poppy fiend and figured that renting a den in the worst part of the southwestern ward counted as discretion.

    The rest of the dead end was, if not exactly in ruins, then close to it: the houses were full of holes, be it in the walls or roof, and there were no shutters in the windows. As seemedmon practice in Tratheke they had been raided for stone, brass and tiles then left to take the wind. No beggars had made a home there, which told Tristan whoever owned these regrly had them cleared by either hired men or the lictors. There would have been takers otherwise, no matter the holes in the roof.

    The alley was less than half an hour of walk away from some of the liveliest streets of one of the richest wards in the city, as fine begging grounds as one could ask for. It brought out a shallow sort of amusement, to see that even in Tratheke the rich were willing to pay to keep their property free of rats even when they had no use for it.

    The drug den was not in use at the moment ¨C unless the fiend was sleeping it off inside ¨C so Tristan allowed himself to take his time studying the Neenth¡¯s rental. Fortuna whined at being asked to keep guard at the corner and kept returning to his side, but he ignored her. Two shuttered windows facing the street, heavy nks with brass stripes keeping them in ce. None of that Asphodelian green ss behind them, so raising the bars might well let him inside.

    He refrained.

    ¡°Just go inside,¡± Fortuna whined. ¡°Come on, I bet they left all sorts of stuff lying around.¡±

    ¡°Cressida was here,¡± he replied. ¡°And if I were her, I¡¯d snare the ce to know if someone came in.¡±

    ¡°You think she put something on the windowsill?¡± the goddess asked, looking enthused at the thought.

    He nodded and she brightened further. The Lady of Longs Odds lovedplications, so long as they were inflicted upon anyone but her. Should it be otherwise they would, of course, be found out as fundamentally unfair and morally intolerable.

    ¡°And likely the door as well,¡± Tristan added.

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it, then,¡± she drawled, vanishing.

    If he had asked her to look inside the house for him a minute ago she would have agreed immediately, but now it was all but certain should he request it Fortuna would pretend to be hard of hearing. The thief did not mind. Opportunities to ply his craft with such low stakes were passing rare, and he must keep his skills sharp. Growing to rely too much on the goddess¡¯ eyes would leave him lost without her aid.

    The lock on the front door was child¡¯s y, a tumble lock he could have done one-eyed with a hand tied behind his back, but he refrained again. Instead he brought up hisntern, peering at the small gap between door and doorway. There was nothing so obvious as string, but he thought he might be seeing a thin fment that could be a blonde hair. Tristan hummed, stepping away.

    There were no shutters on the second story, but there <em>was</em> a chimneying out of the rooftop. He slipped into the pilfered house to the right of the Neenth¡¯s rental, up the skeleton of stairs then through a hole in the roof to reach the spread of tiles there. Given how closely clustered the buildings were, it was barely a leap to cross over to the other roof. He silently tread over the angled tiles to the chimney, hiding from the street through the angle and putting his bag down.

    Fortuna, predictably, took the first halfway decent excuse to abandon her post and join him on the roof. She sat on the other side of the jutting chimney, skirts spilling out on either side like a small red tide, and golden eyes eagerly peered downwards.

    ¡°You want to sneak in through there?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Tristan hedged, removing a small mirror from his bag.

    Hisntern was already shuttered down to the barest slice, so it was just a matter of carefully angling the light and mirror before he could have a look down the chimney. It¡¯d been cleaned, he found, but not recently: little soot but much dust. More importantly, leaning back and sweeping with the reflected light he found there were no caltrops at the bottom and no iron grid preventing entry.

    ¡°Cressida, you amateur,¡± he crowed. ¡°We always cover the chimney, you ought to know better.¡±

    ¡°While this is the most interesting you¡¯ve been all day,¡± Fortuna said, peering down, ¡°is there a point to anything you¡¯re doing?¡±

    He shrugged.

    ¡°Might be the Neenth left papers lying around. There could be information to pass to Song about their investigation.¡±

    ¡°She could just ask Captain Tozi,¡± Fortuna said. ¡°They seem friendly. Are you sure this isn¡¯t about showing Cressida you¡¯re the better Mask?¡±

    ¡°That has nothing to do with it,¡± Tristan lied.

    She squinted at him for a moment.

    ¡°I believe you,¡± she lied back.

    And on that merry note, he packed the mirror away and instead took out the necessary supplies: gloves and rags. The rest of the bag would only be a hindrance, no need to bring it.

    He did not jump in immediately, carefully testing the chimney walls instead. Without much soot the stone was not too slippery, though it¡¯d still be no easy task to make his way down without breaking a leg falling. With gloves and boots he managed, scooting down slowly and carefully until he was close enough to the bottom to let himself drop. There were some loose stones about halfway up, whose location hemitted to memory for the climb back up thaty in his future.

    The hearth was spotlessly clean but his boots were not, so he stood on the edge of the hearthstone and wiped both the stone and his boots clean before putting away his dirtied gloves so he would leave no visible mark.

    His first impression of the Neenth Brigade¡¯s safehouse was that it was derelict.

    Probably the single cheapest ce they had been able to find in the southwestern ward, he figured. It was a singlerge room at the bottom, where he¡¯d entered, and what little furniture there was all boasted missing legs or cut up surfaces. By the height of holes in the wall there¡¯d once been cupboards hung on the side wall, perhaps a kitchen, but those were the only trace of it left. The only fresh addition here was a barrel of water, which the Neenth must have bought at the market.

    Upstairs was, if anything, even more deste. There were two rooms, one of which had effectively copsed when part of the roof caved in ¨C it could not be seen from the outside, though no doubt the elements would eventually finish digging their way in. He¡¯d bet rain went right through already.

    They¡¯d put the chamber pot in there. Not recently used.

    The second room, a cramped and bare thing, was decorated only by four bedrolls on the ground and a pack of Watch supplies in the corner. Dry rations, ckpowder and des, bandages and liquor. He put it all back into ce after having his look.

    Tristan went back down, slightly miffed at how the Neenth had left nothing at all of use to him. Checking the front door confirmed his suspicion, at least ¨C there was a hair across the doorway that would rip if it were open, kept in ce by a nail. He patted himself on the back for having seen that oneing, and the same for the small pots of y atop the two shutters. Cressida had been clever, he would concede, simply not clever enough.

    It was gettingte enough he saw no need to linger when there so little to do here, though he spent some time debating whether he should move every piece of furniture around slightly so the Neenth would feel a dim sense of difort when they returned. Mhm, perhaps next time. He didn¡¯t want to spend the surprise too early, they might start using the ce more over theing weeks.

    Besides, the idea of returning more than once without Cressida noticing was rather pleasing.

    He was already preparing to leave when he saw lights in the alley, immediately killing his own. Those out in the street were talking quietly, but the voices were young and numerous enough they could only be the returning Neenth. Swallowing a smile, Tristan went back to the chimney. He climbed back up, stopped at that spot with a few stones askew and wedged in his feet.

    He¡¯d not be able to stay there for long, no more than ten minutes before his legs started shaking too much, but ten minutes was plenty. Sound carried well up the chimney so he would get to eavesdrop his fill so long as they did not head upstairs. It was a good start to overhear Cressida telling the others to stop, checking the hair on the door before opening it.

    ¡°No one¡¯se in since we have,¡± she told the others.

    <em>One for me</em>, <em>Barboza</em>. The brigade piled in, locking the door behind them and lighting somemps. To his pleasure, they did not waste time before continuing what he learned had been bickering out in the street.

    ¡°-omeone could notice he¡¯s missing,¡± Kiran Agrawal said.

    ¡°He¡¯s allowed to visit the city,¡± Captain Tozi replied, unworried. ¡°There is nothing suspicious about that.¡±

    ¡°This ward has the most brothels in Tratheke, that will be the first assumption,¡± Cressida said, then her tone hardened. ¡°It is histeness I dislike.¡±

    ¡°We arete as well,¡± Izel Coyac pointed out.

    ¡°What does it matter for either of us?¡± Kiran snorted. ¡°We have nothing to report. No progress made.¡±

    Their patron, Captain Oratile, was a woman. It could not be her they were speaking of. <em>So who is it they believe they must report to?</em> It should not be a ckcloak, given that all the officers bunked at ck House and so did the Neenth, but who else would they answer to? Their test was the tracking of the contracted killer, Tristan mused, which might mean working with the lictors. Perhaps they had bribed one for information, or a member of some basileia.

    Either way, this was turning out much more interesting than he¡¯d expected.

    ¡°Letting the heat pass was necessary,¡± Captain Tozi tly replied. ¡°There were too many eyes on the business.¡±

    ¡°Kiran speaks true regardless,¡± Izel said. ¡°We have not pursued the matter any further. That is not a loss but an opportunity - let us tell him that we are finished with¡­¡±

    Groans from the others.

    ¡°Oh, get off that high horse,¡± Cressida said. ¡°We tried your n, didn¡¯t we? Paid the guard to grab him. A clean grab with no one hurt, you said.¡±

    And as they kept talking, Tristan¡¯s blood ran cold. Paid the guard? That sounded like¡­

    ¡°And I was wrong,¡± Izel said. ¡°The man died. I thought this could be done without harm and was proved mistaken. This entire business is sordid and we should be done with it. Besides, given the behavior of the Ivory Library¡¯s men when they were caught at the docks their assurances of good treatment ring hollow.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s toote for scruples, Izel,¡± Captain Tozi evenly replied. ¡°Our families made the bargain, it¡¯s on us to deliver. Unless you want your fathers¡¯ tolerance for your career choices to run out?¡±

    ¡°We could-¡± he began.

    Only Coyac was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Tristan¡¯s legs ached, but even if they had been bleeding he would have stayed where he was. He would not miss a whisper of this. Someone was ushered in, the man they must have been referring to, and there was the sound of gloves being tossed on a table.

    ¡°Let us be done quickly,¡± a faintly ented voice said, ¡°I do not have long to spend here. How soon can you get us Abrascal?¡±

    <em>Confirmation</em>, part of him icily thought. <em>Someshwari</em>, the rest decided. Not Ramayan, or wherever Kiran Agrawal was from.

    ¡°It is delicate work, lieutenant,¡± Captain Tozi said. ¡°Especially since the fools you also hired got themselves caught and put the Thirteenth¡¯s guard up.¡±

    ¡°I did note to listen to excuses,¡± the man replied. ¡°We were promised results in exchange for the favors given.¡±

    Favors to family, it sounded like. Given that Izel Coyac¡¯s father was a prominent Izcalli general this was not a petty matter.

    ¡°If he were so easy to grab, you would have done it already,¡± Cressida mildly replied.

    ¡°We do not <em>need</em> to grab him, we already paid your families for it,¡± the man scorned. ¡°I¡¯ve looked at the Thirteenth and I am less than impressed. The mirror-dancer is a cripple, the captain is stuck in the pce half the time and the savage almost killed herself with her own Signs. How hard can one rat be to catch?¡±

    There was tense silence.

    ¡°I have been befriending Song Ren,¡± Captain Tozi said. ¡°Developing trust. When it is established, we will pick our moment and strike.¡±

    ¡°The ship will only wait so long in the Lordsport,¡± the man warned. ¡°You will not enjoy the consequences if you fail to deliver.¡±

    Gloves were snatched off the table.

    ¡°Do not approach me at ck House,¡± the man said. ¡°In one week, at the same time, I will return here. There had best be results by then.¡±

    There was shuffling as if someone was getting out of the way, then a door was wrenched open. Though the Neenth was sure to continue speaking after this, Tristan did not remain. He hurried up the chimney, as quickly as he could without making noise.

    Below were enemies, but there was one in the street as well.

    His bag he left on the roof, he would return for itter. He took amp, rope, a rag. Careful, careful, he reminded himself as he tread across the tiles. The man was down in the street, already speeding away. Eager to be gone, already gone in his own mind ¨C and that meant he wasn¡¯t paying attention to his surroundings. Tristan slipped back down through the hole in the roof, down the stairs, and was down in the street by the time the stranger turned the corner.

    He followed.

    In his forties, Someshwari in looks. Short dark hair, narrow shoulders, not the muscles or stride of a fighter. Pistol and knife at his side. His clothes were neither cheap nor expensive, in muted shades that did not stand out. He was headed in the direction of the Collegium, towards the ward¡¯srger streets ¨C where he would be able to take a coach and Tristan would lose him.

    He¡¯d not get there. This was not a nice part of town, and at this hour the streets were mostly empty. Workshops locked up, shutters closed. Taverns full, but there were few around here ¨C and when the stranger turned past one, through an alley, the thief quickened his step. Softly, quick but quiet, watching him peer ahead as Tristan¡¯s fingers closed around his ckjack and he darted through thest of the distance.

    It made noise, enough the man turned. But he did not turn quickly enough to avoid the blow on the back of his head. Careful again, so careful ¨C else he might kill the stranger, and the thief did not want that at all. There was no scream, only a groan as the Someshwari dropped. Out cold. Tristan put away the ¡®jack and picked up the man. He dragged him away from the tavern, into another side street.

    There were three shops there, but only one had a basement with a street entrance. He picked the padlock, checked inside ¨C coal and metal scraps, that would do. He dragged the man down into it, careful not to be seen. Closed the doors, lit amp, tied the man up and gagged him before making him look at the wall.

    Tristan sliced off his left ear, standing behind him, which woke the Someshwari up. The gag mostly took care of the scream. Blood sprayed, coursing down his neck in small rivers.

    ¡°I have questions for you,¡± the rat said, feigning a deeper voice. ¡°Scream and you will die.¡±

    Dropping the cut ear onto hisp reinforced the point. <em>A tangible, permanent loss at the beginning will strike terror, </em>Abu had taught him<em>. It will establish from the beginning the stakes of disobeying you.</em> The Someshwari hastily nodded, proving her right again. She was always right.

    Tristan lowered the gag.

    ¡°Name?¡±

    ¡°Lieutenant Apurva,¡± he babbled. ¡°I¡¯m a ckcloak, from a Circle. You¡¯re making a mistake, I-¡±

    ¡°Which Circle?¡± Tristan asked.

    The man paused, surprised.

    ¡°The Umuthi Society,¡± he said. ¡°A tinker. I have coin, I could make you<em> rich</em> if you-¡±

    Tristan put the knife against his throat. He took the hint.

    ¡°Why are you in Tratheke, Apurva?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m part of the delegation to the <em>Lord Rector</em>,¡± the Someshwari emphasized. ¡°I¡¯m expected, they will look for me. This is all a huge mistake, but if you let me go-¡±

    Tristan sliced at his shoulder through the cloth, shallow, and the man yelped ¨C more in fear than pain.

    ¡°Tell me about the Ivory Library,¡± Tristan ordered.

    ¡°The what?¡± Lieutenant Apurva tried, but when he felt steel against his throat he changed his tune. ¡°Wait, wait! I¡¯m not even a member, I just work with them. All I know is they study contracts and they¡¯re influential, they have men in many freepanies.¡±

    His jaw clenched. What had he done to earn their attention? He should be nobody.

    ¡°Why,¡± he said, ¡°are they trying to abduct the boy from the Thirteenth?¡±

    The lieutenant twitched.

    ¡°How do you know that?¡±

    Tristan lightlyid the de against his remaining ear. The man licked his lips.

    ¡°His contract, there¡¯s something strange about it,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything else, I only¡­¡±

    The thief forced his breathing to remain even. Anger would not serve him. He must be cold as the steel in his hand.

    ¡°Who is your contact?¡± he asked.

    There had to be one, someone who would handle the ship and the moving of an abductee. Lieutenant Apurva wriggled, tried to get out of the ropes.

    ¡°You have to let me go if I tell you,¡± he said. ¡°I just-¡±

    The de dug into the right ear, blood trickling down, and the Someshwari whimpered.

    ¡°Sergeant Ledwaba, from the escorts,¡± he said. ¡°And there¡¯s another, someone high up, but I don¡¯t know who. Ledwaba handles everything with me.¡±

    High up. Brigadier Chca, amander? His fingers clenched around the knife.

    ¡°The ship in the Lordsport,¡± Tristan rasped out. ¡°Give me a name.¡±

    ¡°The Grinning Madcap,¡± Apurva wept. ¡°That¡¯s everything, I swear. There¡¯s nothing else for me to tell.¡±

    A breath in, a breath out.

    Had he been born under a fool¡¯s star, to keep making the same mistake again and again and<em> again</em>? No matter the color of the cloak, he would always be a rat. Meat for the cats.

    ¡°No,¡± Tristan Abrascal agreed. ¡°You have nothing else to tell me.¡±

    He¡¯d not bothered to feign the voice, this time, and Lieutenant Apurva twisted around to look at his face. He got his look, though whatever he might have said was swallowed by a gurgle when Tristan cut his throat.

    Blood sprayed on the cer wall.

    He watched his enemy die in silence, mind already racing ahead. The Watch woulde looking for him, eventually. They would have contractors, Masks. <em>I must clean up here</em>, he thought, <em>then get rid of the clothes and the body in running water.</em> A canal would suit. Then he must double back for his kit and hurry to ck House, to ensure he was seen and would not stand out as a suspect.

    Someone high up, the dead man had said. How high up did it go? No, it did not matter. No matter the rank it was enough he could no longer afford to stay in ck House. He would have to tell Song¡­ Something, an excuse could be made. And Maryam, she- he swallowed. Calm. Fear and the rest, they could wait until he had dug his way out to the grave.

    A hand on his shoulder. He did not need to turn to know who it was, for he felt not even a tremor of fear from it. It was as familiar as his own breath.

    ¡°What will you do?¡± Fortuna asked.

    He closed his eyes. Tozi Poloko. Kiran Agrawal. Izel Coyac. Cressida Barboza. Hunt him, would they?

    ¡°What else?¡±

    His fingers tried to close around a tile that wasn¡¯t there.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill them all,¡± the rat said.

 Chapter 51

    Chapter 51

    Come night, Tratheke looked like a sea of lights.

    ck House was not so tall that the view from the roof garden was not cut into by higher edifices still, but the spread offered to Song¡¯s eyes was still a striking sight. The gasmps of the capital lit up the dark like a thousand fireflies, their burning glow reflected on green ss and brass, and above it all towered the Collegium. That grand structure¡¯s bones of brass were hard to make out from a distance, weaving the illusion that its massive transparent ss panes were instead made of pure light.

    And atop that cube of light rested, like a slender crown, the pce that Song Ren was avoiding thinking about.

    The bench beneath her was forged iron, digging enough into her back she was regretting declining the offer from the servants to bring up cushions. Perhaps it was for the best. Sitting alone in the dark surrounded only by grass, fragrant flowers and the sound of flowing water it would have been all too easy to fall into some sort of romantic mncholy. An iron ridge digging into her back detracted from the picturesque feeling, like a fly in the soup.

    Pulling her ck cloak tighter around her, Song¡¯s swept the city¡¯s skyline. Beautiful, she thought, but inherited. The sole im the people of Tratheke had to this was that they had kept the lights on, tinkered recements for the Antediluvian machines sucking gas out of the earth when they began breaking apart after the rough treatment of the First Empire. In Tianxia, such a thing would have been looked down on.

    Her people¡¯s pride was in what they built with their own hands, not the wonders bequeathed by long-dead titans. There was beauty in that as well, she thought. Not one so unearthly as this dream-city of ss and light, but no lesser for it.

    Silver eyes flicked up to the pce above the city of lights, until she realized what she was doing and winced. Song was not a child; she had dallied before. With boys, as was her preference, though sometimes she suspected she was not entirely indifferent to the charms of women ¨C merely discerning, as one should be in all things. Her mother had tacitly allowed it, almost encouraged it, so that Song would not be fooled by some seducer out in the world.

    Yet her ount book of some heated kissing and the one banal evening in bed had not felt like¡­ that. How was it that a nothing haunted her more than the times she had actually indulged? It must be the denial, she told herself. Denial excited the mind, even when self-inflicted, and the mind was the better part of her troubles here anyway. Evander Palliades was easy enough on the eyes, but she liked his conversation more than his jawline.

    Well. The jawline didn¡¯t <em>hurt</em>, admittedly.¡°Boo.¡±

    The moment she felt breath against her ear Song¡¯s handshed out, grabbing a cor, and after fastening her second grip in the same heartbeat she tossed her attacker forward over her shoulder and the back of the bench.

    A secondter the word and voice registered.

    ¡°Oh Gods,¡± Song said, hastily getting up. ¡°Are you-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Tristan painfully groaned, face in the dirt and hips well mmed into the back of the bench. ¡°<em>Ouch</em>.¡±

    She smoothed her face. It would not do tough, even though with his legs half-lifted and his face in the grass the Sacromontan looked like a manner of beached porpoise. His goddess showed no such restraint, the red-dressed beauty guffawing so strongly she almost fell to her feet and had to catch herself on the bench. Song eased her Mask past the edge of the bench, letting him drop belly down on the grass, and he did not refuse the hand she offered to help him up afterwards.

    Tristan Abrascal brushed off his clothes and picked off a strand of grass that had stuck to his face.

    ¡°Well,¡± he coughed into his hand. ¡°There goes my daily reminder of the virtues of humility.¡±

    Song cleared her throat awkwardly.

    ¡°I did not recognize your voice until toote.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the one who jumped you,¡± he snorted. ¡°I was asking for it. Nice throw, though.¡±

    ¡°I could teach you if you¡¯d like,¡± Song offered.

    He was dressed for the city, in a belted brown tunic and trousers. In wool, which wasmon in these parts given how many Tratheke workshops made such cloth, and though his hair was bereft of a cap it was ttened in a way that implied he¡¯d worn one for hours. Tristan was also, she noted, scrupulously clean from the fingernails to the shoes. He must have washed beforeing here. Had he finally begun to notice the stink of cities? She¡¯d thought Sacromonte had ruined his nose for life.

    ¡°Best to get my shooting up to par first,¡± Tristan ruefully said. ¡°I would rather not split my attention when we already have so many tes to bnce.¡±

    Sensible enough. And the mention of tes led into an immediate curiosity of hers.

    ¡°Which begs the question,¡± she said, ¡°of why you missed dinner.¡±

    Late service should be finishing up around now, but he had missed the expected evening meal with Maryam. All trace of mirth left those gray eyes at her words, as if it had been suddenly squeezed out by some twitching grip.

    ¡°You should sit down,¡± Tristan said.

    She did not, instead crossing her arms.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°The Kassa workshop is solidly guarded,¡± he said. ¡°I could try to break in, but odds are it¡¯ll be noticeable. The best shot for ess is taking a job there.¡±

    She nodded warily. He was circling around what he would rather avoid talking about, she could tell.

    ¡°To get that job I will need a rmendation, and to get that rmendation I will have to make a deal with a basileia the Kassa are friendly with,¡± he added. ¡°Passing through the Brazen Chariot for an introduction seems the most feasible.¡±

    ¡°And you would pay in favors,¡± Song said. ¡°In both cases.¡±

    He nodded and she almost grimaced. A small favor to the Chariot for the introduction, then arger one to the more powerful basileia for the good word. She would have preferred paying in coin, but since the misstep with the Brazen Chariot she had been educated on the difficulties of this. As a rule, most criminals were poor in actual coinage and had to pass through third parties to turn what valuable property they did own into something that could spend.

    For a basileia to suddenly be flush with clean gold would draw much attention and spection, something neither the Watch nor the basileias would want. And still she hesitated, because providing the services of a trained Mask to basileias was no small thing. An even halfway clever criminal could use his talents for a great many things best left undone.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make it clear to the Chariot there are limits when they broker for me,¡± he told. ¡°Nothing that can blow back on us too hard.¡±

    She hesitated. Two months ago, the thought of letting Tristan Abrascal effectively frence for criminals under the auspices of the Thirteenth Brigade would have had her writing a report to the garrison rmending his imprisonment. Yet things had¡­ changed, since, in many ways. <em>He knows what lines to cross and not</em>, she reminded herself. An agent of the Krypteia could not be expected to operate under her gaze, that was simply not their purpose.

    Tonight or some other day on the horizon, Song would have to extend this trust. Why shame herself by balking at giving it now?

    ¡°Keep me informed as much as you can,¡± she said. ¡°I take it you will be leaving ck House?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t risk the constant back and forth, someone might follow me,¡± he agreed. ¡°I¡¯ll pass reports through Hage regrly.¡±

    ¡°If it takes too long to infiltrate the warehouse, we may have to take another angle,¡± she told him. ¡°Maryam¡¯s experiment with the flowers at the shrine was inconclusive, but I have confirmed the existence of at least a second one.¡±

    Maryam had not been able to reach beyond the brackstone to find out if there was resonance, which in a way was good news. Theck of answers had visibly irritated her Navigator, however, and yet another letter had been sent to Stheno¡¯s Peak as a consequence. She wanted to know everything they did about the flowers, these Asphodel crowns.

    ¡°So the odds are good we¡¯re looking at some old god slipping out of its cage,¡± Tristan muttered. ¡°Bad timing for us, that. The priority is establishing if that cage and prisoner actually have anything to do with the Golden Ram, then. We might have stumbled into something much worse by ident.¡±

    He frowned.

    ¡°And Brigadier Chca¡¯s an ass, but he¡¯s not wrong that between the noble plot and the aether lock we might have strayed away from our actual assignment.¡±

    There had been no ¡®might¡¯ in the sentence the stern, older Izcalli used. But Brigadier Chca was the same man who had ordered Song not to warn their client about the coup brewing under his feet, most likely to use that as a bargaining chip in negotiations, so the Tianxi was disinclined to heed him any further than she must ording to the rules of the Watch.

    ¡°I found no trace of the cult in the pce with my contract,¡± Song reminded him. ¡°Considering the suspected membership, it is also rather unlikely the cult does not have <em>some</em> involvement in the nned coup.¡±

    He grunted.

    ¡°I¡¯m not unaware we¡¯re running out of leads,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I¡¯d been hoping Maryam would find something more practical in the archives, but it has been all politics and old horrors. The Lord Rector really doesn¡¯t know anything about the shrines?¡±

    ¡°There is reason to believe those secrets might have been swiped before the Palliades took the throne,¡± Song replied. ¡°The finger is being pointed at House Eirenos ¨C which was, it seems, once significantly wealthier in coin andnd.¡±

    ¡°Bad news, that,¡± Tristan noted. ¡°Empty coffers are when nobles start selling off the antiques they don¡¯t show guests.¡±

    Ah. She had not considered that, in truth, too pleased with the happenstance. If House Eirenos had soldnd, it <em>had</em> very likely sold antiques as well. Hopefully not all of them. Tristan cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Does Tredegar know this?¡±

    ¡°I sent word after her,¡± Song said. ¡°Under the guise of a lost hat being returned to her by her acquaintance ¡®Lord Azi¡¯. The message is hidden inside the lining.¡±

    Removing a letter from the word Azei was not the most borate of deceptions, but then Angharad was no deep intriguer. Caution was the order of the day. Paying a messenger rider to take the package had been wincingly expensive, but it was the only way for it to reach her before she made it to the Eirenos estate ¨C where it was not impossible her mail would be looked through.

    ¡°That should do,¡± he approved, rolling his shoulder, then changed tack. ¡°I¡¯ll be spending the night here, I think, and leave after our pistol practice tomorrow. Is Maryam still awake?"

    ¡°I believe so,¡± Song replied.

    Neither had lit antern, she forck of need and Tristan evidently finding the street lights sufficient, so calling his face shadowed would have been somewhat on the nose. Yet there was something, Song decided, to the cast of him right now. Tristan tended to geniality, or at least the show of it, but tonight it felt brittle. That look in his eyes earlier, when theughter went out, it had not been the look of a man who had middling bad news to tell her. Despite his attempt to y it off that way, those eyes had not about the basileia business.

    It had been too personal for that.

    So when he inclined his head in goodbye and made to leave, Song cleared her throat.

    ¡°And if I were to ask what it is you <em>aren¡¯t</em> telling me?¡±

    He mastered his expression, but not quite quickly enough. Aware of the slip, the gray-eyed man grimaced and pivoted her way in more ways than one.

    ¡°Would you like to talk,¡± he replied, ¡°about why you are sitting alone in the dark brooding?¡±

    Song heard that, measured it. Headed it off at the pass.

    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°But I will, if you do the same.¡±

    Rank meant little to him, there was no point in even mentioning it. Trying to force him would make her an enemy ¨C she had not forgotten Maryam¡¯s words ¨C and set back their functioning rtionship. But they<em> had</em> a degree of trust between them, now, so she figured he¡¯d not wave away a trade if offered.

    The two of them stood in the dark, her watching him watching her, and she could almost hear the creak of the bnce¡¯s scales as he weighed the risks. His hand twitched, almost reaching for his chest. Where he kept his watch when in uniform, the one the old clockmaker had given him on the Dominion.

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    ¡°You first,¡± he finally got out.

    Song cleared her throat. In her eagerness to seize the advantage she had not quite realized that she would, in fact, have to tell him her¡­ troubles. Her reluctance only seemed to sharpen his interest.

    ¡°The Lord Rector forced his way onto the expedition to the brackstone shrine today,¡± she said.

    He snorted.

    ¡°The Lord Rector of Asphodel <em>fought</em> to visit cheapest brothel in Tratheke? Now there¡¯s the opening line for half a hundred jokes.¡±

    She grunted in dismay.

    ¡°When we took a room there, to avoid revealing we hade solely to investigate the wall, we spent some time alone,¡± Song said, then swallowed. ¡°He tried to kiss me.¡±

    It was like watching a folding knife flick open, the change that came over him. Almost instant.

    ¡°Our contract is to the throne, not the man,¡± Tristan Abrascal mildly said. ¡°It would not be too difficult to-¡±

    Oh,<em> oh</em>. He thought that Evander had tried to¡­ insist.

    ¡°Not like that,¡± Song hastily said, clearing her throat again. ¡°He was mortified when I refused, apologized effusively.¡±

    He cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°We can send Maryam to give the reports from now on,¡± Tristan suggested. ¡°Or have her apany you if you would prefer. That should discourage him trying his luck again.¡±

    She watched the knife slowly fold back into ce. As if he had not just offered to arrange the death of a king on her behalf.

    ¡°It is not on your head that he should delude himself of an interest,¡± he assured her. ¡°Nor would we me you if he grows miffed and attemptsplications. That would speak of him, not you.¡±

    It was very kind of him to say that, Song thought, which made it all infinitely worse.

    ¡°It is not entirely a delusion,¡± she miserably said.

    A long moment of silence, Tristan studying her as if she were a five-legged dog or some manner of wingless bird.

    ¡°That is inconvenient,¡± he finally said. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose sleeping with him once would cure you?¡±

    She might have been offended, if he had not spoken of sex in the same way one would speak of mopping a dirty floor. A vaguely disagreeable chore.

    ¡°You really have no interest in it, do you?¡± she asked, oddly relieved.

    It was like confessing to her seasickness to a desert tribesman deeply skeptical of ponds.

    ¡°I sometimes like the kissing,¡± he shrugged, ¡°but not the rest, no.¡±

    ¡°Besides being a wildly bad idea in several different ways, I assure you sleeping with Evander would not ¡®cure ¡®me,¡± Song sighed. ¡°Or him. I think he is lonely, and that I represent an adventure in several ways.¡±

    She paced back and forth before the bench, ignoring his eyes on her.

    ¡°And you fear¡­ sumbing to the bad idea?¡± he tried. ¡°Or that he will try to pursue you again? Your refusal seems like it would settle either matter.¡±

    Only there were refusals and then there were <em>refusals</em>. Song was no great seductress, but she knew that much. She could have confronted the matter, but it to rest for good. Instead she had handed him the excuse of the wine, which they both knew to be false. It was leaving the door cracked open, however slightly.

    ¡°If he were not king of Asphodel, tangled up in everything we do here, I would have let him kiss me,¡± Song admitted.

    He shrugged.

    ¡°Then let reports to the pce be Maryam¡¯s responsibility,¡± he bluntly said. ¡°And ask to have her along when you are dragged into serving as his sniffer.¡±

    ¡°That simple, is it?¡± Song snorted.

    She felt almost foolish now. As if she had made a mountain of a molehill. She sat on the bench, iron digging into her back.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think desire is simple at all,¡± Tristan quietly said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t find it so tricky to understand if it were. But it seems to me that if you do not trust yourself, you should turn someone you do.¡±

    Song passed a hand through her hair, pushing the braid back over her shoulder.

    ¡°I thought I was better than this,¡± she told him. ¡°That I had better rule over myself. Gods, the things that would be said back home if the sole Ren who fled the Republics was found to havein with a <em>king</em>-¡±

    It was not merely the Yellow Earth that would vilify her for that. Even her family would hold her in disdain, her own sisters. Thatst thought had been what kept sense in her, at the brothel. The visceral fear of it.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to impress anyone with virtue, Song,¡± Tristan said.

    Her gaze turned to him, frowning.

    ¡°My conduct must be without reproach,¡± she told him. ¡°Much rides on it.¡±

    She must distinguish herself, in record and deed, so wlessly that there was no choice but the Watch raising her. That even those who most cursed the name of Ren found nothing toin of in her, when word of her actions reached the Republics.

    ¡°You¡¯re waiting for a payoff that will nevere,¡± the thief said. ¡°Virtue¡¯s what they expect of you even when they dine on gold tes and you drink from puddles. It¡¯s the rule they put in ce so when they live easy and you live hard they can say you broke some naturalw and deserved the gutter all along. They don¡¯t actually <em>care</em>, Song.¡±

    Tristan shrugged.

    ¡°It¡¯s why it¡¯s always excused when they do it, when they cheat their cousins out of fortunes and assassinate their rivals. Because virtue¡¯s never about virtue, it is about the power to allocate vice.¡±

    ¡°There is right and wrong, Tristan,¡± she tly replied.

    ¡°Would it be wrong to sleep with Palliades, or disreputable?¡± he challenged.

    That was¡­ it didn¡¯t matter.

    ¡°Reputation<em> is</em> a virtue,¡± Song insisted.

    ¡°Virtue¡¯s not going to get your family name out of the pit,¡± Tristan retorted. ¡°It makes people speak well of you at the burial, that¡¯s all. I¡¯d worry less about what people back in Tianxia might say and more about doing something that¡¯s worth talking about.¡±

    She clenched her fists.

    ¡°Are you truly<em> encouraging</em> me to sleep with the Lord Rector of Asphodel, Tristan?¡± she crisply asked.

    Daring him to say as much, or withdraw.

    ¡°You roasted Tredegar, back on that first day at the pce,¡± Tristan said instead. ¡°I don¡¯t know what was said, but it was writ in on her face. The way I see it, though, you two share an affliction: you spend so much time thinking about what others would decide for you that those same others end up making your choices for you.¡±

    He smiled thinly.

    ¡°<em>They</em> don¡¯t want you get out of the pit, Song,¡± he said. ¡°They put you there in the first ce. So maybe do what you need to do, instead of whatever that faceless tribunal allows you.¡±

    ¡°I do not <em>need</em> a dalliance, Tristan¡± she coldly said.

    ¡°Then don¡¯t have one,¡± Tristan shrugged. ¡°His hair looks stupid anyway.¡±

    Coming from Tristan Abrascal of all men, that was absurd. And though Song wanted to chew him out, toy out in great detail why he understood nothing of the stakes and needs of the years ahead of her, the more she went fishing for arrogance to rip out the more she found out he had not tried to tell her what to do. He interrogated her motives, not her actions.

    And the truth was Song knew, deep down, that being a perfect daughter of Tianxia was not going to save her sisters. If she believed otherwise, she would not have enrolled in the Watch in the first ce. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

    ¡°You have a way with words, sometimes,¡± she finally said. ¡°<em>Allocating vice</em>. Is it from something you read?¡±

    He shook his head, then shrugged.

    ¡°You can only get stepped on so many times without getting a good look at the boot,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Besides, I¡¯ve known hundreds who thought the same thing I said. Only I was taught to talk, and they weren¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°To talk,¡± Song repeated. ¡°And to distract. I, however, was taught never to forget a bargain. What happened out in the city, Tristan?¡±

    He had stayed up the whole time, barely moving on the grass, but now he went entirely still. Face nk, eyes considering her as he picked and chose what to tell her ¨C what would get the reaction he wanted. That she would not allow.

    ¡°Good faith,¡± she said, ¡°goes both ways.¡±

    A twitch of the lips ¨C it could have been a grin or a snarl, either way gone so quick she could not tell. A few seconds passed before he sighed.

    ¡°The abduction business, it¡¯s not over,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It followed me here.¡±

    Song straightened in her seat.

    ¡°Students,¡± she slowly said, ¡°are still trying to abduct you here on Asphodel?¡±

    He curtly nodded.

    ¡°I eavesdropped on them discussing it.¡±

    Song closed her eyes, breathing in. <em>Still</em>? Even after the fate of the Forty-Ninth, even on Asphodel, even when her brigade was hip deep in conspiracies that might well usher in a civil war that would kill dozens of thousands? A bleak, dark thing coursed through her veins.

    ¡°There is a degree of stupidity,¡± Song Ren calmly said, opening her eyes, ¡°that can only be considered a capital offense.¡±

    Her fingers clenched. She would certainly <em>treat </em>it as such.

    ¡°Who?¡±

    Gray eyes searched her face.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°I do not care for their reasons,¡± Song told him. ¡°I don¡¯t believe the Watch allows for final words during hangings either, but should they leave behind written exnation I might one day be moved to read them on a particrly boring afternoon.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be obtuse,¡± he bit out. ¡°Thest time I brought back-¡±

    She breathed in sharply, the look on her face enough for him to let the sentence trail off. No, of course he would think that.

    ¡°I am sorry,¡± Song said.

    He blinked.

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°I now realize I never apologized for what I said that night,¡± Song said, ashamed it had taken so long to remember. ¡°ming you for those hunting you.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s face was a nk mask.

    ¡°It is trouble I bring with me,¡± he said. ¡°That is simple truth. They hunt no other in the Thirteenth.¡±

    <em>You were half ready to kill the Lord Rector of Asphodel for unwanted advances at me</em>, she thought. <em>Who was it, Tristan, that taught you everyone is worth the knife except for you?</em>

    ¡°They are criminals,¡± Song said, simply and clearly.

    Heughed.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a new one,¡± Tristan admitted. ¡°Song, they have contacts. Bws are nothing.¡±

    ¡°It <em>does </em>matter,¡± she replied. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, when you say that power makesws for its own sake. That rulers turn it to their own means. But that is not cunning or mastery, Tristan, not mortal hands handcrafting some divine right to rule.¡±

    Her jaw clenched.

    ¡°It¡¯s fear,¡± Song said. ¡°Because there is right and wrong, and they may not always be clear or easy but there are times when evil¡¯s face is bared and people say <em>enough</em>. When they push back, when the crowns of the world are remembered that no number of levees can truly hold the sea. They only hold until a storm makes the waves tall enough.¡±

    She held his gaze.

    ¡°They are criminals,¡± Song said. ¡°You are not. <em>It matters</em>.¡±

    ¡°Not if their friends are high up enough,¡± he said.

    ¡°And yet they hide,¡± she said. ¡°Their friends hide. Because the Watch isn¡¯t a handful of captain-generals and marshals, it is not cabals of monsters in secret rooms shaking hands. It is hundreds of thousands of men and women in ck cloaks, and they do not approve of selling their own like cattle. That is the sea, and they know enough to cower from it.¡±

    She gritted her teeth.

    ¡°Who?¡± she asked again.

    ¡°I do not know yet,¡± he said. ¡°I have a brigade and two names, but there is another further up.¡±

    Gray eyes unblinking.

    ¡°I killed a watchman tonight,¡± Tristan Abrascal said. ¡°Lieutenant Apurva. Umuthi Society, part of the delegation.¡±

    Studying her all the while, watching for her reaction. A test, like a cat dipping a paw in the water.

    ¡°Why?¡± she asked.

    ¡°He was their contact, an Ivory Library catspaw,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°I knocked him out, then tortured him for answers.¡±

    He leaned in.

    ¡°I mutted him, cut his throat and dumped he and his clothes at the bottom of different canals.¡±

    He spoke calmly and evenly, as if to make sure she would hear every syble. Testing her still, as if they were again standing over a traitor in that room deep inside Scholomance. Bloody, ugly reality dying at her feet once more. Last time they stood here, she¡¯d damned him for a decision she had all but forced on the two of them.

    Song did not always learn from her mistakes, but that one she would.

    ¡°We will have to report as much when we are done cleaning up the traitors,¡± she said. ¡°Given the circumstances, I expect punishment will be light.¡±

    Tristan swallowed half a dozen replies in a heartbeat. Most of them sharp, she figured. The word that gave him pause was the first one she¡¯d spoken. We. She would not abandon him, when the time came to answer for their actions. The Thirteenth would stand before the higher-ups as one.

    ¡°Who?¡± Song asked again, for the third time.

    Gently.

    And she got, in that moment, a look at whaty under the easy smiles and the wit. Under the hundred faces he knew how to put on. For a flicker of a second he looked furious, as if he wanted to strike her, then there was cold assessment ¨C weighing odds, consequences ¨C and then something¡­ fear. And not for their enemies. The terror of an old soldier when the war ended and he realized he did not remember thest time he had put down his spear.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Tristan Abrascal snarled.

    She did not flinch and that, Song thought, was what tipped it over the edge.

    ¡°The Neenth,¡± he said. ¡°Tozi seems the driving force. Coyac wants to back out, but he¡¯s also the one who organized the grab after the terror room.¡±

    <em>So much for being better, Coyac. </em>So it was to be Tozi Poloko, then.

    Captain Tozi, who Song had believed she tricked when she pushed the other woman into taking the contract that would have the Neenth moving around the same city that Tristan was sure to wander alone on behalf of the Thirteenth. Captain Tozi, who had only yesterday mentioned in passing that when the other brigades were all gone from ck House theirs should take to dining together. Captain Tozi, who had begun ying Song long before they left for Asphodel.

    Her jaw clenched. It was never a pleasant, realizing you had been the fool instead of the fooled.

    ¡°Do they have a ship?¡±

    Tristan nodded, still hesitating heartbeat before he continued.

    ¡°The Grinning Madcap, at the Lordsport,¡± he said. ¡°Apurva said they were getting impatient, that eventually they would have to leave. The other name is Sergeant Ledwaba, from the delegation escorts. Unlike him she¡¯s an actual member.¡±

    She hummed.

    ¡°You want to kill them,¡± Song inly stated.

    ¡°I can¡¯t handle someone good enough to cut it as a Watch escort, and poison would draw too much attention,¡± he replied. ¡°Ledwaba is out of my reach.¡±

    Who he did not mention was telling.

    ¡°We are no longer on Tolomontera,¡± Song said. ¡°If even ckcloaks attempt to illegally abduct a member of the order, you would be entitled to defend yourself through violence.¡±

    Poisoning them at dinner, however, would be harder to defend to their superiors. There was, however, one difficulty with that.

    ¡°If they try to grab me, I am done,¡± he tly replied. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I could take Barboza and she is the least martial of the lot. Either I take them first or I end up in a sack.¡±

    ¡°The true prizes are the sergeant and the higher-up,¡± Song said. ¡°With those in hand, we can prove to the Obscure Committee that another part of the Watch has been interfering in their backyard. That might well see this Ivory Library disbanded by the Conve, pulling out the root of the problem.¡±

    Although such a thing was likely to take months even with irrefutable proof in hand.

    ¡°I would settle for corpses, but if you can do better I will not argue,¡± Tristan said.

    <em>You already wrote the officers off</em>, she thought. <em>Too strong, too hard to reach.</em><em>It¡¯s the reaching hands you turned your gaze on.</em>

    ¡°The Neenth-¡±

    ¡°Are too much of a threat to be left alone,¡± he tly said.

    She was not sure she agreed, but it was not Song Ren they intended to shove into a sack. Besides, Tristan was soon to be out of ck House and no matter what she said he would not change his mind about this. If she could not change that decision, she must work with it.

    ¡°I will memorize Tozi¡¯s full contract and write it out for you,¡± Song said. ¡°Hage should have it by the time you seek him out for your first report.¡±

    A flicker of surprise. He nodded.

    ¡°It will take me time to find a way around Tozi¡¯s contract, I expect,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I am not sure how it would react to something like a two-part poison, or second degree peril.¡±

    ¡°With one man already dead, they will be suspicious for at least the next few days,¡± Song warned him. ¡°You will not have two chances, and if you overy your hand¡­¡±

    ¡°They might well turn thews of the Watch against me instead,¡± he acknowledged. ¡°I will not rush, Song. I will be as sure of sess as I can before striking.¡±

    <em>Good</em>, she thought. <em>That gives me time to find the second traitor in the delegation.</em> If she found proof, anything she could take to Brigadier Chca ¨C or to someone else <em>about</em> the brigadier, a pleasant thought ¨C then she would have a thread to pull that would unravel everything else. Tristan was not the sort of man to insist on killing the Neenth if the Watch had already removed them as a threat to him.

    And a single corpse would be much easier to talk their way out of than five.

    ¡°You need to tell Maryam,¡± Song added. ¡°Before you disappear into the city.¡±

    He grimaced.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t have the guile, Song,¡± Tristan said. ¡°She¡¯ll look at them like she wants to hatchet their limbs, which after a suddenly disappeared handler is sure to tip them off.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep her away from them until she¡¯s cooled off,¡± Song said. ¡°Have her rece me at the pce, as you so wisely suggested. By the time she returns it will pass as general surliness.¡±

    Which, for all her grace in other aspects, she possessed in spades. Maryam Khaimov had the temper - and snores - of a fully grown bear. Tristan eyed her, sighing when he came to the conclusion she was not going to be moved on this. urately so.

    ¡°We don¡¯t need to tell her what I just said, I don¡¯t think,¡± Tristan suggested.

    She eyed him amusedly.

    ¡°We are already two corpses deep into this rtionship, Abrascal,¡± she said. ¡°I think you can rely on my having <em>some </em>discretion, yes?¡±

    Instead of theugh she expected, she found Tristan staring at her silently. For a long moment, made ufortable by how unforeseen the reaction was. What had she said?

    ¡°I suppose I can, at that,¡± he softly said.

    He nodded at her, almost smiling, and though it was but the slightest of movements she felt there a solemn weight to it.

    ¡°See you in the morning, captain.¡±

    Song stood there, watching him leave, and wondered if he had ever called her captain before. No, it wouldn¡¯t matter if he had. She could tell the difference now.

    This was what the word sounded like, when he meant it.

 Chapter 52

    Chapter 52

    By the end of the first day, Angharad would have been willing to fight another gray mirror for the prize of never again having to ride a coach.

    It was no reflection on the coachman, a grizzled old woman who knew the country roads like the back of her hand and drove to Chalcia ¨C the town nearest to the Eirenos estate ¨C at least twice a week. It was the roads themselves that were devil¡¯s work, the quality having wildly dropped a mere two hours out of Tratheke and never daring another swing upwards from there. It was as if someone had built a trail entirely out potholes and loose stones, asionally throwing in some rain damage just to keep the coachman sharp.

    Angharad, damned by deception to remain inside the coach instead of sitting on the bench outside with the driver, spent the day being treated like the insides of a saltshaker.

    They stopped for the night at an inn within a roadside vige, for though arge rentern hung at the front of the coach it was meant for use only if they were caught out in the dark. Angharad felt at once tired and restless, so she decided on stretching her legs through a small walk around the nameless vige while Mistress Katina secured their rooms and meal.

    She limped around for a quarter-hour, contemting mud streets and a surfeit of cabbage fields. Was cabbage so profitable as to warrant entire fields being sown? She¡¯d had no idea. By the time she returned a warm meal was ready and she sat with her coachman, making idle conversation over profoundly average cabbage soup.

    Admittedly, she should have seen thettering.

    Mistress Katina had done business with the Eirenos for decades, she learned, having been known to Lord Cleon¡¯s father the Lord Artemon. While not overly familiar with the Eirenos themselves, she had from a distance seen Cleon grow from a child to a young man and seemed fond of him in an abstract sort of way. As one who had regrly passed through Chalcia during decades, she was also a font of gossip about the noble house.

    ¡°His mother, Lady Penelope, she was from a fine family out east and she liked horses,¡± Mistress Katina said, lowering her voice as if confiding. ¡°The good lord Artemon bought a herd after they wed, said they¡¯d breed and sell them, but thend¡¯s poor for it and half the horses died of sick on the second winter. They say belts tightened at the Eirenos manor after that.¡±

    Horse breeding could be a lucrative trade, Angharad knew ¨C some noble houses in southern Mn made a fortune off supplying the royal army and izinduna with warhorses ¨C but it was not something that could be attempted lightly or half-heartedly. Buying several breeding pairs would have been a heavy expense for a small noble house. The finances of her own House Tredegar would not have been able to bear such a burden even though Mother¡¯s foreign ventures had made them wealthier than most their neighbors.¡°Lord Cleon seems to have led the house to recovery,¡± Angharad tried.

    He had been finely dressed on every asion they met and not treated like a beggar lord by his fellows.

    ¡°He¡¯s a steady one,¡± Mistress Katina approved. ¡°After Lord Artemon passed, they say Lady Penelope fell deep into grief and her young one had to handle the servants and rents on his own. By the time the Lord Rector recognized him as Lord Eirenos he¡¯d been doing the work for two years already.¡±

    Titles were formally inherited at sixteen, here in Asphodel, which meant Cleon Eirenos had begun running his house at the tender age of four and ten. It was impressive of him, Angharad thought. No wonder he had attracted a spirit¡¯s interest enough for a contract to be offered. Song and Maryam clearly believed this Odyssean to be sinister, but Angharad disagreed. It was a spirit as spirits had been since the Old Night, harsh and bloody and never to be trusted too closely.

    The notion that some spirits <em>were</em> trustworthy was what Angharad took exception to.

    Fed plenty gossip and soup bestplimented as being of the appropriate temperature, Angharad retired for the night in the rented room. It was clean, if cramped, but exhausted as she was the Pereduri would have fallen asleep on stone. The innkeeper woke her an hour before daylight began, providing an offering freshly baked bread deplorably apanied by further cabbage soup. Simmering overnight had not improved its taste or texture.

    A surprise came when she was told that the mail ridere overnight had left a package for her, however, paid for by sender. She opened it and found that a certain ¡®Lord Azi¡¯ was allegedly returning her hat to her. His lordship¡¯s handwriting was remarkably simr to Song¡¯s, which had her retiring to her room to put the hat away in her traveling chest while Mistress Katina finished feeding the horses. Door closed, Angharad discovered that inside the round-crowned, short-brimmed gray felt piece there was a discreet ck lining with a folded paper tucked inside.

    She teased it out, learning after opening that that Song believed the Eirenos might be in possession of ancient royal property that could shed light on the nature of the spirit contained in the emptyyer. Angharad was requested to find out if such property was truly in Eirenos hands, and to obtain it if she could. Both requests were suborned to the necessity of maintaining her cover, which Song stressed was more important than any short-term gain. She was then bid to burn the paper as soon as feasible.

    The noblewoman promptly fed it to her roomntern and joined Mistress Katina in the coach, keeping her thoughts off her face.

    None of her assignments ran, strictly speaking, contrary to the duties of a guest. To find out if he had any knowledge of the shipyard entrance ¨C however indirectly ¨C and tease out any involvement with the cult of the Golden Ram were no breaches of guest right. Neither, arguably, would be inquiring after old family history and treasures. Yet it could not be denied that Angharad had been invited in good faith and would repay this with petty sneakery.

    No, she reminded herself. Not so petty, save what shemitted on her own behalf. To learn about the roots of a rampant spirit, to investigate the good name of one who might be a cultist, these were not unworthy things. They only felt so because Angharad was used to attending as a guest, not a watchwoman. For a noble guest to spy would have been dishonorable, but for a rook it was only her duty.

    Save, of course, for one part: the dishonor she had brought with her, the liar¡¯s deal taken. It was tempting to tell herself that looking into Eirenos knowledge of the shipyard would also aid the Thirteenth¡¯s investigation, but it would have been half a lie. Even if there had been no use at all for the test she would have asked. Was it dishonor, to pursue a private task while undertaking oathsworn service? Some schrs of honor would say so, that to dilute service was to destroy it, but Angharad was not so sure.

    If getting her answers did not war with the higher duty¡­

    The coach shook her out of her thoughts, quite literally, as it hit a pothole and Mistress Katina cursed most uncouthly. Angharad groaned, stretching out her aching back and resisted the urge to lean forward and bury her face into her bag. It would crease her only traveling dress and it would be a tedious chore to straighten it out when they stopped for the night. How long had it been since they left the town, a few hours? Let it be at least that, the day was stretching on most intolerably.

    When the coach kept on inching forward at a crawl after that bump Angharad swallowed a second groan, for that seemed to her the herald of a wheel in need of changing ¨C or, ancestors forbid, a whole axle ¨C but the coachman did not stop outright. Frowning, Angharad reached for her traveling bag and prudently grabbed her pistol and a hunting knife borrowed from the ck House armory. The former was already loaded, and with it in hand she drew back the carriage drapes and peeked out.

    Ahead of them were hilly woonds with the dirt road slithering through a dip in the heights, tall fig trees casting shade on white bindweed flowers. Just before the road went into the hills, though, was a crashed carriage ¨C it must have had at least four horses, by the looks of the harness, though there was no trace of them. Two wheels hade off, snapped, and ity tipped over on the ground with a wall caved in and merchandise spilling out. Barrels and crates, bundles of cloth with glinting contents.

    Two men in hunting coats stood by the wreck, one rummaging through a crate while the other kept watch. And at thetter¡¯s feet Angharad saw a corpse ¨C not that of a man but a beast, a thick-furred lupine felled by a hunting spear still lodged in its side.

    ¡°Mistress Katina?¡± Angharad quietly called out. ¡°Why do you hesitate?¡±

    The old woman leaned past the edge of her bench, her grimacing face cast in shadow from the litntern at the front of the carriage. Lit for the forest crossing, Angharad idly guessed.

    ¡°We¡¯re still too close to Tratheke, mydy,¡± she said. ¡°These are the Lord Rector¡¯s woods, which means these are no hunters.¡±

    ¡°Poachers,¡± Angharad immediately grasped.

    A gue on any noblewoman¡¯s forests. nw Hall had been thin on trees, and thus such troubles, but she had sat at her mother¡¯s table while some of their highborn neighborsined of suchwbreaking on their ownnds. And while Angharad was not sure of the punishment for poaching on Asphodel, even less so when poaching in royalnd, it was sure to be unpleasant. These men might well see them as witnesses to silence.

    ¡°Is there another way to Chalcia?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Not without risking the gullies, which is treacherous traveling,¡± the coachman said. ¡°It is toote, besides. They¡¯ve seen us.¡±

    Mistress Katina spoke true, for the poacher who had been keeping watch now walked away from his confederate and towards them, down the dirt road. He had in hand a musket loosely held ¨C no, not a musket but a fowler. Slender, of smaller bore, but quicker on the shot as was needed to clip a bird¡¯s wings.

    ¡°Ho there, on the road,¡± the dark-haired man called out. ¡°Who goes here?¡±

    ¡°We may have to pay them off, mydy,¡± Mistress Katina murmured. ¡°Let me do the talking.¡±

    Reluctantly, Angharad nodded and withdrew. She mostly closed the drape, leaving herself just wide enough an opening to be able to see through and aim.

    ¡°Katina of Teon¡¯s Hill,¡± the coachman called back. ¡°I am headed for Chalcia, down the road, with a guest but no goods. I want no trouble.¡±

    The manughed.

    ¡°Neither do we, good woman,¡± he replied. ¡°We were only passing through when we saw the fallen carriage and came to look for survivors. All hands lost, it seems.¡±

    ¡°That lupine your work, then?¡±

    ¡°It was,¡± the poacher agreed. ¡°Waiting there, though there was no corpse to feed on and hardly any traces of blood. A passing strange ident, this.¡±

    ¡°No business of ours,¡± Mistress Katina said. ¡°We are headed north and have no time for distractions.¡±

    ¡°Then by all means,¡± the poacher said, ¡°be on your way.¡±

    Through the slice of room she had left, Angharad saw the other poacher had abandoned his inspection and ripped his spear out of the lemure¡¯s corpse. Precaution or preparation? Her fingers tightened around the pistol. Keeping it at the ready, she leaned to the side and blindly began digging under the bench. There the saber Uncle Osian had gifted hery hidden. She set it over her traveling bag, in easy reach, as the coach began to advance again.

    Five feet, ten, twenty ¨C the poacher kept pace with them on the side of the road, the dark-haired man with poor teeth smiling all the while. It was the movement from the other one that told Angharad everything she needed to know. The second poacher, with his spear and knife, moved to get in the way of the horses with his spear at the ready. Horses, unless trained otherwise, did not charge into spears. Mistress Katina¡¯s aging plodders did not strike Angharad as having been raised such.

    The coachman had a musket of her own, and Angharad heard it getting cocked, but then the smiling poacher was nking her with his fowler. Smaller bore or not, that gun would kill.

    ¡°Might be you¡¯ll get me, but I¡¯ll bring one of you along onto the Sculler¡¯s boat,¡± Mistress Katina harshly said. ¡°And then who will help the survivor carry the loot? Let¡¯s settle this with coin, boys, parts ways bloodless.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need for blood,¡± the smiler agreed. ¡°My oath to Oduromai King, you will leave with horses and coach and traveler.¡±

    The other oneughed, as if there was some sort of private jest.

    ¡°We¡¯ll only take everything else,¡± the first poacher continued. ¡°Don¡¯t make this ugly, old-timer.¡±

    Angharad breathed out, closed her eyes.

    (Angharad Tredegar grabbed her saber and pushed open the door on the smiling man¡¯s side, jolting him in surprise. The pistol shoot took him in the head, pulping red, as the coachman leveled her musket and unloaded in the other¡¯s belly. He fell screaming. A shot from the edge of the woods, the hill to the left, and a furious red-haired woman charged out with a smoking fowler as the coachman slumped dead on the bench and the horses went wild.)

    ¡°It will be an evil eye on all of us, if you push this,¡± Mistress Katina insisted, ¡°it¡¯ll only-¡±

    Angharad grabbed her saber, tucked it under her arm and pushed open the door on the smiling man¡¯s side.

    He hesitated just a moment too long, knowing about the coachman¡¯s gun but not yet having seen hers, so the shot took him just to the side of the nose at it had in the glimpse. He dropped, but before Mistress Katina could drop the other Angharad raised her voice.

    ¡°Woods, to the left,¡± she curtly ordered.

    The old woman cursed and fired, a scream resounding in the distance, and Angharad barely spared a look for the red-haired woman running deeper into the woods while thest poacher ¨C gone white-faced and wide-eyed ¨C leveled his spear at them. Angharad tossed her pistol onto the coach bench, taking her saber and sliding it out of the sheath.

    The poacher knew he was good as dead if Mistress Katina got in another shot, so he rushed towards the old woman before she could reload. That made him predictable, and predictable was half the walk to the graveyard.

    It should have been child¡¯s y to reap him, <em>would</em> have been if Angharad were not just as much of a wreck as the toppled carriage. So instead of darting in past his guard and cutting down the back of his knee, Angharad¡¯s own leg gave under her as she hurried and she stumbled with a groan.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    She tossed her scabbard at the poacher¡¯s face instead, just as he got past the panicking horses, and though it only clipped the side of his head he had to bring back his spear to protect himself ¨C which let Mistress Katina leap off the bench before he blindly stabbed at where she had just been. The poacher snarled out a curse, panic rising as he looked around. Angharad had to push herself up with her saber to remain standing. She saw the choice being weighed behind his eyes: use the cripple as a shield or chase after the nimble older woman.

    He picked the cripple.

    Angharad had fought skilled spearmen before. In spars, and twice with death on the line: Tupoc, in the visions, then the hollow warband and Amrinder on the field. Warriors trained and tempered, some first-rate in their skills. The poacher was no such thing, just a scared man with a hunting spear, and because of that in the first breath of the exchange he came a hair¡¯s breadth away from killing her.

    She flicked to the side, feinting, and would have caught his arm when he moved to parry. Only instead he shouted and smashed the shaft blindly in her direction. She tripped backward trying to catch the haft with her guard, getting knocked on her ass, and he kicked her in the chest. Angharad groaned, limbs already trembling, but she had kept her saber in hand ¨C she hacked at the side of his leg and cut deep, the poacher pulling back with a shout.

    She feinted up at his face, the point near enough he panicked and pped at it with his spear, and that was enough. When his arm extended to the right she rose onto her knees, delicately pressing the tip of her de between two ribs as he stepped into the blow and it slid deep in him. The poacher let out a ragged gasp and fell to his knees while she ripped out the de, eerily mirroring her. Angharad leaned on the coach to get back to her feet and kicked his wrist when he tried to reach for his hunting knife. It went flying on the dirt, soundless. Panting, sweat-soaked and her saber held more like a crutch than a de, she forced herself to put the steel to his throat.

    ¡°Wait,¡± the man gurgled, holding his gut wound. ¡°<em>Wait</em>. We weren¡¯t going to hurt you, we were just paid to-¡±

    ¡°Paid,¡± she repeated, disbelieving. ¡°By whom?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see,¡± the poacher said, looking pale as he clutched at his wound. ¡°Someone¡¯s servant. Iris said she saw blue and green sown on the pouch, but we never got a name.¡±

    ¡°And what,¡± Angharad coldly said, ¡°what were you paid to do?¡±

    The man swallowed.

    ¡°To wait here,¡± he said, ¡°for a coach. With the old-timer and some Mni girl in it. We were just to take everything but your smallclothes and let you go.¡±

    Angharad blinked. What manner of plot was <em>this</em>? Nonsense.

    ¡°And the broken carriage?¡± she pressed.

    ¡°It was like that when we got here,¡± the man insisted. ¡°We were looking through when the lupine came, to take the guns.¡±

    The guns? No, that hardly mattered. She could look herself.

    ¡°The servant who paid you,¡± she said. ¡°What did they look like?¡±

    ¡°He wore a hood,¡± the poacher said. ¡°Please, we weren¡¯t going to hurt you-¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡±

    Mistress Katina, having gone around the coach, stepped out with a loaded musket.

    ¡°Well done, mydy,¡± she said. ¡°Not hurt us, my boot. You can tell it to the magistrate.¡±

    Angharad shot her an odd look. Magistrate? The man was a poacher, a highwayman and he¡¯d bared steel on a woman of noble blood.

    ¡°Whatever for?¡± she asked.

    ¡°They¡¯ll question him,¡± Mistress Katina told her. ¡°Get to the bottom of this.¡±

    ¡°I already have,¡± Angharad said, and struck.

    Well-aimed and deep, a clean stroke even with her leaning against the coach. The poacher¡¯s head tumbled into the grass, looking surprised. Proud of the blow, Angharad turned to flick the blood off her saber and was surprised to find the older woman staring at her in horror.

    ¡°<em>God¡¯s blood</em>, girl, what did you go and do that for?¡± she barked.

    She was halfway to pointing the musket Angharad¡¯s way.

    ¡°His guilt was evident, what need is there for a magistrate¡¯s involvement?¡± she frowned.

    ¡°You can¡¯t just go around killing people,¡± Katina snarled. ¡°I run a coach, not a bloody ughterhouse. He was unarmed!¡±

    ¡°And still has an aplice out in the woods,¡± Angharad tly reminded her, unimpressed. ¡°One with a fowler. But if you care so much for highwaymen, by all means dig them a grave. So long as you are ready to depart by the time I¡¯ve finished inspecting the broken carriage.¡±

    She was inclined to leave them to the lupines, herself. The coachman looked like she wanted to argue but Angharad had no taste for it. She picked up her sheath and slid the de back into it before putting it back in the coach, reaching for her cane and pistol instead. It took her longer than she would have liked to reload the gun, her fingers still trembling. By the time she was finished, the coachman had calmed down some. Anger was still tight on the old woman¡¯s face, but she held her tongue.

    Katina began dragging the corpses to the side of the road, silent, and Angharad left her to it.

    Leaning on her cane, pistol at her side, the noblewoman went to have her look at the wreck. There had been half a dozen small and portly barrels inside the carriage, some of which had rolled out. All were sealed tight with wax and painted with blue fish silhouettes on the side. A mark Angharad felt no guilt at disbelieving when the bundles of cheap cloth spilled besides it were revealed, when unfolded, to contain muskets. Rough-shaped and unwieldy, but muskets nheless.

    One of the crates was broken, revealing that among the straw were nestledrge balls of stone. Cannon shot. She dragged up one of the barrels, grunting and almost tripping down, and after panting while leaning on her cane for a good minute she brought out her hunting knife to break the wax seal. Prying the barrel open, she found inside exactly what she had expected: ckpowder.

    And though it was hard to tell, by the looks of it the carriage had been headed <em>towards </em>Tratheke instead of away.

    There must be more, she thought. Some hint as to who was seemingly bringing arms and powder into the capital. It could not be the Lord Rector, else why the falsebel on the powder barrels? Song and Tristan had found the trail of what might be a dawning coup by the Ministers, this might be one of their smuggled stashes. There had been no ce for a seat inside the carriage, given how tightly it was packed ¨C and wax or not it was wise to keep powder away from the weather ¨C but after lowering herself near the front of the vehicle Angharad found that there was apartment beneath the driver¡¯s bench.

    Broken ss, wetness and smudged papers. A pistol and two knives as well as something that smelled like tobo in a leather sheath. Nothing of use. Only Angharad then narrowed her eyes at thepartment, for this was a matter of intrigue. She emptied it out thepartment before feeling out the bottom. No sign of anything hidden. Ah well. Grunting, she got up.

    She returned with one of the muskets, violently smashing its butt into the bottom nk of thepartment. It was the only way to be sure.

    It did not sound like there was a hiddenpartment, from the first impact, but after three rough blows something broke. Ah, so there <em>was </em>something! The secretpartment turned out not to be even an inch deep, just enough to hold a small journal. Of which there was one. Angharad flipped through it, finding that the insides were nonsense.

    It looked like Cydic, but with numbers thrown in and the lines nonsensical. A cypher of some kind, she guessed. Song could cut her teeth on it if she liked, this was not Angharad¡¯s wheelhouse. By the looks of the ink, thest few entries had been made recently: the ck was deeper, had not faded or smudged. She tucked the journal of way, then pushed herself up with her cane.

    By the sound of it, the coachman <em>was</em> digging the robbers a grave. Admirable kindness, however misced.

    Deciding to keep her mouth shut and let Katina finish thebor she¡¯d taken on, Angharad limped back towards the coach. Best put that journal away where no one would find it. Her underthings, she figured, were most likely to be spared too much pawing at by Eirenos maids. She opened the door, hearing the shoveling pause. After a moment passed and she said nothing, it resumed. Angharad put the journal away then slipped back out of the carriage, trying to straighten her aching back.

    She was going to have to clean her traveling dress tonight, she saw. No amount of scratching with nails and spit would fully get rid of that muddy boot print. Hopefully the next inn would have aunderer, or at least a soul willing tounder for coin.

    Those hilly woods were a pretty enough sight, she thought as she leaned back against the carriage and listened at the rhythmic noise of a grave being dug. The light of the Asphodelian day dripped through the branches, mottling the soft white flowers growing everywhere, and a slight wind almost covered the sound of ¨C a deer? Angharad¡¯s eyes whipped to the right, the opposite way thest robber had fled from, and she caught three silhouettes creeping through the undergrowth.

    Two slunk low, furred and fang. Lupines. They were nking a boy, she thought, but then her blood froze. It was a boy whose lower half was as a goat¡¯s, hooves and all, and Angharad knew exactly what she was looking at.

    ¡°Katina,¡± she hoarsely called out.

    The digging did not stop.

    ¡°Katina.¡±

    The shovel stopped.

    ¡°I¡¯m not your handmaid, girl,¡± the old woman grunted. ¡°You¡¯ll wait until I¡¯m good and-¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a satyrian in the woods,¡± Angharad hissed. ¡°Get on the carriage <em>now </em>and get those horses running.¡±

    Angharad had killed a satyrian before.

    Only she had done it down in the Acar, when hale and with three other Skiritai with her. She¡¯d also watched one tear through a triad of young Skiritai like they were made of paper, and that one hadn¡¯t dominated other lemures into following it. It all made sense suddenly, theck of bodies and the lupine that had stayed there even though there was nothing to eat. Strange behavior for such a beast, unless it was <em>made </em>to by something it feared.

    They were clever, satyrians. Clever enough to use a wrecked carriage as bait for further travelers.

    The coachman was no fool, immediately scrambling for the bench, and Angharad went with her. She would not wait in that cabin to die while the lemure picked off the horses and driver. The horses were still harnessed, thank the Sleeping God, and Katina whipped them to a gallop the moment she had her seat. Angharad, nestled next to her on the cushioned bench, bent back to look at lemures with her pistol in hand.

    The satyrian had seen them move, felt their fear. It followed merrily, sending the lupines howling ahead like they were trained hounds. They weren¡¯t, Angharad knew. She had made study of these beasts, learned that they often beat and spared lesser lemures to use them as chaff and bait ¨C that the lemure they faced in the Acar was less dangerous than those in the wild, for it stood alone. But those lesser beasts would only follow the satyrian as long as it was stronger, and turn on it the moment it was not.

    Which helped nothing when the lupines shot towards them like arrows and their master followed behind with a leisurely, leaping gait.

    The coach barreled down the forest road, Katina tanning their backs so they did not g in the gallop, but the lupines were catching up ¨C that damn road was kicking their wheels back and forth, and Angharad saw on the coachman¡¯s face the terror that a wheel woulde off and leave them to the mercy of the lemure. She turned, spun a glimpse, and leaned past the edge of the bench.

    A little to the left, she adjusted after missing in the glimpse, and caught the leading lupine in the chest. It dropped, falling in the undergrowth, and the other ducked out of sight with a howl. More howls came from the distance. Ancestors, how many were there? Still, nailing one should have ¨C the shallow glow of satisfaction winked out when she saw the satyrian <em>bounding</em> forward, leaping over a fallen tree, and she realized she had been baited again.

    It had been waiting for her to shoot.

    And now it was closing the distance, Angharad fumbling to reload her pistol ¨C only the powder charge she¡¯d brought spilled out of her fingers when the carriage hit a bump and she cursed, because that was her only reload.

    ¡°Mine, girl, take mine,¡± Katina hissed, pressing the musket on her one-handed.

    In her eagerness to take it she dropped the pistol, which fell into the undergrowth, but the satyrian was so <em>close </em>now she could not spare a moment to ¨C

    (She aimed, holding the musket as she had seen Song do a dozen times, and fired. It ducked to the left, its leaps almost mocking.)

    (Ducked down.)

    (Ducked to the right.)

    (Left,ing so close that-)

    It was following the angle of the muzzle, she realized, it understood what the gun was. It was <em>too clever</em>. Fear rising, Angharad looked back at the bench for anything she could use ¨C and slipping past a nket her eyes fell on the litntern hanging there. The re oilntern.

    (Angharad snatched thentern and tossed it at the satyrian. It exploded in a burst of pale light, bright and blinding, and)

    And ancestors damn her, <em>she </em>was just as blinded in the glimpse as the satyrian. Looking through her own eyes, how could she not be? Thentern wouldn¡¯t help, it wouldn¡¯t ¨C

    ¡°Oh,¡± Angharad Tredegar breathed out, fingers closing around thentern and ripping it off the hook.

    In a glimpse, she saw through her own eyes. But not in a vision, where saw<em> outside</em> of herself as if a third party.

    Her eyes fluttered, the sound of panicked horses and the smell of burning oil reced by salt and the quietpping of the tides, and she saw. Saw how it moved, where it moved, and remembered it perfectly because when she used her contract she was gifted such recall for a day.

    Thentern hit the ground, Katina shouting in dismay, and Angharad did not open her eyes as she aimed the musket and pulled the trigger. The kickback struck her shoulder, hard enough for a grunt to slip past her lips, and she felt the tongue of fire spit out a bullet into the blinding light-

    She opened her eyes, spots still flecking her vision, and with a swell of triumph saw the satyrian <em>stumble</em>.

    Angharad had wanted the knee, but she would settle for the leg she had it. It opened its torso-maw, revealing rows of jagged teeth like curved goat horns, and screamed in hatred as it tried to hop and found the shot lodged in its leg something of a hindrance. Ichor dripped down its fur.

    ¡°Choke on it,¡± Angharad shouted back. ¡°And let us find out how <em>loyal</em> those lupines are, now that you are bleeding.¡±

    Howls filled the woods again, but this time no shiver went down her back. Why would it?

    Of the two limpers in these woods, she was the one moving the fastest.

    --

    It was the better part of an hour before they were out of the woods, far enough out on open ground they were sure they would see an ambushing.

    Only then did the coachman let the horses rest, Angharad stepping down from the bench and not faking in the least when she copsed. The older woman hurried to help her back up, and the Pereduri noted with faint amusement that she was now ¡®mydy¡¯ again instead of ¡®girl¡¯. Well, she would return Mistress Katina¡¯s courtesy in kind. After that race, it would feel petty not to.

    As she sat on the coach¡¯s steeple, drinking from a waterskin, it urred to Angharad that she owed her life to Maryam Khaimov. To the other woman¡¯s curiosity, to be precise. Had the signifier not so thoroughly explored the boundaries of what glimpses could do before beginning the same work with the vision, Angharad would have never thought of the difference. Not in a hundred years, with that fear in her nose and her blood running cold.

    ¡°Another debt for the pile,¡± she murmured.

    One she had little idea how to repay. It seemed to her that even when Maryam imed to be taking payment, it was Angharad who benefitted most from it. She got back in the carriage, Mistress Katina informing her they would press on another quarter-hour at a quiet pace then rest the horses by a stream where they could drink their fill. Angharad returned to sit on the bench outside while the coachman settled her mounts, murmuringforts.

    ¡°A satyrian, this far out?¡± Mistress Katina deplored. ¡°It is the bad luck of a decade, mydy. I¡¯d heard the rumors, but I would never have thought it truly got this bad. Not even out of crownnd yet!¡±

    ¡°The rumors?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°Some sort of petty god is said to be making a mess in the hills up north,¡± the coachman said. ¡°Driving lemures out of their usual hunting grounds. It is making the roads unsafe, and the lictors are doing dust to take care of it.¡±

    Oh? That sounded to her like the trail of the Eleventh¡¯s exorcism contract. It had not urred to Angharad that strange rituals and apparitions would ripple out in such a dangerous manner, but thinking back now it should have. Their instructors in Teratology all insisted that nature was as a chain, that no link could be taken out of it without changing the whole.

    ¡°I thought the lictors patrolled the valley often,¡± she said.

    ¡°Thest three years maybe,¡± Mistress Katina shrugged. ¡°Not that it¡¯s helped any ¨C the clever beasts don¡¯t get caught by twenty armored men making a racket. And no one wanders the deep hills, mydy, there are graves there best left undisturbed. Word is some fool stepped on the wrong stone out there and now the whole valley is paying for it.¡±

    Thest few years, Angharad thought. How long had it taken for House Palliades to refurbish the shipyard? It must have been years. Had it been thebor of Evander Palliades¡¯ reign to do so, or begun when his father still reigned? Surely the Lord Rector¡¯s regent would not have done it, for if the shipyard bloomed it might well doom Apollonia Floros¡¯ cause. Still, only three years? That seemed a small time for such a grand achievement as restoring the work of the Antediluvians.

    Perhaps it had begun earlier but more quietly, enough that the patrols hiding the supplies being brought in were not easily noticed.

    ¡°-ike that.¡±

    Angharad blinked.

    ¡°Pardon,¡± she said. ¡°I was lost in thought. What did you say?¡±

    ¡°That I understand why they say Lord Cleon took to you now,¡± Mistress Katina said. ¡°I haven¡¯t met many who could make a shot like that, much less off the back of a rolling coach. You must be a fine huntress.¡±

    ¡°Fortunately, thentern blinded it,¡± Angharad demurred.

    The older woman looked skeptical.

    ¡°As you say, mydy,¡± she finally replied. ¡°Still, you must have been a regr terror before whatever wasted your leg.¡±

    The noblewoman looked away, pressing down on her grimace. She should be pleased that the deception was holding, not aggrieved at how closely it still hewed to the truth. They departed again soon after, at a sedate pace so the horses could gain back their strength. They arrived slightlyte to Chalcia for it, after night fell, and thest stretch was treacherous: the onlyntern they had to rece the one Angharad had thrown was smaller, and not re oil.

    It barely cast light ahead of the horses, leading the wheels to seemingly seek out every hole on that ursed road. Would that Song was truly the Lord Rector¡¯s mistress, for surely she would not tolerate such abominable traveling conditions.

    The innkeeper waiting for them began to chew them out for arriving past dinner, but Mistress Katina whispered a few things and suddenly the man was allmiseration and reverence. Angharad grimaced again, for thest thing she needed was a reputation in these parts. She was to slip in and out with as little notice as possible, a simple disgraced foreign noblewoman from the Isles who would decide she was not fit to be courted by Lord Cleon.

    Not to worry, Angharad thought. When a coach was sent from the Eirenos manor tomorrow, she would depart far ahead of any rumor spreading.

 Chapter 53

    Chapter 53

    Mistakes had been made.

    ¡°A <em>satyrian</em>, Lady Angharad!¡± Cleon Eirenos eximed for the fourth time, eyes bright as stars. ¡°Between that and the robbers, it was an encounter worthy of song.¡±

    She hadn¡¯t even killed the thing, she mutinously thought. So why was half of Chalcia convinced she had saved them from being murdered in the night by a tower-sized satyrian leading an army of lupines? A few of them had <em>cheered </em>her at breakfast, this was the opposite of spycraft! And she knew the source of it all, too. When she came down for porridge Mistress Katina had winked at her and loudly refused to be paid the second half of the travel fee because ¡®saved my life, you did¡¯.

    While Angharad suspected the old woman had been trying to do her a good turn, the rumors spawned by whatever she said the previous night had swiftly got out of hand. While it was true satyrians were clever enough to use tools and open gates, they rarely attacked towns and certainly did not raise massive packs of lemures to do so. Chalcia was safe: it was a walled<em></em>town, with an informal militia guarding it. A fact that Angharad knew for certain because its captain hade to <em>shake her hand</em>.

    Apparently by the second wave of retelling the highwaymen had been decided to be working <em>with </em>the lemures. These vile traitors were, Angharad was informed, plotting to destroy the town with the satyrian¡¯s help so they might loot it afterwards.

    It had been too much to hope for that these wild tales would not reach the Eirenos manor, and sure enough Lord Cleon himself came riding with the carriage having already drunk deep of the nonsense. Like everyone in Chalcia, he seemed convinced that her protests about the significant exaggerations were a mark of humility instead of Angharad stating the bloody facts.

    As the alternative was a slow, infuriating descent into frothing madness Angharad instead grasped for anything at all that might change the nature of her conversation with the lordling riding besides her carriage. The Eirenos estate was not enormous but neither was it small, and barely half an hour out of Chalcia they had passed its boundary stones. The private road to the manor was in much better state than the one she had suffered over thest few days, which sheplimented him on. He demurred in epting her words.

    ¡°When Minister Floros was still regent, she passed a decree that every estate must maintain a road finely enough that the tax collectors could reach the manor within,¡± Lord Cleon told her. ¡°Else a most unpleasant fine will be inflicted on the owning household.¡±

    Clever of Lady Floros, Angharad thought. A ruler telling a noble household how to rule their ownnds was sure to be met with resistance and rebellion, but to coach it in terms of tax collectors being able to reach said household would make any defying such a decree sound like they were avoiding paying their taxes instead or fighting to preserve their privileges.A shame this cleverness had not also been put to work turning the roads of Tratheke Valley into something less deserving of indignation.

    It was a pleasant enough trip to the estate chatting with an eager Lord Cleon, until they were past the outskirts and approached a small cluster of hills. Up a shallow slope, past the rise of thergest hilltop, finally waited the Eirenos manor.

    It had a long, lime-white rectangr fa?ade with a slightly angled red tile roof, and though it was not particrlyrge Angharad thought the row ofrge ss windows on the second story more than made up for it. Twin stairs ¨C with a small passage between them slipping below and to the back the of the manor - went up to a triad of ster arches bordering an open vestibule. There were shuttered windows on either side, and further out on the estate another two buildings. A guesthouse, Angharad decided, and some sort of annex.

    The grounds were more impressive, arge pond flecked with slender reeds out front and a garden in the Asphodelian fashion spreading out in every direction: a mere step away from being wild, loosely paved paths winding through groves of orange and lemon trees as silver-leafed shrubs and long grass grew in clusters. Near the guesthouse, to the side of the manor, was a manmade clearing ringed by trees bearing yet-unlitnterns, long tables already set in anticipation of the reception tomorrow. There was even a stone floor in the center for dancing.

    Lord Cleon rode ahead, to make room for his coach, and Angharad saw through the gap in the drapes that on the front stairs waited a handful of servants in dark green livery. One of them bowed to the lordling and took away his horse after he dismounted, leading it around the back. As the coach began to slow, she watched the young lord be fussed over by a¡­ sister? No, she corrected as the coach closed the distance. The fair-haired beauty embarrassing Cleon Eirenos, despite her youthful looks, wore too fine a dress to be anyone but his mother.

    Angharad had not met many women taller than her since leaving Mn, but Lady Penelope Eirenos came close ¨C and wore that height rather differently. Hair of red gold, wavy and so long it must reach down to the small of her back, crowned an elegant face with seductive lips and vivid green eyes. The hourss figure barely contained by a loose pale blue gown had Angharad struggling not to stare, disbelieving that Lady Penelope was old enough to have a son. She looked barely thirty.

    No wonder Lord Artemon had bought a herd of horses. Angharad might also be tempted to the unwise to put a smile on such a beauty¡¯s face.

    The coach came to a halt, and after the door was opened for her she was weed in a whirl of attention. Lord Cleon introduced the eldest of his servants, though none were named majordomo, and then pulled his mother away from giving orders to introduce her properly. Her beauty grew all the more dangerous from closeness, the slight marks of aging that Angharad now noticed ¨C subtleugh lines and wrinkles ¨C only adding a certain undertone of maturity to the curves and smiled.

    ¡°My mother, Lady Penelope,¡± Cleon introduced.

    ¡°It is a pleasing to finally meet you, Lady Angharad,¡± Lady Penelope smiled.

    ¡°The pleasure is all mine,¡± Angharad assured her.

    She had restraint enough not to seek to kiss her hand, trading curtsies instead. Lady Penelope had arranged refreshments, and while her luggage was brought upstairs she sat for lemon water and small talk. It was inevitable, of course, that questions would be asked about the run-in with the lemures and the poachers. Angharad did her best to dispel the rumors, with some degree of sess.

    ¡°It is still quite the feat to drive off a band of poachers then escape a satyrian and his hunting pack,¡± Lady Penelope said.

    Her gown wasn¡¯t even all that revealing, Angharad reminded herself. It mere drew the eye to the slim waist and the contrasting curves around it.

    ¡°If Mistress Katina had not scared off the third poacher, I expect it would have gone quite differently,¡± she replied. ¡°If we had still been skirmishing when the satyrian arrived¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you would have found a way,¡± Lord Cleon firmly said. ¡°Your heroics made a strong impression on the people of Chalcia.¡±

    He shot a look at his mother after the words, the moment that passed between them hard for her to decipher. Lady Penelope, after the refreshments were well emptied, suggested that Angharad be given a tour of the manor¡¯s surroundings. She epted, naturally. Much of what she hade here to aplish must be through talk with Cleon Eirenos, and a walk was fine enough setting for that.

    Lord Cleon was eager to show her the grounds, though he took care that his enthusiasm would not go beyond what her limp allowed. He kept an eye on her stride, a hawk for signs of pain or exhaustion, and Angharad could not quite decide whether she was irritated or impressed. Regardless, it was gant.

    Cleon was not the kind of man she would consider handsome. His shorter stature and wisps of a mustache did not help. Yet he seemed to her a lord of respectable character and his conversation was engaging as he guided her through the garden around the manor, though she glimpsed through his affected calm the asional burst of nerves.

    She suspected he had rehearsed some topics, too, given the almost literary turns of phrase he asionally used.

    After an hour, in deference to her tiredness he suggested they retire to the manor for a time so they she might rest before he took her to hunt quail in the nearby woods. There had, to her mild frustration, been little opportunity for her to ask about what she hade to investigate. Patience, she reminder herself. Lord Cleon was younger than her, by a year, but he was no fool. She must not be suspicious in her questioning.

    A room had been prepared for her on the highest story of the house, along with Lord Cleon¡¯s own and that of Lady Penelope, and Angharad¡¯s affairs had already been brought up. She napped for an hour, as offered, and had a small midday meal with the Eirenos.

    Lord Cleon had dressed for the woods and ate carefully, constantly looking her way as if afraid that some small breach of etiquette would sour her on him, while Lady Penelope eyed the scene with open amusement. The beautynguorously ate orange slices, the lighte through the window catching her mane of hair and wreathing her in gold. Her pale blue gown, cut in that Asphodelian way that evoked ancient chitons, should have been loose but was too filled by a splendid figure for it to be so.

    It was an effort not to stare at those elegant fingers as she ate her meal, leaving most of the conversation to Lord Cleon as she observed them.

    They went hunting afterwards, she in her traveling clothes and he attired like a proper woodsman. Angharad was no great huntress, but she knew how to use a fowler and Lord Cleon assured her the quails in the nearby woods made for easy hunting. The manor raised some of them in captivity before releasing them, to weaken the breed. The young lord offered to carry her gun, but she tucked it under her arm instead.

    Within the turn of the hour he¡¯d twice startled a quail into flight and snapped a shot that downed it, while her own struggles were¡­ mixed. She caught a wing, once, but honestypelled her to admit it had been pure chance. She¡¯d simply never had to line up a shot so quickly, or on so small a target.

    Angharad was not used to being unskilled and must not have hidden her frustration as well as she thought.

    ¡°New to fowlers, I take it?¡± Lord Cleon said.

    ¡°My father was a fine huntsman, but I never took a deep interest,¡± she admitted.

    Mother had dabbled, but she¡¯d always said that if she was to head out and kill an animal it might as well be a whale so the profit would be greater than a pot of stew.

    ¡°I imagine the sword took up much of your time,¡± he said.

    Angharad shot him a surprised look. She had never spoken of being a mirror-dancer in Tratheke society.

    ¡°I asked a well-travelled cousin about your silver marks,¡± Lord Cleon admitted. ¡°I apologize if you feel it untoward of me.¡±

    ¡°It is nothing hidden, the stripes are meant to be seen,¡± Angharad assured him. ¡°It is only¡­¡±

    She hesitated, looking for a sentence that would be neither a lie not too revealing a truth.

    ¡°I understand,¡± he grimaced. ¡°The cane took the ce of the sword.¡±

    ¡°Something like that,¡± Angharad precisely replied.

    ¡°In the interests of honesty,¡± Lord Cleon said, ¡°I followed advice and also asked one of the royal sniffers as to whether or now a god endowed you with contract. I was informed that you were, though I know nothing more of the matter.¡±

    She gritted her teeth, but curtly nodded. It was not an unreasonable precaution when inviting a foreign noble into your home. Indeed, it was to his honor that he would so straightforwardly tell her of it.

    ¡°Such knowledge can be asked for?¡± she said, surprised.

    ¡°If you ask coin in hand,¡± he said.

    Angharad felt a silver of contempt. Not for Lord Cleon but the contractor taking bribes for secrets even when in the service of the Lord Rector of Asphodel. Sniffers were rare and valuable enough even the lesser of their kind would be able to take such liberties, which spoke well of Song. She was anything but the least of such contracts, yet held discretion as a virtue. Almost to a fault.

    ¡°I am contracted myself,¡± Lord Cleon continued. ¡°It is a strange thing, to hold a god so close.¡±

    Angharad raised an eyebrow. Not how she would have described it, but then she feared the Fisher as much as she respected his power. Closeness was not something she sought from that old monster.

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°They see our weaknesses,¡± he said, ¡°but in such a tight embrace it is inevitable we might glimpse theirs as well.¡±

    The Fisher, Angharad thought, was thest entity she would associate with weakness. It abhorred the concept, and even as a diminished prisoner the great spirit remained a fearsome thing.

    ¡°I prefer to keep mine at arm¡¯s length,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°We do not often see eye to eye.¡±

    ¡°I can sympathize,¡± Lord Cleon nodded. ¡°Mine grew¡­ odd, as time passed. Harsher, even as the granted boon thinned. I might not make the same choice now I did then.¡±

    ¡°Oh, mine thins not at all,¡± Angharad murmured. ¡°Sometimes I worry of that.¡±

    They left it at that, neither inclined to speak more in depth of their contract. Angharad knew, of course, of his. Song had skimmed his contract and told her of it. She felt guilt at that, but a shallow sort. He, too, had asked a sniffer about her. Angharad¡¯s was simply the finer of the two.

    They pushed deeper into the woods, Lord Cleon taking the time to show her how to more quickly snap a shot, and as the topic was on hunting she guided the river where she needed it to flow. First as to the many hunting grounds to which the Eirenos had rights, and his own experience with them. Then to what she wanted to know.

    ¡°I am told that the lictors patrol the valley in depth, now that there has been some trouble in the hills,¡± Angharad innocently said. ¡°Do they not scare off the game when you take the field?¡±

    He hummed, wiggling his hand.

    ¡°Most of the patrol routes have been the same since my father¡¯s youth,¡± Cleon told her. ¡°They do not change, and nonee anywhere close to our hunting grounds. But there <em>have</em> been a few changes in thest few years, it is true.¡±

    He frowned.

    ¡°The Lord Rector ¨C it only began after Evander Palliades took the throne ¨C ims the new expeditions are to drive back lemures, but before that mischief began in the hills there was no true need for that,¡± he said. ¡°There has long been rumors that arms are being smuggled into Tratheke, so I have wondered if it might not be an attempt to catch the smugglers.¡±

    ¡°Smuggling from where?¡± Angharad said, as if disbelieving.

    ¡°The western hills, near the mountains,¡± he said. ¡°That is where they stomp around most. It¡¯s not done wonders for stag hunts in that slice ofnd, but it was always better out east anyhow. No great loss, though it sometimes has me thinking of selling our lodge out there.¡±

    She considered, for a moment, telling him of the ckpowder and arms she had found in the wrecked carriage where the poachers had waited. Yet, weighing the matter, it seemed like there was little to learn by telling him. More importantly, it might be she had narrowed down where the entrance to the shipyards might be hidden: out in the western hills, near the mountains.

    Not exactly a small stretch ofnd, but knowing that Eirenos lodge there was close enough to the patrols for hunting to be affected should help narrow it down.

    Having learned as much without need for true skullduggery pleased her greatly, lifting her mood on the way back to the manor visibly enough Lord Cleon almostmented on it. He thought better, though, and instead began to tell her of the feast he was to throw the following evening.

    ¡°It will be mostly families from our part of Tratheke Valley,¡± Cleon said. ¡°The Pisenor, the Saon and the Iphine foremost among them. From further out there will be only Lord Arkol, who did business with my father, and Lord Gule who was kind enough to ept my invitation.¡±

    Angharad blinked in genuine surprise.

    ¡°The ambassador from Mn?¡± she checked.

    Cleon seriously nodded.

    ¡°He has been a benefactor and something of a mentor, thesest few years,¡± the young lord said. ¡°I am pleased he was able to spare the time, given his duties.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Angharad said. ¡°That shipyard business, yes?¡±

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the vition.

    Lord Cleon inclined his head.

    ¡°What the Kingdom of Mn wants with skimmers I know not, given theiruded ironwood, but I suppose everyone wants a piece of the Lord Rector¡¯s pie these days.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°Good on him,¡± the younger man feelingly said. ¡°Minister Floros can y the paragon all she likes, the lords of the valley know better.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°I must admit I have heard little butpliments of Apollonia Floros¡¯ character,¡± she said.

    Even the Lord Rector seemed to respect her, ording to Song, and they were sworn enemies.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure she¡¯d rather die than dirty even the least of her handkerchiefs,¡± Lord Cleon sardonically said. ¡°Honorable to a fault, Apollonia Floros. So much that the very day the regency ended she withdrew all her troops from the capital and dismissed all her vassals and allies from positions of power.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s eyes narrowed. An honorable act, yes, yet¡­

    ¡°How many such appointments were there?¡±

    Honor could be a knife, a daughter of Peredur well knew. Cleon grinned unpleasantly.

    ¡°Near every key post in the capital and valley,¡± he replied, and she winced. ¡°And she had been resisting building back the lictors for years, volunteering her own men to patrol instead to raise the crown¡¯s ie. So when she pulled everyone out¡­¡±

    ¡°Chaos,¡± Angharad quietly said.

    As if most the officers on a ship died overnight, leaving it to drift aimless and angry.

    ¡°The Lord Rector spent the first year of his reign struggling not to drown in that mess,¡± Cleon said. ¡°And when the man proved his mettle, kept his head above the water, what was said?¡±

    He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

    ¡°Praises for Minister Floros, at having taught him so well,¡± he scorned. ¡°As if she had not just set a fire and watched with her hands in herp as he fought to put it out.¡±

    ¡°Such disorder must not have endeared her to the valley lords,¡± Angharad ventured.

    ¡°It is good of you to think so,¡± Lord Cleon coldlyughed. ¡°But you think too well of my fellows. Sleeping in a viper pit for too long has a way of making one grow scales. Apollonia Floros was firm and just and most importantly of all she ruthlessly ground the Trade Assembly beneath her boot.¡±

    ¡°While the Lord Rector has pursued a more¡­ measured policy,¡± she delicately said.

    Meaning he was not powerful enough to grind anyone under his boots and needed the Assembly¡¯s support against the Council of Ministers besides. Lord Cleon nodded.

    ¡°I understand that in Mn honor is greatly prized,¡± he delicately said, ¡°but most of my fellow lords prefer profit to principle. Even those with fine reputations. I would not have-¡±

    And suddenly he hesitated.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± she asked.

    He coughed.

    ¡°I understand that Lord Menander is something of a patron of yours,¡± Cleon said.

    Angharad cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°While we are acquainted, and it was arranged for him to introduce me into Tratheke society, I do not consider him close to me,¡± she said. ¡°We are not overly familiar.¡±

    He searched her face for a moment, then nodded sharply.

    ¡°Good,¡± he muttered, then his voice firmed. ¡°Good. Menander Drakos likes to act like the court¡¯s kind grandfather, a man who takes no sides, but he is as ruthless as the rest of them.¡±

    His lips thinned.

    ¡°My father, you might have heard, once tried to begin rearing horses.¡±

    ¡°I had,¡± Angharad cautiously said.

    ¡°Then you will also have heard it was a fool¡¯s venture that nearly bankrupted our house,¡± Cleon said. ¡°Lord Menander was the one who helped him obtain the horses, negotiating on his behalf, so he knew exactly how deep the debt ran and what our means were.¡±

    The young lord clenched his teeth.

    ¡°And when the interest payments began to pile up, he slid in with his snake¡¯s offer,¡± Cleon said. ¡°There could be no loan, but oh he did love antiquities. And House Eirenos could buy them back when they had the means, he swore.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s eyes sharpened. That sounded exactly like what Song had tasked her with finding out.

    ¡°He bought house treasures,¡± she said.

    ¡°Gobbled them up like a pig at the trough,¡± Cleon bit out. ¡°Always hungry for more. My family was granted treasures by the Lissenos, Lady Angharad, over our century of service to that line. Now they serve as adornments in his many manors instead. The man bought up everything he could, from paintings to papers.¡±

    ¡°He bought the whole collection?¡± Angharad asked.

    The young man snorted.

    ¡°We¡¯ve some correspondence in the annex safe still, I think, along with some statues,¡± he said. ¡°Only dregs remain.¡±

    The annex, was it? That was where she must look for what Song wanted. <em>Tomorrow</em>, Angharad thought, <em>during the reception.</em> It should not be difficult to feign exhaustion and sneak off. It could also be true, she reflected, that the desired information might now be in the hands of Menander Drakos. Bought years ago. In truth that might be best for the Thirteenth. Lord Menander knew of the Watch investigation and might well ept a request from Song.

    ¡°You have righted your house,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Can you not buy them back as he promised?¡±

    ¡°He has been putting me off,¡± Lord Cleon darkly replied. ¡°I thought to take this to the Lord Rector, but I was advised otherwise by Lord Gule. There are other recourses, he showed me, which would not bring shame to my father¡¯s name.¡±

    Sensible. Lord Gule was induna by birth, he would understand better than most the necessity of maintaining one¡¯s name.

    ¡°But let¡¯s leave that grim talk behind,¡± he said. ¡°Come, let us find out if you can bag a quail on the way back.¡±

    s, though many a tree branch suffered her wrath the birds all neatly escaped.

    --

    After a small evening meal and drinks in the garden, Lord Cleon retired for the night.

    He apologized twice for it, but he was to rise early on the morrow and could not afford to be exhausted when receiving so many noble guests. Angharad waved all apologies away, perfectly understanding the necessity, though she requested a pot of tea so she might enjoy the quiet of the darkened garden for a span before retiring to her own rooms.

    It was a little embarrassing how eager he was to amodate her.

    Night on Asphodel was different, so far from Tratheke. It felt like a truend again, with the distant pale stars and wind in her hair. The only lights still left on were a fewmps inside the manor, mostly around the kitchen, and strangely enough candles at the upper window of what Angharad believed to be some sort of annex. Hopefully it was not lit every night, else it would make sneaking there on the morrow significantly more difficult.

    She had mostly finished her tea and it was beginning to runte when a maid returned to her table. Not, as Angharad had expected, to take away the pot and make inquiries as to bedding. She was bringing an invitation.

    ¡°Lady Penelope would speak with you in her parlor, if you are not too tired,¡± the girl said.

    Far be it from her to deny the whim of such a beauty. Besides, Angharad suspected she knew what this was about. After having observed them over the day, Lady Penelope was now to either approve or disapprove of her as a prospect for her son. Disapprove, most likely, but that was only sensible. Angharad would not have wanted to wed herself, in their shoes.

    A valet took her, leading her across the grass with antern until they reached the dark silhouette of the building.

    Angharad had half-guessed the inside of the annex to be little more than a warehouse, but she had been wrong. There were wooden floors and hung tapestries, a singlentern lit and revealing shelves of dusty curios. Wrapped paintings were propped up against walls, to safeguard from vermin and the elements. The floors here were swept, but not well. This main room was too small to be the whole of it, and there were side doors hinting at the space being partitioned, but that was not where she was headed.

    At the back of the room narrow stairs went up to the second story, where waited the candles she had glimpsed.

    She sighed at the thought of more stairs to suffer, but limped onwards. The thick, iron-barded door at the end of the stairs was open. Through it, the noblewoman found a room that was halfway between the promised parlor and a gallery.

    Half the den was crammed full of statues, bronze and stone, that went from simple busts to arge marble piece depicting a boy-child riding a swan. A few shelves of ancient, carefully tended books were tucked away against the wall while below them ss cases with iron honebing disyed empty wombs in the trembling candlelight. The precious pieces once filling them must all have been bought.

    There was a heavy steel safe with two different locks, resting in a corner, and Angharad took note of it. Her short lesson on lockpicking would be of no use here, which meant she must find the keys.

    The other half of the room was ady¡¯s parlor, wrested from the gallery. A wooden writing desk had been brought up and disyed some correspondence, but the heart of it all was a lushly carpeted salon with two elegant love seats nking an oval low table. A small dressing table with a mirror also bore a handful of books, and to the sidey an elegant little loom which did not seem to have been used in quite some time.

    Lady Penelope sat on a love seat, a cup of wine in hand, and Angharad swallowed at the sight: she wore only a pale embroidered nightgown, baring shoulders and drawing the eye to the generous swell of her breasts. A simple leather cord hung as a ne, bearing two small iron pieces tucked away in her cleavage. Keys, Angharad thought. She let her eyes linger there an additional half-second to make certain that was truly what they were.

    Well, that was <em>one</em> of the reasons.

    ¡°Lady Angharad,¡± thedy of the house smiled, resting her elbow on the arm of the seat. ¡°I am pleased you could join me. Do sit.¡±

    Angharad did, and the older woman poured her a cup of wine before leaning over to press it into her hand. She dutifully took a sip, then almost choked.

    ¡°Valley wine,¡± Lady Penelope slyly smiled. ¡°Rarely great vintages, but surprisingly strong.¡±

    ¡°So I see,¡± Angharad said, then coughed into her fist.

    Not something to drink too quickly.

    ¡°An evening conversation like this,¡± the fair-haired beauty said, ¡°is how I should make inquiries into your background, Lady Angharad.¡±

    The Pereduri sipped again at her cup, more shallowly this time.

    ¡°Implying you will not,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°There would be no point,¡± Lady Penelope said, ¡°when you are about as interested in my son as you are in statuary.¡±

    She hid her surprise.

    ¡°Lord Cleon is a skilled huntsman and a fine conversationalist,¡± Angharad mildly said.

    ¡°He also has a few years of growing left to do before inheriting the best his father¡¯s looks,¡± Lady Penelope said, then paused. ¡°You also asionally look at me as if intending to <em>devour.</em>¡±

    Angharad flushed in mortification, straightening on the loveseat.

    ¡°I meant no offense, mydy,¡± she said. ¡°I only-¡±

    The tall beauty waved her words away.

    ¡°It¡¯s quite ttering, really,¡± Lady Penelope said. ¡°And when I told our maid Elena to dip her neckline when serving you at midday you did not look, so you do not appear to be a phnderer.¡±

    Angharad might have taken that as apliment, had she at all recalled such a thing. She did not, but then that meal had been a bncing act of listening to Lord Cleon and not staring at his lovely mother¡¯s graceful fingers.

    ¡°I do not consider myself one,¡± Angharad choked out.

    Lady Penelope arched an amused brow. It was unfairly seductive on her.

    ¡°Neither does it appear you paid Katina to make a stir on your behalf, which dispels my first concern about you,¡± thedy said. ¡°Given your character and obvious good breeding, you did note here to take advantage of my son being taken with you.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Had I seen you string him along today, we would be having a very different conversation.¡±

    Angharad silently nodded. It was almost a shame that Lady Penelope¡¯s expression softened after that. The tall older woman looking at her so imperiously had¡­ not been unpleasant.

    ¡°I imagine turning away your first friendly face at court would have been difficult, even suspecting his intentions,¡± Lady Penelope said, not unkindly. ¡°You must understand, however, that no matter sympathetic I am to your position I cannot leave him with even the illusion that pursuing you is possible.¡±

    ¡°It would be unkind to him,¡± Angharad quietly agreed.

    Thedy drank deep of her cup, then set it down.

    ¡°Good,¡± the older woman said. ¡°Good.¡±

    She sighed.

    ¡°I failed him, after my husband died,¡± Lady Penelope said. ¡°Watched as he broke his own heart selling Lord Menander those old papers the man is so obsessed with. I will not see him so wounded again.¡±

    ¡°Lord Menander has an interest in papers?¡± Angharad said with forced casualness. ¡°From Lord Cleon¡¯s depiction of the tale, I thought him more concerned with artifacts.¡±

    ¡°Oh, he always put on a good show about wanting the jewels and the rings,¡± Lady Penelope snorted. ¡°But I could tell what it was he was really after ¨C papers from the days of the Lissenos, oldnd deeds and maps. He paid a fortune for them.¡±

    Now why, Angharad thought, would Menander Drakos be so interested in these? Enough to pay good coin for them, anyhow. Something was afoot.

    ¡°Drink,¡± Lady Penelope ordered her.

    Angharad drank.

    ¡°I will be telling Cleon,¡± she said, ¡°that after having made inquiries into your background, while I do not find you personally unfit there is unpleasantness to your family name that makes you unsuitable.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°That will wait until you have left, the day after tomorrow. By all means you should enjoy your stay here, Lady Angharad, but do not ept an invitation to the manor again. Keep a respectable distance.¡±

    The Pereduri silently nodded, for these were fine enough terms. In truth this might be the best way to cleanly end her ties to Lord Cleon, though for the kindness he had offered her she would attempt to find a way to repay him.

    ¡°I will take my leave, then,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Thank you for your forbearance, Lady Eirenos.¡±

    ¡°Oh, finish your drink,¡± Lady Penelope sighed. ¡°Or am I such terriblepany you would prefer risking the servants talk when you emerge after a mere minute or two? I <em>am</em> supposed to be interrogating you.¡±

    ¡°I would never dare offer you such slight, mydy,¡± Angharad replied, inclining her head.

    She had not drunk enough to excuse how flirtatious that had sounded. Yet instead of an arched brow, Angharad was graced with a smirk.

    ¡°I thought not,¡± Lady Penelope said.

    Angharad was not one to refuse a beautiful woman curious about her, so she soon found herself skimming over the top of how she had been raised in Peredur ¨C Lady Penelopeplimenting the stripes when shown, and trailing a finger to see how the tattoo felt to the touch ¨C as well a painting a picture of the cities she had visited on the path that eventually led her to Asphodel.

    It was difficult for Angharad to consider herself well travelled, given whom her mother had been, but her tales about the ports on the way to Sacromonte garnered eager interest for Lady Penelope. The older woman seemed almost wistful when the City was mentioned, mentioning her parents had once intended to take her there for a span but that a sickness of her mother¡¯s had prevented the journey.

    When Angharad next eyed the candle, she realized that at least half an hour had passed and she was well into her second cup of wine. Hardly even tipsy, but there was a certain warmth to her cheeks that came in part from the drink.

    ¡°Never, truly?¡± she asked.

    Lady Penelope sighed, leaning on her love seat and looking like a painter¡¯s finest rendition of beauty of lush beauty.

    ¡°There was no true cause for me to leave Asphodel as a girl,¡± she said, ¡°and I married Artemon at seventeen. I was pregnant within the year, and after that the troubles put an end to any notion of traveling abroad."

    "You could now, surely,¡± Angharad suggested. ¡°Sacromonte is not so far by ship, and though it is a fading kind of splendor it is still a splendid city.¡±

    Not that Tristan would agree. The man took a queer pride in hating the city of his birth more than most foreigners did.

    ¡°When my son is wed, perhaps,¡± Lady Penelope said. ¡°I must confess that staying out here in the valley sometimes feels¡­ confining.¡±

    ¡°I felt the same in Peredur,¡± Angharad said. ¡°It was one of the reasons I so embraced the dueling circuit.¡±

    Penelope chuckled, sliding a finger along the rim of her cup.

    ¡°You must think me hopelessly provincial,¡± she said. ¡°Wed young and then buried in the country.¡±

    ¡°I was to be a country peer myself,¡± Angharad dismissed. ¡°How could I look down on such a life?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Lady Penelope idly said, ¡°I did live a little, before marrying.¡±

    Angharad swallowed.

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°There are risks to dallying with a boy before one weds, but with a girl¡­¡± she trailed off. ¡°Well, I learned a thing or two before being swept off my feet.¡±

    An electric tingle went up her spine.

    ¡°Enjoyable learning, one hopes?¡± Angharad lightly said.

    ¡°Very,¡± Lady Penelope smirked, a sight that had her stomach clenching with want. ¡°And I am not so old a widow, Angharad, that I have never thought of taking a lover.¡±

    ¡°It would be a genuine shame,¡± she replied, ¡°if you did not.¡±

    ¡°The issue has always been one of timing and discretion,¡± thedy continued, pushing herself up to rest her elbow on the side of the seat.

    It did not feel like a coincidence that this ttering pushed up the frame of her nightgown.

    ¡°I will be leaving the day after tomorrow,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Never to return.¡±

    Lady Penelope cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°So you are,¡± she replied.

    She said nothing more.

    It was madness, Angharad thought. Thoroughly unwise. But then she watched Penelope Eirenos sitting on that loveseat in that pale nightgown clinging to her curves, looking like a present in need of unwrapping, and madness struck her as the only reasonable course.

    The moment the decision was made she shed thest of the blushes, instead smirking back at Lady Penelope. This, she knew how to do.

    ¡°It would be a shame,¡± she said, rising with her cane. ¡°To end your education at a mere thing or two.¡±

    She went around the table, green and heavy-lidded eyes following her as she did, before sliding next to her on the love seat. The cane was discarded, ignored, and even as Penelope¡¯s hands went to feel up her arm and shoulder she leaned over the other woman. Flushed cheeks and bitable lips, all looking up at her with only the thinnest veneer of calm.

    Angharad did exactly what she had been used of wanting: she devoured Lady Penelope.

    A surprised moan as she deepened the kiss, hands attempting to draw her in until she withdrew and dipped to nip at Penelope¡¯s neck ¨C she felt her shiver, kissing her way down to the shoulder as another hand trailed down the side of the nightgown until she found the bare skin of her legs.

    ¡°Angharad,¡± she gasped as her neck was nipped again, just enough it would not leave marks. ¡°I-¡±

    She silenced Lady Penelope with another kiss, heated enough their teeth almost clicked, and while the older woman pawed at her shoulders Angharad moved to slide a knee between her legs. Not yet slid all the way up, taking her time. She made a mess of the older woman, pulling down the nightgown to paw at those firm and rounded curves, to thumb her nipples and watch her squirm. Angharad¡¯s hands ran up her bare legs under the nightdress, finding that the peach of her ass was exactly as full as the gowns had hinted ¨C she almost groaned, the need to pull that dress off her an almost physical thing.

    But she forced herself to patience, to taking her time as Penelope moaned and flushed red and nearly tore the strings of Angharad¡¯s traveling dress getting her out of it. The widow¡¯s eyes burned at the sight of her own figure finally bared, groping for her breasts, but Angharad caught those wrists and pressed them above her head even though she ached for attention.

    Instead she knelt before Penelope, pulling the nightgown¡¯s hem up to her waist and opening those long, smooth legs. She pressed a kiss against her thigh, then another few further and further up until the gorgeous widow¡¯s hand in her hair was trying to drag her all the way between her legs. She shot up an amused look, hands keeping those thighs open and in ce.

    ¡°Do pay attention,¡± Angharad said. ¡°After I¡¯ve shown you a new trick, I<em> will</em> be expecting a demonstration.¡±

    Lady Penelope nodded, biting her lip, and Angharad leaned forward.

    It was for the best the window was closed, for little of what followed was quiet.

    --

    The warmth of another body pressed close against hers was satisfying, something she had missed without knowing it.

    All the more when Angharad¡¯s gaze could stray down the curve of Penelope¡¯s slender neck to her bare body, the nket they had taken to sharing when dozing off hardly covering a thing. Her lover¡¯s breath was deep, steady. In the throes of sleep. Much as she would prefer to simply enjoy the other woman¡¯s embrace, she had a duty.

    So Angharad closed her eyes and breathed in.

    First she slowly, gently reached for the leather ne bearing the keys. She caught the iron pieces and held them as she lifted the ne off Penelope¡¯s neck, but quickly realized there would be no passing it through those beautiful gold-red curls without waking her. So instead she carefully slipped out, bit by bit as not to wake Penelope, and padded over to the writing desk. There, standing on wobbly legs, she found a letter opener and returned to the love seat.

    She cut the rope and lifted the ne, waiting to see if Penelope would rise from slumber. She did not.

    The letter opener returned to the desk, where she had found it, and move to the safe. The keys were small, small enough that she could hope the locks were notrge either and so would not be noisy. That proved true of the first she opened, a barely audible click, but the second felt stronger against her grip when she turned.

    Looking back at the sleeping Penelope, who the fading candlelight of thest candlespped at hungrily ¨C unless that was Angharad¡¯s own gaze, which while sated still craved more. There was a snippet of guilt, but more of worry.

    She covered the second lock as best she could with her palm to muffle the noise and turned the key.

    It felt like a cacophony, so loud as to be deafening, but it opened. Another worried look back showed that Penelope had stirred but did not seem awake. Angharad cracked open the safe¡¯s door, finding it mostly empty save for two things. One was a pouch of jewels, which she left untouched. The other was a small pile of letters, each bearing the ancient seal of House Lissenos in the corner.

    These she brought out in the candlelight, gaze skimming them one after another.

    She had in her hands correspondence between Lord Rector Hector and his mistress ¡®C. E.¡¯, which was lovely and rather poetic but likely not what Song had wanted. Still, it must have some importance for it to be kept in the safe instead of on the bookshelf. Was ¡®E.¡¯ for Eirenos? Not for her to decide, Angharad mused, and simply looked through all the letters before putting them back.

    Out of thoroughness she closed the steel door, and that must have been one noise too many.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Penelope Eirenos coldly asked.

    She did not turn to look at the expression on her lover¡¯s face, which was sure to be a harsh thing.

    Instead she released her contract.

    --

    Angharad Tredegar opened her eyes and breathed out.

    She slid out of Lady Penelope¡¯s embrace, leaving her to her slumber, and dressed before slipping out of the parlor. She fancied she felt the other woman¡¯s sleepy gaze on her back as she left, retiring to her room in the manor. Not that Angharad would be able to sleep quite yet.

    Her recall was only impable for a day after the vision. She would need to write down everything she had read before it faded, if she was to get Song the information she had wanted.

 Chapter 54

    Chapter 54

    Angharad rose shortly after dawn, washed and came down to break her fast with the Eirenos.

    Her back ached, as much fromst night¡¯s exertions as the fact that she¡¯d burned an entire candle tranting the secret correspondence. It had gone into the empty pages of the cyphered journal she¡¯d obtained from the carriage, secrets added to secrets in a turn that stirred an ember of exhausted amusement. It was better than asking the servants for fresh paper in the middle of the night, anyway.

    The spread waiting for her downstairs was impressive. Figs and apricots, bread and cheese and cold meats from the previous night¡¯s dinner. There were evenyered honey-and-nut pastries, still warm from the oven and deliciously juicy in the mouth. Between the food and a pot of mint tea, Angharad found herself presented with what should have been a delicious feast. She was, however, hardly able to savor it.

    ¡°You¡¯ve a bit of honey on your lip, dear,¡± Lady Penelope innocently smiled, leaning across the table to wipe the corner of Angharad¡¯s mouth with her thumb.

    Body warring with the contrary impulses to both nip at the thumb teasingly and freeze like a scared rabbit, Angharadpromised and choked on thest of her pastry instead. She coughed into her fist and backed away, Lady Penelope¡¯s lips quirking even higher at the sight as she withdrew that artful hand.

    ¡°<em>Mother</em>,¡± Cleon reproached. ¡°She can dab her lips without your help.¡±

    But he was smiling, quietly pleased. He must be taking the physical closeness as approval for a courtship, rather than seeing a spirit of temptation trying to drive Angharad wild at a breakfast table. It was all made all the more unfair by the fact that the older beauty had made it clear the previous evening that there would be no repeat of the tryst, meaning that Lady Penelope was winding her up with no intention of offering restitution for it.

    Angharad forced herself to set aside all thoughts of trying to convince her otherwise, as dallyingst night had been unwise enough already. Not that Penelope made it easy, constantly leaning forward in that ttering loose sleeping robe and once stretching as so enticing an angle that Angharad almost dropped her fork. Between the teasing, the little terms of endearment and the touching it was mortified and thoroughly flustered that Angharad retired to her room.

    She twice doused her face in water, told herself in the mirror that no amount of full curves and limberness should so bedevil her, and returned downstairs only whenposed.Mercifully, Lady Penelope had retired. Cleon offered to show her to the eastern grounds of the estate, which he exined contained the family mausoleum and further out a small shrine to the spirit known as the Odyssean. She immediately agreed, eager to flee the manor and its teasing mistress.

    It was a pleasant enough walk, Asphodelian mornings bing the country estate. The light made the near-wild woods and paths enchanting, birds singing as they passed, and on their way to the mausoleum Cleon was just as careful of the pace as he had been the previous day. He really was quite caring, Angharad thought, which made her feel all the more guilty about having grabbed his beautiful mother by the hair and-

    She coughed into her fist.

    ¡°It is not so old as it looks,¡± Cleon was telling her, gesturing at the square, pired tomb of fine stone. ¡°Built in my great-grandfather¡¯s day, after the old one fell into disrepair.¡±

    It was not arge mausoleum, Angharad saw, but it was finely made in pale gray stone and elegant in structure. The gates were reinforced with copper gone slightly green, but the grounds were well taken care of. Thick with Asphodelian crowns, those pale flowers Maryam was so curious about.

    ¡°The bodies had to be exhumed?¡± she asked.

    He shook his head.

    ¡°We do not keep to the Oar but to the Sickle,¡± he said. ¡°Eirenos burn their dead, lest the flesh be devoured by an ancient god of the earth.¡±

    ¡°The Oar,¡± Angharad slowly said, ¡°being a reference to the spirit known as the Sculler?¡±

    The most powerful carrion spirit of the isle, said to boast few temples but to keep a shrine and priests in every graveyard. Along with Oduromai and the Awn-Dam, it was one of the most broadly worshipped spirits. Unlike the arrogant frauds of Tianxia and the Someshwar the spirit only imed to ferry souls to the Circle Perpetual, not guide reincarnation. Angharad thus found it more tolerable than most of its kind. Not so her host.

    ¡°It is the favored death god of the age,¡± Cleon sourly acknowledged. ¡°He who ferries souls to the Circle. My line, however, can be traced back to the days of the Archeleans. We keep to older ways, though they are no longer spoken of in politepany.¡±

    He cleared his throat.

    ¡°There were gods on thisnd before the Lierganen came, and though they are buried so deep as to have be nameless they yet remain,¡± he told her. ¡°The day wille when the One Who Bears The Sickle wakes, and all the bodies given to the earth of Asphodel will be cut up and devoured whole.¡±

    ¡°A grim patron,¡± Angharad noted.

    ¡°Death is not meant to be pretty,¡± Cleon shrugged.

    True enough, she conceded.

    The pair had brought a waterskin and walked under enough fruit trees to take a few oranges, so they sat on the mausoleum steps to eat and drink before resuming the walk towards the shrine. Angharad inquired about these purported ancient roots of the Eirenos, learning that a distant ancestor had been a war captain under one of the first Archeleans to rise to throne, and found herself quite engaged with the tale when interruption reached them.

    One of the manor servants arrived, flushed from hurrying to them, and after a bow and apologies was urged to speak by Lord Cleon.

    ¡°Word hase from Chalcia, my lord,¡± he said. ¡°The first guest has arrived in town, and after a meal there intends toe to the manor.¡±

    ¡°Already?¡± Cleon frowned. ¡°What time is it, Georgios?¡±

    The man produced a small silver watch.

    ¡°Shortly before eleven, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Three hours early,¡± he grunted. ¡°Unseemly.¡±

    His expression darkened, as if another thought urred, but he said nothing. The young lord apologized, telling Angharad they would have to cut their walk short and head back to the manor, but she waved the words away.

    ¡°Duty needs no apology,¡± she told him.

    He seemed quite pleased with her at that, and even dark-haired Georgios looked approving until he noticed her noticing him and wiped the expression off his face. Ancestors, everypliment paid to her by this household burned shamefully. If any of them knew of the night she had spent with thedy of the house, they would be chasing her off with pitchforks instead of smiling so.

    Tonight, she firmly decided, she would try to find Lord Cleon a woman to his tastes. He¡¯d forcefully avoided looking at certain parts of her well enough for Angharad to have a decent idea of his tastes when it came to the physical, and she had suspicions as to his preferences in character. He was not a bad prospect at all for a husband, and it should not be too hard to find him someone suitable.

    That this would go some way in aying her guilt at having fucked his mother was not coincidental, but it <em>was</em> fortunate.

    The servant made transparent excuses to let them return alone, and by the time they returned to the manor Cleon was told by one of his household riders that a carriage had already been sighted. Angharad, curious, apanied him to the top of a rise close to the manor from which there was a fine view of the path leading to the Eirenos estate. A single carriage, she noted, butrge. Pulled by four horses. Cleon sighed at the sight.

    ¡°Of course she arrived early,¡± he deplored. ¡°Why would she not?¡±

    ¡°You recognize the carriage?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°I do,¡± he said.

    Waiting until it turned at a curb, the nobleman pointed at the doors.

    ¡°See the blue and green paint?¡± he asked. ¡°They are the colors of House Varochas.¡±

    Blue and green¡­ no, finish the talk first else her reaction would seem suspicious. Angharad paused, mentally sifting through the pages she hadmitted to memory at the pce.

    ¡°A house from the north of the valley, known for its fine timber,¡± she said, then frowned. ¡°I thought their colors to be blue and brown, however.¡±

    With a sleeping bear sprawled at the center of the heraldry, which she had thought rather charming. Cleon shot her a surprised, almost admiring look.

    ¡°The main house keeps to these,¡± he confirmed. ¡°Only this particr visitor is a Varochas of Meda¡¯s Rock, their kin. They¡¯ve grand ambitions, so they chose colors of their own.¡±

    Blue and green, she now let herself consider. The same hues the poacher had mentioned his aplice to have glimpsed on the pouch that had paid for their services. After a day in Cleon¡¯spany Angharad hadrgely dismissed any notion of him having arranged that ambush so she might be fixed to his kindness for the duration of her stay. He was too fine a man for that, and too proud. Which left her to look for another as the culprit.

    ¡°Ambitions?¡± she lightly encouraged.

    Cleon snorted.

    ¡°They think to be the preeminent branch of their line,¡± he said. ¡°Theirnds are not particrly wealthy, but they do border hills that would be suitable for a very lucrative marble quarry.¡±

    Ah, a familiar refrain. While the Duchy of Peredur was not so infamous for its border disputes as the isle of Uthukile, squabbles over water and grazing rights weremonce. The sometimes extraordinarily petty means to which rival houses went to deny each other were favored seasonal gossip. When the Cawder had changed a small river¡¯s course by exactly thirty feet to deny their hated Aberafan neighbors an enshrined right to sail down it, they¡¯d be the toast of society for years.

    ¡°Am I to understand,¡± Angharad said, ¡°that these hills sport an Eirenos hunting lodge?¡±

    He nodded, lips quirking before the good humor faded.

    ¡°During the regency, a ruling was made that Eirenos hunting rights over these hills mean no quarry can be built without our consent as to build one would ruin the hunting and cross into ournd,¡± Lord Cleon said. ¡°The Varochas spent a fortune trying to buy a different verdict when Lord Rector Evander took the throne, but heughed them out so their stratagem of choice changed.¡±

    He coughed into his fist, side-eyeing her all the while.

    ¡°Theofania Varochas has made in her intentions to wed me, and frequently stretches the bounds of propriety in seeking to achieve the match.¡±

    His gaze on her was hopeful. Desiring, perhaps, of jealousy. That Angharad could not provide, but sympathy was within her means.

    ¡°I take it you do not wee the pursuit,¡± she said.

    ¡°I would rather wed a viper,¡± Cleon Eirenos bit out. ¡°The venom would be the same, but the conversation significantly more tolerable.¡±

    She choked on a startledugh. He was not usually so sharp in his words, but it suited him. The young lord¡¯s fingers clenched into fists.

    ¡°I¡¯ve no intention of taking a wife who will be her kin¡¯s spy under my own roof, forever grasping at my property in their name.¡±

    The tale, Angharad thought, told itself. The Varochas wanted that wedding, andcking means to force it they were resorting to chasing off anyone who Lord Cleon might take a shine to ¨C such as some upstart Mni noble exile with hardly a silver to her name. A family friend must have been at Lord Menander¡¯s green party and heard the invitation, leading to the ambush she encountered on the road.

    The poachers might actually have been speaking the truth when they said they were not to harm either Angharad or Mistress Katina. A death would have been a line too far, tainted the Varochas reputation. It would have been a blow to Lord Cleon¡¯s reputation to twine his line with a family that so offended him, too, a sign of weakness. But Angharad arriving at Chalcia in nothing but her underthings, robbed blind and humiliated?

    Oh, that would have been well within the bounds of eptable and ruined her reputation thoroughly enough she could no longer be considered a suitable marriage prospect for a lord. An impoverished foreigner <em>and </em>embroiled in a scandal? No, Lady Penelope would have been forced to put her foot down even if her son persisted. It would have been too grave a mismarriage even if Angharad <em>were</em> interested in Cleon¡¯s hand.

    ¡°I am surprised you would invite her to an evening at your manor, given your poor opinion of her,¡± Angharad noted.

    ¡°She is staying with House Pisenor, just to the east of my estate,¡± Lord Cleon darkly said. ¡°Given our shared custody of a temple, it would be unwise to slight them by withholding an invitation - and Lady Theofania has not yet acted wildly enough for me to forbid her presence.¡±

    His jaw clenched.

    ¡°Meanwhile I¡¯ve not yet found a way to teach the Pisenor a lesson in the dangers of continuing to try my patience, though one day I assure you I will.¡±

    That look in his eyes was even darker than his tone, so Angharad thought it best to move the conversation.

    ¡°A temple, you say,¡± she repeated, arm brushing against his. ¡°To which spirit?¡±

    ¡°The Twin-Mother,¡± Lord Cleon said, then reddened and coughed into his fist again. ¡°She is thedy of ndestine births, so it is custom that none seek to learn the face of those who visit the shrine for good health. As a token of appreciation, visitors then leave gifts in coin or goods.¡±

    Coin would be easy enough to split two ways, Angharad thought, but goods? Those would get contentious, even if they were merely sold at market and the profits then split. No wonder Cleon preferred to suffer a riotous suitor rather than break with House Pisenor. The temple ies would be significant revenue for a recovering house like his.

    ¡°ndestine births,¡± she repeated, tone teasing. ¡°How very gently put, Lord Cleon.¡±

    ¡°There is no need for discourtesy,¡± he replied, attempting dignity even though he was visibly embarrassed. ¡°These things happen.¡±

    Bastard children? More than anyone would like to admit. In Mn either siring or birthing such a child from a noble would see you elevated as consort,wful status for yourself and the child, but such practices were notmon among Lierganen peoples. Such arrangements were no doubt had regardless, but they were regarded as shameful and kept secret. Angharad rolled her shoulder, watching the Varochas carriage roll down the road to the manor.

    ¡°If guests are now arriving, I should ready myself,¡± she said. ¡°By your leave, my lord?¡±

    Cleon looked a little disappointed, but then he nced at the carriage and must also have divined that Angharad standing by him while he weed his guest ¨C as if the mistress of the house ¨C was unlikely to result in anything pleasant.

    ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°I already look forward to your return.¡±

    Angharad half-smiled at the gantry, leaning on her cane as she spared the arriving carriage onest nce. Though no bloodshed had been intended, Theofania Varochas and her kin had sought to harm her.

    Now she must decide what she was to do about that.

    --

    It made Angharad feel like a poor rtion to wear the same dress among society twice in a row, but then nowadays she <em>was</em> a poor rtion.

    She was helped into her pink gown by one of the Eirenos maids, who after helping her adjust the embroidered cuffs told her that Lord Cleon had set aside jewelry for her use: an elegant gold chain ne bearing an emerald the size of a fingernail. It had been in the family for some generations, the middle-aged maid told her. To ept that would be tacitly epting his courtship, Angharad knew, even if it was merely a loan. Therefore, she could not.

    Lady Penelope had a small pearl ne sent up, along with a note that it came from her dowry and was not Eirenos property. She added, too, that she had not worn it in years and it was a fitting gift for a lovely guest. A sendoff present for a one-night lover, reading between the lines.

    That one was rather more tempting to ept, Angharad would admit, but she declined it just as she had declined Lord Cleon¡¯s offer. She would not take more from this mother and son when she had already taken too much. In every sense. Let her appear as exactly what she was: d noble whose sole ie was the kindness of benefactors. It would not do to get drunk on the trappings of a life she must learn to ept was no longer hers.

    She was to be a watchwoman, now. Perhaps in many years it might be she was able to set down the ck cloak and be a peer of Peredur once more, but until her oaths had run their course she must bind her pride to what she had sworn and not what she grieved. <em>To keep an exile¡¯s means only strengthens the trick being yed</em>, Angharad reminded herself. Let her feel pride in being a dutiful watchwoman, then, rather shame at beingckluster noble.

    Though she had washed her body and hair, then redone her braids with the maid¡¯s help, eventually Angharad ran out of reasons to dither upstairs and had to join the Eirenos in attending to the unwee guest. She found the three seated outside, in a garden pavilion that overlooked the dancing square.

    Lady Theofania Varochas was, to her surprise, quite small. Shorter than Shalini, and slender in a way the gunslinger most definitely was not. She was darker in tan than most Asphodelians, with long ck hair and thick eyshes framing a strong bridge nose. Not a great beauty, Angharad thought, but hardly uely. Around the corner of slender ck eyebrows touches of blue cosmetics evoked a butterfly¡¯s wings, matching her long blue-and-white gown whose stripes all the way down.

    Lord Cleon did not consider the Varochas all that wealthy, but they had sent their daughter into society bearing long earrings of gold andpis with matching bangle bracelets and a splendid ne made of polished, rectangr gold stripes. Either she had been sent with the family jewels, Angharad thought, or the Varochas had spent a fortune on adorning her to impress. Either way, it was a decision implying that the full weight of her house stood behind her.

    Such a weight could be a great support, Angharad thought, but also a crushing burden. She wondered which one it was for Lady Theofania.

    ¡°And who would this be?¡± said Lady Theofania called out, a ss of wine in hand.

    Cleon had pointedly sat as far as he could from her while still being at the same table, Lady Penelope settling between them to make the small slight less noticeable. Neither of them had a cup in hand, much less of wine, a subtle rebuke to their early guest.

    ¡°I present you Lady Angharad Tredegar, of Peredur,¡± Lady Penelope said.

    She was radiant in a simple green grown, though there was hardly a thing on Vesper that would not suit such a beauty.

    ¡°Is she now?¡± Theofania said. ¡°I had assumed otherwise, as my cousin described her wearing a simr gown at Lord Menander¡¯s green party.¡±

    The dark-haireddy offered a sharp little smile.

    ¡°You must believe it suits you very well, to favor it so.¡±

    And just like that any half-formed consideration of sympathy evaporated. In Peredur, Angharad would have put a nasty cut on her champion¡¯s nose for such words. Or Theofania¡¯s own, if she wore duelist¡¯s straps. But matters were not settled that way on Asphodel, and even if they had been she was not fit to be her own champion. She must, thus, match wind to wind.

    ¡°I do,¡± she directly replied, pushing down embarrassment. ¡°Do you disagree?¡±

    Surprise on Lady Theofania¡¯s face, and an amused chuckle from Lady Penelope ¨C who Angharad could not help but notice was appreciating the generous cut of the gown. Her ears reddened.

    ¡°It is not to the taste of the season,¡± Lady Theofania recovered. ¡°But then I do not recall hearing of Peredur spoken as a great seat of fashion.¡±

    Angharad cocked her head to the side, raising a faintly skeptical eyebrow.

    ¡°Have you heard much of Peredur, then, Lady Theofania?¡± she asked.

    Most foreigners this far south thought it part of the same ind as Mn, when they knew the name at all, so she had doubts. Theofania¡¯s lips thinned and she looked away, eyes back on Lord Cleon.

    ¡°I see the lemons have ripened since Ist visited,¡± she said. ¡°Will you help me pick one, my lord? I am told the fruits of the valley are always sweetest.¡±

    Subtle. After rubbing elbows with the intriguing children of izinduna and even their distant kin on Tolomontera, such blunt maneuvering felt rather elementary.

    ¡°Lemons are sour, Lady Theofania,¡± Cleon replied, rising to his feet. ¡°And while I apologize, I must take my leave. There is much to see to before the guests begin arriving.¡±

    He hardly even let Theofania nod at him before stalking off. Lady Penelope eased the following frustrated silence, telling Lady Theofania she would have lemons picked, pressed and sweetened for her in a drink, but then she also took her leave.

    ¡°I am to show Lady Angharad to the annex,¡± Lady Penelope told the other woman. ¡°Unlike you she has had little asion to see the Eirenos heirlooms.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Lady Theofania replied, almost through gritted teeth.

    And so Angharad found herself whisked away, leaning on her cane. She had, she realized with some amusement, never even sat down. Both Eirenos had found in her an excuse to escape and seized it with aplomb.

    ¡°Her mother taught her poorly,¡± Lady Penelope sighed.

    She¡¯d waited for them to be far enough their voices would not carry across the grass but Angharad still felt mildly ufortable.

    ¡°She does not seem to have found favor with your son,¡± she neutrally said.

    ¡°That,¡± Lady Penelope said, ¡°and she¡¯s yet to realize that the Pisenor are using her as a stalking horse.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s brow rose. House Pisenor, she had learned that very morning, were the eastern neighbors of the Eirenos. That and the hosts of Lady Theofania, who used them as a means attend events here at the manor.¡±

    Presumably coin or favors were involved in the trade, given that in doing this the Pisenor were quite tantly souring their rtionship with the lord of the Eirenos.

    ¡°How so?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Their daughter is only twelve,¡± Lady Penelope said. ¡°They are helping poor Theofania only because it keeps other candidates away from Cleon until their own girles of age.¡±

    ¡°And that same help is angering the man whose hand they would seek afterwards,¡± Angharad pointed out.

    She got an amused look from the beauty, as if she were a little slow.

    ¡°That is how they will approach him,¡± Lady Penelope said. ¡°Offering pretty young Aspasia and a healthy sum as reparations ¨C likely dowering her with the Pisenor rights to the temple of the Twice-Mother. Lord Pisenor has been trying to be a patron of the temple to Oduromai near the mountains for a decade, but he will not be allowed to buy a seat so long as his house already has rights to another god¡¯s temple.¡±

    Angharad would have liked to call these Asphodelian intrigues pointless andbyrinthine, but the words would have been hypocritical. The country peers of Peredur were just as prone to plots and squabbles, one of the many reasons Mother had so praised her father¡¯s stewardship. While Gywdion Tredegar ran nw Hall, there had been peace and amity with every other nearby house for nearly two decades.

    No, all that it was fair to feel was lost. A stranger in this valley of cousins and old secrets, each speaking with an undertone she was the only one not to hear. Perhaps sensing her mood, Lady Penelope patted her arm.

    ¡°Cleon hasn¡¯t noticed either,¡± the older beauty said. ¡°And for all that schemes in Tratheke are more vicious, in some ways they are also simpler ¨C I am sure you will find a ce there when you return.¡±

    Green eyes slid down the curve of Angharad¡¯s neck to swell of her curves, leaving a trail of flushed skin as they did.

    ¡°You are certainlyely enough to draw someone¡¯s eye,¡± Lady Penelope said, tone gone sultry.

    Angharad cleared her throat and precipitously changed the subject.

    ¡°You favor a Pisenor match, then?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Materially, it is the most favorable offer Cleon is likely to get,¡± thedy of the house said. ¡°Yet their approach is underhanded and there is no guarantee the girl would please him, so I withhold judgment.¡±

    Meaning that if Angharad found a suitable prospect tonight and made introductions, she would not be stepping on Lady Penelope¡¯s ns. Good. She was somewhat relieved when their walk to the annex ended not in the door upstairs being locked and the older beauty pressing her against the wall but instead in a servant being sent to fetch tea while they sat and chatted in Lady Penelope¡¯s private sanctum.

    Relieved and, perhaps, a little disappointed. But only a little.

    Provided an excuse to avoid the no doubt fuming Lady Theofania, the two of them took it. Angharad could see through the open window that the uninvited guest was being attended to thoroughly by the servants, a green-liveried valet standing by her at all times waiting for orders, so she would not even be able toin of neglect. Yet her face was dark, as she sat alone under the pavilion sipping at freshly pressed lemon water.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Why would it not be, when she had gotten nothing of what she came for?

    When the other guests began arriving the hiding ended. First came House Saon, disgorging tworge carriages packed to the brim, and the Iphine were not far behind. House Pisenor arrived a littleter, at the same time Lord Arkol¡¯s carriage came up the road. A few other families sent people, but none so many as the triumvirate of the Saon, Iphine and Pisenor. The three were, Angharad gathered, some of the leading houses of thends between the central grainds of Tratheke Valley and the capital itself.

    Certainly the talk turned toints about the ¡®wheat lords¡¯ of the middle ins often enough.

    That helped Angharad grasp why Phaedros Arkol, an eastern noble owningrge grain fields, had attended tonight beyond his business ties to Lord Cleon¡¯ste father. Not only had that Arkol bought thest of the Eirenosnds on the eastern coast two generations back, Lord Arkol was currently courting the natural opponents of his rivals in the grain trade.

    No doubt the point was to support the lords closest to Tratheke so they might try to bleed the valley¡¯s grain lords with tolls and force the price at market to rise. Which would in turn keep his own grainpetitive despite the need to carry it to the Lordsport markets from much further away.

    Lady Penelope was the mistress of the house, and thus swiftly attended to by a circle of the local matriarchs. Unsurprisingly, she was also approached by a parade of lords of myriad ages ¨C including Lord Arkol, whom she deemed a goat and chased awayughingly. Lord Cleon was the host and thus constantly in demand. Angharad deftly avoided a suggestion he apany her for introductions, as that would have been something of a statement, instead fending for herself.

    Cleon made a point of regrly returning to speak with her, however, which did not go unnoticed. She could use that.

    Avoiding the Pisenor, she tried to approach the Iphine but found them haughty and uninterested. They were all richly dressed and sought after in conversation, which let her deduce they were the most powerful of the attending nobles ¨C or at least the wealthiest. Among them she¡¯d noticed twins bearing swords, though rapiers in the Sacromontan style rather proper des, which made that haughtiness unfortunate given that one of the said twins was a handsome blue-eyed woman.

    She turned to the Saon, next, who seemed a jollier lot. The man she approached, a bearded sort in his twenties and stockily built, not only took to herpany but was more than willing to make introductions. That everyone seemed to have heard the wild tales from Chalcia served to make her a figure of interest, which helped even if it involved denying t untruths so repeatedly her tongue was growing tired.

    Castor Saon, who insisted on being called Castor, was introducing her to a girl from one of the smaller houses when Lord Gule arrived. The great Mni lord made a ripple simply by entering, his manservant trailing behind, but given the importance of her task Angharad could only spare him a nod. He returned it with a smile, which impressed both the Asphodelians with her.

    Lady Irida was a slender woman of eighteen with callouses on her hand that turned out to be from her great interest in archery. Angharad lingered in herpany, long enough that when Cleon came to visit they spoke. Unfortunately, theck of interest on his part was quite evident. She hardly got a second look, and in truth did not seem all that interested either.

    A wash. Next.

    Lady Selene would be rather more to Cleon¡¯s tastes, Angharad was confident of it. Tall and lushly figured, with a scar on her neck that turned out to be from a fall instead of something more adventurous. Still, she liked riding. That was a start. Unfortunately Lady Selene began flirting rather outrageously with Castor within moments of their introduction, her guide being an admittedly a good-looking man of genial disposition. They barely slowed down when Cleon came to visit, and Angharad would not be surprised should the pair disappear at some point in the evening and reappear slightly disheveled.

    Her guide gantly kept ferrying her around afterwards through introducing Cleon to Lady Danai, who as quite pretty but uninterested in marriage, and Lady Agape whom the young lord did not get on with at all. It had, by then, be rather clear to Castor what it was she was attempting.

    ¡°Good effort,¡± he whispered, ¡°but it won¡¯t keep Lady Theofania froming for your scalp.¡±

    Ah. Angharad supposed it <em>was</em> a likelier guess that she was trying to avoid a well-connected noblewoman¡¯s wrath rather than acting in guilt at having bedded Lady Penelope. Castor still offered a solution, though unsurprisingly the woman in question was a rtive. Lady Koralia was his cousin from a different Saon side branch, and though unttering dressed ¨C her gown was not well fitted and she moved awkwardly in it ¨C the clothes and ungainly haircut were hiding what Angharad found to be good looks.

    Though quite shy, after a bit of talk she grew in confidence and revealed she was mad for bird hunting. Lady Koralia proudly expounded on her three hunting dogs, which she had raised herself, and on minute differences in the fowler guns avable in Asphodel. From the zed look in Castor¡¯s eyes, this was not the first time he heard this speech. Even more promisingly, when Lord Cleon came by to visit she blushed and fumbled her curtsy ¨C which heughed off,ing off rather charming.

    Hmmm. That one had potential, perhaps.

    Instead of continuing the hunt, she decided to stick with this particr prospect. This saw her enfolded by a gaggle of Saon youths, of which there were a dozen within years of her own age. Resolute to make a good impression, Angharad traded with them stories of Mn for gossip about previous gatherings. Lord Iasos Saon, oldest man from the main line at neen, had the clout and presence to lead the conversation on the Saon side and no qualms in doing so.

    ¡°It was a sight to see,¡± Iasos assured her. ¡°Twenty graybeards, drunks as skunks and brandishing muskets older than them, haring off after a downed pegasus - and when they finally shot it dead, trampling half a thicket, they found it was just a stag withrge fern leaves stuck in his antlers.¡±

    ¡°<em>No</em>,¡± Angharad grinned.

    ¡°It only looked like wings because they scared him off at a run,¡± Iasosughed. ¡°To this day, my uncle insists the real pegasus simply got away.¡±

    His little sister, Maria, waved the long bell sleeves of her dress in an attempt to convey beating wings. As she was a bright eyed eight-year-old, it was most adorable.

    ¡°Look sharp, Iasos,¡± Castor suddenly muttered. ¡°The moura is headed our way.¡±

    The older Saon grimaced. Angharad tried to discreetly eye what they were being warned about, leaning on her cane, but there were too many Saons in the way.

    ¡°The moura?¡± she murmured.

    ¡°It is a kind of lemure,¡± Iasos said. ¡°It takes the appearance of a beautiful woman drowning in a river, and when one approaches¡­¡±

    ¡°It hugs you tight and drowns<em> you</em>,¡± Maria theatrically said, bell sleeves flying as sinisterly as they could.

    Angharad resisted the urge to pinch her cheek.

    A momentter Lady Theofania arrived, nked by the fair-haired twins Angharad had learned were the eldest Iphine children, and she suppressed a spurt ofughter. Ah. The Saon were not particrly fond of Lady Theofania either, then. Odd that Theofania would be with that pair when her hosts were rival to that house, but then she¡¯d arrived long before the Pisenor had. That rtionship might be more distant than believed.

    It had been a given that Lady Theofania woulde for her ¡®scalp¡¯, as Castor had put it, but the sheer bluntness of the attack still startled her.

    After pointedly greeting only Lord Iasos and his sister, the two Saon of the main line ¨C the Iphine did not even bother with little Maria ¨C Lady Theofania addressed Angharad without having first greeted her. That was already quite rude, and promised to get worse.

    ¡°I am surprised to find you inpany, Lady Angharad,¡± the other woman smiled.

    ¡°If you are to insult me,¡± the Pereduri suggested, ¡°try not require my coboration in doing so. I find myself disinclined to help you.¡±

    She heard Castor hastily turn a snort into a coughing fit.

    ¡°Mouthy,¡± the woman of the Iphine twins noted.

    Tall and elegant with long blonde hair, she would have been a beauty if not for that carved sneer.

    ¡°One assumes,¡± Lady Theofania tittered, ¡°given how I am told she went into the woods with Lord Cleon without a chaperone for¡­ hours.¡±

    She fanned herself.

    ¡°If you cannot afford a second dress, you must have had to pay for the hospitality <em>somehow</em>.¡±

    <em>What</em> had she just said?

    Angharad¡¯s hand reached for a de that was not at her side. While it was<em></em>nonchnt of her to have taken a walk with an unmarried man without someone to look after his virtue, Theofania had gone quite a bit further than simply insinuating a sort of general impropriety. To so attaint someone¡¯s honor was well worth a death on the dueling field. Perhaps smelling the ck fury off her, Lord Iasos slid into the conversation.

    ¡°Ah, yes, Cleon Eirenos,¡± he sardonically said. ¡°That famous libertine, seducing maidens left and right.¡±

    ¡°One does not need to seduce a whore, Iasos,¡± Lady Theofania ndly said.

    Her fingers gripped her cane until the wood creaked.

    ¡°Would you care to repeat the word you just used, girl?¡± Angharad coldly asked.

    ¡°Whore,¡± Theofania said. ¡°What of it?¡±

    She then flicked a nce at the male twin, who stepped forward with a shallow smile.

    ¡°Do you feel your honor to be impugned?¡± he asked. ¡°I am told that Mni settle such matters with duels.¡±

    He opened his arm, warmly weing save for the glint in his eyes. That was all poison.

    ¡°I happen to have some small skill with a de,¡± the Iphine lordling said. ¡°It would be my pleasure to stand for Lady Theofania so we might end the disagreement in the manner of your people.¡±

    So that was the y, Angharad thought. Insult her so harshly she could not possibly refuse to defend her honor with a de, then pit her against a fine sword while crippled so she would be twice disgraced in her defeat. Blunt, brutal, and admittedly difficult to extricate herself from. Not that she intended to do any such thing. This would end with lifeblood on the grass and Theofania Varochas weeping.

    What did the Iphine get from this? The woman¡¯s eye dipped to Angharad¡¯s arm, as if looking for something under the sleeve, and then she put it together. They were fencers, both those twins, and wanted to make a name for themselves by defeating a mirror-dancer. That they would be fighting one using a cane would, presumably, be left out of the tale when it was retold.

    Time to teach them the difference between a mirror-dancer and a child ying at swords. She did not need more than three steps to sh open a fool¡¯s skull.

    The confrontation had drawn the eyes of the crowd, murmurs spreading as room was made around them in a circle. Lord Cleon looked furious and was making his way towards them, but his mother held him back with a nk face. At their side Lord Gule stood with his horn pressed to the ear while his manservant presumably whispered a report. And looking at the richly dressed induna, at the sympathetic grimace he sent her way, Angharad saw it then. What she must do.

    It came like a bolt of lightning, and just as pleasantly.

    She fought it. Of course she did. It was madness, it ran against every instinct and every learned lesson. It would make her look like¡­ Fingers clenched painfully. Surely there was another way, she thought as she looked into that swaggering Iphine¡¯s eyes. Something that would not feel like swallowing acid. She looked but did not find one. There was only one key to the lock.

    Angharad Tredegar stood there, feeling very alone, and tried to tell herself she must be proud of what was to follow.

    ¡°You try to duel a woman unarmed, leaning on a cane,¡± she said.

    The Iphine snorted. Lady Theofania smiled sharply.

    ¡°Did you not wield a saber to drive off bandits and lemures?¡± Lady Theofania asked. ¡°Are you not a swordmistress of Mn?¡±

    ¡°Unless these are lies,¡± the female twin said.

    ¡°Unless you paid for rumors create repute at an evening attended by your betters,¡± the other idly added. ¡°Which is it, Lady Angharad?¡±

    He drummed his fingers against the cup of his rapier.

    ¡°Are you a liar or a coward?¡±

    Liar. Coward. Whore. Any of these insults were enough for them to deserve being cut down. And oh, Angharad knew she could. The male twin, he had callouses but his boots were too soft. On grass, all it¡¯d take was a good feint and he¡¯d slip. Life snatched out before he hit the ground. The other, the woman, her de was too thin. To make it lighter, she must not have wanted too much muscle. Bait, parry and a good snap of the wrist would make a clean break of the steel about an inch up the guard.

    And they were asking for it. <em>Literally asking for it!</em>

    But Angharad, instead, made herself look down. She swallowed the bile, feeling the eyes on her, and instead of replying she walked away. Conversation erupted in her wake as she tacitly admitted to at least one of the usations, the humiliation burning. Teeth clenched so hard she felt like they might pop, she ignored the looks as best she could and passed by a furious-looking Cleon to return inside the manor.

    No one followed her.

    The servants looked confused when she limped past them and headed straight for the front of the manor, the entrance with the columns, and there she stood alone in the shade. She had just tossed aside her honor, Angharad knew. She felt like throwing up, like shouting. Like bloodying her fucking hand on the pir. Never, <em>never </em>had she been so humiliated. And she had let it happen like some whipped dog.

    By now half the garden would be calling her a fraud, the other a coward. Sleeping God, even in <em>Tratheke </em>they¡¯d hear about a scandal like this. And she had done it to herself on purpose.

    ¡°A watchwoman,¡± she hoarsely whispered. ¡°A watchwoman, not ady.¡±

    Leaning against the pir as much as her cane, warm forehead against the cool stone, Angharad straightened when she heard the door open behind. It would be Lord Cleon, she thought,e to¡­ Only it wasn¡¯t. The veryst person she expected to follow stepped out the door, striped dress trailing behind her. Lady Theofania Varochas looked at her, then sighed.

    If Angharad had a knife on her, she might well have plunged it into her eye. She spent a moment mastering herself, the other woman hesitating a moment before she spoke.

    ¡°It was not personal, if that is anyfort,¡± Lady Theofania said.

    There was no hint of apology or remorse in those blue eyes. Lady Theofania¡¯s manners were brisk, almost businesslike.

    ¡°It rather felt otherwise,¡± Angharad evenly replied.

    ¡°It is a house matter,¡± Lady Theofania told her. ¡°I do not me you for trying to make Cleon into your gold spoon, Lady Angharad. We make our way however we can.¡±

    She scowled.

    ¡°But you should have investigated him more deeply,¡± Lady Theofania said. ¡°Cleon Eirenos is already spoken for.¡±

    Angharad scoffed.

    ¡°You think that production you put on will endear you to him?¡± she asked. ¡°Think again.¡±

    He had looked furious, not impressed, and already despised Theofania. That episode was unlikely to change Cleon¡¯s opinion that she was a viper. Though it would, at least, give Angharad an excuse to avoid him in society going forward. If she was still allowed in society at all, after¡­ <em>that</em>.

    ¡°I do not expect I will ever be dear to him,¡± Lady Theofania dismissed. ¡°This is not to be a love match. What I do expect, Lady Angharad, is that the example made of you will scare off the chaff.¡±

    An example, Angharad realized. Theofania Varochas had made her into an example for potential rivals, and the absurdity of it almost made herugh. <em>It will get you no closer to wedding him</em>, she thought. <em>The more you attempt to force his hand, the deeper his hatred will be entrenched.</em> For all that Theofania was attempting to y this as some masterful blow, Angharad could smell the desperation beneath it.

    Lord Cleon despised the Varochas for their reaching grasp, and despised Lady Theofania in particr. Worse, all involved knew this. It must be a heavy weight to bear, her houses¡¯ hopes of prominence. Especially when the game had been rigged against her from the start. No wonder she was growing reckless in her attempts to secure the match, or at least scare off contenders. Angharad felt a twinge of pity, if only a twinge.

    ¡°Does this conversation have a point?¡± she asked.

    ¡°You need not worry I intend to run you out of Tratheke society,¡± Lady Theofania informed her. ¡°Or harm your reputation further ¨C as I said, Lady Angharad, this was not personal. Marry as you will, and with my best wishes, so long as you stay away from Cleon Eirenos.¡±

    ¡°And if I decline?¡± Angharad curiously asked.

    Theofania¡¯s slender face hardened.

    ¡°Then I will be forced to bring to bear against you the full weight of my house,¡± she said. ¡°It would be unpleasant business for the both of us, I suspect, but needs must.¡±

    She feigned consideration of Theofania¡¯s words, letting the seconds stretch heavily ¨C thick as taffy. Eventually she nodded.

    ¡°I do notmand his attentions,¡± Angharad warned.

    ¡°Nor do I expect you to,¡± Lady Theofania replied, politely nodding.

    She hesitated a moment.

    ¡°You may expect every due courtesy from me when next we meet,¡± she added. ¡°I regret the damage that may have been inflicted on your prospects, and will keep it in mind over the next months.¡±

    A polite way to say that, should Angharad¡¯s reputation turn out thoroughly ruined by this, the Varochas may arrange a pity marriage for her with whatever household man they could rustle up. It was the least kind of mercy, but mercy nheless. Angharad suddenly found she believed her when she''d said there had been nothing personal about this, not that it made her any less of a viper.

    ¡°Good night, Lady Theofania,¡± Angharad replied.

    The dismissal was courteous but clear.

    ¡°Good night, Lady Angharad,¡± Theofania replied, inclining her head.

    She was left alone on the steps, looking up at the starry sky. How long should she stay? At least half an hour, Angharad decided. She must, after all, sell the notion that she was drowning in her humiliation. Cut up inside.

    Bleeding deeply enough that Lord Gule would believe her, when she came to find him and spoke of moving on with her life.

    --

    Lord Gule, in deference to both his rank and the distance he had traveled to attend, was to be amodated in the guesthouse overnight. As the feast was not yet over, however, he was not there. Instead, when Angharad put on a chastened face and asked the Eirenos servants where she might find the ambassador, she was directed to a small smoking parlor on the main floor of the manor. None offered to apany her.

    Evidently her humiliation had made her someone to avoid.

    Lord Gule was seated inside on afortable cushioned chair, smoking a pipe, but when she was brought in by his valet ¨C Jabni, she recalled ¨C he disyed good manners by putting it out. Bringing out his listening horn, he invited her to sit with him.

    ¡°I can only take so long of these evenings before I have to rest my mind a span,¡± he told her. ¡°Smoking makes for a fine excuse and does not dull the mind as drinking overmuch would.¡±

    She nodded silently, lowering herself into the seat across from his. Angharad had wondered how to approach this, ever since the notion first urred to her in that bolt from the ck, and decided against deception. She was not a deft hand at such games and never would be. Best, she thought, to keep to the truth.

    ¡°I have,¡± Angharad quietly said, ¡°rarely been so shamed in my life as I have been tonight.¡±

    Never, arguably. She had been on the bad end of tricks, when on the dueling circuit, and she¡¯d had some enemies in Peredur society. None had ever shamed her as Theofania and her Iphine aplices.

    ¡°A vicious one, the Varochas girl,¡± Lord Gule agreed. ¡°Not that it will get her what she wants, but at that age it is amon mistake to confuse a sessful n for a wise one.¡±

    She swallowed, then straightened herself from the slump she had consciously made herself fall into.

    ¡°You told me, once, that a time woulde where I would begin thinking about the rest of my life.¡±

    Angharad paused, met his eyes.

    ¡°That I should call on you, then.¡±

    His gaze was gentle.

    ¡°You have had a difficult evening, Lady Angharad,¡± Lord Gule said. ¡°Perhaps you should rest instead. It will pass.¡±

    ¡°It will not,¡± Angharad tly replied. ¡°This or its like will happen, again and again, so long as I remain as I am. That is no way to live.¡±

    And there she let her very real anger at the public humiliation show. A long moment passed, Lord Gule watching with calm eyes, then he turned to his valet. The man had been inside the entire time, standing by the door silent and still.

    ¡°I told you,¡± the older noble said. ¡°She is clever, she was bound to realize it soon: there is no future in being a courtier in Asphodel.¡±

    He leaned back into the cushions afterwards, looking almost satisfied.

    ¡°You remember Jabni, my attendant,¡± Lord Gule said.

    Angharad nodded at the near-shaved man, whose stony expression she remembered from their short encounter at the green party. Lord Gule smiled.

    ¡°He holds, as it happens, a second position among my staff.¡±

    Stomach sinking, Angharad turned her eyes back to Jabni ¨C whose expression had not changed, and who bowed at her again. When he straightened, he offered her a small coin to peruse. Lacquered wood, the color of copper, bearing on one side the shell of a helmet turtle and on the other a slender crown. Lefthand House. The man was <em>ufudu</em>, and Angharad felt her blood turn to ice.

    ¡°The Lefthand House greets you, Lady Tredegar,¡± Jabni said.

    Angharad kept her face nk, slowly nodding, and flicked a worried nce at Lord Gule. The induna shrugged.

    ¡°Jabni serves the will of our queen on Asphodel, as do we,¡± he said. ¡°There is nothing to fear.¡±

    There was always something to fear when it came to the Lefthand House. Servants of the High Queen they may be, but Angharad¡¯s own brush with their sort had made it in they were nothing less than poison.

    ¡°Well met,¡± Angharad carefully said.

    Did the man know the circumstances of her exile from the Isles? Did Lord Gule? Ancestors, did they know about <em>Imani</em>? She could not even be sure if they knew her to be a ckcloak. So many questions that she all bit down on until her gums felt as if they would bleed.

    ¡°You are called to service,¡± Jabni told her. ¡°Menander Drakos has shownsting interest in you. Are you his lover?¡±

    She choked at the blunt, rude inquiry.

    ¡°Sleeping God, <em>no</em>,¡± she vehemently replied.

    ¡°Then it must be on behalf of your patron,¡± the ufudu concluded. ¡°Whoever sought him to introduce you into Tratheke circles.¡±

    He then stared at her in pregnant silence, as if ordering her to borate on that patron¡¯s identity. It appeared, at least, that the rector¡¯s pce was not so porous as to reveal she was a ckcloak part of the Thirteenth Brigade. They would know there was no such patron otherwise.

    ¡°I would rather not speak of the matter,¡± Angharad curtly replied.

    Lord Gule touched the other man¡¯s arm.

    ¡°Even exiles can have friends, Jabni,¡± he gently said. ¡°Let us speak, instead, of the request Her Perpetual Majesty would make of us."

    The ufudu hummed, seeming unconvinced, but moved on nheless.

    ¡°Regardless of the reason, Lord Menander has taken a shine to you,¡± Jabni said. ¡°It is expected that he will invite you to a private dinner at his personal mansion in two weeks. Every two months, the man invites his inner circle and those he intends to bring into it to a private evening. We require that you attend.¡±

    The hint of frustration on that stony face, Angharad decided, meant that the Lefthand House had not been able to get someone in despite efforts otherwise. Her esteem for Menander Drakos¡¯ attention to his security rose a notch. Excitement mounted, carefully buried. She had wounded her honor, tonight, but it was opening some sort of gate. It had not been for <em>nothing</em>.

    ¡°Why?¡± she bluntly asked.

    ¡°It hase to our attention,¡± the ufudu said, ¡°that Menander Drakos might have obtained stolen property. We would have you confirm the presence of an object in particr.¡±

    She said nothing, only meeting his eyes. It was Lord Gule who continued.

    ¡°It would have the look of a wine press,¡± the older man said, ¡°only of Antediluvian make.¡±

    The infernal forge, Angharad realized with utter bafflement. They were talking about the infernal forge. It took every scrap of mastery she held to keep herself from visibly reacting. Relief tested that control again, when it struck her that they could not know about Imani if they were asking her this. <em>This part of the Lefthand House does not know who I am</em>.

    Why - no, it made sense. The ufudu were hoarders of secrets and there was no need for the ambassador to faraway Asphodel to know anything of House Tredegar¡¯s disgrace. Word would have had time to carry, since the fall of her house, but no <em>reason</em> to. And had Imani not said that the High Queen did not count her as a foe? There would be no need for the Lefthand House to follow her too closely.

    ¡°That artifact is best shipped back to Mn,¡± Jabni continued. ¡°We do not require that you obtain it, only to confirm its presence on the premises.¡±

    Stolen property, best shipped back to Mn. How carefully they were implying the infernal forge to be the High Queen¡¯s rightful property without ever stating as much. Angharad might well have been fooled had she not known better. Had she been inclined to trust them, such trickery would have ended the notion. As she had not, it was mere confirmation that the pair sought to use her.

    ¡°I <em>could </em>do this,¡± Angharad finally replied.

    Lord Gule softly chuckled.

    ¡°Could, indeed,¡± he said, then nced at hispanion. ¡°I will handle the haggling, Jabni. Kindly leave us to it.¡±

    The stony-faced man studied them both, then shallowly nodded.

    ¡°We will speak again,¡± he told Angharad, then rose.

    Though he closed the door softly, almost without a sound, the silence that followed in his wake was oppressively loud. Lord Gule set aside his listening horn a moment to help himself to a sip of brandy from a cup she¡¯d not even noticed and looked like it had hardly been touched. Then he set it down with a smile, picking up his horn.

    ¡°You were roughly done, tonight,¡± he said after putting it to his ear, ¡°but sometimes it is in the dark that we see most clearly. Good cane of evil.¡±

    <em>Good cane of anything</em>, Angharad thought. <em>That does not excuse evil.</em> An induna ought to know better.

    ¡°I cannot go back,¡± she said. ¡°That can no longer be denied.¡±

    She was speaking truth, merely not the truth he thought. Lord Gule nodded approvingly.

    ¡°It can be difficult, leaving the Isles behind, but there is more than one hearth under firmament,¡± he said.

    He then cleared his throat with an undertone of embarrassment.

    ¡°I will not ask as to the circumstances of your departure from Peredur,¡± Lord Gule said. ¡°Jabni looked through thetest list from the Lefthand House and your name is not on it, which is enough for me.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s eyes widened. It was said that the ufudu kept ount books of traitors much as a treasurer would of coin, but never before had she heard it spoken out loud<em>. So Imani spoke true, when she said Her Perpetual Majesty wishes me no ill will.</em> She was not marked a traitor by the royal court, despite the Tredegar name being struck off the rolls of nobility.

    ¡°Whatever troubles there might have been in your past, Lady Angharad, they can be put to rest by lending aid to the Lefthand House over this matter of stolen property,¡± he said.

    She raised an eyebrow, openly unimpressed. Even had she truly been the sort of exile she portrayed herself to be, this would have been a short thrift reward. The manughed.

    ¡°They will not promise you more,¡± he said. ¡°They believe your hand can be forced, you see, which Jabni is the kind of man to prefer to the trade of favors. But it does not matter, for <em>I </em>would make you an offer in their stead.¡±

    Angharad inclined her head to the side. She saw the guile at y here. y up the Lefthand House as an enemy while binding all rewards to himself. A straightforward enough trick that would yet have been clutched at like lifesaving driftwood by a more desperate woman. It was rare for her to feel grateful for the Watch, but in that moment she did. How tempting would Gule¡¯s words have been, for a woman downing along at sea? It had been good fortune, to find protectors before she ever came here.

    Angharad waited in silence for the terms now, the true offer, but instead Lord Gule¡¯s conversation took a surprising turn.

    ¡°You will have heard I am in talks with the Lord Rector on Her Majesty¡¯s behalf, I expect,¡± he said. ¡°Tell me, Lady Angharad: what is it that you believe Mn wants of this Antediluvian shipyard?¡±

    Her brow rose.

    ¡°Skimmers, presumably,¡± she said. ¡°I have not heard of them being able to build anything else.¡±

    ¡°That is themon assumption,¡± Lord Gule acknowledged. ¡°Certainly, that is what Evander Palliades believes. It is also incorrect.¡±

    ¡°The aether engines alone, then?¡± she tried.

    They would be the most valuable part, though given that anything made of tomic alloy was worth its weight in gold no part of a skimmer could be called inexpensive. He smiled thinly, shaking his head.

    ¡°What we want,¡± Lord Gule said, ¡°is the whole shipyard to be irreparably scrapped.¡±

    She choked in surprise.

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°Save for Ingpur on Tower Coast, there is no known city boastingrge-scale shipyards capable of producing skimmers fit for war,¡± the ambassador said. ¡°The capacity to build and repair such ships exists elsewhere, certainly, but it¡­ artisanal.¡±

    Angharad frowned.

    ¡°While the shipyard under Asphodel would have such capacity.¡±

    He inclined his head in agreement.

    ¡°That is troubling for us in several ways,¡± Lord Gule continued. ¡°Should the Tianxi obtain a fleet of war skimmers, the bnce of power in the Trebian Sea will tip their way. The Republics will attempt to seize hegemony over the region and might well seed.¡±

    Unless Mn sent in its own fleet to check them, Angharad silently added. Which would be a nightmarish tar pit of a war, having to support a hundred small ind states against the Republics while the other great powers meddled at every turn.

    ¡°The right treaties could avoid this,¡± she noted. ¡°An agreement for Asphodel to limit its sales to the Republics, at least regarding skimmer warships. Why is the outright destruction of the shipyard desired?¡±

    ¡°Because,¡± Lord Gule said, ¡°even should a diplomatic miracle be achieved and such a treaty be installed, the proliferation of the civilian ships would still be disastrous to Mni trade.¡±

    It took her a moment to grasp why, but though Angharad Tredegar had not been raised to be a greatdy of Mn neither had she been raised to be a fool. Besides, she was better taught than most when it came to the politics of the waves.

    ¡°It would crack open the Straying Sea,¡± Angharad btedly realized.

    The stretch of sea between the isles of Mn and the continent, deep in darkness and famously prone to Gloam storms, was a great source of wealth for the kingdom. Mni dominance over it had been cemented by two things: the first was the Serpentine Roads. These were a great modern wonder, pathways of floating re lighthouses built at the order of the Queen Perpetual which foreign merchants could use to traverse the region safely ¨C but at the price of tolls, and along routes that favored Mni ports and trade.

    The second was ironwood sailing ships, which sailed faster than any other wooden vessel and cut clean through lesser Gloam currents. Ironwood ships were how Mn had first been able to reach the continents to the north and the west, and how the High Queen¡¯s ships could treat the Straying Sea as their backyard instead of the ship killer it was for every other great power. Skimmers could do everything ironwood ships could, which was hardly trouble when they were so rare, but should they be¡­ perhaps notmon a sight, but no longer rare?

    The seal on the ambitions of the other great powers would be broken, madness spilling out on all the world.

    ¡°Exactly so,¡± Lord Gule praised, as if she were a student as the <em>isikole</em>. ¡°Bad enough if the Tianxi got their hands on a fleet of skimmer warships, but at least their ambitions are to the south and the east. If the Izcalli did, or the Someshwari?¡±

    He grimaced.

    ¡°It is not only damage to our trade and rampant piracy that we might face, but fleets of skimmers sailing out to found colonies rival to our own.¡±

    ¡°A grave danger,¡± Angharad murmured.

    ¡°I tell you this,¡± Lord Gule said, ¡°so that you might understand that by tying his fortune to the shipyard so closely Evander Palliades has dug his own grave.¡±

    Her eyes sharpened.

    ¡°The assassin¡­¡±

    The ambassador shook his head.

    ¡°There is no need for that,¡± he said. ¡°It can be done properly. There is a strong imant for the throne and her supporters will not suffer that shipyard to be her property. If owning it can make of a threat of the ailing Palliades, it could make an already powerful house untouchable. No, by simple virtue of the nature of her cause she will have to dismantle the shipyard.¡±

    ¡®Her¡¯. Minister Apollonia Floros, Angharad thought. It had to be, even though Lord Gule was avoiding speaking the name outright.

    ¡°A sad end for the Palliades,¡± she finally said. ¡°But such is the turn of history.¡±

    She suspected Song was taken with the man, but as the Watch seemed indifferent to who sat the throne of Asphodel the truth was that Angharad saw little need to concern herself with it. After tonight, what little warmth she¡¯d had for the people of Asphodel had cooled. <em>I am a woman of the Watch</em>, she told herself. <em>I came here on contract, and owe not a thing more.</em>

    ¡°You may be wondering,¡± Lord Gule said, ¡°why instead of speaking of reward for your services I instead attended to such grand matters.¡±

    ¡°The thought urred,¡± Angharad replied.

    And now came the offer. Finally. <em>Let it be that you are a cultist</em>, she thought. <em>Ancestors preserve me, but I hope that you are wicked.</em> Nothing else could possibly make what she had out herself through tonight worth it. Had Song¡¯s inspection of the rector¡¯s pce not proved a dead end she would not have had to, but it had been. And she owed the Thirteenth too much not to reach for the key when it was on the table.

    Even if the key was forged out of her public humiliation.

    ¡°Apollonia Floros will sit the throne of Asphodel,¡± Lord Gule bluntly said, dispensing with the earlier pretense, ¡°but she will not rule. A more¡­ discerning circle will see to that. One to which I was invited for representing the might of Mn, and to which I would invite you in turn.¡±

    ¡°A hidden faction,¡± Angharad murmured, meaning ¡®cult¡¯.

    Her hear beat against her ears, blood rushed up. Was this it? Had she been approached by the cult of the Golden Ram atst?

    ¡°A society assembled under the auspices of a spirit,¡± Lord Gule said. ¡°When changees to Asphodel, Mn and I will find ourselves showered in rewards¨C but then the allies of today will be tomorrow¡¯s rivals. I seek a champion to stand at my side in anticipation of that tomorrow, and what finer champion can there be than a mirror-dancer?¡±

    Angharad swallowed. She¡¯d done it. She had done it, tonight, and without once wielding her sword ¨C save perhaps against herself.

    ¡°I can hardly walk without a cane,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I would be a decoration, not a champion.¡±

    <em>Go on</em>, she thought. <em>Sell me your healing spirit.</em>

    ¡°Nothing is absolute, save for the Sleeping God,¡± the ambassador replied

    Reaching at his belt, he removed from a slender silken pouch a small sphere wrapped in paper. It was pressed into Angharad¡¯s hand and she opened it to find a small red medicinal ball ¨C it smelled faintly metallic and was warm to the touch.

    ¡°Eat it,¡± Lord Gule instructed. ¡°Not here, it would be too noticeable, but when there are fewer eyes on you.¡±

    ¡°What does it do?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°It is a taste of what the Golden Ram can offer you,¡± he said. ¡°Healing for a span of eight hours.¡±

    She breathed in sharply. That was tempting, even knowing it was likely a trap.

    ¡°And this spirit can heal me for good, without need of a pill?¡± she pressed.

    ¡°I so swear,¡± Lord Gule smiled. ¡°I have, after all, been promised the same ¨C and would already be whole again, if such a boon was not at risk of being discovered.¡±

    <em>They knew someone like you wasing, Song</em>, Angharad thought. <em>You never found a trace of the Golden Ram at court because they went into hiding long before we reached this shore.</em> The older man leaned forward, closing her fingers around the paper and the pill.

    ¡°Do as the Lefthand House asked and you will have bought a pardon from Mn,¡± Lord Gule gently said. ¡°Then when the dust has settled on Asphodel, Lady Angharad, you can stand by my side in the open - and without any need for a cane.¡±

    <em>Found you</em>, Angharad Tredegar thought.

    And though it was as ugly as victories got, this one felt like a first payment on a debt.

 Chapter 55

    Chapter 55

    The thing about being the lowest rung on thedder was that everyone stepped on you.

    It was Tristan¡¯s fourth day as a Kassa traveling man, which meant he was still swallowing an awful lot of boot: there hadn¡¯t been a single trip across the city where he wasn¡¯t the one hanging onto the back of the carriage and he¡¯d thrice been volunteered to clean vomit or horseshit. The pay, to be honest, wasn¡¯t great. Four coppers a day, one of which went to the injury fund, and then an additional twelve if he made it to the end of the month.

    Staying with thepany for longer raised your sry, but most traveling men onlysted a month or two. It was a rough, exhausting job and its veterans were a tight-knit group that cared little for outsiders. Tristan genuinely could not tell if he was being hazed or they were attempting to push him out. The Kassa family kept about forty traveling men, which was at least ten less than they needed, and of these a quarter were what the veterans called ¡®ermanos¡¯.

    The sobriquet was a mix of the Cydic word for bast and Antigua for sibling and was used as a shorthand for dead weight. If you dropped a crate? Fucking ermano. If you showed upte? Ermano thinks this is a vacation. You didn¡¯t pay for the first round of drinks? Typical ermano. On ount of being Sacromontan Tristan got ridden twice as hard as the other neers, some of which even joined in to keep the heat off them.

    Still, there was a rough sense of fairness to how the Kassa men did things. To his honest surprise, the injury fund truly was that: if anyone crippled themselves or were forced to rest by sickness then the injury fund was spent to support them. When one of the other neers, a sly little shit by the name of Eugenios, tried to get Tristan med for his having put the wrong crate on the cart the foreman looked into it and slugged the liar into the stomach when the lie was outed.

    Eugenios got the worst duties for the rest of the day and got ribbed for being ¡®more dishonest than a Sacromontan¡¯. It warmed the cockles of his heart how genuinely despised the Six were around here, even if as usual the shit of the infanzones had ended up sshing his boots.

    The fourth day started as all the others had: show up an hour before dawn at the workshop, share a te of tbread and olives more for the ritual than for need, then spill out in the alley for assignments. The four foremen called out their traveling men for the day, splitting the lots until early afternoon when the crews reunited and there was a shuffle for the day¡¯s second work order. Tristan still kept an eye on the distribution, it was useful to discern the cliques, but no longer paid attention to his own name.

    He always ended up with Nikias, a mustachioed bastard of a man who looked like someone had built a barn door out of horse leather. Nikias took most of the ermanos in his crew, the rest going to whatever foreman had taken a shine to them or wanted to try them out on a job. Nikias, naturally, thus ended up getting assigned the worst jobs ¨C not that he seemed to mind. If anything, he appeared to take a twisted sort of pride in it.

    ¡°Oi. You listening, Ferrando?¡±Tristan twitched, turning to the old man addressing him. Temenos, the white-haired elder of the Kassa traveling men ¨C thirty years in a job that broke your back in twenty gave one standing in spades. He coughed.

    ¡°Of course, sir,¡± he lied.

    ¡°Then get in the line, you idiot,¡± Temenos bluntly said.

    Hiding his surprise, he fell in with the man¡¯s crew. Temenos and his nine always got the Lordsport runs, which were hard work loading and unloading the goods but otherwise a restful ride. It was seen, with good reason, as the plum assignment. It was a job that an ¡®ermanos ¡®like him shouldn¡¯t be getting anywhere near, and he caught Eugenios ring at him from the corner of his eye. Had he done something to catch the old man¡¯s eye? They¡¯d hardly traded more than a dozen sentences over thest few days.

    After an hour moving the goods into the three carts began rolling south towards Lordsport ¨C the wool cloth wasn¡¯t so bad, but the Kassa also sold shrine idols of some wealth god from southern Tianxia made in Asphodelian marble and those were brutal to move. As a useless neer Tristan wasn¡¯t going to be trusted leading the horses so he had expected to spend the trip wedged in between crates, but instead he was sent to sit by one of the drivers: Temenos himself.

    Something was off.

    The mostly toothless old man took his Izcalli snuff religiously every hour, snorting up the ground tobo. Tristan personally thought it smelled horrid ¨C it wasn¡¯t the expensive scented snuff nobles used, which was somewhat easier on the nose ¨C but some of the other traveling men had told him that when Temenos got off the stuff the usually pleasant old man turned into a veritable monster.

    More worrying than the unpleasant smell was that Temenos took the time to show him the basics of cart driving, how long he could and should run the horses as well as the easiest path out of the capital. Tristan made himself an attentive pupil, the entire time awaiting the drop of the other shoe. It came, in a manner of speaking, shortly after they passed the city gates.

    The old man opened his worn wooden box, snorted deep of the snuff and put it away with a roll of his shoulder.

    ¡°So,¡± Temenos said. ¡°We have questions.¡±

    Tristan cleared his throat.

    ¡°Questions?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Temenos grunted. ¡°It¡¯d be for the best if you answered them, Ferrando.¡±

    Tristan nced back, finding that the men in the other carts conspicuously all had cudgels near their hands. Ah.

    ¡°Well,¡± he said, ¡°you have my attention, Temenos.¡±

    ¡°The Shoulderbones rmended you,¡± the old man said, ¡°but I asked around: none of our friends there know who in Sculler¡¯s name you¡¯re supposed to be. Only those up high, and they¡¯re not saying shit.¡±

    Of course they wouldn¡¯t. Tristan had robbed the ount books of the most brutal ¨C and richest ¨C moneylender in the northeastern ward without her noticing in exchange for the Brazen Chariot negotiating on his behalf with the Shoulderbones to get that rmendation. I¡¯d taken him a day to case the ce and another to rob it unseen, much longer than he¡¯d wanted since now that he¡¯d stopped sleeping at ck House he had to arrange his own amodations.

    ¡°I came in from another basileia,¡± he said. ¡°They made a deal.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s what we figured,¡± Temenos said. ¡°But the thing is, Ferrando, we don¡¯t like the basileia boys. They make trouble, and a lot of them think because they know someone they can get away withziness.¡±

    His jaw clenched.

    ¡°I have not been <emzy</em>,¡± Tristan replied, anger not entirely feigned.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t,¡± the old man agreed. ¡°Which is why we¡¯re having this talk all nice and friendly, instead of in an alley with double ck eyes and a knife at your throat.¡±

    Keeping anger on his face, the thief let his mind whirl. This looked bad, at first nce, yet it was the contrary. They would not bother to look into him if they weren¡¯t looking to keep him around. He scoffed.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with,¡± he said.

    Temenos eyed himzily.

    ¡°Young men and their pride,¡± he said, shaking his head, then let the amusement fade. ¡°What¡¯s a Sacromontan doing in bed with a basileia?¡±

    Fortunately, Tristan hade equipped with a plethora of lies that the Brazen Chariot had been instructed to regurgitate if needed. He sighed, as if put upon.

    ¡°You ever hear about the Meng-Xiaofan?¡± he asked.

    Temenos nodded.

    ¡°Tianxi criminals,¡± Temenos said. ¡°They¡¯ve tried to get a foot in the Lordsport, but the Trade Assembly¡¯s got their own mules for drugs and they don¡¯t want foreigners getting a cut.¡±

    ¡°In Sacromonte they have more than a foot,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And they tried to get more, push into the Murk and deal there, but they lost some toes trying.¡±

    Temenos looked him up and down.

    ¡°Tianxi, are you?¡± he drily asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m Murk,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°But I knew the twins that were running that expansion, and when it went belly up they were hung out to dry ¨C and that sshed on everyone they did business with.¡±

    He¡¯d burn a candle for Lan and Jun tonight, a sacrifice to the Rat King, for the twins were to be a helping hand from beyond the grave. If the Kassa knew people in Sacromonte, which they likely did, then they could check up on the story.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t eager to get my throat cut, so I took a ship out as far as I could,¡± Tristan continued. ¡°I know some people who knew people, so I emptied thest of my pockets getting that rmendation.¡±

    Temenos grunted.

    ¡°Why the Kassa? Why the traveling men?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to step in piss all day by joining as a fuller,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And, well, the Kassa weren¡¯t actually my first choice.¡±

    The old man looked surprised.

    ¡°I looked into the Euripis warehouses first, on Charon, but then I heard about that one foreman¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Temenos said, then eyed him skeptically. ¡°Not sure you¡¯re pretty enough to draw that fucker¡¯s eye, but I can understand not wanting to risk it.¡±

    The old man hummed, then struck out with his whip to quicken the horses again. Tristan looked back at the other carts and found the cudgels were being put away.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± he asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Temenos said. ¡°Pay attention, you¡¯ll be driving the horses on the way back.¡±

    ¡°I thought there would be more questions,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°We¡¯ll check on your story,¡± the old man shrugged. ¡°But I¡¯m not your father, Ferrando. If you¡¯re not trouble I don¡¯t care.¡±

    The story would hold up even better when asked about, he¡¯d made sure of that. The Brazen Chariot, after all, was a smuggling basileia. It would be entirely believable that Tristan¡¯s supposed Meng-Xiaofan ties had put him in contact with them.

    ¡°Back to Nikias tomorrow, then,¡± he drily said. ¡°It was good while itsted.¡±

    Temenos eyed him like he was a fool.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t pick your name out of a hat, boy,¡± he said. ¡°You got twice as much shit as the rest of the ermanos and still put in twice as much work. Make it to the end of the week like this and we¡¯ll see about getting you in properly ¨C you¡¯ve got all your teeth and you speak well, it¡¯ll make you useful with the dockmasters at Lordsport.¡±

    It was an odd thing, but Tristan would admit to feeling somewhat proud about that. For all that it had been for the purposes of deception, he <em>had</em> put in the work.

    ¡°Because you liked my answers,¡± he said.

    Temenos snorted, then nodded.

    ¡°And if you <em>hadn¡¯t </em>liked them?¡± Tristan dared to ask.

    The old man gave a toothless smile.

    ¡°Then you fell off the cart and got run over,¡± Temenos said. ¡°Tragic ident, it was.¡±

    Well. That motivated him to keep paying attention to the lessons, if nothing else. He was being let in on the veteran crowd, by the looks of it. Good. Once he was in, he could sketch out who the inner circle was.

    And when he had that, he had the trail he must follow.

    --

    While objectively Maryam knew that Lord Rector Evander Palliades was a clever and ruthless king, it was hard to think of him that way when he kept looking like a kicked puppy whenever she showed up to give the reports instead of Song.

    While the bespectacled man always forced himself to pay attention to thetest word from the Thirteenth ¨C which was mostly that leads were being run down by Tristan and Tredegar ¨C it was also quite tant that he wanted to get the reports out of the way as fast as possible so he could get to bribing Maryam with fresh <em>burek</em> and raspberry jam pastries.

    They called <em>burek </em>by a different name here, and didn¡¯t put potatoes in it, but the recipe was basically the same. It had significantly raised her esteem of Asphodel, because no people who made decent burek could be entirely without saving graves.

    Polishing thest of theyered cheese-and-egg pastry under the Lord Rector¡¯s vignt eye, she set down her fork as the man rang a small bell to have her empty te taken away and a dessert te brought in to rece it. They even topped off her wine while at it. It was a <em>hard </em>job, reporting to the Lord Rector. Sometimes she had to take naps afterwards. Maryam watched the servants discreetly exit, their ruler barely acknowledging their presence, and leaned back into her seat.

    Well, she had been bribed good and proper. Now came the price. First her own part of it. The bespectacled man set a leather-bound journal on the table, dipping his steel-tipped pen in a pot of ink before turning a look on her. Maryam bit into her delicious pastry, regally getting powdered sugar all over her chin. It was <em>really good</em> raspberry jam.

    ¡°Youst mentioned that the Triu are not a single people but three,¡± Evander Palliades said. ¡°Might you borate on this?¡±

    Maryam swallowed as quietly as she could, which was not very, and wiped the sugar powder off her face with the born grace of a princess of Volcesta.

    ¡°I am Izvorica,¡± Maryam told him. ¡°The Izvoric are ¨C were - the people dwelling in the londs of the continent we call Juska. The londs were bordered by the sea and a great teau, the only way through which was the Great Gates.¡±

    ¡°The same now known as the Broken Gates,¡± the Lord Rector half-asked.

    She nodded. Maryam had best not speak of that, else a sea¡¯s worth of venom about the Mni would spill past her lips.

    ¡°These were maintained by the People of the Gate, the Skrivenic, while past them dwell the great kingdoms of the hignds whose people are known as the Toranjic.¡±

    ¡°And of these peoples the Izvoric were the greatest?¡± he asked.

    Maryam shook her head.

    ¡°The Skrivenic were never many, though of great wealth, but there are ten Toranjic for every Izvoric and some of their fortresses have walls built by the Ancients. The Mni would have broken their teeth trying to take a bite, it is no wonder they preferred to break the Gates than risk it.¡±

    His hand paused before the pen reached the paper.

    ¡°The Kingdom of Mn,¡± he said, ¡°ims it is the Triu who broke the gates.¡±

    Maryam snorted, dismissive.

    ¡°My people were pleading for help from the hignds while Mn sacked our cities and burned our groves,¡± she said. ¡°Why would we break our own Gates? Besides, my own mother ¨C a practitioner of the Craft of high rank ¨Cmonly spoke of it as being Mni work in public. None ever contradicted her.¡±

    Maryam had no doubt the Toranjic kings would have bled the Izvoric dry for their help, and likely made vassals of quite a few cities, but the hignders were warlike men who relished in the fight. Their fortress-cities shed with each other almost as much as they did with the hollows that dwelled in the bleaknds beyond their own.

    The Lord Rector did not look entirely convinced but put it to ink regardless.

    It pleased Maryam somewhat to be correcting Mni lies, though she was not sure that Evander Palliades would live long enough to finish a book ¨C or that it would spread beyond this isle, even if he did. Still, she had only so much tolerance for speaking of the past and had told the man as much. He¡¯d not argued, considering what it was he really wanted to talk about. Or, rather, <em>who</em>.

    The Lord Rector pushed up his sses and cleared his throat, embarrassed but not embarrassed enough not to ask.

    ¡°Poetry,¡± he said. ¡°What does she like?¡±

    She set down her dessert, humming as she sifted through her memories.

    ¡°She owns a book by Pingyang Zong,¡± Maryam noted. ¡°One of her favorites, I think.¡±

    It was certainly worn enough to have been read often.

    ¡°Really?¡± the Lord Rector exhaled, looking pleased.

    Maryam cocked an eyebrow at him and he coughed into his fist.

    ¡°Lady Zong wrote much of drinking under moonlight and love affairs,¡± Lord Rector Evander exined. ¡°I am merely surprised.¡±

    ¡®Surprised¡¯. Sure he was.

    ¡°The only other I can recall is titled ¡®Ruina¡¯,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s from¡­ ria, or something of the sort?¡±

    ¡°ria,¡± the bespectacled man corrected. ¡°The preeminent poetess out of Sacromonte, the reckoning of most. <em>Ruina</em> is one of her finest works, though not her most popr. It is very maudlin.¡±

    The steel tip tapped around the paper, as if the Lord Rector of Asphodel was debating how to transmute sad Lierganen poetry into smooth seduction.

    Now, it might <em>seem </em>like Maryam was selling out her captain for jam pastries. Really good jam pastries, mind you. But the truth was that there was a little more at y. The dais under Evander Palliades¡¯ throne was being gnawed at by rebels, but for now the man was still the greatest authority in thend. And so long as he believed he might have a chance at seducing Song, he was quite amenable to the Thirteenth Brigade.

    It was the sort of thing that mighte in quite useful if, say, they needed to get the head of the Watch¡¯s diplomatic delegation to Asphodel removed because he was trying to get Tristan abducted on behalf of some sinister conspiracy.

    Anyhow, Maryam wouldn¡¯t have entertained the notion if she didn¡¯t suspect that somewhat Song wanted to be seduced in the first ce. You didn¡¯t sit down alone on brothel beds with men you weren¡¯t at least a<em> little</em> attracted to. Besides, if she¡¯d wanted to nip the entire thing in the bud she could have simply told Palliades they were headed to a brothel in the first ce, which would have seen him withdraw his insistence to tag along.

    Insisting on taking ady you were taken with to a brothel wasn¡¯t a good look.

    ¡°How¡¯s your handwriting, Your Excellency?¡± she asked.

    His brow rose.

    ¡°Respectable,¡± he replied.

    ¡°Song is a great admirer of calligraphy,¡± she meaningfully said.

    There, she¡¯d given him as much as she intended to. If he couldn¡¯t work something out with so many hints on his side, he was a lost cause anyway. Maryam was of the opinion that a good romp would help mellow out Song, once she was done panicking about it, but their captain would get on just fine if Evander Palliades fumbled the draw.

    Stolen story; please report.

    Clearing her throat, she changed tack to signify she¡¯d delivered as much as his bribe warranted.

    ¡°I am charged by Brigadier Chca to inquire when the dy to the visit will be ending,¡± she said.

    Lieutenant Apurva had been, it turned out, one of the very covenanters meant to visit the shipyard on the delegation¡¯s behalf. As a tinker with a decade of experience servicing Someshwari skimmers, he¡¯d been meant to assess the quality of the engine-building suites of the Asphodelian shipyards.

    By slitting his throat Tristan had kicked a beehive.

    Not only had the Watch been forced to bring in a second Umuthi tinker from the Lordsport, one that was less qualified, the visit itself had been put on hold until the death was fully investigated. Song, reading between the lines, had told Maryam that the Lord Rector had grabbed the opportunity to further dy the visit with both hands.

    The theory floated by the ckcloak diplomats was that Palliades wanted some signed amodation with the Republics before letting the Watch in ¨C that way, if the rooks tried to fence him in by leaning on the Iscariot ords he could drag in the Tianxi to argue for his side. It was clever diplomacy, since the Republics were hungry for his wares.

    The Sanxing republics could make aetheric engines, sure, but none capable of powering something asrge as a warship. If Tianxia got its hands on a skimmer warfleet, it would no longer need to fear the fleets of Izcalli and the Someshwar should ite to full, bare-knuckle war with either. They could afford to start truly throwing their weight around the Trebian Sea.

    ¡°Two days,¡± the Lord Rector said. ¡°Arrangements are nearly finished and a letter will be sent this afternoon. It is unfortunate that it took so long, but the dy was most necessary given Lieutenant Apurva¡¯s death.¡±

    He smiled pleasantly.

    ¡°I am grieved to hear the Watch¡¯s investigation has yielded no results. As always, my offer to lend the help of the lictors stands.¡±

    Maryam, on the other hand, was deeply pleased by the dead end that¡¯d followed the corpse. She was not surprised in the least that Tristan had skill in disposing of bodies ¨C eventually his closet must have run out of room to cram skeletons in ¨C but that he¡¯d been able to stump a Watch investigation was impressive. While the site of death had been found, he¡¯d himselfe under no open suspicion. Why would he, when the entire Neenth Brigade had been out the same night?

    No request had been made that the Thirteenth recall him from his infiltration assignment so he might be interrogated, either, which was a promising sign. Even better Song had mentioned that while there were frustrations among the delegation supposedly they were as much about the dy to the shipyard visit as they were about the death.

    The rumor so far was that it was a robbery gone wrong, the killer panicking when realizing they¡¯d attacked a ckcloak and killing the lieutenant to avoid leaving someone that¡¯d know their face alive. Apparently such things were not too umon, the Watch¡¯s reputation for heavy-handed reprisal for attacks on its members having some hidden costs.

    ¡°That¡¯s a decision for Brigadier Chca to make, Your Excellency,¡± Maryam demurred. ¡°I will be sure pass the offer along.¡±

    They both knew the brigadier had no intention of allowing the lictors anywhere near that case. It would mean tacitly admitting the Watch couldn¡¯t close the investigation it had the legal privilege of conducting without more than symbolic oversight from the Lord Rector. An admission of weakness in the middle of important negotiations with the same throne that¡¯d granted the privilege.

    ¡°Please do,¡± Lord Rector Evander shrugged. ¡°Though now that we are on this subject, it does bring a matter to mind.¡±

    ¡°I am all ears, Your Excellency.¡±

    ¡°Would I be wrong in understanding you¡¯ve an interest in skimmers?¡± he asked.

    Her hand clenched under the table. Of course he would have noticed that. It was hardly as if requesting books on the subject from the archives had been subtle. Maryam had simply not expected him to care, given how sparse the materials were. While no doubt the private archives had better volumes, it would have been an abuse of the given permission to use them for something other than their contract with the throne.

    ¡°As a Navigator, I must admit I¡¯ve a certain curiosity about them,¡± Maryam evenly replied.

    A cunning gleam behind those sses.

    ¡°Then it should be no trouble at all to add you to the shipyard visit,¡± Evander Palliades said. ¡°Our first skimmer is being kept there, at the moment, so you could study it in some depths.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°Besides, you¡¯ve mentioned looking for potential fissures in the aether like the one that allowed the assassin to enter the pce,¡± the Lord Rector added. ¡°It would be reassuring to establish whether or not such an opening exists in the shipyard as well, given its importance.¡±

    Shit, Maryam thought. He was a clever bastard, wasn¡¯t he? If it was only an excuse for her to get her hands all over the first skimmer she had seen built in her lifetime she would have declined, but it <em>was</em> a legitimate concern whether or not the assassin could get into that shipyard. And since the Antediluvian construction was supposed to be somewhere under the ind, going so deep might yield some fresh insight about the brackstone shrines and what they held imprisoned.

    In a few sentences he¡¯d gotten her to want to go and given her good reasons to. Which made it all the more frustrating that they both knew the only reason he¡¯d offered was that it would mean she was gone for two days and Song would have to bring the reports during ¨C with Tristan currently gone and Tredegar a known face at court, there wasn¡¯t really another choice for it.

    Maryam resisted the urge to grit her teeth.

    ¡°I must consult with my captain, you understand,¡± she said.

    ¡°Of course,¡± he said, nodding. ¡°I will merely require an answer from you before the departure, which is the day after tomorrow.¡±

    At least he wasn¡¯t smug, Maryam thought. If he had been she would have held a grudge, because they both knew that whatever she¡¯d said just now she sure as Nav would be joining the delegation on that trip.

    --

    The trouble with this particr conspiracy was that it did not actually need to conspire all that much.

    Song nibbled at a meat skewer as she watched Lieutenant Shu Gong haggle with a street peddler over a ne, admitting to herself that this one looked like another bust. The Peiling Society lieutenant had truly gone to the street markets of the southwestern ward to get a few trinkets, not out of any secret n to contact the Neenth Brigade. It was the second time that following her out had yielded nothing, a cause of mounting frustration, but there was little she could do.

    Song, in principle, had names for most the local conspirators and aplices of the Ivory Library: the whole of the Neenth Brigade, Sergeant Ledwaba, the ship called ¡®The Grinning Madcap¡¯. She even had knowledge of one more traitor, the mystery individual that Lieutenant Apurva had imed was ¡®high up the ranks¡¯. Spying on these, separately and individually, was entirely achievable.

    Only Song had been forced to look elsewhere, because none of these conspirators actually needed to meet.

    Oh, she was nearly certain that Sergeant Ledwaba had met with the Neenth one time. Song had checked by attempting to arrange going for drinks with Captain Tozi on the first evening of leave that said sergeant was scheduled for. Tozi made excuses as to why she could not and her entire brigade was gone that evening for a span of two hours and change. Long enough to head to the safehouse, talk and return.

    That was not proof, but bribing a servant for gossip about that evening¡¯s leave among the delegation escorts had yielded two more pieces of information: the sergeant had not been with any of the other soldiers that night and that it was usually her habit to go drinking with her colleagues when she could. Still not proof, but an increasing number of pointed fingers.

    The trouble was that she¡¯d not been able to find out how Ledwaba called the meeting. There were too many ways for her to do it, and a great many of them subtle. Following her had proved too difficult, given how careful she was about being followed, so Song was forced to let her disappear in the Tratheke streets to avoid being discovered.

    After that initial discovered, Song had run into the wall of there no longer being contact between the conspirators. And why would there be? The Grinning Madcap was still in port, but until Tristan was grabbed there was no point in meeting with the Neenth save perhaps turning the screws on them. Lieutenant Apurva¡¯s death had made them too cautious to take such an unnecessary risk regrly, however, so Song was forced to take a different angle.

    If investigating neither the Neenth nor Sergeant Ledwaba would get her what she needed, she must get it from the mystery conspirator instead. The first obstacle there was that they were a member of the delegation, and thus not only of superior rank but certain to have their service records locked up tight ¨C lest Asphodel get to them and attempt to seize an advantage in the negotiations.

    Fortunately, Song had an in.

    With his niece gone to the country, Commander Osian Tredegar had freer hours. While the silver-eyed woman believed he might have epted her request for a private conversation out of curiosity, she made clear it was Thirteenth business potentially involving Angharad to ensure he would. Song believed she had made a good impression on the man so far, and disyed the tolerance asked of her when it was needed. It was now time to collect on those investments.

    ¡°I need you,¡± she said, ¡°to obtain the service records of the rest of the delegation.¡±

    Commander Osian Tredegar frowned at her.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I have reason to believe one of them is conspiring with outside forces to hinder the Thirteenth¡¯s work,¡± Song said, shamelessly putting Angharad in the line of fire. ¡°Which of them is the traitor, however, is not yet clear.¡±

    The handsome older man drummed his fingers against the table.

    ¡°You think it could be Brigadier Chca,¡± Commander Tredegar stated.

    ¡°I cannot yet state it is not,¡± Song honestly replied.

    Gods, let it not be. Toppling a brigadier could not be anything but messy work.

    ¡°And if I were to ask about whether this has anything to do with Lieutenant Apurva going missing?¡± he probed.

    ¡°I have seen no evidence that it does,¡± Song replied.

    She could have simply lied, of course, but they would have both known those words for what they were. Offering a precisely phrased truth instead was not an attempt at deception but a mark of respect for Mni customs. The older man hummed.

    ¡°How bad?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It might make it all the way to the Conve.¡±

    A sigh.

    ¡°Your brigade,¡± Commander Tredegar grunted, ¡°is almost violently unlucky.¡±

    Then he folded his arms across his chest.

    ¡°I cannot show you the papers without drawing attention,¡± he said. ¡°What I can do is read them myself and recite the information for you afterwards.¡±

    Not ideal, unless Osian Tredegar had perfect recall, but it would have to do. Song inclined her head.

    ¡°My thanks, Commander Tredegar.¡±

    ¡°None are needed,¡± he said. ¡°This is a favor, Captain Ren, and I intend to call it in before too long.¡±

    Song¡¯s jaw clenched but she nodded nheless. Hers was not a strong bargaining position.

    ¡°I will find you after evening meal,¡± the older man said. ¡°Try to find an excuse for it, as I expect it will take more than once for me to ferry all that knowledge to you.¡±

    It took three instances and floating a rumor that Song was trying to learn how to make rifle suited to her contract ¨C which was, in truth, something she would like ¨C before she had the whole te of records writ down in her notes.

    The good news was that Brigadier Chca looked very unlikely to be a member of the Ivory Library.

    The bad news was that if the man wasn¡¯t up to his neck in bribes, Song would drink down her inkwell.

    Chca was a Stripe, though from what Captain Oratile had defined as the ¡®lower¡¯ track: he had worn the ck for decades and risen up the ranks before being sent to the Academy for polishing. Looking at his postings before the Academy, it was clear he had mostly served as an in-between for freepanies and Garrison forces serving in the same regions. He was noted to be a skilled mediator, apt at findingmon ground between hostile officers.

    That at and what must be an impressivework of favors and friends had seen him rmended to the Academy.

    His rise afterwards had been, fast, if in brusque spurts. Preventing open war between two freepanies at the border of Tianxia and the Someshwar had him promoted two full ranks, and his history was dotted with such heroic diplomatic feats. He was also, however, constantly moved around and there were three different rmendations he should not be allowed authority over supply details.

    Reading between the lines, Brigadier Chca was one of the Watch¡¯s finest diplomats but he couldn¡¯t seem to help himself skimming off the top and building patronage cliques, so the higher-ups kept him moving around to make the best of his skills while avoiding the worst of his sticky fingers.

    It went some way in exining the mystery of why a man by the rank of brigadier, a post usually belonging to themanding officer of a regional Garrison capital serving directly under a Marshal, was being used as a diplomat. Song would hazard a guess that he was a brigadier in name only, mostly so the rank would raise his diplomatic profile, while an officer theoretically his subordinate truly discharged the duties involved.

    Thebination of Chca having friends all over Vesper and being eminently corrupt meant that, while he did not have the character of a man who would join a nnish faction like the Ivory Library, it was entirely possible he had been bribed by them to look away. In turn that meant Song would have to work around him until she had actionable proof, at which point he should turn on the Library ¨C else his reputation, and thus his value to the Watch, would plummet.

    Looking through the rest of the delegation, only two potential suspects stood out. The first was a Savant by the name of Shu Gong, a woman in her forties who had spent most of her career in research halls run by the Peiling Society. What made her stand out was the strong background in theological studies and theck of Trebian Sea service for someone assigned to an important delegation on Asphodel. It smacked of someone pulling strings to get her a seat.

    Song was currently watching her badly barter over a ss ne¡¯s price, which was admittedly not the height of conspiratorial activities.

    Aside from a general desire to unmask the traitors, Song would admit to hoping that Lieutenant Gong would be the culprit because the second suspect would be a lot more difficult to deal with: Captain Domingo Santos was Brigadier Chca¡¯s personal Navigator, assigned for the talks.

    While Akrre service records were notoriously sparse ¨C in that regard second only to those of the Krypteia ¨C the man in question had served at two particr Watch fortresses on the Tower Coast of the Imperial Someshwar. Which seemed a minor detail, until one considered that Sergeant Ledwaba had served at the same fortresses at the same time. That could be a coincidence, admittedly.

    Captain Santos, however, had reportedly twice taken his leave at the Lordsport. Where the Grinning Madcap was awaiting its prisoner. That too could be coincidence ¨C a Navigator seeking the sea was not great twist, and there was an Akelerre chapterhouse in the port ¨C but the confluence of possible coincidences still had Santos as the leading suspect in her heart.

    Lieutenant Shu Gong¡¯s insistence on paying twice the going price for a gaudy ne of false Asphodel ss beads was, unfortunately, leading Song¡¯s mind to the same conclusion reached by her heart.

    Spying on a Master of the Akrre Guild was not something undertaken without due precautions, so Song finished off her skewer and left Lieutenant Gong to continue getting fleeced. She must concern her finest source of information, who coincidentally should be returning from the pce within the hour.

    Song sat her down for tea and snacks when she arrived, scrupulously refraining from asking anything about the Lord Rector, and asked Maryam what she would suggest should one intend to begin spying on Captain Santos.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get anywhere near his room, it¡¯s sure to be trapped, and try to get servants to do the spying for you,¡± Maryam opined. ¡°We¡¯re not quite due purging you of Gloam yet, but you¡¯re already getting noticeable to my logos - to a Master you¡¯d be like a bull hiding behind a curtain.¡±

    ¡°tteringly phrased,¡± Song reproached.

    It was, however, good to know that she stood out to the sixth sense of Navigators. It made tailing Captain Santos through a crowd much less feasible than she would have assumed.

    ¡°Well, if you want ttery I¡¯ve got something else for you,¡± Maryam happily said.

    Her Navigator thenid out the offer made by Evander Palliades, which had Song sighing. She had to ept, of course. Not only would Maryam sacrifice half of Mn at the altar for a good look at a skimmer, investigating the possible aether disturbances under the isle<em> was</em> a worthy use of her Navigator¡¯s time. Song had no good reason to refuse her save that it would mean returning to the pce herself, and that would be a terribly childish reason to do so.

    Was she some kind of wanton weathervane, to be at risk of sumbing to his charms against her own decision otherwise? No, Song could control herself. She could keep a professional distance, and if he tried otherwise she could make her stance on the matter clear and firm.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she sighed. ¡°Angharad should be returning either tonight or tomorrow, anyhow, if I need a second pair of hands I will not be alone.¡±

    Maryam grinned at her.

    ¡°Thanks, Song,¡± she said. ¡°I mean it.¡±

    The Tianxi waved her away. She would not have epted was there not good reason for it.

    ¡°Any word from Tristan?¡± Maryam asked.

    ¡°Not since he reported getting hired by the Kassa,¡± Song said, keeping the terms vague. ¡°I expect that when there is progress he will send word.¡±

    He had left a message after finishing that burry job for the Brazen Chariot, handing papers to Hage, and passed thanks along when she¡¯d written out Tozi Poloko¡¯s contract for him. He had not mentioned what his approach would be there, but she suspected she would be hearing of it soon. She had taken steps to ensure she would, which made it all the more important to keep her next appointment.

    Maryam squinted at her, sensing the turn in her mood.

    ¡°Ah,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s tonight?¡±

    Song nodded.

    ¡°Break a leg,¡± the signifier said, then sneered. ¡°Or preferably all of theirs.¡±

    There was a reason that Song had not invited Maryam to drinks with the Neenth.

    --

    They tried to learn Tristan¡¯s location within the first ten minutes, naturally, but when Song remained vague and hinted it might be the Lordsport they did not insist.

    Captain Tozi Poloko had taken her up on the offered drinks, if slightlyte, and though the Izcalli¡¯s own Mask and Skiritai were otherwise upied in the city she was still apanied by Izel Coyac. Song had been prepared for an intricate dance of intrigue and lies, for the need to obfuscate as much as she could about what Tristan was up to while learning as much as she could about what the Neenth was doing, but that proved entirely unnecessary.

    Tozi had called for drinks mostly so she could rant about how awful her test was.

    ¡°I should have let you talk me into the cult investigation,¡± Captain Tozi darkly said. ¡°It has been nothing but dead ends for us.¡±

    ¡°I heard you¡¯ve been working with the lictors,¡± Song tried.

    The Izcalli sneered, fingers scratching at the stubble beginning to grow atop her head. She would need to shave her head again soon.

    ¡°For all the use they¡¯ve been,¡± Tozi said. ¡°The sum whole of their contribution has been leading us to fresh corpses and telling the locals it¡¯s the basileias that are responsible for the deaths.¡±

    Which exined, at least, why the capital wasn¡¯t teeming with rumors about some contracted killer running wild. Song had been wondering at the absence of such fearful talk.

    ¡°Which <em>could</em> be true, in their defense,¡± Izel noted.

    Tozi rolled her eyes.

    ¡°The deaths are too spread out,¡± she denied. ¡°And they¡¯re not helping any of their little crime families rise either.¡±

    Song sipped at her water.

    ¡°Have you found any pattern in the deaths?¡± she asked.

    ¡°More that we¡¯ve found what the pattern <em>isn¡¯t</em>,¡± Tozi sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not political, for one. Out of the twenty-two deaths there¡¯s been corpses both from supporters of the Trade Assembly and the Council of Ministers. It¡¯s not the basileias, either, because they avoid touching highborn and two of the dead have been minor nobles from outside Tratheke with no ties to anything in the city that we can find ¨C meaning they¡¯d be crossing a line for no profit.¡±

    ¡°Were they all public figures, then?¡± Song asked.

    That would be a pattern. And it urred to her, not for the first time, that if the Neenth Brigade finished its investigation before Tristan returned from his infiltration, they might well be crammed onto a boat back to Tolomontera before they could make trouble.

    Song had not intention of sparing them the consequences of their treachery, but they would keep at Scholomance until the Ivory Library conspirators were handed off to the Krypteia to have every name squeezed out.

    ¡°I wondered the same,¡± Izel told her with a smile. ¡°But no, unfortunately. There are two dead that werergely unknown even locally, a minor shopkeeper and a dayborer.¡±

    ¡°The deaths are random, as far as we can tell,¡± Tozi sighed. ¡°Which makes them impossible to predict, and trying to track down our killer through boots on the ground hasn¡¯t been going well.¡±

    It would, given that Tratheke was a sprawling city even ifrge swaths of it were empty. A cabal of four to sniff out a killer gone to ground would have its work cut out for it.

    ¡°We can¡¯t even tell how the murderer gets there,¡± Izel said. ¡°Thest death was on the third floor of an edifice, behind two locked doors and with at least ten possible witnesses on the way up. There was no sign of forced entry, and as with every death it took only one blow.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re a damn ghost,¡± Tozi bit out. ¡°Probably a man, going by the height and strength, but the killing blows weren¡¯t dealt by a de. They cut through bone and metal jewelry alike they¡¯re made of paper.¡±

    ¡°So a contract to sneak in and another to make the kill,¡± Song noted. ¡°Or at least a contract with an effect that can serve for purposes.¡±

    ¡°Or a contract to sneak in and some Antediluvian weapon to strike,¡± Izel opined. ¡°The First Empire did leave arms behind, though precious few, and the entire capital is an Antediluvian treasure trove.¡±

    ¡°Izel has a favorite theory, as you can probably tell,¡± Tozi drily said. ¡°Not that it¡¯s getting us any closer to catching our target.¡±

    Therger Azn rolled his eyes.

    ¡°Tozi thinks believes we are dealing, if not quite with a Saint, with someone whose contract is consuming their mind,¡± Izel told her. ¡°It would be why there is no recognizable pattern for the kills, the reasons being followed are not a human¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯d exin that contract being so powerful, too,¡± Tozi insisted.

    ¡°It would also mean that the killer is far down the journey to sainthood,¡± Song slowly said. ¡°Should they reach the destination¡­¡±

    ¡°It would get ugly,¡± the other captain grunted. ¡°Very ugly. I¡¯m entirely aware an hourss has been flipped, Song.¡±

    ¡°You do not seem overly worried,¡± she observed.

    The other two shared a look.

    ¡°We have some notion of how we might trap someone ridden by their god,¡± Izel finally said.

    ¡°Gods can be easier to trick, if they¡¯re hungry enough,¡± Tozi said. ¡°It¡¯s just a matter of setting out the right bait.¡±

    ¡°My best wishes,¡± Song said, raising her cup.

    She meant it, too. The Neenth would need to be disbanded and severely punished, but she would not root for some god-blessed madman against them. They were still doing Watch work well in need of being done. The conversation did notst long after that, the pair both tired, and after Izel excused himself to thetrines Captain Tozi stayed only long enough to finish her cup before retiring for the night.

    Song found out the hour and decided it waste enough Angharad was unlikely to arrive tonight, electing to retire as well. She could use the sleep. Only she was intercepted in the hall before the stairs up, the dimmedmps of the hallway a soft surrender to the dark.

    ¡°Captain Song. A word, if you please?¡±

    Song fought not to tense when she saw Izel waiting at the end of the hall, arms folded and face serious. No, even if they suspected her they would not strike at her in ck House.

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said.

    The tall Izcalli waited until she was close to lean in, lowering his voice.

    ¡°I havee across information that the same organization that tried to abduct Tristan Abrascal on Tolomontera has a presence on Asphodel,¡± he whispered. ¡°He needs to be very careful, wherever he is, else they might grab him off the street.¡±

    Song¡¯s eyes narrowed at him. <em>What exactly is your game here, Izel Coyac?</em>

    ¡°The Ivory Library,¡± she said, testing the air. ¡°You know of them?¡±

    He hesitated, then nodded.

    ¡°I hear they research contracts,¡± Izel said. ¡°They have ties to some of the great nobles of Izcalli, among others, and I know for a fact that my father made deals with them during the Sordan War.¡±

    Implying that was how he had heard of them, and not by dint of being their hireling<em>. And giving me a first glimpse of why you are working for them when you keep expressing qualms</em>, Song thought. Some debts followed you into the Watch, and while Song would offer the man no sympathy she could spare a single speck of pity.

    ¡°My thanks for the warning,¡± she said. ¡°I will take measures to protect him.¡±

    He looked relieved, passing a hand through the stubble atop his head.

    ¡°I¡¯ve not shared this with anyone in the Neenth, so there is no cause for worry of a leak,¡± he said. ¡°I thought it best kept quiet between us.¡±

    He thought it best that his fellow traitors did not know he was sabotaging them, he meant. Still, Song put on a thankful smile and nodded and sent him on his way before anyone could see them talk. She was silent all the way up, lost in her thoughts.

    It urred to her that perhaps she was going about this the wrong way after all. She had been nning to unearth the Ivory Library traitors to deal with the Neenth, but it was beginning to look as if leveraging the brigade to dig out the traitors might be more feasible.

    And she knew exactly where to start.

    --

    Song Ren woke in the early hours in the morning to someone knocking at her door. Thoroughly disgruntled, she threw on a robe and padded to the door with a pistol in hand. Just in case. Ready to snarl until her tormentor went away, she was given pause when on the other side was not a servant but a familiar face.

    ¡°Angharad,¡± she got out, blinking in surprise.

    A moment while her brain caught up. The Pereduri nodded, looking faintly apologetic.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d arrive tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°I paid the coachman to ride through a few hours of night instead,¡± Angharad Tredegar replied, pulling at her creased traveling dress.

    The noblewoman cleared her throat.

    ¡°Apologies for waking you,¡± she said, ¡°but I thought you want to know as soon as possible.¡±

    Song cocked her head to the side in silent invitation.

    ¡°The cult of the Golden Ram has tried to recruit me,¡± Angharad told her.

    And just like that, Song was entirely awake.

    ¡°More than that, they offered a bribe,¡± she continued.

    Angharad produced a small object wrapped in worn paper, still warm from having been carried against her body, and at the other woman¡¯s invitation Song unwrapped it. For a moment she saw she was seeing wrong, for this could not possibly be, but her eyes did not lie.

    Song went very, very still.

    ¡°Gods,¡± she hoarsely said. ¡°Do you know what that is?¡±

    ¡°I was told it is a taste of what the Golden Ram can offer,¡± Angharad replied. ¡°That it would heal me for a span of eight hours should I consume it. Why, is it harmful?¡±

    ¡°Worse,¡± Song said. ¡°That, Angharad, is a god¡¯s blood.¡±

    The ichor of a god manifest.

    And not, as far as Song Ren, something that gods ever gave <em>willingly</em>.

 Chapter 56

    Chapter 56

    They skipped ck House¡¯smunal breakfast, instead bothering the servants for simpler fare served directly in Song¡¯s room. There were only two chairs in there, so Maryam brought her own before locking the door behind her. Bymon ord ¨C and to Angharad¡¯s relief - the three of them finished breaking their fast before getting into the report about her activities in the country.

    Angharadid it all out for them. The ambushid by the Varochas and how it had made her stumble into a carriage full of armaments, the cyphered journal she had found and was now handing over to Song. How some eeriness in the hills was driving lemures closer and closer to the capital and then what she had learned about the ties of House Eirenos to both Lord Menander Drakos and Lord Gule ¨C as well as the ancient correspondence she had copied.

    It was after that the hesitation caught up, but Angharad had spent the entire ride back to the capital debating what honor demanded of her. There was no denying what was owed to the Thirteenth and the Watch.

    ¡°The Lefthand House then charged me with attending Lord Menander¡¯s evening to ascertain if he has in his possession an artifact that should, by the description, be an infernal forge.¡±

    Maryam looked like she had half a dozen things to say, the word a cluttering chaos in her mouth, but Song gestured for her to stay silent before asking Angharad to finish. Dutifully, she added how afterwards the Mni ambassador had offered to initiate her into the cult of the Golden Ram, promising healing and a position at his side after the sess of the coup by the Council of Ministers to put Minister Floros on the throne.

    ¡°But he did not say, at any point, that Apollonia Floros is a member of the Golden Ram?¡± Song pressed.

    Angharad shook her head.

    ¡°The cult intends to rule through her,¡± she rified. ¡°I believe it implied she is not one of them.¡±

    There was a long moment of silence after that.¡°So in summary,¡± Maryam finally said, ¡°the fuse on the powder keg under our buttocks is a<em> lot</em> shorter than we first figured, and already lit to boot.¡±

    ¡°I greatly mislike the shape things are taking,¡± Song murmured, then shook her head.

    Silver eyes turned on Angharad, who sat as ramrod straight as she could without hurting her back.

    ¡°But first this much must be said,¡± Song said. ¡°You did exceedingly well on your investigation, Angharad. You should bemended for that.¡±

    The noblewoman coughed into her hand, faintly embarrassed. She had not expected the praise.

    ¡°My thanks for thepliment.¡±

    To the Pereduri¡¯s surprise, Maryam nodded.

    ¡°You took a hit to your reputation for the good of the contract,¡± she said. ¡°I honestly didn¡¯t believe you had it in you.¡±

    A short pause, then Maryam inclined her head almost apologetically.

    ¡°I am pleased to have been wrong.¡±

    Angharad generously decided to take that as thepliment it was probably meant to be. Song¡¯s gaze went distant as she stared at the wall, trying to piece things together. The Pereduri almost fancied she could hear the furious scribbling of a steel tip on paper as the Tianxi put it all in order and drew lines. Best to leave her to it, she thought.

    ¡°There is onest matter,¡± Angharad coughed. ¡°Largely personal, though it might end up relevant so I must mention it.¡±

    Maryam leaned in, eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Oh, gods,¡± she grinned. ¡°You fucked his mother, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Angharad looked away from those gleeful blue eyes.

    ¡°Lady Penelope and I happened to share an intimate moment,¡± she stressed, ¡°at the end of which I found a way to ess the safe by using my contract. I would not have thought to do so without your help in learning how my visions function, Maryam, so you have my thanks.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re not going to get out of this by tossing apliment my way,¡± Maryam said, cackling like a hyena. ¡°Angharad Tredegar, conqueror of widows. You are <em>never</em> going to live that down.¡±

    ¡°It has since urred to me,¡± Angharad defensively replied, ¡°that the liaison in question might have been intended by her.¡±

    Now that she was no longer so preupied with the delicious body filling that evening wear, Angharad could spare a thought as to how Lady Penelope could have chosen to cover that very ttering nightrobe with a dressing gown and pointedly had not. The seduction of that evening had, s, not been of Angharad¡¯s own design. Not that she wasining.

    The sound of a sigh wrenched her away from still-grinning Maryam, Song eyeing her with something like polite disappointment.

    ¡°Given everything else you aplished, I will forget I heard that,¡± the captain said. ¡°I expect you were discreet?¡±

    ¡°Very,¡± Angharad assured her.

    Lady Penelope no more wanted the matter to get out than she did, there was no reason to believe it would spread.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to take that from Song, Angharad,¡± Maryam noted. ¡°She brought Evander Palliades to a brothel and booked a room just for the two of them.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s eyes widened in surprise while a flustered Song turned a hard look on their colleague.

    ¡°Don¡¯t phrase it like that,¡± Song hissed. ¡°It was an <em>investigation</em>, Angharad. There was another brackstone shrine in the basement.¡±

    Angharad squinted at the Tianxi.

    ¡°There is no shame in taking a lover of higher rank,¡± she assured Song. ¡°You need not fear I would believe you grasp-¡±

    ¡°We can do this another day, or preferably <em>never,¡± </em>Song tly replied. ¡°We should instead see to matters of actual import, like the fact that the cult of the Golden Ram is no such thing: gods do not distribute their ichor like party favors.¡±

    Ah, that. Tempting as the promise of even temporary healing was, Angharad had surrendered the wrapped ichor to Song. She intended to have it investigated by a specialist.

    ¡°You saw at least one boon at court that was right up the Golden Ram¡¯s alley, though,¡± Maryam pointed out. ¡°That speaks to the existence of some ord with the god.¡±

    ¡°There is no telling how old that boon was,¡± Angharad said. ¡°It could have begun as a genuine cult, then turned into something crueler.¡±

    ¡°I have a hard time believing a pack of nobles from Asphodel would have the skill to keep a god locked up in some basement and bled without the help of another god,¡± Song said.

    ¡°You believe another cult took over the Golden Ram¡¯s,¡± Angharad mused, following the implication. ¡°There is precedent for that, I¡¯ll grant.¡±

    Some cult of the Hated One had pretended they were followers of the Golden Ram, back in the days of that great Asphodelian civil war.

    ¡°It could be a cult to any god,¡± Song grimly said. ¡°In the pce it was Oduromai I saw grant the most contracts, but he does not seem to fit the scheme. We need to look into the local gods again.¡±

    ¡°Back to the archives for me, then,¡± Maryam drily said.

    Song inclined her head.

    ¡°I will apany you,¡± she said. ¡°But yes, that would be most helpful. There is no guarantee we will find anything, however, which means Angharad¡¯s approach is the most important.¡±

    ¡°You want me to go along with Lord Gule¡¯s recruitment,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°It is our best chance at putting a name to the leadership element of the cult,¡± Song said. ¡°That means, unfortunately, investigating that infernal forge for the ambassador.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s pulse quickened. She licked her lips. That was¡­ In the chaos of the cult being purged from the capital, it should not be impossible for an infernal forge to disappear from Menander Drakos¡¯ grasp. From there she could bargain with Imani or Jabni. <em>I could kill Imani, rid the Watch of her, and</em><em>strike a more favorable bargain with Jabni.</em> There were possibilities, a line to walk. One that would lead to her father¡¯s freedom without betraying the Watch.

    She must speak with Uncle Osian soon.

    ¡°Then I will do so,¡± Angharad said.

    Firm nods from the other two before Song sighed and tugged her wlessly ced cor ¡®back¡¯ into ce.

    ¡°How Lord Menander obtained that infernal forge is the most interesting part,¡± the silver-eyed woman said. ¡°Given the other pieces of information you brought us, it seems to me that Menander Drakos has spent thest decade trying to find a path into the Antediluvian shipyard and quite clearly seeded.¡±

    Angharad blinked.

    ¡°The infernal forge could have been a gift by the Lord Rector,¡± she slowly said. ¡°Presumably made without knowledge of what the object truly is, but¡­¡±

    ¡°No, I see what she¡¯s getting at,¡± Maryam muttered. ¡°When I dug into those Trathekend records, a while back, I found out from the confiscations done by Hector Lissenos that House Drakos used to own almost a quarter of the capital. Mostly in the northwestern ward.¡±

    ¡°I do not see the link,¡± Angharad admitted.

    ¡°Hector Lissenos dug beneath the capital to hide his backstone shrines, if we¡¯re right,¡± Maryam said. ¡°What if the Drakos did too, out in that ward they controlled?¡±

    ¡°You suspect they found passage to the shipyard,¡± Angharad said, frowning as she followed along their beaten paths. ¡°One that begins in Tratheke and that neither the Lissenos nor the Palliades after them ever learned about.¡±

    ¡°Hector Lissenos ran House Drakos out of the city,¡± Song said. ¡°They were barely even a noble house for a few generations afterwards, it took the better part of two hundred years to w back some influence.¡±

    ¡°Then why Lord Menander¡¯s interest in the Lissenos maps and papers he obtained from House Eirenos?¡± Angharad asked. ¡°They were digging in the wrong ward.¡±

    ¡°Two hundred years is a long time to keep a secret that might be too dangerous to risk putting to paper,¡± Maryam said. ¡°It may be the Drakos remembered there is a path, but not <em>where </em>it was.¡±

    Or that the papers had been lost, Angharad thought. All it took was a spill or a fire, should there be a single copy.

    ¡°So he sought Lissenos maps and papers to find that passage again,¡± Angharad murmured. ¡°If he¡¯d had ess to the private archives he could have used the same records Maryam did, but even if could get permission it would have been too noticeable.¡±

    Maryam <em>had </emined that the archivists tried to track every book she borrowed. The Lord Rector¡¯s interest would have been caught by Menander Drakos consulting papers about the old properties of his house.

    ¡°I think Menander Drakos has been able to ess that shipyard for longer the Palliades have, if by a narrower route,¡± Song said, ¡°and that he looted the ce for everything he can feasibly get away with. Including that infernal forge.¡±

    A heady prize, that. Angharad wondered if he considered it too dangerous to sell or he had no notion of what it was, for surely there would be nock of buyers for an infernal forge.

    ¡°The forge isn¡¯t our problem beyond Angharad reporting its presence to establish her name with the cult,¡± Maryam opined. ¡°Once we¡¯ve confirmed its existence it¡¯s a concern for officers much higher up thedder. Let the Watch grab it, or everybody else get in trouble trying to.¡±

    Song, perhaps driven to take petty revenge for earlier, turned a look of pedantic superiority on the Izvorica.

    ¡°Hell is also allowed to own forges, under the Iscariot ords, so long as they are kept within the walls of Pandemonium.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a loophole and you know it,¡± Maryam sneered.

    ¡°Of course it is, Maryam,¡± Song condescendingly smiled back.

    Angharad cleared her throat.

    ¡°While I do not disagree that beyond reporting a forge¡¯s potential presence there is no need for the Thirteenth to be involved,¡± she said, speaking precisely, ¡°the plot to overthrow Lord Rector Evander has now be our concern.¡±

    If the conspiracy to overthrow House Palliades involved the cult, then that conspiracy became part of their contract with the throne.

    ¡°You have testimony from a cultist that the cult is behind the intended coup,¡± Song agreed. ¡°By the writ of our contract we now have to inform the Lord Rector of the conspiracy whatever Brigadier Chca might want.¡±

    Angharad detected the slightest undertone of satisfaction there. Then she grimaced.

    ¡°It would be standard protocol to consult with him on how that revtion should be approached, however.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t expect he¡¯ll be too much trouble to convince. It¡¯ll look bad for the Watch if the Lord Rector learns we sat on a plot to his life for a while,¡± Maryam said.

    ¡°I do not understand why Brigadier Chca has done so,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°Would it not help in the negotiations for Evander Palliades to owe the Watch a favor?¡±

    Song passed a hand through her hair.

    ¡°I do not agree with the decision, but it is not senseless,¡± she said. ¡°The crux of the conflict is that the Watch will want to restrict sales of skimmers to maintain the bnce of power in the Trebian Sea, while House Palliades urgently needs to fill its coffers if it is to survive the decade.¡±

    ¡°Because Tianxia would act aggressively if it had a skimmer war fleet,¡± Angharad said, tone carefully neutral.

    ¡°Because the Watch had spent thest two centuries ensuring that no single power can control Trebian Sea trade, which is our order¡¯s lifeblood,¡± Song corrected. ¡°A resurgent Sacromonte with imperial ambitions would be just as dangerous, or even Izcalli being strong enough at sea to forcefully continue pushing eastwards into Old Liergan.¡±

    Maryam pointedly cleared her throat.

    ¡°Tianxia has the wealth, sailing expertise and physical proximity that would give it reason and opportunity to make the attempt,¡± Song conceded. ¡°They are certainly courting Asphodel the most aggressively of the great powers.¡±

    She shrugged.

    ¡°That is why the Lord Rector has repeatedly put off the Watch¡¯s attempts to inspect the shipyard, seizing upon every excuse to do so,¡± Song continued. ¡°Once our orders has an understanding of what those shipyards can do, they can set terms and begin pressuring the Lord Rector to adhere to restrictions. Lord Rector Evander does not currently have the strength to refuse the Watch, should it exercise its full diplomatic might against him.¡±

    It seemed to Angharad that the Watch would be wise to do so, but it was not the most salient detail here.

    ¡°So the Lord Rector is attempting to obtain foreign backing first,¡± Angharad said. ¡°To strike a deal with Tianxia so that they will support him against the Watch afterwards.¡±

    He had been very lucky, then, that some mugging gone wrong for a member of the delegation allowed him to push back that visit. Else by the time Angharad returned from the country word of the shipyard¡¯s capacity would likely have reached the Rookery as well as whatevermittee the Conve had granted authority over this affair.

    ¡°It is a ploy that Brigadier Chca is entirely aware of, which is why he¡¯s said nothing of the brewing coup,¡± Song continued. ¡°From the perspective of the Watch, if an emboldened Lord Rector refuses to make terms it is better to allow the coup to take ce and negotiate with a weaker recement who will naturally be at odds with the powers that previously backed the Palliades.¡±

    Angharad cocked her head to the side. That was a ruthless approach, but it was not dishonorable or senseless. It was also not within her means to influence, nor was it her duty to do so. Brigadier Chca¡¯s maneuverings were none of her business.

    ¡°But withholding the information is no longer possible, given the circumstances,¡± she observed.

    Song nodded.

    ¡°To identify the leadership ring of the cult is our contracted duty, so Chca will have no room toin. We are only beginning, besides. There are more names to obtain before we can be said to havepleted our task.¡±

    ¡°Normally we could squeeze the unmasked cultist for more names, but Lord Gule can¡¯t be arrested on the word of single ckcloak,¡± Maryam sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. ¡°We don¡¯t have proof that¡¯d hold up to the storm that imprisoning an ambassador of Mn would cause.¡±

    She sounded, the Pereduri thought, perhaps a little<em> too</em> disappointed by that.

    ¡°Then I continue my investigation of their society,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Until we have a name we <em>can</em> act on.¡±

    Their captain nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Meanwhile I will be digging into the ciphered journal you obtained,¡± Song said. ¡°And the letters too. That is, possibly, another way to fulfill our contract: if we find the physical preparations for the coup, we can grab cultists there.¡±

    ¡°Is there still a physical trail to follow?¡± Angharad asked. ¡°The warehouse led to no further findings and the leads at court are a dead end ¨C and now that we know the cultists there have refrained from taking suspicious boons on purpose, it seems to me that they have hidden deeply enough catching their tail will be difficult.¡±

    ¡°If Gule¡¯s so sure the assassin wasn¡¯t from the cult, there¡¯s no need for Tristan to look into the Kassa warehouse where she took refuge,¡± Maryam noted. ¡°We could recall him, n together for the next step.¡±

    ¡°We only know that Lord Gule does not<em> believe</em> the assassin to have struck on behalf of the Golden Ram,¡± Song pointed out, to which Angharad approvingly nodded. ¡°I would rather Tristan follow that trail to its end. Besides, ck House is not safe for him.¡±

    Angharad blinked in surprise at that, getting a shake of the head from Maryam who mouthed that she¡¯d exinter. Song drummed her fingers against the side of the chair.

    ¡°Maryam, when you visit the shipyard I need you to find out if there¡¯s a feasible way for Lord Menander to be getting into it, or at least evidence suggesting he has,¡± Song said. ¡°If you find either, then we can safely say he was not looking for the brackstone shrines by buying up the Eirenos papers. I would prefer to rule that out before we start making moves we can¡¯t take back.¡±

    The pale woman nodded.

    ¡°If I am to remain in Lord Menander¡¯s good graces, I will need to make appearances in society,¡± Angharad told them. ¡°Something to make up for my ruined reputation in the country.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll arrange those,¡± Song said. ¡°I have something else I need of you, but we can discuss thatter.¡±

    ¡°And you?¡± Maryam asked her.

    ¡°If I thought the Brazen Chariot could be trusted to make inquiries on our behalf I would,¡± Song grimaced, ¡°but they cannot. If we are to catch the cult through the coup it supports, then I will need to reach out to someone else that can help us down in the streets.¡±

    Song Ren sighed.

    ¡°It is time, I¡¯m afraid, to have a second chat with the Yellow Earth.¡±

    --

    It was easier than Song had feared to get a private meeting with Brigadier Chca.

    It was not yet eight in the morning yet when she was ushered in by armed ckcloaks into one of the private srs ck House kept for the use of visiting officers, the door firmly closed behind her. It was not her first time meeting the brigadier, but she was still startled by the oddity of his looks. He had typical Azn features, a broad face with a t nose andrge ears, but he was almost skeletally thin beneath the neck. It made him look somewhat like antern hung on a stick. Chca was not ugly, not exactly, but he looked quite peculiar.

    ¡°Sit,¡± the officer ordered, gesturing as the seat across his desk. ¡°With Angharad Tredegar¡¯s return, I expect you have news for me.¡±

    Song suppressed her irritation. The man was in no way entitled to receiving reports from the Thirteenth Brigade, which was a Scholomance cabal out on contract, but the increasing intertwining of his mandate as the leading Watch diplomat on Asphodel and the Thirteenth¡¯s investigation meant she had to report to him with unpleasant regrity anyway. Still, she sat. There was nothing else for it.

    He offered no refreshments and she asked for none.

    Laying out theirtest findings, that a cult was behind the brewing coup and that the Mni ambassador was a member of it, did not take overlong. Chca did not interrupt, waiting until she had finished to ask a few rifying questions. He had passing interest in the nature of the cult, Song only grasping why after a moment.

    ¡°It could be argued that you fulfilled your contract by proving there is no such thing as the cult of the Golden Ram,¡± Brigadier Chca said. ¡°It is not an insensible interpretation, I think.¡±

    In other words, he was willing to back the Thirteenth¡¯s contract having been ¡®fulfilled¡¯ if it meant sending her brigade back to Tolomontera where he would no longer trip all over their investigation while negotiating with the throne. It was an opening position and Song was certain she could have reached for the likes of amendation or ttering reports, but she had no intention of going down that road. Chca did not run Scholomance, the Obscure Committee did.

    Song doubted they would be impressed by the Thirteenth ducking out of its test at the first offered bribe.

    ¡°The name given to the cult is not the crux of the contract,¡± Song simply replied.

    He clicked his tongue, disappointed but unsurprised.

    ¡°This is aplication,¡± the brigadier said. ¡°Our own investigation into the coup did not hint at any Mni involvement.¡±

    Song stilled.

    ¡°Your own investigation?¡±

    The dark-eyed man frowned at her.

    ¡°You gave us credible evidence of a conspiracy that might potentially harm Watch interests,¡± he said. ¡°I put the Krypteia on it the same day, Captain Song. Did you think I would simply ignore it?¡±

    Song, to her mild shame, had thought exactly that.

    ¡°I was unaware of the investigation, sir,¡± she replied instead.

    ¡°There was no reason to keep you informed,¡± the Izcalli tly said. ¡°We had, at that time, no evidence that the conspiracy had ties to the cult.¡±

    He leaned back into his seat, face gone severe.

    ¡°The Krypteia found three more warehouses that he men or materials and we believe there might be as many as seven hundred soldiers currently hiding in the capital.¡±

    He drummed his fingers against the desk.

    ¡°Assuming at least half the capital nobles side with the coup and support it with their retinues, we could be looking at a force of between fifteen to eighteen hundred striking by surprise.¡±

    Song swallowed. That was more than she had anticipated.

    ¡°If they can seize the lift into the pce, they will be able to sweep the lictor garrison there,¡± she said.

    She knew their numbers were no more than three hundred, having personally cleared them with her contract, though given Prefect Nestor¡¯s rumblings of needing more hands more might have been brought in from the city.

    ¡°That is our assessment as well,¡± Brigadier Chca said. ¡°We thought them unlikely to seed, but Lord Gule¡¯s involvement changes things. The man has ess to the pce and can call on resources like the Lefthand House. It is entirely feasible they will seed, though their sess will still depend heavily on the element of surprise.¡±

    ¡°Meaning that informing the Lord Rector strongly tips the bnce his way,¡± Song observed.

    The older man nodded.

    ¡°Which is why Evander Palliades will not be told anything until the shipyard visit takes ce and the Watch¡¯s negotiating position has been determined,¡± he said.

    In other words, Brigadier Chca did not want Evander Palliades to be tipped off if it was in the best interests of the Watch to have him removed by the coup. Song gritted her teeth.

    ¡°Given the nature of our contract with the throne, it could be taken as dereliction of duty not to inform him,¡± Song replied.

    ¡°There is no mention of regr reports in your contract,¡± Brigadier Chca noted. ¡°I should know, I had a copy pulled.¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    It would have been hypocrisy to be irritated by that after having illegally essed the delegation service records. Song was, thus, a bit of a hypocrite.

    ¡°The client has requested them,¡± she shot back.

    The Izcalli considered her for a moment.

    ¡°I could make it an order,¡± he said.

    ¡°I am not your subordinate,¡± Song coldly replied. ¡°And you have already interfered with the Thirteenth Brigade¡¯s contracted duties repeatedly.¡±

    She let it hang, unsaid, that further encroachment would result in formalints to the Obscure Committee. A man with his connections would be able to bury that, they both knew. But it would also have it put on paper that he had effectively arranged for the assassination of the Lord Rector of Asphodel, which was a dangerous thing to have known about you.

    Brigadier Chca stared her down, then suddenly snorted.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked. ¡°I know a bargaining position when I see one.¡±

    Song swallowed her grimace. He had read her right: it would be difficult for her to truly dig in her heels if the sum whole of the request made of her was to dy her reports by a few days. Even Wen was likely to order her to obey that. She only had so much leverage, and much as part of her wanted Evander to survive this she had higher responsibilities.

    ¡°I need amnesty paper for a member of my cabal,¡± Song said. ¡°Pre-signed, the name left empty.¡±

    Thest part she had added purely to throw him off, and from the way his eyes tightened it had worked.

    ¡°What are you going to order your cabalist to do, Captain Ren?¡± the brigadier softly asked.

    ¡°Something that breaks thews of the Watch,¡± she replied. ¡°But is necessary nheless.¡±

    ¡°You know amnesty papers can be contested,¡± Brigadier Chca told her. ¡°Abuse of them will be brought to the Conve.¡±

    <em>Thest thing they¡¯ll want is to bring this to the Conve</em>, Song thought.

    ¡°I am aware,¡± Song replied.

    Brigadier Chca looked at her again, then nodded.

    ¡°Then I will draft one immediately.¡±

    Song did not smile, for this was a betrayal. Yet it was also the very opposite, because that amnesty was not for something yet to be done. It was to wipe the te clean on the killing of Lieutenant Apurva when the Thirteenth came forward with the evidence about the Ivory Library.

    Tristan ought to pleased, wherever he was: he had just gotten away with murder.

    --

    With Angharad whisked away by her uncle and Maryam requisitioned by the shipyard delegation so she might be schooled in the proper behavior by the diplomats, Song took a moment to ensure the message she had sent to the Tianxi embassy had gotten there before turning to her next task.

    A duty she was rather looking forward to: vivisecting a cipher to peer at the secrets hidden behind it.

    She settled in her room with a pot of tea and a polite request for the ck House servant to keep bringing fresh ones, cracking open the journal that Angharad had found for her. As the noblewoman had mentioned it was a mix of nonsense, numbers and Cydic-seeming words.

    Song could not read Cydic, but she did not need to: ck House had a well-furnished library containing books on thenguage. It soon became clear that whoever had designed the cipher was no more fluent in the tongue than she was, anyhow. The few bits of sentence used were spelled without any regard to singrs and plurals, or even the tense of verbs. That made things simpler.

    She was not looking at a Cydic cipher, she suspected, but a cipher made using a Cydic dictionary.

    It took her a little under two hours to establish that it was not anything tooplex, only a camouged substitution cipher. The first letter of every word in Cydic was to be reced by the next one in the traditional twenty-eight letter sequence of the Cydic alphabet, all of them corresponding to the first letter of the twelve Asphodelian months. The other words were, she rather more easily grasped, all the first letter of the Cydic terms for ¡®powder¡¯, ¡®sphere¡¯ or ¡®stick¡¯.

    Gunpowder, cannon balls or muskets.

    The first numbers next to the words were the date of arrival or departure for the goods being smuggled into Tratheke, though that took some work to figure out ¨C the actual dates had to be figured out by subtracting the written numbers from one hundred, Song put together after another hour of tearing through books on ciphers. The second sets of numbers appeared to be weighted quantities of the goods being brought in.

    The part she could not solve was the nonsense symbols sprinkled all over the records. Sometimes alone, sometimes two in a row and once even three in a line. Her best guess was that they represented people, either those shipping the goods or paying for them. Or perhaps a destination inside Tratheke? There was only so much she could deduce with what she had.

    The picture painted was, well, troubling. Song sat in the candlelight with the best maps of Tratheke Valley and the surrounding mountains she had been able to obtain, estimating distances using the roads, and the conclusion was in: the guns and powder wereing from<em> inside</em> the valley.

    Given the periods of time marked down, the smuggled armaments could not being from the mountains. The roads were not good enough for the numbers to make sense if that was the case, and while Song could change the sum being subtracted from the ensuing results were then all much too long or much too short. Which meant somewhere out in Tratheke Valley there was a hidden workshop producing gunpowder and cheap muskets for what appeared to be the sole purpose of smuggling arms into the capital.

    And there was something off about that. The plotters as described by Angharad were not united enough to keep thisrge amon endeavor quiet, and how could Evander have missed a band of noble houses setting up an arms workshop in his own backyard? Song did not know much about ckpowder production in Asphodel, however, so she sought out someone who did.

    ¡°Nobles didn¡¯t build that,¡± Captain Wen Duan bluntly said, closing his book.

    He looked interested enough to be giving her his full attention.

    ¡°How are you so certain?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°Because there¡¯s only two sources of sufficiently pure sulfur on Asphodel,¡± he said. ¡°One¡¯s out west, near the tip of the ind, under the shared ownership of four noble houses who run a powder workshop. The other is on the eastern rim of Tratheke Valley and owned by the crown. The vast majority of thattter sulfur is used to make the ckpowder for the royal fleet.¡±

    And as sulfur was one of the main ingredients of ck powder, a workshop dedicated to its production could not be founded without having secured a steady supply.

    ¡°So the sulfur used for this phantom workshop must be imported,¡± Song frowned.

    ¡°And it¡¯s not the nobles who run trade fleets, or who have the Lordsport connections to smuggle in something as tightly watched as sulfur,¡± Captain Wen said. ¡°This is the work of the Trade Assembly, or at least a few members of it.¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s absurd,¡± Song protested. ¡°Why would the Trade Assembly be smuggling powder into the capital so their sworn enemies can employ in a coup?¡±

    The criminals of the Brazen Chariot had mentioned that ckpowder was going for a fortune on the ck market, but the amount of powder being brought into Tratheke could not possibly be used for anything but violence. The merchants bringing it into the capital, if skilled enough to build an entire arms workshop in the valley unseen, could not be fools enough not to realize this.

    Wen shrugged.

    ¡°Nobles get started somewhere, Song,¡± he pointed out.

    Her eyes narrowed.

    ¡°You think they were promised elevation to nobility,¡± she said.

    ¡°Some houses are going to be wiped out during the coup, if it goes through,¡± Captain Wen noted, cracking his book open again. ¡°Raising a few magnates to the nobility to rece them will do a great deal to stabilize the aftermath of the violence.¡±

    A disgusting notion, that some of Asphodel¡¯s leading figures would betray their own to side with<em> yiwu</em>. Disgusting but not unbelievable. She had been raised to tales about how the elites of newly-liberated Jiushen ¨C the Lost Eleventh ¨C had betrayed the Republics and their own people by opening the city gates to an imperial army in exchange for <em>special privileges</em>.

    Traitors could always be found, even when there were no war banners on the horizon.

    Not so much disbelieving as diforted, Song returned to her rooms and set aside that part of the journal. She turned instead to the correspondence Angharad had dutifully transcribed, grateful that the dark-skinned woman had a fine hand. It would have made it a great chore to read her words otherwise.

    By all appearances this was nothing more than an exchange of letters between Lord Rector Hector Lissenos and his mistress, only known as ¡®C. E.¡¯, and the contents were a mixture of the literary and the lurid. Hector Lissenos had enjoyed being sat on by his mistress, evidently, but must not have seen her often for they often traded books and referred to passages therein as a form of flirtation.

    Or had they?

    Peering ahead in the sequence of twenty-four letters, Song found that <em>every single letter</em> had a literary reference containing the title book and a specific passage. She made a list of the titles and transcribed the passages on another paper, trying to find a cipher, but nothing jumped out. A visit to the ck House library yielded the knowledge that none of the mentioned books were on the shelves, which she had to admit was fair enough.

    The letters dated back to the early Century of Dominion, a little under two hundred years ago.

    No, if the key to the cipher was the mentioned volumes then Song would have to look elsewhere. It might be that the fortress at Stheno¡¯s Peak might have a few, but there was one location nearly guaranteed to have them all: the rector¡¯s pce. If not in the standard archives, then in the private ones. Which would mean asking the Lord Rector of Asphodel for permission, and likely visiting the pce on several asions. No books were allowed out of the private archives, after all.

    In a way it was a relief when she was told that a message hade back from the Tianxi embassy, as it forced her thoughts away from that particr prospect. The only thing the Yellow Earth sent back was a time and a ce, out in the city well into the night.

    Best get a nap in, Song decided, for it seemed she would not be getting much sleep tonight.

    --

    Tristan could not spare long for the work, not with the grueling day awaiting him on the morrow, but he made the time. He must, for his enemies would.

    How to get around Tozi Poloko¡¯s contract was an interesting puzzle to solve but also a frustrating one. Song¡¯s trantion of the full contract was clear: Tozi did not have to use her contract to know what was the mostly likely source for her death the next three hours, she <em>always</em> knew. That meant Tristan could not rely on her inattention to assassinate her, he had to find a way to trick the contract itself.

    First, though, he must establish the opportunity to act. Finding out when the Neenth visited their safehouse in the southwestern district was not something he could do himself, given how his days were upied, but it was easy enough to get one of the ck House servants to track theirings and goings for a bit of coin. From that he learned that every night half the brigade stayed over at that derelict house, and with a bit of legworke night he was even able to learn why.

    They were checking in on a particr mansion in the district at least twice a day, and had an arrangement with the lictors so an eye would kept on it at all times. Song had passed a message that they were looking to bait the contractor killer they were chasing, so odds were that the half of the Neenth staying out in town was there so it coulde quicker should the bait be taken during the night.

    That meant Tristan only had to wait for it to be Tozi¡¯s turn in the rotation, which was easy enough given that the pairs always remained the same: Tozi and Izel, Cressida and Kiran. A lucky arrangement for him, that the two he feared the most would be paired together.

    One he had a time and ce, the difficult part was obtaining a creature that fit his needs but would not draw too much suspicion.

    They¡¯d been told that Tratheke was rtively light on vermin, by virtue of being a glorified giant metal box, and that was true despite entire swaths of the city being uninhabited. There <em>were </em>some animals who dwelled within the walls, though, and some of them were lethal to men. The mud viper was one of them, though its bite only killed half the time ording to the locals and it was not a particrly aggressive snake.

    Unless you force-fed it bullish grass, anyhow, which made the females of the species extremely sensitive and prone to biting anything warm close to them.

    Cressida still put traps on the doors and window whenever she slept over, he¡¯d checked, but the other two did not. The lock was simple enough to pick, and he¡¯d just in case practiced several times to ensure he could do it noiselessly in the dark.

    The door itself was creaky, so he opened it as little as he could and did not yet close it. The inside of the house was dark so Tristan waited, crouched, and let himself grow used to theck of light. Once he could make out his surroundings again he picked up the small box he had brought and made for the stairs. Step after step, creeping silently and pricking his ear. Silence.

    The hallway was empty, but to his surprise the ¡®bedroom¡¯ door where he had seen the bedrolls was open. He supposed there was no point in closing it if both Tozi and Izel were sleeping inside. Quieting his breath, he crawled to the edge of the door and paused there ¨C he could hear two people breathing, slow and steady. Still sleeping. Rising into a crouch, Tristan brought out the small wooden box and took the lid in hand: the moment he opened it the maddened mud viper tried to smash its way out and he almost dropped the whole thing.

    Gritting his teeth he opened the lid all the way, aiming it so the snake slithered into the bedroom, and then put the box between it and his hand so it could not turn to bite him. He backed away hastily, keeping an eye on the brown-scaled viper as it hesitated a moment before it slid deeper into the room. More warmth there, as he¡¯d nned.

    Tristan hightailed it out of there as quickly as he could, box in hand, but he¡¯d only reached the door when the shout came. A woman¡¯s voice. He calmly closed the door behind him, sliding the lock back in ce, and hid in the empty house next to the Neenth¡¯s rental. Now he only had to wait.

    Shouting continued, and lights were lit, but no one ran out of the house to go fetch a physician. Tristan sighed. Another sigh resounded from his side.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t work,¡± Fortuna said. ¡°You think her contract woke her?¡±

    She was standing beneath the hole in the ceiling, the glow of some distant light bathing her golden hair in pale.

    ¡°I think when the source of her death abruptly changed, it interrupted her sleep,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It won¡¯t be as simple as catching her while her eyes are closed.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll have their guard up now,¡± the goddess warned.

    ¡°Will they?¡± he asked. ¡°At first, maybe. But the house is full of holes, the snake is not an umon sight in Tratheke and the species attacks it feels threatened. So long as Iy off for a time, their guard will lower again.¡±

    Fortuna hummed, looking interested.

    ¡°You have another idea?¡±

    ¡°Something like that,¡± Tristan said. ¡°If I can¡¯t sneak around the contract, then can I overwhelm it?¡±

    The easiest answer was to drug their water with something that would not kill but paralyze them, but there was always the chance that the contract would identify that as a source of death anyhow. A two-part poison would be seen right through, and odds were that a poison bing lethal on umted doses over time would be warned of just before it became lethal. No, beforemitting to a final n he needed to discern the limits of the enemy god¡¯s insight. The Three Hundred Ny-Ninth Brother would warn Tozi about <em>a </em>poison, he knew this.

    But how would it warn her of multiple, identical and simultaneous poisons?

    --

    That Hao Yu would be waiting for her near the gutted ruin in the northwestern ward was only to be expected, but Song had hoped that Ai would be absent. s, it was not to be. The contractor, whose true name was ¡®Dongmei¡¯, lurked in the shadows along with the head of the local Yellow Earth sect.

    ¡°You¡¯rete,¡± Ai called out.

    ¡°I am early,¡± Song evenly corrected. ¡°Master Yu, good evening.¡±

    ¡°And to you,¡± the small man replied. ¡°Come, I have something to show you.¡±

    Though Song had coached hernguage carefully in the letter she sent, requesting help in ¡®finding lost property¡¯ instead of what she truly sought, she had expected something more borate than the small, worn pawn shop that Hao Yu led them to. Perhaps it was only a meeting ce. The owner, arge bald man by the name of Min, ushered them in though his shop was closed.

    ¡°Min is a friend of the cause,¡± Hao Yu told her. ¡°The back of his shop holds something of interest, you will see.¡±

    What it held, Song found, was a cluttered room of useless trinkets with arge t stone in the middle that was used to hold up a table. Ai set aside said table, then with Min¡¯s help pushed off the stone ¨C revealing a dark, stinking hole.

    ¡°This leads into the sewers, I take it,¡± Song said.

    ¡°What Tratheke uses as sewers, anyhow,¡± Min jovially replied. ¡°They are quite overge for such a purpose.¡±

    They changed, in clothes having been set aside for all of them so they would not stink of sewageter. They took turns behind a paper screen, and once they were done Hao Yu produced a small bronze watch from his clothes, watching the needle turn for a moment. He nodded to himself.

    ¡°We must move now,¡± he said. ¡°The water gate will only be closed for so long.¡±

    There was an irondder welded into the wall, so going down into the sewers was quite easy. Song could see what Min had meant: this was quite spacious for sewers, and though the hall was rounded it was still a rather high ceiling. It also stank much less than she would have thought, more like a filthy alley than the literal river of filth she had been expecting. The water channel running through the hall was shallow, and though the water was dirty it was recognizably water still.

    Ai took the lead down there, a hoodedntern in hand, while Song followed behind with Master Yu.

    ¡°The city uses the canals to flush out the filth,¡± he told her. ¡°There is an entirework of water gates that bnce the levels. We¡¯ve learned the hours some of them are used, and the paths this reveals.¡±

    They must have a dozen more discreet shops like this spread over the city, Song thought, that would allow them to use those hidden roads beneath the ground. Only it was not to the surface that they headed to, but towards the northwestern corner of the great box that was Tratheke. They must have hurried for the better part of a half hour before Ai called a halt, hooding thentern further until only a small slice of light was emitted.

    They crept down the hall, turning a corner, and then Song found a thick iron grid warding entrance into a room. Ai killed thentern outright and Hao Yu gestured for her to go to the grid. Through the iron barrier Song saw that the channel in the ground continued into arge room, whose ceiling seemed to be fed by brass-like pipes. The rain must havee through there from the surface.

    But it was the rest of the room that she paid attention to, because it was a mass of small cells gated by thick iron bars with locks on them. And those cells were packed to the <em>brim</em>.

    There must be more than a hundred people down there, Song thought, crammed tight in cells meant to hold half that many. Half-starved in this pit reeking of piss and shit and vomit. She could hear children coughing, the moans of the feverish and the quiet weeping of the desperate. This ce was not a prison, it was a monument to cruelty.

    ¡°Who are they?¡± Song whispered.

    ¡°Hostages,¡± Ai quietly replied. ¡°Family to city guards or officials. Even some criminals. They took some nobles too, but those are kept in a different ce. <em>Nicer</em>.¡±

    ¡°They even took their own families hostage?¡± Song asked, genuinely disgusted.

    ¡°Did you not wonder how the noble conspirators ¨C traitors even among yiwu - were able to funnel men and weapons into the capital for the better part of a year without one turning on the others?¡± Hao Yu asked.

    His voice was calm, and as he leaned against the wall he seemed almost indifferent. The shaved head, the plucked eyebrows, they should have made his face more expressive but instead they had whittled away expressions. It was his eyes that gave it all away: the violent <em>hatred </em>there for what he beheld, the kind of ze that could onlye from genuine indignation.

    There was much that Song disliked about the Yellow Earth, but she would never deny that they believed. They had seen the ugliness in Vesper, the promise of the Feichu Tian ¨C <em>all are free under Heaven</em> ¨C gone unfulfilled and instead of making excuses they¡¯d picked up a spear. She could hate their excesses, and did, but never as much as she would hate the evil they¡¯d set out to quell.

    ¡°It is monstrous,¡± Song said, fingers clenching.

    Hao Yu fished out a small bronze watch, ticking on silently, and frowned.

    ¡°We must go,¡± he said. ¡°The water gate will open again soon.¡±

    Song¡¯s eyes stayed on the pity of misery, jaw clenching. She saw more than they could, with those silver eyes of hers that cared for neither dark nor light. Looking at the pus leaking down the wrist of a boy that could not be more than four, her jaw clenched. She could make out the tremors of his arm, smell the foulness in the air.

    A single death would be too light a punishment for those who had done this.

    Ai roughly grabbed her shoulder, though for once her face was not set in a scowl as she did. Giving in despite the sick feeling in her belly, Song let herself be tugged away. They fled back the way they hade, through the shallow sewage water and the too-wide tunnels, and not a moment too soon: the water had begun to rise out of the channel by the time they reached thedder,pping at their feet.

    Min pushed the stone aside for them, pulling them into his shop, and provided soap and water to wash off the worst of the stink before they changed back into their street clothes. There was a pot of tea on, some cheap Someshwari leaf, and after setting it out for them along with a small bowl of sticky candies he left and closed the door. The candies were quite dry and hard, probably old, but Song was just d for anything to eat.

    Between that and downing the first cup of tea, it almost washed off the taste that lingered in her mouth.

    Hao Yu methodically poured tea for everyone, even Ai who instead of sitting leaned back against the wall with her arms crossed, and kindly waited for Song to begin sipping at her second cup of tea before he spoke.

    ¡°I first served among our brethren in Izcalli,¡± Hao Yu said. ¡°Not one of the sects concerning itself with the candles ¨C that is better left to more martial men than I ¨C but one of those seeking toy the foundation of a Sunflower Lord¡¯s unseating.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°When I came to Asphodel, fresh from those experiences, part of me thought of it as¡­ not a rest, but a recess of sorts,¡± the small man said. ¡°How could the aristocrats of this small, fading powerpare to the horrorsmitted by the very Princes of War?¡±

    Hao Yu sipped at his cup, then set it down.

    ¡°I learned better, over the years,¡± he said. ¡°It does not matter whether the crown is great or small. Everywhere that birth can decide that some are men and others not, evil seeps through the cracks. <em>Everywhere</em>.¡±

    ¡°How many in the Council of Ministers are involved?¡± Song hoarsely asked.

    ¡°Enough,¡± Ai snorted. ¡°And your bosom friend the Lord Rector is no better, Ren.¡±

    Her eyes flicked to Hao Yu, who inclined his head.

    ¡°The lictors have silenced at least six souls that we know of who might have had insights on where the entrance to his shipyard lies. Regardless of whether or not the acquisition of that knowledge was idental.¡±

    Aiughed unkindly.

    ¡°One was a boy of fifteen, a shoe-shiner who we think overheard his <em>betters </em>talk,¡± she said. ¡°We found his body in a canal.¡±

    Song tried to tell herself it might have been Prefect Nestor, but she could barely finish the sentence even in her own mind. The old prefect was arrogant and blustering but not the sort of man to order the death of a boy without his master¡¯s approval. Song thought back not to the same man she walked through the streets arguing with but to the <em>Lord Rector</em>, the canny-eyed man behind the desk that had granted the Thirteenth audience that first day.

    That man, Song thought, he would give the order and not think about it twice.

    ¡°I have no illusions as to the kind of man Evander Palliades is,¡± she evenly replied. ¡°There can be no good king.¡±

    Hao Yu nodded in approval at the quoting of the Feichu Tian, but Ai looked dismissive and snorted again. Much as her attitude rubbed Song raw, the other woman had a point. Song had spent a great deal of time in Evander¡¯spany, and the amount of it where she had wondered what it would be like to kiss him now burned her in her belly like embers of shame.

    ¡°He has more respect for what lies under Heaven than his former regent, ifrgely out of weakness,¡± Hao Yu said. ¡°The years under Apollonia Floros were darker.¡±

    Song cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°I have heard much of her honor and skill as a ruler,¡± she said, undertone conveying her skepticism about that.

    When nobles talked about how honorable one of their own was, it meant that aristocrat was respecting their societal code. Not that they were behaving in a way that any halfway reasonable person would call honorable.

    ¡°She treated merchants like a second purse and worked prisoners to death rebuilding the capital,¡± Ai sneered.

    Rebuild? Ah, the attempted coup by Lord Rector Evander¡¯s uncle that Minister Floros had famously put down before assuming the regency. There must have been damage from the fighting.

    ¡°Her policies sought to run out of business any traderpeting with a noble house for business,¡± Hao Yu mildly said. ¡°Regardless of whether this improved the lot of the people of Asphodel. She also banned the trade of luxury goods without a license so she could rent these at extortionate prices.¡±

    And his motive for bringing this up was clear as spring water.

    ¡°You fear it will be worse should the conspirators seat her on the throne,¡± Song said.

    ¡°Even assuming argely bloodless coup, she will then spend the following few years effectively sacking the country,¡± the small man said. ¡°Ambassador Guo has expressed concern at the possibility that merchant fleets will be confiscated outright.¡±

    Which would be a concern for Tianxia, considering the main trading partner of those fleets were the Republics. None of this, however, would be of concern to the Watch. The Conve¡¯s sole answer to learning of civil strife in Asphodel would be sending more ckcloaks to Stheno¡¯s Peak in anticipation of a glut of contracts on the ind. Hao Yu would know this, and still this conversation had taken ce.

    ¡°You want something from me,¡± Song stated.

    ¡°I do,¡± Hao Yu politely agreed, reaching inside his in robe. ¡°The first of my requests is that you read this letter.¡±

    Song¡¯s brow rose but she took the folded paper he handed her. The handwriting was unfamiliar but the characters were neat and crisp, a sign learning. It was Yellow Earth correspondence. Someone going by the moniker of ¡®Incense¡¯ was corresponding with someone called ¡®Bamboo¡¯, presumably Hao Yu himself. Incense wrote of agitation in Jiushen, some <em>karmaka </em>reincarnate having seized power in the region, but it was the second half of the letter that imed Song¡¯s attention.

    It was about a band of royalist traitors seen crossing the northern border of Jigong into the Someshwar, three of which were identified by name. And nestled between the first andst names was one that had Song¡¯s blood running cold: <em>Haoran Ren</em>.

    Her second eldest brother.

    Suddenly the room felt cramped, closing from all sides. <em>Gods, gege, the royalists? </em>A pack of traitors backed by foreigners who want to bloodily return the rule of kings. What could Haroan have been thinking, to sign up with Tianxia¡¯s most despised traitors? In some ways he had it the worst of them, having been in Mother¡¯s belly that day when their grandfather caused the Dimming. There had always been an anger in her brother, a sense that he was being punished for his birth, but this was not an answer.

    It was adding ink to the spill.

    Song¡¯s hands clenched around her teacup. She set down the letter, carefully folding it, and pushed it across the table.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± she said.

    Her calm was paper-thin, and like a sheet of paper they saw right through it.

    ¡°This is not a threat,¡± Hao Yu assured her. ¡°I have no influence over whether an attempt to kill him will be made.¡±

    ¡°Consider me reassured,¡± Song thinly replied.

    ¡°What I can say,¡± the small man continued, ¡°is that your brother¡¯s presence with the royalists is at risk of being made known in order to tar their reputation when they choose to carry out their next plot.¡±

    How despicable her bloodline must be, Song thought, that they would be the ones to tar the royalists instead of the other way around. Even among pools of mud, some sorts were filthier than others.

    ¡°Haoran may yete to his senses,¡± she began, then forced herself to continue. ¡°If he does not, then the consequences will be on his head.¡±

    Aiughed.

    ¡°The royalists did the Dimming,¡± she said, ying it up like she was addressing a crowd. ¡°The Ren were royalists the whole time, the Old Devil did it on the Maharaja¡¯s order.¡±

    Song went still, breath caught in her throat. She was going to throw up. Gods, if that rumor was put out¡­ She could save all of Vesper nine times and still everyone with a speck of Ren blood in their veins would be cursed to howling death.

    ¡°I have no influence over your brother¡¯s fate,¡± Hao Yu repeated. ¡°What influence I<em> do</em> have is wielded through the courtesies of the Yellow Earth.¡±

    ¡°I do not understand,¡± Song croaked out.

    ¡°Sects make an attempt not to interfere with each other¡¯s ns,¡± the small man said. ¡°Should I, for example, promote Song Ren to the people as a heroine of Tianxia¡­¡±

    ¡°The other sects would refrain from dragging my brother into the public¡¯s eye,¡± shepleted. ¡°Not to endanger your work.¡±

    She closed her fist. They had her. He had her. All it would take for him to undo everything she could ever aplish was to <em>stay silent</em>.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Song bit out.

    ¡°Information,¡± Hao Yu replied. ¡°We will not allow Apollonia Floros to rule Asphodel. I would have from you reports on the measures taken by the Lord Rector and the Watch to keep him on the throne.¡±

    That was, Song thought, a small price to pay.<em> Too</em> small a price.

    ¡°And what would prevent you,¡± she said, ¡°from asking more of me?¡±

    Ai pushed off the wall.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± she smiled. ¡°But then only one of us is from a family of traitors twice over, is she? We¡¯re not the side that needs to prove it¡¯s trustworthy.¡±

    <em>Hand on the chisel</em>, Song told herself. Only with every breath, every thought, every look at that sneering zealot and that calm-faced liar, she could feel her fingers slip. Thest of herposure filtering through them like sand. She had to leave, to find a cold and empty ce where she could close her eyes and <em>think.</em>

    Rudely, she pushed away from the table and rose.

    ¡°You have given me much to think on,¡± Song said.

    Hao Yu inclined his head.

    ¡°There is no hurry,¡± he said. ¡°Consider your options.¡±

    ¡°Tic, toc,¡± Ai sang out, the heinous bitch. ¡°Don¡¯t think for <em>too</em> long, Ren.¡±

    The man sent her a quelling look, which she onlyughed it.

    ¡°You know how to contact us,¡± Hao Yu said. ¡°A pleasant night to you, Song Ren.¡±

    It was rudeness after rudeness, but Song left without a word. Strode out of there onto the street, ignoring whatever it was Min said to her as she rushed out of his shop, and kept moving as fast as she could without running. She wasn¡¯t sure how long she kept at it, but by the time she stopped her legs were aching and there was sweat running down her back.

    Feeling the asional curious look from the few people out on the street, Song ducked out into an alley.

    She turned a corner deeper away from the avenue, finding herself in a dirty dead end of brass walls and boarded-up windows. Song leant her forehead against the wall, closing her eyes, and breathed in. In and out, slowing her heartbeat. She felt like throwing up. Gods, but she could not even hate the Yellow Earth for this. They could not have done a fucking thing, if her <em>own fucking brother had not decided to betray all of Tianxia.</em>

    And for what, some pat on the back by some Someshwari raja that¡¯d put a musket in his hand and send him back south to ughter his countrymen? Was this all so he could have an excuse to shoot at Tianxi, at the people who hated him for being born? Well, they hated Song too and she¡¯d not whined about it. She¡¯d taken action to fix things instead of drinking herself to death or, apparently, turning traitor!

    Song mmed a fist against the wall and <em>screamed</em>, screamed until her lungs ached and enough of the storm had bled out she could remember to be afraid of someoneing to look.

    ¡°Do I not bear enough stones on my back, brother, that you would go looking for more?¡± she finally breathed out, panting.

    ¡°Ha! Hrious.¡±

    Blood still high, Song turned. Ai, grinning like some malevolent cat. Dongmei, her true name was, and she almost felt like throwing that in the other woman¡¯s face to see if that wiped off the grin.

    ¡°Leave,¡± she bit out instead. ¡°I have nothing more to say t-¡±

    It took half a heartbeat.

    Song¡¯s only warning was when Ai¡¯s eyes turn a cloudy green, as if suddenly covered by cataracts, then the shell erupted from a line crossing down her body. It looked, Song, thought, like green-zed pottery. Not quite jade or stone, and she got a glimpse of the mask settling over the face ¨C a hungry ghost, with its knotted brow and fat lips curving downwards with a jutting pointed tooth on either side ¨C before the contractor¡¯s hand was on her throat.

    Song was mmed against the wall hard enough she saw stars, held up by Ai like she was some insolent kitten. Snarling and choking she reached for her sword but her enemy onlyughed.

    ¡°Good, then you can shut up and <em>listen</em>.¡±

    The voice came out distorted through the mask, as if rasped out. The shell that looked like zed pottery, it only covered Ai¡¯s front ¨C stopped two thirds of the way up her head, but on the sides only a few inches past the hipbones.

    Song shed at her blindly around the hip, aiming for flesh, but the steel bounced off the shell with a sound like she had hit stone. It didn¡¯t even leave a mark.

    ¡°Now, Hao he thinks you could be good for us,¡± Ai said. ¡°That cultivating a friend in the Watch, a covenanter at that, it¡¯ll pay off down the line. That it¡¯ll be worth burning a few favors putting in a good word for you.¡±

    Song was choking, and spat on the mask. The other woman casually pped the sword out of her grip even as her vision began swimming. So strong, and quick enough she crossed the alley¡¯s length in a heartbeat. Gods, what sort of a contract was this?

    Ai dropped her and Song fell on her knees, desperately gasping for hair.

    ¡°Me?¡± the contractor continued. ¡°I see a filthy little opportunist that fled the coop. One who¡¯s making cows eyes at a king, who picked up a crippled Mni noble for the bragging rights and drinks with a Sunflower Lord¡¯s daughter.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re mad,¡± Song spat out.

    ¡°Come now,¡± Aiughed, the voice oddly smoky. ¡°Did Tozi Poloko think using her mother¡¯s name was enough to fool us? You¡¯re drinking with the granddaughter of the man who set Caishen¡¯s countryside ame and you thought we wouldn¡¯t notice? She¡¯s a lot higher up on our lists than the Ren.¡±

    Tozi.<em> Tozi</em>? And it came together, all at once. Captain Tozi, whom the son of a prominent general like Doghead Coyal still deferred to. Who allowed the authority of superior officers with a sort of bemused tolerance and treated her own patron like someone she could chide. Izel had good as told her, she realized, when he mentioned the Ivory Library had connections to great nobles of Izcalli. There were none greater than the Sunflower Lords, save for the king of Izcalli himself.

    ¡°Oh, you didn¡¯t know,¡± Ai mused, looking down on her. ¡°So an ipetent opportunist on top of the rest.¡±

    She tried to get up, but she was kicked back down into the dirt. Ai had made no distance, not attempt to make room. The contractor feared nothing she could do.

    ¡°Stay down, yiwu,¡± Ai said. ¡°You don¡¯t need to be on your feet: this isn¡¯t a conversation.¡±

    She leaned in, pottery mask looming over Song.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to give Hao everything he asks for,¡± Ai ordered. ¡°Because if you don¡¯t, I¡¯ll be going over his head and sending Incense a letter about how Song Ren is sabotaging us in Asphodel. And to the sect in Mazu too, while I¡¯m at it. That is where your little nest of traitors is these days, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Rage red.

    ¡°If youy one finger on my family-¡±

    It took her a moment to realize what had happened ¨C she¡¯d been pped across the face, only it felt like someone had mmed a door into it. Any harder and a tooth would havee loose. She was on the ground, sprawled.

    ¡°Do as you are told or die,¡± Ai inly said, ¡°and the rest of your filthy bloodline with you.¡±

    Song swallowed a shout of pain, the entire side of her face stinging now that the surprise had passed.

    ¡°Yes, you¡¯ll talk,¡± the contractor said. ¡°And when the timees, you¡¯ll do me one more favor.¡±

    She stepped back.

    ¡°Do that, Song Ren, and I¡¯ll even let Hao drag your name an inch out of the mud without a protest.¡±

    And then she was gone, leaving Song sprawled in the dirt with a swelling face and more rage than she knew what to do with.

 Chapter 57

    Chapter 57

    It was not a pleasant surprise to be woken up in the middle of the night and the quality of the ensuing surprises had only since worsened.

    ¡°If we go to Captain Wen right now,¡± Angharad said, ¡°we could have them all in graves by morning.¡±

    Song hissed, trying to push away Maryam as the other woman dabbed at her bruises with a wet cloth. Half of their captain¡¯s face was swollen red and a stripe of cheek skin had been scraped right off. No tooth had cracked, thankfully, but Angharad suspected she would have a hard time speaking for a while. The Pereduri had experience being struck in the mouth often to not be unfamiliar with such injuries.

    ¡°No,¡± Song got out, her tone thick. ¡°Can¡¯t.¡±

    Maryam, losing patience with being pushed off, took the Tianxi¡¯s hand and pped the wet cloth down on her palm before making her press it against the cheek herself.

    ¡°Angharad is right,¡± Maryam replied, to their shared disbelief. ¡°Just because they didn¡¯t kill you doesn¡¯t mean the Yellow Earth hasn¡¯t crossed a line. We take this to our superiors and guns wille out.¡±

    ¡°<em>Can¡¯t</em>,¡± Song hissed. ¡°They have something on my brother.¡±

    Angharad swallowed the sympathy on the tip of her tongue. An overflow of that would beg questions she did not dare answer. Maryam looked about to ask Song about the incriminating information, but the noblewoman gave her pause by putting a hand on her arm and shaking her head. They locked eyes, for a moment, and after a sigh Maryam visibly made the decision not to take issue with Angharad havingid a finger on her. She hastily removed her hand anyway.

    ¡°Can you tell us what they asked of you?¡± Angharad tried instead.The answer to being leveraged over your kin was not to spread around the ugliness that leverage came from. One could, however, try to get around the demands made of them.

    Angharad was certainly trying.

    ¡°Reports,¡± Song exhaled. ¡°About coup defenses. They want to keep an eye on it.¡±

    That was passingly clever, she thought. Song Ren stood at the confluence of knowledge about what the Watch, the Lord Rector and the conspirators were up to. No doubt there were souls on Asphodel who could give the Yellow Earth information more on depths about parts specific, but precious few who could give them a better bird eye¡¯s view of the situation.

    ¡°All the more reason to cut all their heads off,¡± Maryam grunted. ¡°Corpses cannot hold anything over your family.¡±

    Much as Angharad agreed with that, Song¡¯s fear was easy to discern. The Pereduri stepped in, taking pity on her swollen mouth.

    ¡°If even a single one escapes, the Yellow Earth will have the information and a grudge that ensures they will use it,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Moving on them now is a risk.¡±

    ¡°Passing information to a pack of mad zealots that beat her face like a carpet is even more of a risk,¡± Maryam bluntly shot back.

    ¡°No,¡± Song croaked. ¡°It¡¯s bad. My family would be¡­¡±

    She swallowed.

    ¡°Cannot involve the Watch.¡±

    It was a rare thing for Song Ren to present herself as anything but immacte but in the trembling candlelight of her room, sitting on her bed, she looked like she wasing apart at the seams. Her face bruised ¨C one eye sure to cken ¨C while her hair hade loose and her forehead looked like it¡¯d been dragged through gravel. Her eye not forced to close by the swelling was wild, wide, and she moved little. Like a girl hoping that if she went still the world would still with her, buying her time enough to think.

    Angharad ached to see it. She still remembered what that felt like: she herself had been numb and silent most of the way down to Asithule, when House Madoc had smuggled her in that cart. Even on the first ship out of Mn, she had been half a ghost.

    ¡°Need to think,¡± Song rasped. ¡°Please.¡±

    Angharad shared a look with Maryam. Neither of them were eager to leave her alone, but to interrogate a woman who could hardly talk was pointless. They had as much as they could have of her until the swelling went down. She rose, reluctant.

    ¡°We will be close at hand,¡± Angharad told her.

    ¡°And we¡¯ll talk in the morning,¡± Maryam added.

    There was no room for negotiation in that tone. Song only jerkily nodded. The two of them left her to stare at her wall in dying candlelight, loath to leave but with nothing more to offer. Maryam caught her eye out in the hall, passing a hand through brown tresses.

    ¡°My room,¡± the pale woman suggested.

    Angharad silently nodded. Maryam lit amp before iming a chair and the noblewoman closed the door behind her.

    ¡°I¡¯m half convinced we should go to Wen anyway,¡± the signifier bluntly opened.

    ¡°Once it is in his hands, it is in the blood,¡± Angharad said.

    She got a frown in response, awkward silence spreading between them.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means,¡± Maryam finally said.

    Angharad flushed, coughing into her fist. Not a Lierganen saying, then. That would teach her to trante directly from Umoya.

    ¡°I mean that we would no longer control where the information ends up,¡± she rified. ¡°It may very well make its way to Brigadier Chca.¡±

    A man currently locked in a struggle with the Thirteenth over his constant meddling in their contract with the throne of Asphodel. It would be na?ve to assume he would not immediately turn such knowledge to his purposes. There was a saying in Mn that a swordmaster killed you with a single cut but a diplomat a hundred. One could be just as ruthless with a pen as with a sword. Maryam cursed.

    ¡°Chca is a problem,¡± she admitted. ¡°Did Song brief you on the troubles Tristan is in?¡±

    Angharad shook her head. Her time with her uncle had runte ¨C they had needed to n a way for her to seize, hide and then smuggle out the infernal forge in Lord Menander¡¯s possession ¨C and by the time she emerged it was to word that Song was napping and not to be disturbed. Napping in anticipation of ate night where she had been savagely beaten, it turned out.

    ¡°The bastards from Azei followed us,¡± Maryam said, thenid into the tale.

    A mere minute in and Angharad was left to wonder why the Neenth Brigade were not all currently dangling from gallows, but the revtion that there was another traitor higher up the ranks made it in why the whole affair had not been brought into the light. At least Tristan had been able to kill one of the traitors, good on him.

    ¡°So until we know if Brigadier Chca is the traitor, we cannot take the risk of bringing him into this,¡± Angharad summarized.

    ¡°Song¡¯s sure he¡¯s not a member of the Ivory Library, but almost as sure he was bribed to look away from their business,¡± Maryam added. ¡°Apparently he¡¯s quite corrupt. We need to keep him in the dark until we have some manner of proof.¡±

    That too should fetch the noose, Angharad darkly thought. Yet how could she castigate any rook with shoddy loyalties when she had been charged with treason by the Lefthand House not once but <em>twice</em>? The second time unknowing of her wearing the ck, but to be made a sneak twice over on the behalf of ufudu really was quite the surfeit of treason.

    ¡°I thought better of Kiran Agrawal than this,¡± Angharad admitted. ¡°But then I hardly know the man.¡±

    The rest were not disappointments, insofar as she had never held them in particr esteem. She had no admiration for Izel or Captain Tozi, and Cressida Barboza had only ever fetched wariness. There was anger in that one, the kind that gnawed at your bones, and it had turned her into a hound all too eager to bite.

    ¡°As far as I¡¯m concerned this should end in the four of them in a locked barn we set on fire,¡± Maryam grunted, ¡°but Song¡¯s not wrong that Tristan will gain more by pulling out the roots of this Library than just cutting off another questing finger.¡±

    Angharad inclined her head. That was true enough. Getting rid of this Ivory Library would be a greater boon than simply having another batch of their hirelings exiled or in.

    ¡°Thank you for telling me,¡± she politely said.

    Maryam eyed her with a sullen expression.

    ¡°It¡¯s worse because you <em>do </em>have good sides,¡± she brusquely said. ¡°And that makes you an excuse for the rest, part of the pretty tale of themselves Mni put out in the world for others to believe.¡±

    Maryam breathed out through clenched teeth.

    ¡°I do not owe you a thing,¡± Maryam Khaimov sharply stated, as if expecting an argument. ¡°But the axes I have to grind with you are best left buried, at least while we¡¯re all in this mess.¡±

    ¡°I am not sure I understand,¡± Angharad admitted.

    ¡°You¡¯re trying,¡± Maryam said. ¡°So I¡¯ll try too. That¡¯s all.¡±

    Angharad swallowed.

    ¡°I,¡± she tried, then hesitated.

    She was not quite sure what to say.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she finally settled on.

    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me, I¡¯m putting work on your back,¡± Maryam said, looking away. ¡°Tomorrow morning I¡¯m leaving for the shipyard visit and that¡¯s a week of me in the wind, so it¡¯s all going to be on you.¡±

    The Izvorica groaned, rolling her shoulders.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to need to watch our for Song,¡± she continued. ¡°She was already biting at the inside of her cheek over selling out Palliades when she¡¯d like him with his clothes off, this Yellow Earth business is going to make it all worse.¡±

    ¡°Her family is the chink in the armor,¡± Angharad quietly agreed, then cleared her throat. ¡°How serious is that affair with the Lord Rector?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s taken,¡± Maryam said. ¡°He¡¯s smitten enough I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s boning up on calligraphy to impress her. It would all be quite charming, if it was not also a lit powderkeg ced on top of therger powder barrel pyramid that is this misbegotten capital.¡±

    She paused, then smirked.

    ¡°My advice was that it was her republican duty to take him for a ride so thorough she¡¯d ruin him for all noblewomen, but she went into that, you know¡­¡±

    ¡°When she ms the portcullis down inside her head,¡± Angharad finished.

    It was sometimes eerie to watch, the way Song would smother her turmoil and make herself care only about the immediate. The noblewoman frowned.

    ¡°You truly believe tryst is the right idea?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I think half the reason they¡¯re so smitten with each other is that it¡¯s all dreamy sighs and butterflies,¡± Maryam said. ¡°I expect finding out he farts in his sleep or uses too much tongue will make Evander Palliades less of a delicious forbidden fruit and more of a pretty boy with a crown on. <em>That</em> she¡¯ll have no trouble with.¡±

    ¡°He is not even particrly pretty,¡± Angharad muttered.

    Maryam shot her an amused look.

    ¡°I expect he¡¯s a little light on tits for you, yes,¡± she said with twitching lips, then turned serious. ¡°Just keep an eye on her, please. Keep her from doing something she¡¯ll regret.¡±

    Angharad slowly nodded.

    ¡°I could pass word to Tristan as well, if you would like,¡± she offered.

    ¡°Tristan will be fine,¡± Maryam sighed. ¡°He¡¯s not going to stop until he feels like he has a knife at the throat of anyone that could be a threat to him, but he¡¯s out there swimming in waters he knows well.¡±

    ¡°And yet,¡± Angharad gently said.

    The other woman passed a hand through her hair.

    ¡°Tell him to be careful,¡± Maryam finally said. ¡°Every time we take a look around this city, it¡¯s like some fresh plot had grown out of the stone. Knowing him, he¡¯s apt to trip into a fresh one.¡±

    Angharad snorted, as much at the words as the fond look on the other woman¡¯s face. There was something endearing about the way the two of them had taken to each other, ever since the Dominion. She had envied the bond, for a time, bute to realize it was not the friendship she envied but the trust. Theck was in her, not in them. How could shein of others being at a distance when she stacked a wall of secrets between herself and the world?

    Suddenly disgusted with herself, Angharad pushed off the wall.

    ¡°I will pass it along,¡± she swore, then flicked a nce at the door. ¡°We had best get some sleep, I think.¡±

    Maryam nodded, looking as tired as Angharad felt.

    ¡°Good night, Angharad,¡± the pale woman said.

    She swallowed.

    ¡°And you, Maryam,¡± she got out.

    Angharad mastered herself enough to leave the room instead of fleeing it. She was a fool, she told herself. For whom but a fool would spend so much time with a brigade she hade to this isle intending to deceive, to use as cover while she stole from the Watch and pawned a foul device to the damned souls of the Lefthand House? If she had kept her distance, if she had made them into strangers¡­

    But not they were not that, not any longer. And part of her balked at the thought of the woman she had just left in her room looking at her with disgust and hostility once more. With the thought of the bleakness it would bring in Song¡¯s eyes, how Tristan would smile while his eyes marked her for the grave. Yet what was she to do, <em>abandon her own father</em>?

    There was no graceful way out. Angharad had ensured as much the moment she began to like being part of the Thirteenth Brigade. Sleeping God, the madness of that. Song had shot an ally in the back, Tristan was an avowed thief and Maryam would bury all of Mn under the seat given half a chance!

    They deserved better. Her uncle deserved better.

    Everyone in this wretched tale did, except for her.

    She went to bed, but what little she slept was consumed by dreams of looking in the mirror and finding her face to be a wolf¡¯s.

    --

    Including Maryam, the Watch delegation numbered six.

    Two Umuthi society tinkers, one from each branch of the tree. An Arthashastra schr specialized in cryptoglyphs, a Stripe who¡¯d served as an officer at thergest Watch shipyard for a decade and second Arthashastra member who was not a schr but a diplomat. Thetter of these, Captain Elena Cervantes, was informally the head of the delegation even though Commander Osian Tredegar outranked her.

    She had also spent half a day coaxing Maryam about what she was and was not allowed to do while on the visit so that the Lord Rector would have nothing to hold over the Watch. In truth Maryam had expected the captain to resent her presence being forced onto the delegation at thest moment, but instead she found Cervantes to be rather pleased.

    ¡°I asked for a Navigator to be included in the delegation from the start, but the Lord Rector refused us,¡± she told Maryam. ¡°You are a wee addition, so long as you do not end up causing a diplomatic incident.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to refrain,¡± Maryam said. ¡°The trick is to force my way past every door with guards, yes?¡±

    She ended up paying for that with half an hour of being drilled about the legal definition of self-defense, which was too high a cost.

    In the early hours of the day they took the ck House coaches to the Collegium, all the way to the fort raised around the bottom of the lift that led to the rector¡¯s pce. There they were met by Majordomo Timon, the head of the Lord Rector¡¯s household, who led them to the physician¡¯s room where they were to be drugged.

    As Evander Palliades did not want them to be know the path to the shipyard they would be going under for six hours, after which they would be allowed to wake for a meal and a physician¡¯s checkup at a roadside fort before being put under for another six hours. After that, there would be pause for the night allowing the delegation to recover from the drugs and they would resume the journey in the morning.

    The process would repeat until they had reached the shipyard, at which point they would be allowed to study the location under escort. The estimated duration of the journey was seven days: three to reach the entrance, one spent visiting and then three to return to Tratheke. Spection was rife among the delegation that the Lord Rector was padding the time to throw off those seeking to find the path he was using.

    They would be split into two carriages, three on each, while a detachment of lictors and physicians came along in anotherrger coach.

    Maryam had heard worrying things about Lierganen medicine, but the Watch had been allowed to know theposition of the drug and deemed it safe enough for use. A bearded old man handed her a cup to drink and told her toy down on the bed, where she stared at the ceiling for the better part of a minute wondering why it wasn¡¯t-

    -<em>the summer heat was not so suffocating, on the riverbanks, but the heavy robes and red cloak still had her sweating in the sun. Not that Maryam would darein, not with all these grim-faced bearded lords and high-coreddies dripping in gold all standing in silence, watching as the Mni were dragged to the mud. </em>

    <em>Seven, men and women, ragged and bruised. </em>

    <em>Lords anddies of the devils from across the sea, not so fine now that they had been grabbed out of their manses and taken far beyond the protection of their cannons. One of them was her age, a boy whose eyes were red from weeping.</em>

    <em>Mother raised the ashen effigy, calling out to the dreadmost goddess, to Mother Winter herself, and as her voice rose the first of the Mni was forced face-first into the river. The woman struggled, panicking, but the warrior held her face under the tide and eventually she stopped.</em>

    <em>Mother¡¯s voice rose, calling Winter to witness their oaths, and the second lord was-</em>

    ¡°It alwayses down to death with them, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    Maryam gasped awake in a carriage, almost striking the man next to her. Osian Tredegar, faced by Captain Cervantes. But what should be the empty seat across from her was filled with a flickering, buzzing silhouette.

    The shade, wearing heavy robes and a red cloak. Even the ribbons in her hair were the same.

    ¡°What?¡± she croaked.

    ¡°Gods,¡± the shade said. ¡°It alwayses down to death, with them. Taking it, dealing it, warding it away. Everything they are rests on a bed of bones.¡±

    Maryam breathed in, reined in her panic. The others, she saw, were still asleep. The shade spoke quietly, almost a whisper, so whoever drove the carriage would not hear her.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± she hissed.

    ¡°When your eyes close, mine open,¡± the shade said. ¡°Mother was not as clever as she thought, in the end.¡±

    The thing tugged at a red ribbon, pulling out the knot, and they both watched it flutter down to the floor.

    ¡°One cannot bargain with the inevitable,¡± the shade sighed. ¡°Pay attention, Maryam. Time is running out.¡±

    The carriage shook, hitting a rock, and in that blink of an eye the shade was gone. There was a groan to Maryam¡¯s side as Commander Tredegar woke, sounding nauseated, and after that Cervantes was not far behind. She was groggier than the other when they began taking stock of where they were, but her mind was mostly there.

    Their carriage was rolling on a road, bucking against bumps and rocks, but they could not see outside. There were metal shutters, pulled tight, and the doors were sealed and locked. Commander Tredegar busied himself finding the source of fresh air, finding that beneath their benches werepartments with angled holes in them. These holes were angled so that no one inside the carriage would be able to look outside through them, which all agreed was an impressivemitment to secrecy. The most they learned about their surroundings was that sometimes the wheels rolled on rocks that went flying, and dry wood snapped.

    Fortunately for them, Maryam was not entirely bound by walls.

    The other two ckcloaks moved away from her as she closed her eyes and focused, sending out her nav. The aether around them was not calm, but it was nothing like the wild chaos of Tratheke. There was a single, overwhelming current here ¨C slightly curving, not that it would mean anything in the material. Theck of ¡®reefs¡¯ to dash her soul-effigy against had her bold, at first, but she quickly learned better.

    If she sent her nav too far out, the current would rip it right out of her.

    Neck beaded with sweat, she proceeded with only the utmost caution. Ahead and behind she felt aether emanations, most likely the other ckcloaks and their drivers as well as the coach sent by the Lord Rector. The lictors were ahead, she figured, for there the emanations were stronger there. She didn¡¯t have long, perhaps ten minutes until the carriage came to a halt and Captain Cervantes quietly ordered her to stop.

    The carriage slowed and turned, as if pulling in somewhere, and eventually there was a knock on the doors.

    ¡°Out, rooks,¡± a lictor called out as he opened half a dozen locks before opening the door. ¡°Time for your check up.¡±

    They were in some sort of barn, Maryam found as she exited the carriage with the others, or perhaps stables? Dirt and straw beneath their feet, and in the corner the physicians from this morning were waiting. One after another the ckcloaks had their check up, tongues checked for swelling and pulse for having slowed, but there were noplications.

    Maryam would have tried to glimpse under the barn doors while they were served meals of porridge, if not for the two lictors standing guard there grimly. She could see torchlight on the other side at least, and hear some talk. They must be inside an Asphodelian fort.

    Shortly after she was made to drink the drug again, and under she went.

    Would that her sleep had been dreamless, but she had hat horrid nightmare again ¨C the one about being strangled and eaten alive. When she woke hourster, sweating and clutching at her neck, she took the time to calm herself before feeling out the aether again.

    The current was just as strong out here, so instead she kept her nav on the carriage ahead ¨C trying to get a feel for their emanations. They sat close enough together, though, that it was hard to tell them apart. Were the aether still as a pond it would be easier, but as things stood she was reading smoke signs in a thunderstorm.

    They stopped for the night in what she could only describe a crypt, a stone basement with a locked door where cots wereid out on the ground. They did not even get to enter it while awake, having been carried in while still asleep. In the morning the physicians drugged them again, and-

    -<em>the captain pointed his sword, pale teeth bared in a snarl.</em>

    <em>¡°She is a wanted criminal,¡± the Mni said. ¡°Yield, ckcloak. You have no authority here.¡±</em>

    <em>Maryam swallowed a sob, dragging herself back to her feet. The men in ck where only a handful, the Mni were half a hundred with vering hounds pulling at the leash. They would give her up. She had to run, to try and get ahead again, but she was so fucking hungry. </em>

    <em>¡°I have authority everywhere,¡± the kindly man said. ¡°Its name is power.¡±</em>

    <em>His fingers traced oily darkness, but a handful of strokes, but Maryam¡¯s breath caught in her throat. DEATH, she read. DEATHDEATHDEATHDEATHDEATH and the Mni they screamed and wailed and wept, the hounds whimpering, and just as suddenly as it had begun it stopped.</em>

    <em>¡°Go back,¡± the kindly man said. ¡°While you still-</em>

    ¡°I think we came to trust him so quickly because he reminded us of Mother.¡±

    Maryam gasped hoarsely. She met the eyes of the shade, who sat starved and pale and ragged. Across from her.

    ¡°He was all I had,¡± Maryam hoarsely replied. ¡°What could I do but trust?¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have,¡± the shade said, ¡°if he had not first shown he could be cruel. That¡¯s the face of power we grew up with ¨C kind to its own, but cruel to the enemy. We¡¯ve never trusted kindness alone.¡±

    ¡°There is no<em> we</em>,¡± she bit out.

    ¡°No,¡± the shade agreed. ¡°We are cruel, instead. That was the lesson we learned.¡±

    ¡°Riddles will not spare you,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Cease this.¡±

    ¡°Do you remember what it was like, going hungry?¡± the shade softly asked. ¡°It¡¯s always like that for me. And here, in this ce, it¡¯s¡­ everywhere. Like a poison poured into the world.¡±

    She frowned.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    A noise to the side, Captain Cervantes stretching out, and when Maryam¡¯s gaze returned from the nce it was to an empty seat. The diplomat asked her if she had said something, and Maryam lied.

    What followed was a tedious repeat of the previous day.

    The drugs had them all groggy and with persistent headaches, which killed conversation and made Tredegar snappy whenever it was attempted. She stuck her nav on the carriage ahead half for the excuse not to pay attention to the other two. It struck her during the morning meal that since the lictors and physicians were the same attending to them during their time out of the carriage, she could get ahead by feeling out their presence there.

    Putting a face to the emanations, thus helping to split them in her mindter. She could even slide past the door to where the rest of the lictors were waiting out in the fort to do the same with them, though not all that far.

    It was enough for her to discern that some of the lictors in the carriage were reced during the first break of the second day, traded for fresh souls from whatever outpost they had stopped at ¨C not a barn but a stripped-bare temple, this time, just as thoroughly sealed as the rest. She kept up her game half-heartedly, mostly forck of anything else to do, through the rest of the second day and night.

    Which was how she noticed the switch at the first break of the third day.

    She had not dream, the third morning, and so warily kept an eye on the aether the entire time she was awake. That led Maryam to staring at the door of the granary they were eating their gruel in, tly disbelieving. It was only when Commander Tredegar cocked an eyebrow at her she realized she was drawing attention to herself and hastily looked away.

    ¡°Khaimov?¡± Captain Cervantes asked, leaning in.

    ¡°Not here,¡± she whispered back.

    They went back under, waking that evening to a stripped out building of obvious Antediluvian make ¨C it was the of the same brassy alloy Tratheke was made of. They were informed that the entrance to the shipyard had been reached, that they were underground and that tomorrow morning thest bit of journey to the shipyard would be taken.

    They were left alone for the night, after that, and Maryam was taken aside by Captain Cervantes and Commander Tredegar ¨C who was, she suspected, too high in rank for Cervantes to be able to refuse his curiosity.

    ¡°I have been tracking our guides with my logos for the whole trip,¡± Maryam said.

    ¡°So you have said,¡± Cervantes agreed. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°Something impossible happened,¡± she said. ¡°On the second day,e that first break, some of our lictors were traded for fresh ones.¡±

    ¡°Not so surprising, if we have been moving through roadside forts,¡± Osian Tredegar noted.

    ¡°No,¡± she agreed. ¡°But what did surprise me is when this morning, on the first break, I found some of the lictors that had switched were back.¡±

    Neither of them were slow to the catch the implication.

    ¡°You are certain?¡± Captain Cervantes intensely asked.

    Maryam cleared her throat embarrassedly.

    ¡°One of them is a woman on her monthlies, and not having a pleasant time of it,¡± Maryam said. ¡°It is <em>very </em>distinct.¡±

    A beat.

    ¡°We should have heard horses if any came along,¡± Osian Tredegar opined. ¡°They are not quiet beasts.¡±

    ¡°A fourth carriage would be even louder,¡± Captain Cervantes muttered. ¡°Which means those lictors were somehow at the destination before we were.¡±

    ¡°I think we¡¯ve been going in circles for three days,¡± Maryam whispered. ¡°None of us ever saw firmament, have we? And the current in the aether had stayedrgely the same.¡±

    ¡°It might be we never even left Tratheke,¡± the captain breathed in. ¡°We¡¯re just <em>under</em> it. And all this theatre of secrecy¡­¡±

    ¡°Is to keep everyone looking out there in the valley when the Lord Rector has been building up under the capital all this time,¡± Commander Tredegar said, sounding reluctantly impressed. ¡°We must be at some sort of halfway point on the way down, which he furnished with the necessities for this whole charade.¡±

    Song, Maryam thought, ought to be proud. She had so thoroughly gotten under a king¡¯s skin that he had fumbled his own state secret trying to get her back in the same room. No wonder Evander Palliades had not wanted to risk a Navigator going with the delegation. He must have bet that Maryam would be too green to figure out they were underground, and in his defense he¡¯d been right.

    He¡¯d just not ounted for boredom and the shift rotations of the lictors.

    ¡°Not a word of this,¡± Captain Cervantes ordered them both, but her eyes were bright.

    She whispered praises and something about amendation, mood immensely lift, and why not? She had already proven her worth.

    If only she could stop having that damn dream.

    --

    Tristan had made it through his week, so now came the prize.

    Temenos didn¡¯t make a formal announcement, the traveling men was not that sort of outfit, but the old man picked him out of the line for the Lordsport crew as one of the regr picks instead of at the end when all the ermanos got split between the crews. It was a statement, for those who cared to hear it, and it got him a few dark looks from other neers. Everyone liked the Lordsport runs, if you weren¡¯t one of the drivers you could nap on the way back to the capital.

    That day the old man reeking of tobo introduced him to the guard officers and dockmasters when they reached the port, which he never had before, and though Tristan was told to keep his mouth shut he got to listen as Temenos haggled for an early slot on the list to use the lift down the cliff and then for a cursory inspection of the crates being unloaded instead of one that¡¯d result in the true fees being paid.

    The thief waited for the bargain to be struck with the dock mistress, a one-eyed woman with a saltbitten face, before asking the question itching at him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand the loading fee,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It¡¯s like setting a tariff on your own exports, which sounds mad.¡±

    Temenos spat to the side, the thick spit ckened from histest bout of snuff.

    ¡°Minister Floros fucked all the merchant families, back when she was regent,¡± the old man said. ¡°She made it mandatory to have royal licenses to deal in some goods, then bent over the Trade Assembly on the prices.¡±

    The balding man offered an ugly grin.

    ¡°Nobles didn¡¯t need to buy them licenses, of course,¡± Temenos added. ¡°They were born with <em>rights</em>.¡±

    The sneer apanying that word would have done any soul from the Murk proud, the thief thought. <em>Us and the rest, </em>the old words went, but Tristan thought it truer to instead say ¡®<em>them and the rest¡¯.</em> Everynd had their own infanzones, the men with the boots on everyone else¡¯s fingers and the guns to make you keep your eyes on the floor.

    ¡°I thought Palliades was softer on regr folk, though,¡± Tristan said, putting on a puzzled frown. ¡°At least that¡¯s what they say.¡±

    ¡°Sure he is,¡± the old man said. ¡°Licenses aren¡¯t mandatory anymore and nobles have to pay for them too. But if you don¡¯t have a license there¡¯s a cap to how much tonnage can trade in the goods.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°But you can pay the ¡®loading fees¡¯ so the dockmasters don¡¯t look too closely at how much we¡¯re actually sending out,¡± he said.

    ¡°Clever boy,¡± Temenos grinned. ¡°And that coin¡¯s Lordsport revenue, not tariffs, so the Council of Ministers¡¯ got no say in how it¡¯s used.¡±

    Evander Palliades, the thief thought, really was quite canny. Not only was he filling the Palliades treasury instead of Asphodel¡¯s with that ploy, for all the broad application of the fees they were in practice very targeted. If he put the cap on tonnage high enough ¨C which Tristan suspected he would ¨C then the vast majority of merchants wouldn¡¯t be affected by the fees and simply go back to the way things had been before Apollonia Floros.

    The wealthiest magnates of the Trade Assembly though, those most dangerous to him, they¡¯d get squeezed for coin. Yet less than his regent had squeezed them, and in a way where they could still stick it to the nobles, so they¡¯d near thank him for the privilege of having their purse riffled through. Tristan could respect a fine racket when he saw one.

    Were he a betting man, which he was, he¡¯d bet that on the down-low their good friend Evander sold some of those magnates a license on the cheap to y off the Trade Assembly against itself. The magnates might makemon front against the ministers, but at the end of the day they were still merchantspeting against each other. They weren¡¯t any better than the nobles, really, their coin just wasn¡¯t old enough to be a title yet.

    ¡°So we pay for wool cloth, obviously,¡± Tristan muttered, feigning as if he had been considering that the whole time. ¡°Marble too?¡±

    ¡°No, the Kassa don¡¯t sell enough for that,¡± Temenos snorted. ¡°But we have to for the fruit of the shitpits, the tonnage on that is violent low.¡±

    Tristan blinked.

    ¡°The fruit of the <em>what</em>?¡±

    ¡°Saltpeter,¡± the old man said, lips twitching. ¡°You make it by burying shit in soil with wood ash and straw mixed in. Then you leach it out after a year and you¡¯ve got saltpeter. There¡¯s dozens of pits for that spread around the Reeking Rows, the Kassa own a few.¡±

    Saltpeter was used to treat breathing and wantonness as well as fertilize ground, but its most famous use was arguably that it was one of the main ingredients in ckpowder. No wonder the Lord Rector did not want too much of it leaving his borders. Temenos then frowned at him.

    ¡°And enough of this <em>we</em> business, boy,¡± the old man said. ¡°We might be Kassa men, but we¡¯re not Kassa. You let them trick you into thinking otherwise and they¡¯ll work you to death without batting an eye.¡±

    Tristan cocked his head to the side. He was under no delusion that a magnate would care a whit about those working for their profit, but this was the first time he heard Temenos hinting at a simr opinion.

    ¡°I thought you liked the Kassa,¡± he tried.

    ¡°I like them fine, Ferrando,¡± Temenos grunted. ¡°And I¡¯d rather cut off a hand than go over to the Anastos, don¡¯t get me wrong. Maria Anastos is more shark than woman.¡±

    ¡°But,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°But back when the injury fund was run with Kassa help, they skimmed off the top,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯re not bad sorts, really, but they¡¯ll always reach for the coin if it¡¯s there. They don¡¯t look out for us.¡±

    A finger prodded against Tristan¡¯s chest.

    ¡°<em>We</em> look out for us, Ferrando,¡± Temenos said. ¡°That¡¯s why we make friends with the weavers and the fullers and the warehouse hands: so when Stavros Kassae sniffing around for corners to cut, it¡¯s not just some of us crossing our arms.¡±

    Chloris Kassa was the head of the Kassa family and the owner of most their properties, but she was also old and enfeebled, if still mostly witted. She had handed off much of her work to her four sons, the leader of the pack the eldest and aforementioned Stavros. The sons were not thought of nearly as well as their mother, and for good reason. Where Mistress Chloris had grown the family fortune by seizing on opportunities, they were instead intent on ¡®trimming fat¡¯.

    Like the pay of their workers.

    ¡°I had no idea we had friends in the workshop,¡± Tristan admitted.

    ¡°Some other ces, too,¡± Temenos vaguely said. ¡°A traveling man¡¯s a traveling man no matter who pays them. It¡¯s only good sense to have a drink with the other outfits once in a while.¡±

    The thief almost let out a whistle. The old man might be better connected than he had thought. And if he could lean on those contacts to ask around about the assassin, well, that was his job out here done. He was getting close to the end.

    ¡°You¡¯re still a little green for that, though, so put it out of your mind,¡± the old man said, spitting another gob onto the pavement. ¡°Let¡¯s get this run done and our carts back up the cliff, we¡¯ve had enough chitchat.¡±

    They were done within the hour, around noon and thus early, so they stopped at one of the cheap eateries in the upper half of Lordsport before setting off. The traveling men had a deal with the owner, a meal of whatever leftovers were there for a single copper a head so long as at least ten came to eat. The Kassa, and most the men working for trading families, had such arrangements all over Tratheke and the Lordsport.

    It was one of the perks of working for the magnates, something setting apart from the masses of day workers who had no name behind them.

    Much as Tristan would have preferred to avoid what woulde after the day¡¯s work, he could not afford to. The ermanos were usually invited for drinks only once a week while the veterans went out to their favorite tavern, the ck Dame, every other day. Tristan being extended an invitation to apany them on those nights was an initiation, and no matter his dislike for drink he must attend. Temenos had implied the traveling men were much better connected than he had thought, which made it all the more important to get in good with them.

    The ce was a dive, tucked in a corner near the border of the northwestern and southwestern wards. Half a basement, it had rickety tables and vaguely smelled of mildew but the drinks where cheap and not too watered down. s. A little over twenty of the Kassa traveling men and woman squeezed in, filling two thirds of the tavern. The two matronly sisters owning and tending the ce traded familiar taunts with the crowd, which they nearly all knew by name.

    Tristan, as the new man, was ¡®volunteered¡¯ to buy the first round of ales while Temenos presented him to the sisters. He¡¯d already spoken to them once on his other visits, in truth, but now he was being introduced as <em>someone</em> instead of a filled seat. If he was to have his purse emptied, though, he would at least ask why the ck Dame¡¯s sign would disy a ck bale of wheat as its mark.

    It was Nikias, his former foreman, who told him.

    ¡°<em>Sacromontan</em>,¡± the man snorted. ¡°It¡¯s a tribute to the Awn-Dam.¡±

    It took a moment for Tristan to follow the trail. The Awn-Dam was the Asphodelian goddess of grain, cattle and fertility. She dabbled in nature as well but had wilder rivals there. She was said to take the shape of a cattle-mother, a dam, made of wheat. An awn, Tristan had learned, was the bristly part at the end of a stalk of barley and many other grasses. ck Dame. ck Dam, hence the ck wheat. It¡¯d been wordy.

    ¡°That¡¯s terrible,¡± he groaned, to mixed cheers and jeers from the table.

    The crew got easier to navigate once they were a little drunk, but Tristan noticed they were well disposed from the start. Temenos vouching for him settled the matter as far as they were concerned, and as drinks flowed and talk continued the thief could not help but noticed how the old man sat at the head of the table, enjoying subtle deference from the others like some family patriarch.

    Half of them were drunk by the first hour¡¯s turn, quaffing ale and wine like it was water, and even though he discreetly got rid of as much drink as he could Tristan was not unaffected either. It had him clenching his teeth whenever he noticed the thickness of his tongue or the way his wits slowed.

    It was easy enough to make good with the crowd. Throw in a few stories from working on the docks at Sacromonte, a coterie tale about idiots knifing each other over arguing about different men with the same name, and he had themughing loud enough to shake the shutters. Nikias, in particr, kept pping his back. The mustachioed older man was the loudest and most boisterous of the lot, insisting he had seen potential in Ferrando from the start.

    But at the turn of the second hour a wheel came off the cart.

    ¡°Enough drinking,¡± a skinny man called Heirax said, mming his tankard down. ¡°It¡¯s not a proper initiation until we¡¯ve taken him to the Orchard, and a man¡¯s gotta be sober for <em>that</em>.¡±

    There was no need for Tristan to ask what the Orchard was: the way Heirax grabbed his crotch and wiggled his hips was exnation enough. Taunts promptly came from the few women at the table, the loudest of them a stocky, broad-shouldered older woman named Timandra.

    ¡°Throw those girls a fish instead, at least they¡¯ll get a meal after the useless flopping around,¡± she mocked.

    ¡°You confusing me with your husband, ¡®Mandra?¡± he pped back.

    That got him a drink thrown at his head and the sisters owning the ceing down on everyone before a fight could erupt properly. Unfortunately for him, that wasn¡¯t the end of the brothel talk. Now that Heirax had put it on the table, near half the men present were urging for it. Some even offered to pitch in together to buy him ¡®one of the prettiest girls¡¯, Tristan¡¯s attempts to decline and get drinks instead dismissed as him being shy.

    He supposed asking the working girl to make noise for the coin and let him take a nap wouldn¡¯t be the worst way to end the evening.

    Only then Nikias came back with a brace of liquor, challenging everyone to drink, and while the table cheered the mustachioed man pped his back again.

    ¡°He¡¯ll have forgotten in a minute, and he¡¯ll be too drunk when he remembers,¡± Nikias quietly said. ¡°You¡¯re fine.¡±

    Tristan shot him a wary look and prepared to lie when the older man shook his head.

    ¡°I know what you are,¡± Nikias said.

    His eyes narrowed.

    ¡°And that is?¡±

    ¡°My nephew also prefers men,¡± Nikias told him. ¡°Nothing wrong with that, Ferrando.¡±

    Well. He¡¯d still take that over the brothel visit. Tristan feigned embarrassment.

    ¡°It is true, I can¡¯t resist chest hair and¡­¡± <em>what do men like in men,e on think of something anything</em> ¡°¡­cocks?¡±

    Shit. Why had that sounded like a question? Fuck, this was why he didn¡¯t drink. Behind him he heard Fortuna biting down on her fist in an effort not to burst out in a hysterical cackle. Nikias burst out in a bawdyugh and pped his back again. Built like that man was Tristan was going to bruise, but after failing toe up with something better than <em>cocks</em> he somewhat deserved it.

    Having handled that will all the deftness of a drowning bird, Tristan coasted on the distraction provided by Nikias and bought another round of liquor. The price for salvation was listening to the mustachioed man¡¯sints about how the man his nephew was seeing was wrong for him, a poetyabout who thought he''d strike it rich, and some hints about Tristaning over for dinner sometime.

    The thief decided to think of it as having paid in advance for his next sins.

    Once the liquor was out it was never put away, recing ales and wines, and it sunk its ws quickly. Temenos, who had only sipped at his ale, drank the grape liquor like a fish. Against Tristan¡¯s expectations he did not hold his drink particrly well, either, and when the old man began looking green he seized on his way out. He volunteered to walk Temenos home, leaning on the aspect of being grateful for being brought in, and even got a few approving nods for it.

    He got directions from Timandra about one of the Kassa warehouses near here, as apparently Temenos never went home where his grandchildren might see him when he drank, and after she handed him the key away they went.

    Within minutes they stopped for the old man to empty his stomach in an alley, which at least sobered him up some.

    It was not a long walk to the warehouse, which in truth was a two stories house packed with some empty crates and rusted metal parts. There were two straw beds in the room on the second story, though, with sheets and a barrel of water from which hung adle and a bowl. Tristan helped Temenos into one of the beds, ignoring how the old man kept muttering and calling him Bion. He pulled the covers over him, then stepped away grimacing.

    He had never liked being around drunks. Still, at least the night was done. He put the key by the barrel and went down the stairs, headed back to the street. If not for the drinking he might have considered having a look at the Neenth, but as things stood he-

    ¡°Tristan.¡±

    The seriousness of the tone had him stopping cold, and he turned to find Fortuna standing at the top of the stairs. Eerie still as she looked into the room, a figure painted in blood and gold and marble.

    ¡°What is it?¡± he whispered.

    ¡°Something ising,¡± the Lady of Long Odds said.

    A carving knife was the most he could carry without suspicion: in a heartbeat, it was out and in his hand as he crept back up the stairs.

    ¡°A lemure?¡± he asked,ing to stand by her side.

    Temenos was under the covers, snoring. The room was empty save for piled crates, the beddings and the barrel of water. Fortunaid a hand on his arm, a false warmth.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ hungry. But it does not see you.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re mine,¡± the goddess said.

    He frowned. What did she mean by- It was like the flicker of a me, the way the glint reflected off copper for a heartbeat before being gone. There was nothing, and then something stood.

    No part of Tristan Abrascal dared to call it a man.

    It only loosely bore the shape of one. Tall, stooped, hair like seaweed matted with blood. It wore clothes, loose rags and a breastte of iron. A helmet scarred with deep gouges. But its skin was craggy earth, the cracks spilling out wooden groans, and its bare feet melded with trailing ropes that dripped rotten blood. At the end of the ropes, being dragged was¡­ Tristan¡¯s eyes shied away from it. Something precious, something enviable.

    The god¡¯s breath sounded like screams, like shouts, like shrieks, and in its hand it held a curved bronze cycle.

    It took a single step towards the sleeping Temenos and Tristan swallowed at the sight. Should he- the sound had the god turning towards him, quick as a snake, and he got only a glimpse of empty sockets from which dangled precious blue stones before cursing.

    He pulled on his luck as hard and deep as he could, releasing it that same instant, which was the only reason he lived.

    Tristan tripped backwards down the stairs, falling with a shout of pain, and heat licked at his face ¨C slicing past his nose and into his hair. He screamed his back hit the wood, making a racket as he tumbled down the stairs, and as he hit thest step it broke under him ¨C rotten, or just old. Shard went through his shirt and into his back. He was stuck with his legs up, like a helpless turtle, but he caught a glimpse of the god turning away. Back towards Temenos.

    He moved on instinct, ripping out his shirt and scrambling up the stairs in time to see the god leaning over a stirring Temenos, hand drawing back. On instinct he threw the knife, but the moment it left his fingers he knew he¡¯d missed. It did not spin but fly like dart, missing the god¡¯s back entirely and instead taking an angle and hitting ¨C oh, Manes.

    It hit Temenos in the leg, right above the ankle, and the old man woke up with a shout of pain and terror. The old traveling man¡¯s eyes widened as the sickle came down, but the barest of moments before the de could cut through his head there was a flicker.

    And the reaping god was gone, just like that.

    ¡°Temenos,¡± he shouted. ¡°Are you-¡±

    ¡°Gods,¡± the white-haired man babbled, ¡°oh, gods.¡±

    He moved closer, wincing at the sight of the de he¡¯d thrown in Temenos¡¯ leg. It was a shallow wound, at least.

    ¡°Sculler spare me,¡± Temenos hoarsely said. ¡°Stavros Kassa wasn¡¯t lying: there really is an assassin out thereing for our necks. There is no choice.¡±

    ¡°No choice for what?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Joining them,¡± the old man said, licking his lips. ¡°The revolutionaries.¡±

 Chapter 58

    Chapter 58

    While Song¡¯s insistence that the matters with the Neenth and the Ivory Library were not best resolved with stacked corpses was a mite puzzling, she had made a request for help and Angharad was honorbound to follow through with it.

    She was, after all, the only member of the Thirteenth who could do this.

    Captain Domingo Santos was a Master of the Akrre Guild, and as a brigadier¡¯s personal Navigator he ranked his own rooms. Since Captain Domingo might also be a member of the Ivory Library the Thirteenth had an interest in looking through that room, but a Navigator¡¯s private affairs were not something easily pried into. Certainly not without them noticing.

    Unless, of course the investigation was done purely through a vision within Angharad¡¯s own mind.

    Limping past the man¡¯s room on the way to breakfast, Angharad breathed in and mere heartbeatster breathed out.

    She looked down at her hand and the steel prying bar she had brought with her. Apparently forcing the door open was a good way to get both the bar and half her fingers devoured by ck mist, so perhaps another approach was required.

    And a letter to Tristan, who might have advice on the subject of breaking into somewhere.

    --

    On the twenty-second day of the Thirteenth¡¯s stay on Asphodel, Song was forced to admit she had run out of excuses to avoid the pce.It had been three days since the meeting with the Yellow Earth turned into a bout of extortion, and though her ck eye was headed nowhere the worst of the other bruising had faded. Hopefully the swift use of a coldpress on her eye meant the swelling would notst for too long, and there were certainly signs in that direction. Yet they were street signs, pointing at a direction and not an arrival, which meant she spent a significant part of her morning sitting in front of a mirror with Angharad¡¯s help.

    ¡°It is as hidden as it can be,¡± said noblewoman informed her.

    Song grimaced at the vanity mirror but did not contradict her. There was only so much that concealing face paint could do, and forck of her own she had been forced to use the kindmon on Asphodel ¨C which had so much fat in it she wondered if they crammed an entire pig¡¯s worth into every pot. Adding blush to her cheeks would have helped distract from it, but also sent entirely the wrong message to the Lord Rector.

    They had at least added some shadow to her eyes, which Angharad had surprisingly proved only middlinglypetent at applying.

    ¡°Did a maid perchance apply most your cosmetics, back in Peredur?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°I rarely wore much even on society evenings,¡± Angharad replied, idly putting Song¡¯s hair in order. ¡°It is considered in poor taste to bear both borate cosmetics and the duelist¡¯s strap, as they have contrary implications.¡±

    Song half-turned to look up at Angharad Tredegar, who stood on the upper end of five foot ten with a perfectly proportioned body that somehow managed both curves and muscle. A regr¡¯s uniform that she knew for a fact was untouched somehow looked tteringly tailored. That she didn¡¯t even have to work for it was, truly, the most insulting part.

    ¡°You are enemy to all womankind,¡± Song informed her.

    ¡°I pluck my eyebrows,¡± Angharad defensively replied.

    A beat passed.

    ¡°Most of womankind,¡± Song conceded.

    The Pereduri muttered something along the lines of ¡®so much for all under Heaven¡¯ under her breath, setting Song¡¯s lips to twitching. She rose and made sure to thank the other woman for her help, regardless of the unfairness dealt unto them by the vagaries of the Circle Perpetual.

    ¡°Are you certain you do not want me to apany you?¡± Angharad asked for the second time.

    She nodded in return, adjusting her formal clothes for the second time.

    ¡°It would draw too much attention for us to be seen together,¡± she said.

    Maryam¡¯sings and goings to the pce had been exined away by Lord Rector Evander¡¯s supposed interest in writing amonce on the Izvorica and the Song was well aware of the assumptions regarding her own visits, but for both her and the debutante Angharad Tredegar to be seen together socially was certain to tip off anyone watching that something was afoot.

    There was a reason they had been in the same pce room only a handful of times since that first audience with Evander.

    ¡°Captain Wen, then,¡± Angharad tried.

    Song cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Wen Duan cannot be disguised,¡± she tly said. ¡°At best he can be differently decorated.¡±

    The other woman coughed into her fist, shuffling, which was Pereduri for agreeing without speaking the words and thus stating them to be the truth. It took a second for Song to catch on as to why Angharad would suggest it at all.

    ¡°You believe I need a chaperone,¡± she said.

    ¡°I have been called a whore forcking one in presence of a man I have no interest in, not even a week ago,¡± Angharad delicately replied.

    ¡°I am not a noblewoman, Angharad,¡± she said. ¡°My reputation in those circles is of little import.¡±

    ¡°There are other circles that might look ill on your association with Evander Palliades,¡± the dark-skinned woman tly replied.

    It was an effort not to clench her jaw, which might mar the face paint. The Yellow Earth, yes. Ai had not used her of fucking a king, at least, but she had implied affections. Arguably that was even more damning. The urges of one¡¯s body were a surface matter, while sentiment was one of the soul.

    ¡°They want me to pass information to them,¡± she said, avoiding mentioning a name. ¡°I cannot obtain said information without heading to the pce.¡±

    Angharad eyed her for a moment, then sighed and let it drop. They both knew the excuse was a weak one, for the Yellow Earth wanted reports as to what Lord Rector¡¯s preparations against the coup were but Evander had yet to even learn of said coup. He would not until Maryam returned, and there were still another five days before that.

    A fact that had allowed Song to push back the decision about what she must do for a little longer despite Angharad¡¯s delicate inquiries on the matter. She did not know whether it was noble manners or a natural predisposition to privacy that had the Pereduri unwilling to push the matter, but she was grateful for it whatever the source. It was doing her sleep no favors to gnaw at the decision like a bone, but the thought of actually deciding either way had her sick in the stomach.

    Neither Maryam nor Tristan would have let her deliberate for so long without pushing, so Angharad¡¯s patience and discretion were appreciated thrice over.

    ¡°I will see you tonight,¡± Song breathed out, straightening. ¡°Are you still headed to the Collegium?¡±

    Angharad nodded.

    ¡°It is good for my reputation to be seen spending coin publicly,¡± she said.

    One of the ways they had settled on to gild back Angharad¡¯s reputation in Tratheke society was a pretense she hade into an inheritance, which could be feigned with brigade funds. The im would be that much of the gold was still held up in Mn, providing an excuse to avoid truly expensive sprees, but Angharad would still be living it up on the Thirteenth¡¯s coin for a time.

    Thankfully, Colonel Cao had taught all Stripe students the right forms to request reimbursement for ¡®inevitable expenses in the fulfilling of a contract undertaken on behalf of the Watch¡¯. Song even intended to have it ssified as urgent, which would see it forwarded to the nearestmanding officer: Brigadier Chca. The man was likely to sign off on a better return than a third of the funds spent she could expect from Stheno¡¯s Peak, as much to keep her sweet as because agreeing would let him get into the diplomatic discretionary fund and skim some of the funds for himself.

    As Chunhua Cao had told them: if you couldn¡¯t get around the corruption, you had best find a way to make it work <em>for</em> you.

    On practical level, Angharad spending that coin in the Collegium district would both ensure rumors and allow her an excuse to pass and collect messages from the Chimerical while she was in that part of the city. Tristan needed to be informed of thetest developments ¨C the weapons and the workshop, the likely traitors in the Trade Assembly, Maryam¡¯s shipyard trip ¨C as well as kept abreast of the Neenth¡¯s actions. Histest reports had him estimating that within two weeks at the utmost he would be done with the Kassa infiltration, which Song was still somewhat surprised to find a relief.

    As the hour was runningte, she soon parted ways with Angharad and took the carriage to the Collegium. Within moments of emerging from the lift into the pce, however, she knew there would be trouble. Majordomo Timon was not leading her towards the general or even the private archives, whose books were the reason she hade today.

    She was instead being led towards one of the private reading rooms, and Song knew exactly who would be waiting for her there. Unsurprisingly, Evander Palliades was already seated at the table inside, besides a pot of Jigong ck leaf coincidentally apanied by two cups. He was freshly shaved, simply dressed ¨C though every part of his clothes, from the cored burgundy shirt under a pale grey doublet to the matching hose ttering his calves, were expensive and perfectly tailored ¨C and his spectacles were polished to a gleam.

    "Ah, Captain Song,¡± he smiled. ¡°I had been expecting you.¡±

    ¡°Had you?¡± Song drily replied. ¡°I could not tell.¡±

    He had an excuse ready for everything, she found. Why were they not in the archives?

    ¡°Among the books you mentioned there are some in both, it is simpler to send for them as necessary,¡± he smiled, pouring her a cup.

    He even poured it correctly, with his right hand on his handle and his left on the lid. Song smelled treachery in the ranks. <em>Maryam, you double-crossing snake.</em> She tried to bring this back on track by reminding him that breaking a cipher could take hours and the Lord Rector of Asphodel must surely have duties more pressing.

    ¡°I will be workingte tonight instead,¡± Evander replied, brushing his back his stupid pretty hair. ¡°As this is former rectoral correspondence, I cannot entrust the knowledge therein to any but a member of House Palliades.¡±

    That was both dutiful of him and maniptive, which Song must reluctantly concede was more attractive paired than standalone. She was thus subjected to the indignity of sitting next to the Lord Rector of Asphodel with their elbows almost touching, in a room with ttering soft lighting as traditional Mazu tea treats were trotted out on tters and every book cited in the correspondence was brough to them by servants.

    Who then left the room the moment, as if they had been strictly instructed to do so. Song squinted at the Lord Rector, who innocently smiled back. <em>A boy of fifteen</em>, she reminded herself. <em>The body found in the canal.</em> It had been easier to believe the Yellow Earth, she found, before the local sect¡¯s second choked her halfway to death in an empty alley. That did not mean, however, that she disbelieved what she had been told.

    There must be enough truth to it had been a lie worth telling.

    She forced herself to focus on the work instead, digging into the books that the correspondence quoted and doing her best to ignore the fact that she was essentially reading explicit letters between a Lord Rector and his mistress while brushing elbows with the current man holding that title. It only got worse when sheplimented him for the ink, only to learn he had ground it himself earlier. As practice for his recent forays into calligraphy.

    She was going to <em>drown</em> Maryam. What was next, dipping the man in honey?

    Ferociously looking down at the papers and pushing out all distractions, she methodically set about picking open the cipher. Progress was slow and they took a short break an hour in, but when they returned to the table it was with fresh energy ¨C and an insight, when they realized that every single book quote had an author of noble birth. Meaning a first name and a surname.

    Honestypelled Song to admit that she was not, strictly speaking, the one who broke the cypher. While she honed in on the quotes being the keystone to it all, it was Evander who figured out that the quote<em> itself</em> was the message. The rest of the letter was exactly what it appeared to be, correspondence between Hector Lissenos and his mistress.

    It was a transposition cypher, of a sort: the first letter of the name and surname of the author were to be removed from the quote, the remaining text serving as a message. This worked with varying degrees of legibility, and not infrequently there were ¡®garbage¡¯ words in the text that they both agreed on must be ignored for the messages to make sense.

    The messages revealed, though bare bones, were telling.

    ¡°So ¡®C. E.¡¯ was amander of the Watch,¡± Evander Palliades said, leaning back into his seat as nimble fingers tapped the plush arms of the chair. ¡°Most likely the leading officer for all the ckcloaks of Asphodel.¡±

    ¡°She must have had backing from the Conve,¡± Song said, folding her arms to keep them upied. ¡°No Watch presence on the ind ever had the resources to create something like an aether seal, it would require aid from the Rookery.¡±

    ¡°So would building this ¡®prison¡¯ they keeping mentioning,¡± Evander said. ¡°I made inquiries and ¡®brackstone¡¯ is not something quarried on Asphodel. That means imports and likely Watch tinkers. I don¡¯t expect your average mason is well versed in the art of imprisoning gods.¡±

    The crux of the correspondence was the Lord Rector and C. E. discussing the building of a prison for the Hated One, as well as the crafting of the aether seal to smother it to death. Inferred from context, the Hated One had been responsible for the worst of the Ataxia and Hector Lissenos was willing to pour gold like water to be rid of it for good. Though the letters were not dated, they appeared to be spread out over several years and the prison¡¯s construction must havested at least that long.

    ¡°Then the Hated One¡¯s prison is now breached,¡± Song grimly said. ¡°What else could that sphere of salt my Navigator found be? There is certainly no mention of anything like that harpoon in the correspondence.¡±

    ¡°I would not expect it to have arrived there by ident either,¡± Evander conceded.

    His expression was dark, befitting of someone who had been told a rampant god had begun to escape its prison, but there was a tinge of the personal to it she had not expected.

    ¡°You seem more disappointed than worried,¡± Song ventured.

    He turned a weary look on her.

    ¡°I must now go begging for the help of the very Watch trying to strongarm me over my shipyard,¡± Evander said. ¡°My bargaining position has be more of a bargaining rout.¡±

    <em>It was already weaker than you knew</em>, Song thought with a pang of guilt. And besides, while his worries were not unfounded he overestimated how much leverage the Watch could truly exercise there. It would be a taint on the reputation of the order should it get out the rooks had been so busy trying to extort Asphodel they¡¯d let an old god rampage through Tratheke.

    ¡°I expect our diplomats are aware that negotiation down the barrel of a gun does not lead tosting ords,¡± Song told him.

    Not unless you kept the barrel there, and the Watch was in no position for that. The god would either be dealt with or not. Evander nced at her through his spectacles, then sighed.

    ¡°Let us speak no more of it,¡± he said. ¡°I would prefer not to put you in that position.¡±

    The use of the word position, after some of the letters they had read, was not poor in meanings. Song narrowed her eyes at him, looking for an implication to take offence to, but all those to be found were something of a reach. She let it pass. A moment of silence stretched out between them until he straightened in his chair.

    ¡°Still, those letters really were quite explicit,¡± Evander noted. ¡°I expect they were genuinely lovers, for there would have been other excuses for correspondence.¡±

    Song cleared her throat ufortably at the implication of a Watch officer and the Lord Rector of Asphodel having once shared a bed. The hall around them wasrge, but they sat mere feet apart and she had never felt more aware of how alone they were in here. Not another soul to be found.

    ¡°It could have been to discourage looking for the cipher,¡± she tried. ¡°Raciness might make readers too ufortable to delve deeply.¡±

    It was a weak argument, and from the twitch of his lips he knew it just as well as she. His visible amusement caused a sh of irritation.

    ¡°Is it true,¡± she began, unwisely, then shut her mouth.

    He cocked his brow.

    ¡°Forget I said anything,¡± Song said.

    ¡°I will not,¡± Evander calmly replied. ¡°I may not answer, but I will not lie. Ask.¡±

    The way thest word had the faintest echo of amand had Song considering walking out, and also squirming in her seat a bit. She did not dislike authority.

    ¡°A shoe-shiner,¡± she said. ¡°Fifteen. Found dead in a canal.¡±

    He cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°The Yellow Earth spy,¡± he said. ¡°What of him?¡±

    Someone, Song thought, sought to make a fool of her. Do not trust too much, she then reminded herself. <em>Which one</em>, another voice softly asked.

    ¡°A spy,¡± she slowly said.

    ¡°Caught past two guarded halls with an ear against a door,¡± Evander said. ¡°I cannot prove he was Yellow Earth, of course, but he <em>was </em>determined enough to chew most of the way through his own tongue.¡±

    He met her eyes squarely through his spectacles.

    ¡°He died on the rack,¡± the Lord Rector bluntly acknowledged, ¡°and while I did not ask about the body they are often disposed of through the canals.¡±

    A good liar, Song thought, would add exactly that kind of detail. Something unttering so it would not seem like he was trying to duck a bullet. In truth, even if she followed the trails she had been told the odds were she would never learn the whole of the affair. Perfect rity was the realm of gods of madmen.

    It came down, in the end, to trust.

    The Yellow Earth had struck her. Threatened her. But wasn¡¯t the Lord Rector, in a way, trying to buy her? No good kings, she prayed. But then Hao Yu had his table, speaking measuredly, and Ai in the alley ¨C had they been<em> good</em>? Bad souls could serve good causes, but then it must be that the reverse was equally true. And it was not causes she was being asked to trust here, was it?

    Song abruptly rose to her feet, knees almost hitting the edge of the table.

    ¡°I must report this to my superiors,¡± she evenly said, ¡°and immediately send a letter to Stheno¡¯s Peak, requesting information on thismander. It may well be that the knowledge we sought has been tucked away in a seal Watch vault all this time.¡±

    Evander awkwardly coughed, rising to his feet.

    ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°Though it ister, and service will no doubt be done by the time of your return to ck House. I can have arranged a meal for-¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Song blurted out, and he looked crestfallen for a heartbeat before it was gone.

    <em>But you want to</em>, the voice from earlier said. <em>But you need the door to stay open to get the information,</em> another part of her whispered.

    ¡°No tonight,¡± she said, looking away.

    But not before seeing his eyes light up, and that made her feel almost as sick as the knowledge that she was running out of time to dy making her choice.

    --

    Helping keep Temenos alive had paid off in droves: overnight Tristan had be the man¡¯s savior and thus deeply trusted, currency he wasted no time in spending. For all that this talk of revolutionaries intrigued ¨C and Temenos, while swearing to bring him along to the ¡®meet¡¯, had remained frustratingly vague on who these revolutionaries might be ¨C that thread was not the one he had firste to the Kassa workshop to pull.

    Having the old man vouch for him opened doors, quite literally in this case. After a week and change of being a traveling man, a mere day after that god nearly taking his head off Tristan finally got to walk through the same door the Brass Chariot had supposedly seen the assassin walk through.

    It didn¡¯t lead to the workshop proper, he learned, but to a pair of narrow side rooms. One was full of cleaning supplies, including a fearsomely pungent amount of vinegar jars, while the other was small bedroom with two cots and antern. There<em> was</em> a door leading to the workshop but it was in the hall, not in either room.

    ¡°We usually keep two watchmen here at night,¡± Nikias told him. ¡°Old Chloris wants it so there¡¯s always souls right next to the workshop in case someone tries to break in.¡±

    All that¡¯d been needed for the mustachioed man to show him in was expressing a passing curiosity as to whaty behind the door. Nikias had been all too eager to show him, still mostfortable being in the position of the man showing Ferrando how things worked around the workshop. Now that Tristan¡¯s repute was rising, it had been easy to predict he would seize on a opportunity to reinforce that he was an old hand around here should it be dangled as bait in front of him.

    ¡°Do we have to take shifts as well?¡± Tristan asked, feigning concern.

    ¡°No, none of that,¡± Nikias assured him. ¡°The watchmen are old Kassa men from the fleet, sailors that know their way around a fight but are getting long in the tooth.¡±

    <em>Trusted men long in thepany¡¯s service</em>, Tristan tranted, <em>who answer directly to Chloris and Stavros Kassa</em>. Probably more Stravros, if the talk about the olddy passing the reins to her son were true. Meaning that the assassin who¡¯d almost killed the Lord Rector of Asphodel <em>was </em>involved with the Kassa, because Nikias was implying the watchmen in there rotated. The assassin couldn¡¯t have made a deal with that night¡¯s specific watchmen in advance.

    What in the gods were the Kassa up to? Stevros Kassa knew about what was almost certainly the ¡®killer¡¯ hunted by the Neenth, enough to warn Temenos in advance about it. Meanwhile the family was hosting in their own workshop another assassin, that one a would-be regicide that despite Tianxi origins appeared to be working on behalf of the Council of Ministers.

    His best guess was that the Kassa had switched sides and gone over to the Ministers, more specifically the cult of the Golden Ram ¨C who were using some kind of bound lesser god to get rid of any obstacle to their coup. It was true Temenos could have been a real thorn in the sides of the Kassa, if he refused to back their ambitions and mobilized their own workers against them. Either dead or scared, he¡¯d be forced to get on their side.

    Yet Tristan couldn¡¯t help but feel as if were missing something, like he was not unveiling the truth so much as fitting the parts of it he¡¯d uncovered like mostly matching puzzle pieces.

    ¡°Anyhow, they¡¯re not even using it for that nowadays,¡± Nikias continued.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Tristan encouraged.

    ¡°They kept some guest in there for a few days and left it empty since,¡± the mustachioed man told him. ¡°The olddy never would have signed off on it, but Stavros does as he likes.¡±

    And just like that his evening ns had taken shape. If she¡¯d merely stayed there a night he would have investigated the watchmen, but if the assassin used it as a safehouse for a few days? Odds were she would have left a stash in there, something to help if she returned from the assassination wounded or in need of fund to get out of the capital.

    Tristan eased out of the situation, though he took the time to discreetly check the locks on both doors before letting Nikias lead him away and back to work. The outer lock was quality, a rim lock of local make, but inside would be easier: that was a Gongmin on the door, an old friend returned to beckon him inside. Ah, Tianxi workshop locks. The gift that kept on giving.

    He came back after dark with his lockpicks.

    That rim lock proved tricky, there was a ward inside to prevent skeleton keys like his own from working. Good metal, intricate craftsmanship: this was not the work of some cksmith hammering a box together. A dedicated locksmith had built it with an eye to keeping out thieves.

    Not Tristan Abrascal¡¯s caliber of thief, of course, but it still took him a little over three minutes before he had it sliding open.

    He closed it behind him and crept past the cleaning storage with his hoodedntern in hand. He put his ear to the door of the watchmen room, checking if there was anyone inside, but he heard nothing and there was no sign of light under the door. The Gongmin lock was done in a minute and then he was inside. The room had not changed since he wasst there, still bare wood with two cots and an unlitntern. He lifted the hood off his own, rolling his shoulder.

    Now, if he were an assassin, where would he put his supply stash?

    Beneath the cots first, but there was no trace of hiddenpartment in the wooden floor. He checked corners for dust that¡¯d been moved, but all it taught him was that at some point arge pot had been ced in the left corner. A chamber pot for when the assassin hadid low here, if he had to guess. With the cots back in ce he checked the walls, knocking for hollow spots, but he found none.

    But standing on the cots he could reach the ceiling, and there he found a trail: above the second bed there was a hollow part in the ceiling. It could have been merely part of the construction, and certainly nothing slid off easily. But one of the nks seemed just a little too well-defined, and when he took hisrgest pick and put his whole weight behind pushing the nk it budged.

    Ah, their assassin had put weight over the nk so it wouldn¡¯t move easily. Enough to trick most who did not know about such tricks.

    ¡°Treasure?¡± Fortuna asked.

    He almost jumped, swallowing a curse. He delicately moved the ceiling nk, discovering some sort of trick with a tied stone was the reason for the weight. That was a problem ¨C he didn¡¯t know how to replicate it. There would be no putting everything perfectly back in ce when he was done.

    ¡°Supplies, I expect,¡± he murmured back.

    Since he was not fool enough to blindly go groping around an assassin¡¯s belongings, he instead reached into his bag and pulled out a long, slender piece of wood to use that instead. Lightly tapping around he got empty space, until suddenly there was a hard <em>snap</em>. He drew back the stick and found it had been snapped clean through and the sides were somewhat eaten at. Some sort of poison?

    ¡°As always,¡± the Lady of Long Odds proudly said, ¡°we are one step ahead.¡±

    Tristan squinted at her for a long moment. He then climbed down the cot, got into his bag and pulled out a second piece of wood before reaching inside again.

    <em>Snap</em>.

    ¡°Two steps ahead,¡± Fortuna crowed.

    ¡°Remember that, next time you tell me to take your advice,¡± he said.

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± she honestly replied.

    At least she was admitting it, he mentally praised.

    As Tristan was now out of sticks, he had to make to with using a bit of rope. Theck of a snap had him, warily, wrapping his hand in cloth and even one of the bedsheets before reaching inside. He pulled out a small leather satchel, the length of three fists and about as broad as one, decorated with what he could only call steel mousetraps with teeth and ¨C he took a sniff ¨C some kind of jellied acid? That must be expensive.

    He covered his mouth with a scarf and used the broken sticks to open the satchel buckle, just in case, but it seemed that was to be it for the traps. Inside was a knife, two bandage rolls, a pair of unmarked vials and what looked like three small rubies. A real fortune, that. But most important of all was a single sheathed scroll,id over the rest. Taking all due precautions, he got the scroll out of the sheath and unrolled it.

    Lucky him, it was in Antigua.

    And what an interesting reading it made, neat handwriting filling row after row in thentern light. His lips twitched: it seemed an old friend hade to visit, because he was looking at a contract between the Obsidian Order and someone known only as H. A. for the death of Evander Palliades. The Izcalli assassins weren¡¯t after Angharad this time, which was somewhat amusing, as was the staggering sum H. A. was paying the cultists of the Skeletal Butterfly for: <em>thirty-thousand arboles</em>.

    A kingly sum, as befitting the purchase of a king¡¯s head. And that was telling, because how many people on Asphodel could afford to pay such a massive sum? Precious few, he¡¯d wager, and should he follow that trail to its conclusion a most useful name was bound to be waiting.

    ¡°Who is H. A. ?¡± Fortuna asked, leaning over his shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯ve no idea,¡± Tristan admitted. ¡°But then I have been out of contact for some time. I expect those letters are best passed to Song and Angharad, who will have a fresher list of suspects.¡±

    s the initials did not match Apollonia Floros, even reversed, which would have rather simplified the whole thing. While he was of the opinion that the Obsidian Order would only insist on such a contract to inste themselves from the possible bacsh of discovered regicide ¨C if the Grasshopper King got used of assassinating kings in the Trebian Sea, he would no doubt throw the Order under the carriage wheels without hesitation ¨C and that meant he name <em>should</em> be true, there were no certainties.

    He hesitated for a moment before deciding there would be no hiding he¡¯d been through the satchel, pocketing the sheathed scroll and the rubies. After a moment he pocketed the vials as well, Hage might know something useful about their contents. While he could see the liquid inside and it was translucent, the vials themselves were of cheap brown ss so he could not learn more without opening them.

    It was not the time or ce, and better left to experts besides. The rest of the piged stash he put back in the ceiling, then wedged the nk in ce without bothering to attempt the rock trick again. It seemed like the kind of thing it took quite a bit to learn, and he could afford to stay here too long. Just because the room here was deserted did not mean that the workshop itself was.

    As if the gods were setting out to prove him right he heard the muted sound of voices. Time to leave. Before this gotplicated. He grabbed his affairs and closed the door behind him, pausing only when he recognized the timber of a particr voice through the door leading into the alley. Temenos. What was the old man doing here? There was the sound of a key being used, Tristan tensing for one heartbeat before realizing that Temenos was headed into the workshop.

    And speaking with at least two more people, by the sound of the voices.

    Tristan bit the inside of his cheek, hesitating, but in the end Temenos was now his most important lead: he must eavesdrop if he could. His lockpicks came back out and he put his ear to the door leading into the workshop from the hall. Three others with Temenos, he discerned. Two women and a man. Waiting until the voices headed deeper into the workshop, he got to work.

    A minuteter the lock popped open and, hand on the door, he cracked it the slightest it open after smothering hisntern. Amp had been lit in the workshop, near the front, but those inside were speaking quietly enough he was not able to hear much but noise from where he hid.

    He¡¯d have to head in.

    Immediately on the other side of the door was a small balcony overlooking the workshop proper, with a solid wooden railing, so it was just a matter of waiting until the noise of conversation would cover his movement and slip into the workshop. He asked Fortuna to check when they were all looking the right way, and when she gave the signal through the wall he slipped in.

    Tristan closed the door, pressed against the railing, and slowly crept down the stairs. He could hear much better from down here, and-

    ¡°Describe it for us, if you would,¡± Captain Tozi Poloko ordered. ¡°As many details as you remember.¡±

    <em>Oh, you utter fool</em>, he cursed himself. Of course the Neenth woulde to investigate the first botched killing by their mystery assassin, he should have seen thating a mile away. He was lucky it was Temenos they¡¯d sought and not him, though it was true Tristan had worked to keep his name away of it at least in a formal manner.

    The traveling man had dismissed going to the lictors about the matter in the first ce, and been all to understanding of Tristan¡¯s request to be kept out of the matter when it was kicked up to authorities ¨C an implication that the way he had reached Asphodel might cause him trouble had been enough to earn an understanding pat on the back.

    This tale has been uwfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°It looked like a broken god,¡± Temenos said. ¡°Craggy and unkempt, reeking of salt and blood. Its eye sockets were empty and precious stones dangled off them.¡±

    A curious noise.

    ¡°Like in the tale of King Oduromai, when he plucked out his eyes and reced them with the treasures of two kings,¡± Cressida Barboza said.

    ¡°I suppose,¡± Temenos shrugged. ¡°It wore an iron helmet, with scars, and I think a breastte of the same. It wielded a sickle.¡±

    ¡°A sickle,¡± Izel Coyac mused. ¡°Can you describe it?¡±

    Tozi, Cressida, Izel. Better than if Kiran was there, the Skiritai would eat him for breakfast, but Tristan suspected that the tinker was likely the worst fighter of the three and was still uncertain how such a fight would go. One against three, it was a sure thing. And not in his favor.

    ¡°Bronze,¡± Temenos said. ¡°It looked sharp.¡±

    ¡°It looked sharp,¡± Cressida muttered, disbelieving, and he could almost hear her roll her eyes.

    Stock. What did he have? A knife, his pistol, thief tools. Not his ckjack, which as umon enough a tool in these parts he¡¯d now wanted to risk sticking out by being seen using one.

    ¡°No strange lights, no symbols carved on the de?¡± Izel pressed.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t see none,¡± Temenos grunted.

    ¡°We were told of another witness,¡± Captain Tozi said. ¡°Did they see more?¡±

    Tristan¡¯s stomach clenched. It seemed he might have to disappear before finding out about these revolutionaries after all.

    ¡°She wasn¡¯t in the room when the thing came,¡± Temenos lied without batting an eye. ¡°Just came up to help me after.¡±

    His stomach unclenched. There were, it seemed, advantages to a man like Temenos believing he owed you his life.

    ¡°And the wound on your leg?¡± Cressida mildly asked.

    ¡°Work ident,¡± Temenos shrugged. ¡°Does it look like a stabbing wound to you?¡±

    There was a heartbeat, as if the Neenth were looking at the wound, then Tozi hummed in agreement.

    ¡°The angle¡¯s off,¡± she conceded. ¡°It barely went in.¡±

    Tristan decided not to look that gift horse in the mouth, even if the horse was being a mite insulting about his knife-throwing skills. He¡¯d not been aiming at Temenos in the first ce!

    ¡°Craggy, you said,¡± Cressida brought up. ¡°In what sense?¡±

    But it was not the continuing interrogation Tristan pricked his ear for, but something altogether subtler. Soft, aimless. Steps getting closer. <em>Shit</em>. The thief reached for his knife. His pistol would be a sure kill, striking from surprise, but also ensure he was chased. He¡¯d probably make it out into the street, but from there? The way they were deserted at this hour would work against him, at least at first.

    He still set it down next to him, loaded.

    Whoever was walking around ¨C not Tozi, she was still talking - they had no clear destination in mind. But they were getting closer, step by step. Knife in hand, Tristan settled into a crouch. If he struck the throat quick enough, he could drag the wanderer behind cover and make his escape before the others realized what was happening. One step, another and now he could hear the breath. A hand atop the railing ¨C it had to be Izel, the footsteps were too loud for Cressida ¨C and when the other man turned the corner he sprung into action.

    Tristan caught a glimpse of widening eyes and that nearly-shaved head before his knife hand darted towards Izel¡¯s throat, but the Izcalli hastily leaned back. And, before he could rise into another blow, caught Tristan¡¯s wrist and wrestled it down. It knocked against the railing and he swallowed a pained curse, Izel urgently straightening instead of calling out for help.

    ¡°Izel?¡± Captain Tozi called out.

    ¡°Slipped on the stairs,¡± the Izcalli said, sheepish. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Stop wandering around, would you?¡± Cressida said.

    ¡°Soon,¡± he said, meeting Tristan¡¯s eyes as he did.

    The thief¡¯s gaze narrowed. What was Coyac up to?

    ¡°You need to get out of here,¡± Izel whispered from the corner of his mouth. ¡°Is the door unlocked?¡±

    Tristan slowly nodded. The Izcalli casually went up the stairs, past the thief, and opened the door. He did not so much as touch the loaded pistol, though he could have.

    The door opening drew the attention of the others.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t locked,¡± Izel called out. ¡°I¡¯ll check the hall.¡±

    Below the cover of the railing he gestured for Tristan to go into the hall. The thief did with the pistol now in hand, still on edge but failing to see what the Izcalli had to gain by letting him out. If they wanted to grab him, three on one with a single witness to silence was as good a deal as they were likely to get. Tristan grabbed his bag andntern, knife sheathed but gun still in hand, and in the shadow of the hall found the other man¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let us see you in the city,¡± Izel whispered. ¡°Danger.¡±

    Which Tristan well knew. The surprise was that he was being <em>told</em>.

    ¡°Why?¡± he probed.

    ¡°Go,¡± Izel harshly replied. ¡°I can only do so much.¡±

    And Tristan debated pushing, but he did not like the weight of those dice. No, Izel Coyac was proving to be more interesting than he had thought but here was not the time and ce. Pull a string too tight and it¡¯d break. So instead he nodded, and as Izel returned to the workshop the Mask disappeared into the street.

    It looked like tonight he had learned not one but <em>two </em>useful things.

    --

    Early in the twenty-third day of her stay on Asphodel, Angharad collected Tristan¡¯stest report and his answer to her inquiries about getting into Captain Domingo¡¯s room. She rather wished it was not necessary to buy a coffee from the devil every time, but he insisted it was formal Mask policy and she was not certain enough of him lying to call him a liar.

    <em>Use a ten-foot pole. The moment you touch anything you¡¯re on a clock, they have rm Signs. If you take something it can be marked, put it out in direct re at least three hours.</em>

    Angharad made the conscious decision not to consider too deeply why Tristan would know of thatst detail, then silently cursed him for his general unhelpfulness. Admittedly, his having survived so long as a thief might have something to do with avoiding robbing Navigators. It was a sensible, if unfortunate, bit of logic.

    Still, she might have a solution of sorts.

    Returning to ck House, Angharad headed directly to the library and looked into a particr set of Watch rules. Specifically those about those what was allowed in pursuit of an investigation of suspected treason among fellow watchmen. The underlying thread was ¡®report it to the Krypteia¡¯, but she did get some usable answers. Harming or detaining another rook was not allowed, but essing one¡¯s possession was more of a grey area.

    One with considerabletency as to the means of, say, entry into a locked room.

    That afternoon Angharad politely asked one of the servants to unlock the armory for her, then limped inside and used her contract. A few momentster she winced, thanked the servant and went to find Song in the library, where she was reading on the great spirits of Asphodel. The captain cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

    ¡°If I were to ask you about a volume on the subject of using ckpowder for demolition,¡± Angharad said, ¡°would you have a particr suggestion?¡±

    Silver eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Do I want to know?¡±

    ¡°It might be best if you did not,¡± the Pereduri replied.

    A beat passed.

    ¡°Powder Compendium, it¡¯s in the shelves on the far left,¡± Song said. ¡°The middle section, it starts with a drawing of a skull on barrel.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°That was quick,¡± she observed.

    Song Ren sharply smiled.

    ¡°My father¡¯s rtives in Mazu helped us, but they also had some very unkind things to say to my mother,¡± she said. ¡°It so happens that, as a girl, I became curious as to the exact quantity of powder that might be required to drop the pretty tower they live in into the waters of the port.¡±

    Angharad would now confess to suspicions that somewhere in Tianxi detailed diagrams of how such a thing might achieved were neatly tucked in a drawer, along with precise dosages and weather rmendations. Well, far be it for her to begrudge someone their¡­ curiosities.

    Now she had best get that book, so that when tomorrow she attempted to blow up that door with a barrel of ckpowder she did not quite embarrassingly kill herself in the process.

    --

    For a little under an hour the carriages rolled down a slope, then they came to a halt and Maryam was brought out to witness a fever dream of a shipyard.

    Under a towering cavern ceiling was aplication of buildings and canals, waters so still and dark they could have been tar, while above the organized chaos rose a forest of crane-towers in polished brass. Some were as water mills, with slowly spinning arms shaped like ornate panels, while others were topped by oversized twisting cogs connecting through steel cables to others of their kind, the entire forest some kind of greater machining.

    Near the heart of the mess the inds the towers were on came together, forming eight tenths of a square, and the machines there surrounded a half-built skimmer set on rails that would drop it straight into the water if pushed. Warm, glowing re lights that were pure spheres of ss lit up the cavern like a thousand fireflies.

    Maryam paused breathless at the top of the rise where they were all standing, for it was one of the most strikingly beautiful sights she had ever witnessed. The subtle artistry of it, how seeming disorder had an underlying current of purpose, it was¡­ pleasing to the eye in a way she could not easily express. Like having a spot on your back you couldn¡¯t reach scratched perfectly, or the axe splintering dry wood all the way through in a single perfect blow.

    She was jostled out of her thought by gentle nudge, a tall Azn man with thick brows looking at her with mixed amusement and concern. The second tinker, the one from the Deuteronomicon.

    ¡°You must be quite sensitive to aether currents,¡± he said, voice faintly ented. ¡°It is always a flip of the coin whether a Navigator will sense the conceptual symmetry or not.¡±

    Maryam frowned, nails and wood digging into her palm to force focus.

    ¡°That¡¯s what this is?¡± she asked.

    The man nodded.

    ¡°The kind of aether engines that propel skimmers are usually simple perpetual motion devices relying on conceptual mirroring to cheat entropy,¡± he said. ¡°They are notplicated to make, but they are very delicate ¨C even the slightest imprecision will result in the engine blowing up within months.¡±

    Maryam blinked.

    ¡°Blowing up?¡± she repeated.

    ¡°It is an implosion, technically,¡± the tinker admitted, as if conceding to some abstract point she had made. ¡°Mind you, modern studies indicate it¡¯s not so much a hole in the fabric of material reality so much as a temporary leak aether-ward.¡±

    Maryam, for the sake of her already troubled sleep, decided to set aside that aether engines apparently exploded and sucked their immediate surroundings into the aether often enough there had been <em>studies </em>about it. Deuteronomicon tinkers had a well-earned reputation for entricity and generally driving themselves insane or straight into the grave, though Akrre guildsmen still tended to prefer them to their Clockwork Cathedral fellows. The madmen, after all, had a better understanding of how the underlying forces of Vesper functioned.

    It was somewhat ironic that Izel Coyac seemed one of the best-adjusted Deuteronomicon tinkers she had ever met but still wouldn¡¯t beat the average survival age by virtue of being a traitor whose skull she would split open with a hatchet.

    Their little aside was stopped by a band of lictorsing up the stairs, spreading out in ranks as their captain came to the front. Captain Cervantes stepped up to meet the mustachioed manmanding the lictors down here, Maryam only half paying attention as she tried to sketch out whaty in the cavern aside from that bewitching shipyard.

    The road they had taken, which she suspected began near some sort of lift, stretched out from the distant dark and ended at the rise on which they now stood: essentially a tall terrace overlooking the towers and water below, a broad set of stairs leading down to the lower level. She would have expected lodgings there, but all she saw was barracks and a fort that was a glorified wooden tower. There were more wooden structures on the other side of the shipyard, though, nestled against the cavern wall.

    Four rows of modest cottages, squeezed between the outer canal and the stone, while past them wererger edifices that must be dormitories and meeting halls. There were fire pits outside and some of the cottages had smoking chimneys, while what Maryam suspected to beundry lines hung between cottages full of drying clothes.

    There were a few people outside their homes, on that other shore, and children ying between cottages. Few, though,pared to the number of houses. They must have been warned in advance of the visiting ckcloaks and chosen to stay inside. <em>It¡¯s still enough to see they brought entire families down there rather than risk leaks</em>, she thought. <em>Palliades is being very, very careful about keeping this ce out of sight.</em>

    Truly, she mused, Song Ren¡¯s tits were a thing of magic.

    ¡°-ld thank you to keep away from the far shore, where our workers and their families are lodged,¡± the lictor was saying. ¡°Our senior shipwright, Master Dioles, will guide you through the shipyard. You will be invited to break bread with us at the barrackse noon.¡±

    The lictor cleared his throat.

    ¡°I am told there is among you a woman by the name of Maryam Khaimov?¡±

    If Captain Cervantes felt the same surprise Maryam did, she hid it better.

    ¡°Warrant Officer Khaimov, step forward,¡± she ordered.

    Maryam did as ordered. The lictor captain spared her a curious nce.

    ¡°At the Lord Rector¡¯s order, a visit of the model skimmer has been arranged for you,¡± he said. ¡°A guide was arranged to answer any question you might have.¡±

    While she was not eager at the thought of being separated from the others, she would not deny she<em> was</em> eager to have a closer look at that skimmer. She looked at Captain Cervantes, who nodded, and off they went. A pair of lictors followed behind her, but her guide was not one of the Lord Rector¡¯s soldiers. Mistress Thais was plump but sure-footed shipwright in her thirties, her dark hair a mess of curls and her green eyes serious.

    Thais led the rest of them through the mess of inds and bridges towards the outer edge, where Maryam found a massive underground canal heading into the distance ¨C presumably a passage leading to the sea, though there was not a speck of light out there to confirm the guess.

    ¡°When I worked on the model my time was mostly spent on the hull,¡± Mistress Thais told Maryam, ¡°but I have some experience with the aether engine as well.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever sailed it?¡± the Izvorica asked.

    ¡°I never held the helm, but I was aboard when we first unveiled it,¡± the older woman replied.

    Maryam had a dozen questions on the tip of her tongue, but her lips were dragged shut when they passed under a tower-crane and came upon a long dock of stone and brass ¨C where, cleanly moored, waited the skimmer. With all this talk of model, of demonstration, Maryam had half-expected a glorified rowboat with an engine pped behind it. What she was looking at, though, was a brass warship the size of a middling caravel.

    One that was, in its own way,<em> beautiful</em>.

    The silhouette was not like a sailing ship¡¯s. Though the front of the hull cut upwards in a beak, the prow was rounded and below the waterline she could make out that below the ship were jagged, curving metal des slicing into the water. The bridge was t, with a turret two thirds of the way through and a two-story ss-paneled cabin further back. No, she then noted, there was another part: behind the cabin was a curved rise covering stairs that must descend below deck.

    The skimmer gave the impression that it should be leaning back in the water, for the back third of it boreplicated ¨C and massive -cogs and wheels in the shape of broad half-moon that dipped a noticeable span deeper than the keel. There were railings on the sides, rigging on the deck and curving bones of brass embraced the hull like ribs. For all its rounded curves the whole skimmer had a jagged, piercing look to it. Like an arrow in flight.

    ¡°A beauty, isn¡¯t it?¡± Mistress Thais proudly asked.

    Maryam btedly realized she had frozen without even stepping onto the docks and cleared her throat in embarrassment.

    ¡°It is,¡± she said. ¡°Can we go aboard?¡±

    The older woman nodded.

    ¡°I can even show you the engine room, though you are not allowed to touch the insides,¡± Mistress Thais said.

    She eagerly followed the shipwright, crossing the docks and hopping overboard on the skimmer. Neither of the lictors followed. The brass deck was, she found, not quite warm but at least lukewarm. And fascinatingly enough the ship did not at all bob in the water. It was unmoving, like solid ground.

    Mistress Thais began with the deck. The turret, she learned, was made to pivot to thirds of a circle and though it currentlycked armaments it was meant to be fitted with a cannon. The ss window cabin with two stories was, at the bottom, for navigation: it held a wood-and-brass steering wheel. From inside one could climb up to the second level, which held room for a fog light a perch for a signifier.

    As Maryam had earlier guessed the curved rise went downstairs, into the surprisingly spacious below deck. A hall went straight through, fitted with sixfortable cabins and a rtively small cargo hold. Thergest room on that level was the engine room by far, upying a third of the skimmer¡¯s length. Beyond that barred doory a nightmare of ticking cogs and wheels, at the center of whichy the core of the engine.

    It had the look of a heart made of medal, but somehow also of a hot air balloon. It pulsed and ticked and pumped, weights and counterweights moving to some unseen and eerie measure as cogs and chains whirred and something like steam was expelled by a beak.

    ¡°There is a second level below the heart,¡± Mistress Thais told her, ¡°but it is dangerous to slip into without proper precautions.¡±

    ¡°It is thergest aether engine I have ever seen,¡± Maryam admitted.

    Larger than anything the Tianxi could make, and probably even that Someshwari city-state with its ancient forges.

    ¡°And powerful, do not doubt it,¡± the shipwright said. ¡°We knew that we would not be able to make a proper warship on the first go, so we didn¡¯t even try ¨C it is meant for transport, not war. For the engine, however, the Lord Rector gave the order to build it asrge and strong as we could.¡±

    Because the great powers of Vesper were perfectly capable ofying down a hull of tomic alloys themselves, Maryam thought. It was the aether engines that stumped even the cleverest of the Tianxi republics. And if their ambassador had stood in that same room Maryam now did, there was no amount of wealth he would not be willing to throw at Evander Palliades to secure ess to the creations of this shipyard. Keeping that thought off her face, Maryam hummed.

    ¡°I notice you only call it the model,¡± she said. ¡°Was it never named?¡±

    ¡°An jest of the shipyard crew,¡± Mistress Thais said, rolling her eyes. ¡°It is an old custom of Asphodel that giving a child a name before their third year is bad luck. Petty superstition for mountain folk.¡±

    Much as Maryam would have liked to spend another hour in here, they had already been on board for almost two and she suspected that if she was caught feeling out the engines with her nav it would be something of a diplomatic incident. Reluctantly, Maryam let herself be ushered out of the skimmer. The lictors were still waiting by the docks, one of them smoking a pipe, and they looked almost irritated when the two of them returned tond.

    She could not help but look back. Would be it be good enough, she wondered? To sail up the Broken Gates. She was not sure, but in what world would she ever be able to get her hands on even as fine a ship as this?

    With the visit ended Maryam was guided back towards the rest of the delegation, though it turned out that they were currently in the heart of the shipyard and the bridges had been withdrawn ¨C it would take some time before they were positioned for passage again, so the signifier was led back to the rise where they hade out of the carriage this morning before being unceremoniously handed bread and sausage.

    The lictors then left her sitting there by the carriages, fleeing as if they¡¯d tossed a wild animal a cut of meat and were retreating while it was still distracted. A little bbergasted, Maryam sat there and ate looking down at the shipyard and cavern. Even down here it seemed the color of her skin made her no friends, though no doubt being known as a Navigator had no helped.

    Gloam witches were feared for a reason.

    The solitude gave her time to think, at least. Song had charged her with finding out by where Menander Drakos could have entered this ce, but as her gaze wandered to the two entrances ¨C the tunnel to the lift and the canal presumably leading to the sea ¨C she had to admit she was not finding a credible answer. If Drakos could use the lift or sail out, why had he not stripped this ce clean of the entire stash? On the other hand, there<em> was</em> no other way in that she could see.

    ¡°Because you¡¯re looking in all the wrong ces.¡±

    Maryam reached for her side out of habit ¨C even though they had not been allowed weapons and so shecked a knife ¨C and almost fumbled thest bit of sausage doing it. The near miss had her scowling in distaste even before her most unwee of guests strolled out from behind one of the empty carriages, smug as you please. The shade wore Watch ck again, ck cloak and tunic fitted to her with a twisting golden brooch.

    ¡°Scavengers do not proudly walk the high road, Maryam,¡± the shade said.

    ¡°You would know,¡± Maryam snippily replied.

    She¡¯d already worn three rings on and slid on two more out of principle.

    ¡°What do you want now, anyway? Did you not have enough of mypany on the way here?¡±

    ¡°Ie to offer aid,¡± the shade said. ¡°Proof.¡±

    ¡°Proof of what?¡± Maryam frowned.

    ¡°That we could be more together than at odds,¡± she replied.

    <em>I could be more after I devoured you whole</em>, Maryam thought, <em>and never have to deal with your presence again.</em>

    ¡°I will have what you stole from me,¡± she scorned. ¡°Do not think the workings on this cavern will protect you if you test me.¡±

    ¡°<em>Protect</em> me?¡± the shadeughed. ¡°No, I think not. This is a cursed ce. The Ancients carved an ind in the aether, Maryam, so that no waves would trouble their tinkering. It is even worse here than it was in the pce high above.¡±

    She cocked her head to the side. From her hesitant investigations the aether here did that have that same stillness and sterile tinge, though up there it had been like bad taste in the mouth while here it was almost oppressive. She¡¯d kept her nav tucked in for a reason.

    ¡°They did it on purpose,¡± Maryam slowly said. ¡°To keep the aether unmoving so it would be easier to build their engines.¡±

    ¡°What is building a seawall, to those that shaped the material like y?¡±

    And another detail fell into ce. She had been told, and witnessed herself, that the aether on Asphodel was odd. Wild and dangerous, in some way broken. She had also been told, by Captain Wen himself, that when the Second Empire first forced the submission of Asphodel they stole Antediluvian devices and that it had wounded the local aether.

    The Ancients had built their shipyard under Tratheke, a box under the box, and encircled every story of that box in some device that stilled the aether to make building their engines earlier. Only the Second Empire had then broken and stolen the artefacts that kept the middleyer in ce, essentially forcing an aether rapid through reefs ¨C while above and below the aether remained frozen, essentially funneling all the local aether through Tratheke like it was being squeezed through a tube.

    No wonder the city¡¯s aether was so unstable. Nav, no wonder gods kept rising and dying there: they were effectively force-fed currents of aether that made them swell faster than they should, and without a solid foundation some of them would simply eat and eat until they <em>popped</em>. An aether intellect could only feed on so much aether it had no conceptual tie with before too much of it became unrted to itself and it dissolved.

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying up there and down here are closed gardens of aether,¡± she slowly said. ¡°Then how did the assassin get into that halfyer to leave the pce?¡±

    ¡°There is an anchor,¡± the shade said. ¡°You could not feel it, but I could. If the brackstone shrines are the bottom of a sk, then the cork-¡±

    ¡°Is in the pce,¡± Maryam muttered. ¡°It would have to be, Hector Lissenos would have wanted it that way. It would be much easier to protect there. So our assassin somehow got into the sk, and from there they can pop out at two ces: near the brackstone shrines, and near the ¡®cork¡¯. Wherever that is inside the pce.¡±

    The harpoon, she decided. It had to be the harpoon they¡¯d used to get into theyer, it was the only part of what she had seen there that stood out. It must be some Antediluvian weapon the enemy had used to enter the Hated One¡¯s prison, effectively turning it into a back entrance to the pce and city. Utter madness.

    And, she could not help but notice, it solved the main military trouble for someone attempting a coup in Tratheke: that the rector¡¯s pce could be held indefinitely by blocking the lifts up. If the same road the assassin had employed was used to sneak in men, they could seize the lifts by surprise before the Lord Rector even knew a coup was happening.

    This reeked of the cult¡¯s involvement. Whoever had been capable of binding the Golden Ram and bleeding it for boons might just be capable of getting into the Hated One¡¯s prison as well. So then why was Lord Gule so convinced the assassin had not been their conspiracy¡¯s doing? <em>He might have just lied to Tredegar</em>, Maryam thought. It urred to her that Mni ¡®honor¡¯ would be a very useful shield, should someone refuse to uphold it once in a while.

    She had much to chew on, but that was forter. Song had given her an assignment and the time she had to spare in it was limited. It was a greater concern, at least for now.

    ¡°You said you came to offer aid,¡± Maryam finally said.

    ¡°I did,¡± the shade replied. ¡°Will you listen this time?¡±

    ¡°I asked, didn¡¯t it?¡± she bit out.

    ¡°Menander Drakos is scavenger,¡± the shade said. ¡°Whatever he stole, it was not enough to draw the Lord Rector¡¯s attention. Why do you think that is?¡±

    ¡°Because he took only small things,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Your point?¡±

    ¡°Would a man greedy enough to steal under the Lord Rector¡¯s own nose stop at trinkets?¡± the shade challenged

    No, Maryam had to agree. Assuming Evander Palliades did not yet have ess to the shipyard back then, should he be careful Lord Menander could have stolen the entire stash and simply pawned it off abroad. It wasn¡¯t as if the Lord Rector of Asphodel had many contacts in the ports of the eastern Someshwar, and down on the Riven Coast no questions were asked when ships came to sell goods no matter what those goods might be.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that he didn¡¯t stealrger goods but that he<em> couldn¡¯t</em>,¡± she said. ¡°Whatever path he used to get in, nothing toorge or heavy can be brought through.¡±

    And so Maryam¡¯s eyes left the rise and road, therge underground river, instead turning to where they should have been the whole time: the cavern walls. What she had assumed to be smooth stone all the way up was not: there were cracks in the stone, some fissuresrge as a cart, and even holes. All of them high up, at least three dozen feet high. Looking again, she could see that closer to the ground where paler streaks in the stone. More fissures, filled with ster.

    ¡°All it takes is one of those fissures reaching up to an old Drakos dig,¡± she whispered, ¡°and Lord Menander has his in.¡±

    And it would exin why he¡¯d grabbed nothing toorge, because it would have to be pulled back up by his men afterwards and carried through narrow spaces.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be thought odd, if you keep talking to yourself,¡± the shade smirked.

    Maryam cast a wary look around, but there was still no one in sight. She supposed there was no need for her to be supervised when she was standing on a rise with only one way down that wouldn¡¯t break her legs. Where else would she go, back into the dark? Not a soul around, she realized, and likely not for some time. And that, well, that saw a thought turn from a seed to a bloom. Because there was something else that had urred to her, during their talk.

    She devoured thest of her sausage, swallowed.

    ¡°You know, Hector Lissenos did not strike me as a fool,¡± Maryam quietly said, rising to her feet. ¡°He lived in the rector¡¯s pce, knew his descendants would as well. So why would he take the risk of putting the cork to the prison there?¡±

    The shade shrugged.

    ¡°He must have believed the seawall would protect him from this,¡± she said.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Maryam said. ¡°And Hector, not being a fool, would have consulted whoever helped him build the aether lock on this matter. If he believed the border would prevent the Hated One¡¯s filth from seeping out, he had good reason to.¡±

    ¡°And?¡± the shade asked.

    ¡°And you told me the borders down here are even stronger,¡± Maryam replied, and<em> pulled</em>.

    The shade fought her, but she had struck in utter surprise. She pulled on her nav with the strength of every ring she¡¯d slipped on, and when the shade swallowed a pained scream she plunged her hand into the creature¡¯s chest. She took a kernel in hand, another part of what she was owed.

    ¡°There is a shieldingyer between my soul and the Gloam here,¡± Maryam calmly continued. ¡°And that means <em>I can eat you safely</em>.¡±

    She ripped out the kernel, the shade dissolving like mist, and she saw it all.

    Like wriggling worms her soul gobbled up eagerly, a fistful of writhing secrets ripped out from the Cauldron and swallowed whole. She saw what she took, what she owned ¨C <em>how to make smoke sing, to bewitch echoes out of stone, to draw in flesh with a finger for brush</em> ¨C but also what went to waste. The wound she had ripped into the Cauldon, it leaked¡­ smoke, forck of a better term.

    And that smoke disappeared into the aether, forever lost.

    How much was it, she wondered, even as she dimly felt pressure mount behind her eyes. How much would be lost even if she had a whole feast down here, by bleeding out in the nothing or even by virtue of being eaten iplete ¨C it was not secrets whole and sectioned she took, only whatever she blindly ripped out.

    A hundredth, a tenth, a fifth?

    But even as a migraine whitened her field of vision and she swallowed drily, it was not that fearful prospect that consumed Maryam¡¯s mind. It was thest thing she had felt, when she ripped that kernel out of the shade. The emanation in the aether, clear as re. <em>Fear</em>. The shade had been afraid for her life. And that was¡­ it had not been Maryam¡¯s emotion. Nothing stolen from her. Not something mirrored or mimicked.

    And a parasite should not be able to taint the aether like that.

    --

    (¡°<em>You lunatic little bitch</em>,¡± Captain Domingo Santos shouted, emerging through a cloud of thick powder smoke. He looked rather singed, and was already tracing a Sign. Angharad sighed a moment before a spike of Gloam tore through her stomach and then the wall behind it.)

    The vision ended abruptly. Coughing into her fist, Angharad continued walking past the door.

    Tomorrow she would remember to first ask if Captain Domingo was still<em> inside</em> his room first.

    --

    ¡°I need a dead body,¡± Tristan Abrascal announced.

    It was the morning of his twenty-fifth day on the isle of Asphodel, before first light. He didn¡¯t immediately get an answer as they traded the goods. Hage took the pouch of suspicious brown powder ¨C dirtied flour, though it could easily pass for wagfly drops ¨C and handed Tristan an apparent pouch of coin. Coppers all, because devils underpaid even feignedbor. Tristan going in the early mornings to sell Hage the false drugs was an excuse for their irregr contact, hiding that the traded pouch and bag contained messages from the Thirteenth and his owntest report.

    The devil raised those thunderous eyebrows, leaning back to scratch Mephistofeline who promptly let out a ghoulish shriek of approval and pressed his jowls against Hage¡¯s fingers. He had a little ne now, adorned with shiny scrap metal sickles. Kids from the neighborhood had made it. Apparently it was a reference some sort of Asphodelian myth about some god in the ground inflicted with endless hunger, much like the orb-adjacent Mephistofeline.

    ¡°A whole body?¡± Hage finally asked.

    He nodded. The devil clicked his tongue.

    ¡°Start with thigh meat first, work your way up to fingers,¡± Hage advised. ¡°An entire body¡¯s too ambitious, you don¡¯t even know if you like the taste yet.¡±

    ¡°Not to <em>eat</em>, as you are well aware,¡± Tristan sighed. ¡°Tonight is the meet and after that I¡¯ve no more use for the Kassa. It is time to feign my death and disappear.¡±

    It might have been on the table to simply disappear earlier in the infiltration, but if ¡®Ferrando¡¯ turned to thin air immediately after his first look at the conspirators it was sure to be noticed. An altercation with a basileia man gone wrong would make waves in the Kassa pond, but it wouldn¡¯t earn suspicion.

    ¡°What kind of death?¡± Hage asked.

    ¡°Violent,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I¡¯ll leave whether idental or not to you.¡±

    ¡°It will take at least two days,¡± Hage said, ¡°and there will be a fee.¡±

    Two days would work fine, he did not want to disappear too quickly after the meet.

    ¡°Take it from the brigade funds,¡± he replied, granting Hage a nod and the cat a bow. ¡°Your Highness, fare thee well."

    Mephistopheline majestically shrieked in response, flopping belly up in a maneuver that had the wooden shelf beneath him creak before batting his paws up as if he were a kitten instead of a creature that couldfortably fit several kittens within its ample folds. Tristan thus left with the solemn blessing of a prince of Hell, returning to the ingloriousbor of his day as a Kassa traveling man.

    He read the letter on the way. He¡¯d reported the encounter with Izel Coyac, but Angharad wrote that the Neenth had disappeared into the city the day after and no one knew where they were. She again asked if he had heard anything about the Yellow Earth, who had apparently tried to coerce Song. He didn¡¯t know the details and they were probably best not put to paper, but apparently there¡¯d been fighting.

    He''d have to take a look into that, when he could spare the time. Until then the names ¡®Hao Yu¡¯ and ¡®Ai¡¯ were a pair he¡¯d kept an ear out for, but as thest time she had asked he had heard nothing. Though the Kassa had ties to the Republics, they were not in part of the family operations he worked in.

    Tristan nked through the day, mind already on whaty ahead, and got a few frowns for having slowed downpared to his usual performance. Not enough for a reprimand, however, when in their little circle he yet rode high as Temenos¡¯ savior. Come evening he met at the ck Dame with the other veterans, but neither he nor Temenos drank much. They were there only to spend the hours, and near eleven they were joined by three more souls in Kassa employ: twins from the weavers and a hard-faced sort who spoke for the warehouse men.

    The meet was to be had at the stroke of midnight, which Tristan thought unnecessarily dramatic, but it was not his conspiracy to run.

    He kept a running tally of what an agent of the Krypteia might consider conspiratorial mistakes as the five of them set out under cover of dark. First, the location: while the northwestern ward wasrgely abandoned, its abandoned warehouses were still of interest to the local basileias. Two, the numbers gathering. The closer they got to the meeting ce the more they ran into others, most of theming in smaller groups than the Kassa but groups nheless.

    How many people had been invited to this conspiracy? It was looking like at least half a hundred, which was only marginally better than handing your secret ns over to the town crier to yell out on the square.

    Third, while there were toughs with des handling security they were clearly basileia hands. Which meant on top of the invited masses and the conspirators themselves, a significant portion of a local basileia had known about this in advance. In some sense it made the entire affair easier to swallow: this was likely said basileia¡¯s territory, and thus they could drive away searching eyes and kill rumors to some extent.

    Yet, in another sense, Tristan was wondering if by the end of the night he was going to have to exin to some lictor captain that as a warrant officer of the Watch he could not be detained and someone needed to head to ck House to confirm his word. Gods, he hoped not.

    There were only so many times Song could fetch him from prison before she decided to strangle him to spare herself further indignities.

    It was worse than he expected when they reached the warehouse, for there were already a crowd of thirty-odd people in there. The front doors were held by toughs, who patted down for weapons but did not ask as to anyone¡¯s identity.

    Tristan stuck with Temenos and the warehouse man, whose name was Damon, and kept a watchful silence as the two men began counting out the workers from which trading houses hade. Of the tenrgest, Tristan learned, seven were present now that the Kassa men had epted the invitation. Twice as many merchant houses from the middle of the pack had shown, but none from the bottom of thedder. Or perhaps they had not been invited?

    It was beginning to ur to him that this was not some secret cabal¡¯s council holding a meet, but instead something closer to a rally. Secrecy was not the order of the day because whoever led this conspiracy had no intention of showing their face ¨C it was about recruiting bodies for the cause, not bringing another ringleader into a plot.

    Tristan kept his silence and stayed with the Kassa as thest souls were allowed in by the men at the door trickled in, his eye staying on the front of the crowd. There crates had been piled to make for a makeshift tform, the throng of people naturally settling in a wobbly half-circle around it. They didn¡¯t have to wait long for those meant to stand on the crates to show up, half a dozen men and women walking in to a wave of murmurs.

    ¡°That¡¯s Stavros Kassa,¡± Temenos whispered, pointing out a tall man with a pointed and oily beard. ¡°He is the one who asked us here.¡±

    Tristan caught a few more surnames spoken by the crowd. Delinos, Metaxas, Patera, Remes. All magnates, all of them Trade Assembly. There was one of the lot, however, that needed no introduction by a third party.

    Tristan knew exactly what Maria Anastos looked like, for she had been waiting for the Watch on the docks when their ship first arrived at the Lordsport. He would have to be careful, the Mask thought. Though his looks did not stand out and that day he had been wearing rook ck as one of many, there was always a chance she might recognize his face.

    It was her that imed the stage, the other magnates arranged around her like a disy of force. The Anastos were not the informal first among equals of the Trade Assembly that House Floros was for the Council of Ministers, but they were very influential ¨C and as the only family head present, it was only natural she took the lead. <em>But none of the other heads showed</em>, Tristan thought. <em>To avoid risk, or because their families are not in this to the hilt?</em>

    ¡°You all know who I am,¡± Maria Anastos called out. ¡°And you all know why you¡¯re here.¡±

    Mutters in the crowd.

    ¡°There¡¯s only so long we can bury our head in the sand,¡± Mistress Anastos said. ¡°It was one thing when the boy king¡¯s ministers raided our coffers, but now they are no longer content with that: fearing our influence, they¡¯ve begun murdering us.¡±

    That im got pushback. Some shouts called her a liar, others used the magnates of being behind deaths, others demanded proof. It was thest call that Maria Anastos answered.

    ¡°Kimon Metaxas is dead, poisoned,¡± she answered. ¡°A magnate¡¯s own brother. Patera?¡±

    An older woman with a dignified bearing stepped onto the stage.

    ¡°The captain of the Sunderer was found dead a month back,¡± she said. ¡°A single stroke through the neck, no witnesses.¡±

    A gangly man from the crowd shouted it was true. A foreman for the Patera, Tristan deduced from the way those around him reacted. Next came testimony of a murdered warehouse foreman from the Delinos, and the cousin and basilea contact of a Remes travelling man. He¡¯d seen the testimony from Stavros Kassaing, so when the bearded man called on Temenos to speak to the assassin that had tried to murder him with a sickle he¡¯d already slipped deeper into the crowd.

    Given how agitated the lot of them were by the rising list of deaths, it had been precious easy to pretend he¡¯d been caught by some eddy of the mob.

    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Temenos grunted. ¡°Came for me in the night, it was a narrow escape. The man cut through wood like it was paper, a contractor for certain.¡±

    That set the crowd to loud talk. There was some skepticism, several calling Temenos a liar, but Tristan noticed that most of the older men and women were taking the Kassa foreman seriously. The society of those who¡¯d remained in magnate service for decades held sway here, if not sovereignty. Their ims were taken seriously.

    ¡°Evander Palliades no longer rules the Rectorate,¡± Maria Anastos told the crowd. ¡°The Council of Ministers does, and we all remember the Floros years ¨C that woman won¡¯t rest until she¡¯s ground us all to dust.¡±

    Angry, shouting approval. Apollonia Floros was not beloved of this crowd, it seemed. She wouldn¡¯t be, given how much of her regency had been spent stepping on the very magnates employing most everyone in the room. Tristan wove around the congregation, only half listening to the speech. It was all grievances and usations, working up the anger in the room before putting some form of salvation on sale.

    Of all the goods hawked by chatans, hope was the one men would most make fools of themselves for.

    The other magnates did not seem surprised by anything out of Maria Anastos¡¯ mouth, so they were as much part of this as she was. Though the Mask struggled to remember what also those mighty families were most famous for, it seemed to him that it was the magnates with strong roots on Asphodel that had shown. The Lagonikos, who headed the wealthiest trade consortium of the Trade Assembly but based on the ind of Arke, did not have a representative.

    <em>So only part of the Assembly¡¯s in on whatever this is</em>, he mused. A handful gone over to the Ministers in exchange for titles, as Song had theorized? There seemed too many families present here for that, in his opinion, but then it was entirely possible that thergest ones were using the second-stringers as disposable cannon fodder to secure their new titles.

    ¡°We¡¯ve appealed to the throne, but Palliades ignores us,¡± Maria Anastos was continuing. ¡°He¡¯s lost the reins, and it¡¯s only a matter of time until he¡¯s cast down ¨C and there is only one who can rece him, isn¡¯t there?¡±

    Floros¡¯ name was shouted, with varying degrees of anger and disgust.

    ¡°We can¡¯t let it happen,¡± Maria Anastos said. ¡°<em>Won¡¯t</em> let it happen. Else half of us will end up in a grave, and the rest in the street.¡±

    Shouts came from the crowd, asking what could be done, but Tristan¡¯s attention had gone to the basileia men. While some of them had noticeable tattoos and scars, there did not seem to be a running them that¡¯d give him a symbol to look into. The only thing they had inmon was cheap brown cloaks, which by the way they kept adjusting them were a new addition.

    <em>That</em> was a trail he could run down, he decided. There were only so many ces in Tratheke where one could by over twenty mostly identical cheap brown cloaks.

    ¡°- then we can only defend ourselves,¡± Maria Anastos shouted. ¡°We¡¯ve let the <em>aristoi</em> step on us for centuries, but we will not let them have our lives!¡±

    Answering a signal from one of the magnates, pairs of those burly figures brown cloaks stepped forward carryingrge crates. Not just crates, Tristan corrected after a moment. Some barrels as well. <em>No</em>, he then dimly thought, clenching his fingers. <em>Truly?</em>

    To the shouts of the crowd they were opened, revealing crates full of muskets and bullets while the barrels were full of ckpowder.

    ¡°If the Ministers think they can just take the city, let¡¯s show them who really rules Tratheke!¡±

    Roars of approval from many, but not all. There were some in the crowd who looked horrified, as if beholding a ship about to run into reefs.

    Tristan felt numb, mind racing downnes of fresh realization.

    Angharad had found weapons being smuggled into Tratheke, when she headed out in the countryside, and Song had put together that they were being made in the valley and not by nobles. That was what had led his captain to the belief that some of Trade Assembly magnates had gone over to the other side for the promise of titles.

    But there had been other details, hadn¡¯t there? Hints they came across earlier in their investigation. The Brazen Chariot telling them of how ckpowder was worth more than its weight in gold, as if it was being bought by everyone ¨C why would the ministers scheming their coup need this, if they had a workshop out in the valley furnishing their troops? Why take the risk someone would notice the powder being grabbed so aggressively?

    Because the coup that Tristan Abrascal was looking at was not the same as the one being nned by the Council of Ministers.

    He swallowed drily as there were alls for silence, from both the magnates and the doubters.

    ¡°A few crates of muskets will not take Tratheke,¡± an older woman called out.

    ¡°A hundred crates will,¡± Maria Anastos replied, ¡°if we have the men to wield them. And there may be a bare hundred here, but how many will listen if you call for volunteers?¡±

    She raised her fist.

    ¡°<em>Thousands</em>,¡± she shouted, and there were cheers.

    ¡°Thousands of men who have never fought,¡± another voice scorned from the crowd. ¡°Against lictors and retinues! A thousand corpses is all you¡¯re promising.¡±

    ¡°And what if we take the city, Anastos?¡± Temenos shouted. ¡°Who rules us then? Who protects us when every lord from the east and the westes for our blood?¡±

    ¡°We rule ourselves,¡± Maria Anastos shouted back. ¡°Each of us, free. And <em>we are not alone</em>.¡±

    There was a hush from the crowd as another figure was weed onto the stage. The woman was not particrly tall or shapely, with simple dark hair held in a topknot while she wore unremarkable city clothes. She did not even have much presence, yet two thirds of the room were spellbound for a simple reason: she was Tianxi and she wore a yellow sash.

    Even here in Asphodel, men knew what that meant.

    ¡°My name is Ai,¡± she said. ¡°I am of the Yellow Earth, sent by the Republics, ande to tell you this: seize your freedom and you will not stand without allies.¡±

    The crowd breathed in, almost as one. There was an excitement in the air, a thrumming in the blood. The chatans had finally unpacked the salvation they¡¯de to sell.

    ¡°A vote has been held in secret,¡± Ai said, ¡°to recognize Asphodel as a sister-republic to Tianxia should Tratheke be seized and the Lord Rector overthrown.¡±

    A dull roar began to rise, but she pitched her voice louder still.

    ¡°im your freedom,¡± Ai shouted, ¡°and when the noblese to take Asphodel from you they will find a fleet of your Tianxi allies holding the Lordsport, the armies of half the republicse to fight at your side!¡±

    The roar rose, shivering in the air.

    ¡°Rise,¡± Ai shouted. ¡°Rise and your children will be born free. Rise and you will never have to be beaten and stolen by nobles again! Rise and you <em>can have it all</em>!¡±

    And as the air shuddered with the shouts and stomping feet of near a hundred men, Tristan was left to stand there in horrified awe.

    At this rate, even a half-empty city would run out of room to fit all these treasons in.

 Pause & Book 3

    Pause & Book 3

    Hello!

    So good news:test night my fiancee gave birth to our son, everything went great and we''re very happy with the little bundle. It also means I''ll be going on parental leave effective immediately!

    As it''s customary for me to take a month-long break between books and we''re near the end of Good Treasons, the second book of Pale Lights, I''ve decided to effectively fuse those two breaks together so I won''t being back, going back on break and returning again.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    How this will be working is that I''ll take my three weeks of parental leave, then extend that break by three weeks to do the necessary legwork for the next book. The upside for you is that, when I return, there will be no pause between Good Treasons and the third book of the series - I''ll simply keep updating.

    Regarding the dates, I will be on pause until the 18th of October which means the first update of the return will be Friday October 25.

    Thanks in advance for your understanding, and see you when Ie back!

    E.E.

 Chapter 59

    Chapter 59

    It was for the best.

    By morning tomorrow Maryam would arrive at ck House, and with the signifier¡¯s return the secret Song had kept would finally out. Evander Palliades would be told of the coup brewing beneath his feet and, inevitably, that Song had kept silent on the matter even when looking him in the eye. She was not sure what she expected from that yet, but a sense of betrayal on his part would not be unwarranted.

    It would not be a clean break, but it would be a break ¨C and that, as she kept thinking, was for the best.

    She chewed on that thought even as the carriage shook beneath her, catching a loose stone. Evander himself seemed pensive this afternoon, something she had learned to recognize as him practicing a speech inside his mind. As well he should, for from what she had been told he would have to give no fewer than four speeches today.

    Landing Day was a feast day particr to Asphodel, and far removed enough from the timing of traditional seasonal festivals that its root might well be genuine. The im was that, on this day centuries ago, King Oduromai first made shore on the isle. While for most the people of Asphodel the sole celebration was that the temples of Oduromai gifted meals of wine and meat to all who attended the feasts thrown by the priesthood, the nobles had their own custom.

    In Tratheke that custom was for a mighty feast to be thrown by the Lord Rector for all the descendants of King Oduromai and his officers in the same district where the great temple of the deity sat, the Collegium. As all the ruling dynasties of Asphodel had imed descent from King Oduromai in the flesh as means of legitimacy, they took the king¡¯s seat in such celebrations and were expected to foot the bill for such celebrations.

    Which were not inexpensive, as centuries of royal houses needing to awe their nobles into submission had made the affair increasingly borate and extravagant.

    There was a knock on the side of the carriage, the lictor besides the driver leaning close to the window to address them.

    ¡°We will be arriving momentarily, Your Excellency.¡±Evander Palliades stirred out of his thoughts, straightening.

    ¡°Thank you, lieutenant,¡± he replied. ¡°As you will.¡±

    He was sharply dressed today, Song thought not for the first time. A high-cored gray doublet in brocade with borate golden scrollwork was paired with an equally high-cored brown overcoat whose scrollwork perfectly matched. Hose andherstock in gray ttered his ves, ending in slender calfskin shoes, and he wore no jewelry save for the heavy gold chain hanging on his neck. Freshly shaved and his sses polished, he cut a fine figure whose clothing somewhat evoked a sea captain¡¯s stylings.

    His feathered bicorn certainly was not being born to protect from any rain.

    Song tugged at her cor, for she was not dressed poorly today either. Though her formal clothing should have sufficed, Evander had insisted on providing clothes as a gesture of appreciating for Song attending the Landing Day festivities as his escort. She would have declined, if not for the tempting promise that the provided clothes would have provisions made to hide weapons. Surely that made the gift equipment, she told herself. Said equipment happened to have the shape of a splendid white, ck and golden gown tailored to her, coincidentally. Still, it lived up to the promises: neither of the gown¡¯s twoyers impeded her movement, the skirts were slender and made with running in mind.

    The waistline around the hip was ridged to give the illusion of a belt, but also so that she could keep a knife hidden in a fold of the cloth as well as three powder charges and shots. On the side of her skirts, hidden by braided golden rope, was an opening through which she could draw the pistol holstered at her hip. There had, unfortunately, been no way for her to carry her jian. She¡¯d asked Angharad¡¯s help to put her hair up in a high bun kept in ce by a small golden cloth but also golden needle with a butterfly-shaped head. A gift from Mother, who had told her it was only a gold coating over steel but no lesser for it.

    The change in hairstyle kept drawing Evander¡¯s eyes to the bare nape of her neck, which she chose not to notice.

    ¡°It suits you,¡± the problem in question quietly said.

    ¡°It would have been an egregious waste of coin if it did not,¡± Song told him.

    His lips twitched.

    ¡°I must wonder at how little you must beplimented, for you to be so terrible at takingpliments,¡± Evander said, tone teasing.

    ¡°Was that apliment?¡± she drily replied. ¡°I could not tell.¡±

    His eyes caught hers through the spectacles.

    ¡°You look stunning,¡± he said. ¡°It is an effort not to stare.¡±

    Ugh. Did he have to be so genuine about it? Song looked away, pleased that the cosmetics hiding thest of her ck eye should be hiding the heat on her cheeks.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she forced out, then turned to cock an eyebrow at him.

    <em>See</em>, she silently said. <em>I have no trouble takingpliments, Palliades.</em>

    ¡°Masterfully done,¡± Evander replied, not batting an eye.

    He was clearly making sport of her, his face much too serious. This ind¡¯s veritable epidemic of nned regicide was, Song Ren mused, perhaps not entirely unwarranted. Before she could decide on a way to put him in his ce that did not sound like it had been dreamed up by a drunken Pingyang Zong, the carriage began to slow. The Lord Rector was out first, and offered her his hand in stepping down on the pavement. Song epted, purely to avoid the risk of her hidden knife making noise.

    As he withdrew the warm touch, she looked up at the den of debauchery where the Landing Day feast was to take ce this evening. No edifice in the Collegium was left empty, considering the absurd worth of even a speck of room in that part of the capital, but this one came closer to most: the four-story building, an elongated oval of brass, was almost entirely a water reservoir. Antediluvian machinery inside pumped and sucked out water that, beneath the streets, helped the canals of Tratheke flush and flow. It was on the roof of that edifice the feast would take ce, a ce that was normally inessible and for which a temporary lift had been built on the side wall.

    Song did not walk in with the Lord Rector of Asphodel, merely as one of his party. The lift, an intricate mass of pulleys and metal, was of clear Tianxi make and operated by some of Song¡¯s countrymen ¨C not a ringing endorsement of Asphodelian engineering, but perhaps less likely to get someone killed. Being of the Lord Rector¡¯s party meant that unlike other guests they were not politely frisked by the lictors to ensure they bore no weapons.

    Nobles would and no doubt wouldin, but less so when told that the precaution and the inessible nature of the roof meant that the feast would not be swarming with lictors ¨C merely a dozen on the roof, spread around.

    Emerging upstairs with Evander, a pair of lictors and a happily humming Perfect Nestor gave her a glimpse of why the location had been chosen ¨C though not before she noted with approval that, as at the bottom of the lift, a pair of lictors checked the guests for weapons. The Landing Feast was an inevitable pit of nautically inspired d¨¦cor, she¡¯d been told, but this year was almost impressive: with a bit of clever piping the water from the reservoirs below had been brought to the roof so that it could be turned into a makeshift ind chain.

    tforms of varying sizes ¨C most only six feet by six, othersrge enough to serve as a feats tables or a dance floor ¨C had been decorated with shapes in silk, evoking not only trees and mountains but many of the cities mentioned in the Oduromeia. Brass passages connected everything, and the water was not as deep as it looked: Song¡¯s eyes could see through the trick employed, which was painting the roof blue to give the illusion of depth.

    Knee length at the deepest, she figured, which was still impressive for a roof that had been a smooth surface of brass two months ago.

    Taking in the furnishings had her eyes off Evander for a moment, long enough that when she returned the man who¡¯d been smiling in the carriage was gone and Lord Rector Palliades stood in his ce. An easy smile and cold eyes, smooth manners paired with knowing just a little too much ¨C she¡¯d seen him like that before, after the y when he mingled, but never before had the difference seemed quite so stark. <em>Not my trouble</em>, Song reminded herself.

    He got to work and Song followed in his shadow with the pair of lictors who¡¯de up with her. Much of the Tratheke Valley nobility was here, but there were also some who imed descent from King Oduromai and his crew from further out. Lord Cordyles and Lord Arkol, Angharad¡¯s frequentpanions, as well as the inevitable Minister Apollonia Floros. The stern, unsmiling older woman had arguably a better im to royal blood than Evander.

    That might just get her killed before the years was out. A failed coup always saw the traitors turn on each other like jackals.

    There were maybe sixty nobles on the roof, a dozen lictors and at least as many servants handling drinks and food. Prefect Nestor discreetly pointed her to a structure on the opposite side of the roof, a bronze house that was meant to represent Asphodel ¨C and could, she was informed, serve as a safe ce to stash the Lord Rector if an attempt was made on his life. She resisted the urge to reminder the old man that she was not contracted to safeguard Evander Palliades, only use her contract on his behalf. He¡¯d forget in a moment anyhow, best to let him nod along.

    Her eyes did linger on the servants, while Lord Rector Palliades rose on a dais and made his first speech of the night. None had contracts, and neither did any of the lictors. Among the nobles, only contracts she had already seen ¨C there were few new guests, and none with either boon or contract. That bled some tension out of her and she let her gaze wander.

    The guests had been herded at the feet of the dais, a crowd of nobles in rich dress and varying degrees of nautical uracy. Song wondered if the captain Lady Doukas alleged descent from would have been amused at the row of egg-sized gold anchors she wore as a ne making press up a very generous ne. Perhaps they would have been proud, that their descendants could indulge in such pointless pageantry and not be impoverished for it.

    Either way, there was only so long she could look at peacocks without tiring of it. Her attention wandered, then she stilled. Across the street, on a roofless tower adorned by half a dozen ships¡¯ figureheads, a figure sat and watched them. A man with ck hair ruffled by the wind, crowned in flowery gold and purple. His eyes were a burning blue, an oil fire in azure, and on hispy a jagged sword of bronze. His clothes were¡­ a sailor¡¯s leathers, one moment, then the purple robes of some ancient king.

    He pointed a finger upwards, silent.

    Song swallowed and respectfully bowed her head to the god Oduromai. By the time she raised her head he was gone.

    ¡°Asphodelians im it brings good luck when he shows himself.¡±

    Song recognized the voice, and it almost had her reaching for her knife as she turned. Lord Locke and Lady Keys looked the same as when she had first met them in the pce: a tall, thin woman with austere features under spectacles and a portly man with a mustache beneath which twitched a jolly smile. The clothes had changed ¨C they were in matching red and white tonight ¨C but neither the smiles nor the lurking, almost nonchnt sense of malice around them had dimmed.

    Song was on the side of the dais, close to a lictor but not so close she would be overheard. It was still highly unsettling she had not caught either of them leaving the crowd to join her. That they did not care they might risk offending the Lord Rector by chatting during his speech, however, she was less surprised.

    ¡°Come now, dear,¡± Lady Keys chuckled. ¡°Our good friend Captain Ren knows better than to put stock into such superstitions.¡±

    ¡°It is no superstition to be wary of the powers behind the curtains,¡± Song cautiously replied.

    She had never introduced herself to them as a member of the Watch or a brigade¡¯s captain. Hage¡¯s stern warning to keep the pair smiling and avoid meddling in their business was kept close in her thoughts.

    ¡°They can never resist taking a peek past the cloth,¡± Lord Keys told her, bncing what had to be entire serving ce of crab legs on one hand.

    He was freely helping himself too it, too. The plump man took a bite, letting out a little moan of pleasure.

    ¡°Amada you <em>must</em> try the crab. It is almost<em></em>as delectable as you.¡±

    ¡°You know I dislike eating any creature with a shell, dear,¡± the tall woman said, winking at Song as she said it. ¡°I¡¯ve always held great sympathy with their kind.¡±

    The Tianxi swallowed. The Thirteenth had been suspecting her of being a devil for some time. Confirmation or some kind of game being yed?

    ¡°Manifold apologies, darling, I¡¯d forgot,¡± Lord Locke mused, taking another bite and barley chewing before it disappeared down his gullet. ¡°Asphodelian cuisine does have its limits, I am sad to admit. It might be for the best we will be departing soon.¡±

    ¡°Will you? I am sad to hear that,¡± Song lied.

    ¡°Oh, our little adventure in these parts will soone to¡­ a natural end,¡± Lady Keys idly replied.

    The following chuckle was all too sinister.

    ¡°We still need to pick up a souvenir,¡± Lord Locke enthusiastically said, ¡°but we have seen most of the sights on the isle.¡±

    Song¡¯s eyes narrowed. Were they hinting at the infernal forge? Was that why the devil and her helper hade to these shores?

    ¡°Did anything catch your eye?¡± she risked.

    ¡°I¡¯d pocket an entire principality if I could,¡± the jolly man mused, thumbing his mustache. ¡°But I expect I will have to settle for something regional.¡±

    ¡°One can never go wrong with the nautical,¡± Lady Keys opined. ¡°But I must say, Lady Song, that I am surprised.¡±

    She tensed.

    ¡°Why is that?¡±

    ¡°Is the Lord Rector not your escort?¡±

    ¡°He is,¡± Song warily said.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Lord Locke said, flicking a nce into the crowd to her right. ¡°In that case, I must agree with my dearest ¨C it does seem a mite ungrateful on your part to then allow his brutal murder.¡±

    Song turned to follow his look, and found among the crowd a man in servant¡¯s livery who was removing a pistol from under his serving tter ¨C some short, stubby thing. He raise his hand to aim it at Evander, thedy behind him noticing and gasping, but Song was quicker. Her own pistol was in hand, aimed, and she fired first.

    The body dropped. The crowd screamed.

    Fear and surprise washed over Song like a tide: in and through, receding back into itself. <em>Hand on the chisel.</em> Her hands moved, calm and sure, reloading the pistol without need for thought. Evander leapt down from the dais, taking cover down in the water behind it. Lictors were drawing weapons. There would be more than one, of that she was sure.

    How many?

    Shouts behind, hoarse. Lictors dying and her gaze strayed long enough to see the billowing explosion ¨C flesh and wood strewn, a mass of smoke. They had blown the lift and now the nobles were turning into beasts, screaming and tripping over themselves as they scattered like a flock of birds. She found Prefect Nestor, caught his eye.

    ¡°Get him out,¡± she shouted, gesturing at the brass house.

    The old man looked startled, as if he could not understand what was happening, but what he saw on her face steadied him. The iron went back into his spine and he leapt down the dais, onto the water behind, where Evander had taken cover. They would make a run for it, Song thought, and soon.

    She moved past the standing Locke and Key, yet grinning devils¡¯ grins and eating crab. Through the nobles that were shouting and elbowing each other, stepping on the backs of the fallen in their haste to get away from the danger to ¨C nowhere. The enemy was here, and as Song leapt up onto the dais she found them.

    Song blinked, saw it all as she sucked in a breath.

    Flicker. A man, dark-haired in servant¡¯s livery. A short and stubby pistol, cobbled together. Aimed at the edge of the dais, from where Evander and the lictors would run out. Her hand moved without thought, arm steady and the trigger <em>clicked.</em> Snap, smoke, the man¡¯s face a red ruin and he spun and fell. Fresh screams, but she was not listening.

    The dead man¡¯s face crumbled beyond the killing wound, falling apart in kes. Some kind of ash? It was an Izcalli beneath, with a swath teeth filed to a point.

    Click, snap: Song threw herself down, the bullet whizzed past her ¨C tore a hole in her skirts. She hit the wooden dais hard, chin bouncing off, but grit her teeth and snatched out her knife. Boots on wood, another servant climbing up with a knife in hand but Song was already moving. She shouted, mming into the assassin just as she reached the apex of the climb, and they tumbled down onto brass.

    The killer tried to plunged the dagger into her back but she rammed the point of her elbow in the creased of her opponent¡¯s. A swallowed moan of pain and Song mmed her forehead into the nose, feeling it break. Her skin came off wet with blood and sticking, too-warm kes. The woman was dazed, and that was enough. She rammed her knife her throat, gored her messily, and rose while ripping it out.

    That made three. How many more? There were dead lictors by the lift, but others had muskets and there were only so many assassins. Two more dead on the ground, one fighting, and ¨C

    HUI YU, the golden letters spelled out above the woman¡¯s head.

    The contractor pulled the trigger on her musket, but she missed. The shot only skimmed past Evander¡¯s shoulder, though it burst through Prefect Nestor¡¯s chest and he dropped. The two remaining lictors put themselves between him and the killer, dragging him along, but the contractor was reloading.

    Song moved. Through the scrabbling, squalid crowd drowning in the weight of the rich clothes and jewels, through water touched with swirls like red ink, past a fallen lictor whose throat was cut ¨C she dipped low, awkwardly dragging the dead man¡¯s sword out of his sheath. Heavier than she was used to, shorter. Yet the weight of steel in her hand was like the weight of certainty.

    She caught a reflection of herself in the water, a heartbeat before her foot broke that reddening mirror. So did the killer, and she pivoted with her musket held high. Reloaded, finger on the trigger. And for a moment Song, skirts heavy around her feet as she held a dead man¡¯s sword, looked death in the eye.

    Death blinked first.

    She saw ite down through the arm, the twitch before the trigger pull. She moved low, right and heat licked at her face and she was half deaf but then she was<em> in</em>. She shed, quick and brutal to the neck, but the contractor caught her wrist. Song rammed a knife in her side but caught mostly cloth, for she¡¯d been kicked in the belly. She tumbled backward long enough for the assassin to pull out a long knife.

    ¡°You again,¡± the stranger snarled.

    ¡°We will not,¡± Song replied, ¡°meet thrice.¡±

    A sh of hate led the steel and Song parried ¨C too slow, from this misbegotten sword, but the weight and thickness had the knife pped back further. In the water, with skirts, Song had all the elegance of a drunk but the killer moved as quicksilver. A feint had her parrying air and then the assassin¡¯s de was slicing at her shoulder, caught in the padding.

    <em>Hand on the</em>- Song snarled, leaping at the assassin. She was not in the business of elegant deaths. Sword and knife dropped in the water, Song mming the killer¡¯s head against the border of a brass ind as her throat was squeezed until she felt it would snap. She bit the killer¡¯s wrist until she tasted red and was mmed in the water for it.

    Under the tide, not even silver eyes saw clear.

    She fought against the killer¡¯s grasp keeping her down, kicking and screaming, but the other woman was strong. Song felt her haire loose, her fine gown turn into a coffin and ¨C and she reached back, groping blindly, until she found her mother¡¯s gift. Her fingers closed around it as Hui Yui pressed her against the bottom, the assassin¡¯s reflection-distorted face just above the water line.

    Under gold there was steel, and the steel pin was what killed the assassin when Song rammed it in her neck.

    She ripped free of the twitching grip, kicking the gurgling assassin down, and gasped free air. Her knife was by the edge of ind, glittering in the Asphodelian light, and she made sure she would not prove a liar: it went into the contractor¡¯s heart, and she twisted it to make sure. Gasping, exhausted, Song dragged herself onto solid ground as plumes of red spread in the water. A hand came for her and she almost stabbed it, but the lictor stepped back warily.

    ¡°Your pistol, ma¡¯am,¡± he said, presenting her with it.

    She took it, and reached in her dress to find herst powder charge was dry. The leather it was in had not let the water through. Relieved, she reloaded even as the lictor cleared his throat.

    ¡°The Lord Rector is safe and the assassins are dead, ma¡¯am,¡± he told her. ¡°You got thest of them.¡±

    Song wearily got up. The words brought no relief, for she could not help as if something was missing. Like she had forgotten something. Dead bodies, nobles not yet sure whether to be relieved. Only a handful of lictors left. Song slid the bullet into the barrel of her gun.

    ¡°How were they going to live?¡± she murmured.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± the lictor asked.

    They¡¯d blown the lift at the start to keep reinforcement froming up and Evander from going down. But how were they going to leave, afterwards? Were they even intending do? She began to walk towards the brass house without quite knowing why. The lictor followed, mercifully silent. The Obsidian Order were assassins, but they were also cultists. Had they been intending to sacrifice themselves for the kill the entire time?

    If they had, then their n had been too weak. The moment Evander got to safety and barricaded himself they were finished, for eventually enough of the crowd would slip loose the shackles of fear and realize the killers did not even number ten. She was mere feet away from the door of the house now, and doubt was like an itch. Why had they not prepared for the possibility that¡­

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    ¡°Oh,¡± Song breathed out.

    They <em>had</em>.

    And Oduromai, god of sailors and heroes but most of all patron of Asphodel, had even told her where to look. She looked above the house, where the god had pointed. Where a man in servant¡¯s livery was finishing his work: positioning a barrel of powder on the roof, a smallmp already in hand. Song met those eyes and was shed a grin of partially filed teeth.

    ¡°Toote,¡± the assassin said, and lit the wick.

    Breathe in, breathe out. Steady.

    Song raised her pistol and pulled the trigger.

    ¡°You missed, Tianxi,¡± the manughed. ¡°Bless be She, and carry me on her wings to the deathlessnds.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t miss,¡± Song Ren said.

    And he realized it when he looked down: that she had not been aiming for the him or themp but the wick. Snarling he reached for themp, trying to set the barrel directly ame, but she¡¯d bought the lictor long enough. They were well-drilled soldiers, skilled at arm. The musket shot took the assassin in the chest, and he tumbled past the edge of the house. And the edge of this entire edifice, screaming as he fell.

    Song panted, letting her pistol face the floor atst.

    ¡°There,¡± she said. ¡°<em>That</em> was thest of them.¡±

    --

    The inside of the brass house was sparse. A table, a pair of seats and stretcher.

    Song had been allowed in only after the lictors swept roof one more time and dropped the powder barrel in water. Now the scared and bloodied nobles were being brought down from here with ropes anddders while a sea of lictors flooded the roof. In here, however, she was alone save for amp and Evander Palliades. His soldiers had tly refused to let him leave the house, afraid there might be another ambush waiting for him in the street.

    ¡°It did cut skin a little,¡± Evander told her, picking at her shoulder with a wet cloth.

    Song swallowed a hiss of pain, sitting on the table. She¡¯d not felt it with the fight in her, or even after, but the cut being dabbed at was quite unpleasant.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had worse,¡± she said. ¡°Leave it alone, would you?¡±

    He humphed at her.

    ¡°Even small wounds can take badly,¡± he said.

    Still, he did as she¡¯d asked. Outside the walls, she thought, were most likely the cooling corpses of an entire cell of the Obsidian Order. There had been ten of them in whole, that were caught at least. As she watched Evander brush back his hair, folding the cloth before cing it back in the medicine kit, it urred to her she would not escort him again.

    Tristan had reported finding a contract with the Order, and those assassins were dead. In particr the contractor who could fool eyes, who was the reason Song had been requested as an escort in the first ce. It meant, she thought, that tonight might well be thest time she saw Evander Palliades before leaving Asphodel. At most once more, when the contract was fulfilled.

    Which meant she could give the Yellow Earth what little outdated information she had and then, truthfully, tell them she would no longer have ess to the pce. She could be free of them as well, in the process. It was soon done, she realized. She would soon be gone from this isle, and the feeling was so liberating she felt like a giddy child.

    ¡°Song?¡±

    She met his gaze and swallowed, then pushed off the table. He rose to his feet as well.

    ¡°I suppose you should report to ck House,¡± Evander acknowledged.

    And she did go to the door. To lock it. She turned to find his eyes gone wide. She was too tired still to be smooth or seductive, so instead she crossed the distance between them ¨C he stepped back, until he was pressed against the wall and their noses were almost touching. She had solved it all without anyone bleeding, Song thought. She was allowed to take some pleasure from the world.

    He was the one to kiss her, sses knocking against her nose as he threaded a hand through her loose hair and she moaned against warm, soft lips. He had such slender and artful fingers, it stoked embers in her belly. They parted ways only when they were out of breath.

    ¡°I,¡± he swallowed. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    She drew back, and almostughed at the disappointment on his face. After all she had only done it to turn around.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to help me take the gown off,¡± she said, looking over her shoulder.

    The look that put in his eyes had her belly clenching, and a heartbeatter his mouth was on her neck as he pulled her against him.

    It took them forever to get the dress off, but at no point did shein.

    --

    It¡¯d take days before thest of the drugs left her, but finally Maryam back in the capital.

    To her surprise, even as the Watch carriages rolled into the courtyard of ck House a nce through the shutters ¨C mercifully open, after all that time in a box ¨C revealed the delegation were not the only ones returning that morning. There was already a carriage in there, four servants in Watch livery wrestling with the giant serpentine head strapped to its back.

    The dangling twin retractable crests going up its nose told her she was most likely looking at the head of a Ladonite dragon, who pressed out those crests when they blew fire. Something about the gases involved? Maryam¡¯s interest in teratology did not run deep.

    Confirming her guess was the man standing by the struggling servants, a long-haired Izcalli with perfectly partitioned hair and matching round earrings. Tupoc Xical was more interested in heckling them than helping, apparently, and he spared a look their way when the carriage doors open. His brow rose when he saw Maryam emerge, gaze sliding over the rest of the delegation.

    ¡°Khaimov,¡± he amiably called out. ¡°You managed not to melt your brain in my absence, I see. Shame, it would have made for fine humor going forward.¡±

    Captain Cervantes raised an eyebrow at his word, but someone who did not know either of them could take that for banter betweenrades. Commander Osian Tredegar, though, knew better. The tall Pereduri swung his bag over his shoulder and, ignoring the majority of the vacant courtyard, walked up straight to Tupoc. In front of the Izcalli he paused, then let out a noise of impatience. Tupoc¡¯s face went nk.

    ¡°Sir,¡± he said. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°Are you blind?¡± Osian Tredegar asked. ¡°You are standing in my way to the door. Move aside, boy.¡±

    The Izcalli¡¯s gaze moved across the empty courtyard grounds, through the detour Commander Tredegar had taken so Tupoc would stand between him and the door. There was an unkind chortle from the Deuteronomicon tinker while Maryam simply folded her arms and enjoyed the y being put on for her. To Tupoc¡¯s honor, though was a slight tightening around his eyes he managed to put on a smile.

    ¡°Of course,¡± he said, moving out of the superior officer¡¯s way. ¡°My apologies.¡±

    ¡°You should pay closer attention to your surroundings,¡± Osian Tredegar mildly said. ¡°It will do wonders for your life expectancy.¡±

    Attaining a level of pettiness that what Maryam could only yet aspire to, themander still made sure to shoulder Tupoc on his way to the door. Tupoc could probably have ducked, she thought, but he must have decided that taking his lumps and let Angharad¡¯s asionally delightful uncle get his way. The rest of the delegation filed out of the courtyard after Commander Tredegar, Captain Cervantes pausing by Maryam to remind her that while she was not expected to report directly to Chca there would<em></em>be a general debrief tonight she <em>was </em>expected to attend.

    ¡°Don¡¯t y around for too long,¡± she then added, ncing at Tupoc. ¡°Your captain should have heard of your arrival by now.¡±

    Maryam simply nodded, matching gazes with the Izcalli, and after thest of the delegation left she cocked an eyebrow at him.

    ¡°Xical,¡± she btedly replied. ¡°Alone, I see. Already got your cabal killed?¡±

    ¡°Only the one,¡± he shrugged. ¡°eptable Losses lived up to her name.¡±

    Maryam paused, startled into silence. And while there were condolences on the tip of her tongue, Tupoc had spoken of the death so casually she could not bring herself to speak them. One did not bare their neck to a leopard unless they wanted to get bitten.

    ¡°So does the Death Brigade,¡± she said instead. ¡°Finally found something for the Fourth to be the best at, I see.¡±

    The Izcalli turned pale eyes on her, face expressionless, and though he hardly moved she could almost taste the violence in the air. She itched to have a hatchet in hand, or at least a fourth ring, but going for either would have been showing weakness. Suddenly he grinned, and the suffocating tension was gone like morning mist.

    ¡°Cold,¡± he appreciatively said. ¡°I¡¯ll have to remember that one.¡±

    Maryam only grunted.

    ¡°That is your Ladonite dragon, I take it?¡± she asked, gesturing at the head.

    It must have not have been as heavy as it looked, given that four servants were capable of taking it down without anyone getting crushed. She¡¯d confess to some curiosity about where they were going to stash that. Not the stables, surely? It would scare the horses. Then again this was a Watch estate, odds were it <em>had</em> been built with the notion of storing the corpses of giant lemures in mind.

    It¡¯d certainly exin why the front gates were so unnecessarilyrge,

    ¡°That it is,¡± Tupoc proudly said. ¡°A devil to catch, it was. Traipsing through wheat fields out east for days, the local lord¡¯s men shadowing every step and making enough of a racket for thrice their number.¡±

    Maryam raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°You took reinforcements from the nobles?¡±

    ¡°Gods no,¡± Tupoc snorted. ¡°The steward in charge feared we¡¯d anger the beast without killing it, so he wanted soldiers out there to finish the job after¡­¡±

    He traced a finger across his throat. The Izcalli clearly still smarted at the remembered inconvenience, but Maryam could understand how lords might be skeptical of a small cabal of Scholomance students proving capable of killing a Ladonite dragon. It was all too easy to imagine a wounded dragon going wild and setting wheat fields ame in a rampage, miles of it burning.

    ¡°You got it done regardless, evidently,¡± Maryam shrugged.

    Tupoc slyly smiled.

    ¡°We gave them the slip,¡± he said. ¡°And even found a little something of interest out in the Nitari Heights.¡±

    She cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°Did you now?¡±

    The Izcalli wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

    ¡°I heard the Thirteenth¡¯s been up to some interesting things as well,¡± he said. ¡°Go fetch someone with actual bargaining power and it might be I¡¯ll trade tit for tat.¡±

    Ah, he <em>had</em> been staying too pleasant for too long a stretch of time. Some piss on her boots was only to be expected.

    ¡°You, of course, being the tit,¡± she innocently smiled back.

    She turned a clean pair of heels to the Izcalli before he could reply, satisfied with having seized thest word. Condolences would wait for someone who deserved them, like the rest of the Fourth.

    --

    Like everything else about Song Ren her kindness was methodical, so by the time Maryam got back to her room she found that a warm bath was already drawn for her and a meal of her Asphodelian favorites being prepared. Song spared her the need to report until she got out of the tub scrubbed clean and pleasantly warmed, and even then they made small talk over the meal instead of diving straight into it. Tristan¡¯s absence was easy enough to exin, but she asked as to Angharad¡¯s.

    ¡°She is out in the city,¡± Song exined. ¡°Attending the dedication of an orphanage in the southeastern district at the invitation of Lord Menander.¡±

    ¡°So the man is still squeezing us for information,¡± Maryam mused. ¡°Makes sense, he has to be worried that since the Watch went down to the shipyard we figured out he had a route there.¡±

    Her captain seemed to take that as a sign that the conversation was shifting to the report, which was fair enough. As if to draw some invisible line Song rose to fetch the teapot waiting on Maryam¡¯s dressed where the servants had left it, bringing it over with two cups before pouring in that measured Tianxi way.

    ¡°Tell me about the shipyard,¡± Song ordered after she finished, slipping back into her seat.

    ¡°It¡¯s go going to be a mess,¡± Maryam told her. ¡°That shipyard¡¯s some kind of masterpiece, apparently: at the moment it could spit out a warship-grade aether engine every five months or so, but the Asphodelians are still repairing parts of the machinery.¡±

    Her focus had waned during the afternoon part of the visit, due to a pounding migraine, but she¡¯d still seen that though the inner ring of the shipyard was mostly up and running a lot of the outlying machinery was still inert or broken. No doubt because it would cost a veritable fortune to get it back in shape and the Lord Rector¡¯s coffers were already mightily strained.

    ¡°How bad would it be?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°The Deuteronomicon tinker that had a look, he was of the opinion that it could be brought up to one every two months,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Commander Tredegar argues three, because part of the reason the construction¡¯s so quick is they use tomic alloys like they¡¯re never going to run out.¡±

    The silver-eyed woman drummed her fingers against the table.

    ¡°But they will, so they will have to water their wine even before the cache runs out,¡± she said. ¡°Mix in lesser metals.¡±

    ¡°Tredegar is betting they¡¯ll be grabbing that strange brass they¡¯ve got everywhere in the capital, which has some useful properties, and his estimate for that is three months,¡± Maryam said. ¡°And that¡¯s after them setting up a foundry for it down there, which we<em> think</em> they might have just begun.¡±

    Some of the buildings in the part of the cavern the Watch had been restricted from essing had the right shape for it.

    ¡°Then it is a matter of months, years at most, before the shipyard can overturn the bnce of the Trebian Sea,¡± Song murmured.

    Maryam grunted in agreement. Four skimmers a year did not sound like much, until one considered that most great powers had fewer than fifty in their service ¨C and not all of them war-fit. Oh, even the greatest skimmers out of Asphodels would be no match for the old monsters some kingdoms had lovingly preserved. The Imperial Someshwar was said to possess an ancient warship near the size of an ind and Sacromonte¡¯s infamous harpooners had killed even gods.

    But those monstrous machines were rare, and given the impossibility of recing them they were never risked without good reason. If it came to a war of attrition, a united Tianxia had the purse and sailors tost all its enemies out. As long as they held the shipyard, anyway. That was the rub.

    ¡°Brigadier Chca will, at the very least, force through restrictions on the sale of military-grade engines,¡± Song finally said. ¡°That has the potential for ugliness if Tianxia contests the matter.¡±

    ¡°Force?¡± Maryam repeated, surprised. ¡°I didn¡¯t think the Watch had the pull for that right now.¡±

    ¡°Things have changed,¡± Song said. ¡°With the Lord Rector¡¯s help I solved the cypher on the correspondence of Hector Lissenos. Not only is it all but certain the Hated One is the entity in the prisonyer you discovered, said prison is breached.¡±

    That sounded like bad news, but hopefully the kind of bad news the Thirteenth would be able to dodge by getting off this treachery-ridden rock.

    ¡°And he¡¯ll need the Watch to either seal that breach or kill what¡¯s left inside,¡± Maryam said. ¡°That <em>is</em> wind at Chca¡¯s back for the next round of talks.¡±

    ¡°Look at you, gone all nautical,¡± Song teased.

    Maryam rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Look at you, all loose-limbed and smiling,¡± she shot back. ¡°Popped your cork with our friend Evander, have you?¡±

    Song¡¯s face was unreadable, which was all the answer she needed. The Tianxi would be sputtering up a storm right now if it weren¡¯t true.

    ¡°Were you able to find out a possible means of entry for Lord Menander?¡± Song calmly asked.

    ¡°Transparent,¡± Maryam chided. ¡°But I¡¯ll spare you, so long as you let me in on a few details when we next sit over wine."

    Song stared her down.

    ¡°This is still a report,¡± her captain chided back.

    Maryam¡¯s brow and she returned the stare undaunted. A moment passed.

    ¡°It had best be plum wine,¡± Song sighed.

    ¡°No promises,¡± Maryam cheerfully replied. ¡°As for the Drakos business, there was an embarrassment of potential entrances once I figured out what to look for: the upper third of the cavern is full of cracks, crevices and passages that could go all the way up to Tratheke.¡±

    ¡°How high a drop?¡±

    ¡°Sixty, eighty feet,¡± she replied. ¡°Not climbing height, it would need ropes.¡±

    ¡°Thus why the cache remained there to be found by the Lord Rector,¡± Songpleted. ¡°Thank you, Maryam. That answers another question.¡±

    It did: Menander Drakos, while a greedy fuck, was no cultist. He had not been grabbing for the old Lissenos papers to find the trail of the Hated One the same way the Thirteenth had.

    ¡°All we need is Angharad finding out whether he has an infernal forge and we can cut him loose,¡± Maryam said. ¡°We¡¯re nearing the end of the road, Song.¡±

    ¡°More than you know,¡± Song replied. ¡°Tristan sent some reports during your absence: we have a name to the assassin that first struck at the Lord Rector. There is a contract between a ¡®H. A.¡¯ and our old acquaintances the Obsidian Order.¡±

    Maryam traced a finger against her palm, Gloam shimmering, and opened her stored memory of the initial suspect list the Lord Rector had given them.

    ¡°Lord Hector Anaidon?¡± she asked. ¡°He had a boon fitting the Golden Ram, as you mentioned.¡±

    ¡°Our current lead suspect,¡± Song said. ¡°Captain Wen refused me the right to arrest him based on mere initials, so we will look at¡­ alternative ways of obtaining information.¡±

    ¡°You want to kidnap him,¡± Maryam amusedly said.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Song ndly denied. ¡°Kidnapping has the implication of asking for a ransom. We would be <em>abducting </em>him.¡±

    The signifier grinned. Maybe Song should take kings for a ride more regrly, it did great things for her sense of humor.

    ¡°We should probably wait for Tristan to return,¡± Maryam noted. ¡°Given how many abduction attempts he¡¯s been involved in, he is our ranking expert.¡±

    Song, perhaps afraid to face the reality that she was captaining a brigade that had such a thing as an abduction expert, cleared her throat and changed tack with aplomb.

    ¡°I personally killed the Obsidian Order contractor and several aplices, so the immediate danger may have passed there,¡± Song said. ¡°Now that I am no longer bound to escort the Lord Rector and we have our ciphers solved, all that remains is to wrap up our investigation.¡±

    ¡°You did what now?¡± Maryam tly asked.

    ¡°It was but a small matter,¡± Song dismissed.

    Maryam leaned forward, squinting.

    ¡°How public was that?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Public enough that I am now believed to be secret bodyguard instead of a mistress,¡± Song said. ¡°That repute has made my presence in the pce much too noticeable, which is what forced Brigadier Chca to free me from escort obligations.¡±

    Because if Song was watched it might lead the cult back to their brigade, so Chca forcing her to continue escort duties and risk that would be direct interference in the Thirteenth¡¯s contract. Good, now their back was covered.

    ¡°Then we will be grabbing Hector Anaidon,¡± Maryam said.

    ¡°As soon as ourst loose ends are wrapped up,¡± Song agreed. ¡°Tristan was to attend a meeting of the conspiracy three days ago, but has not reported since and should currently be faking his deaths. Once he is back and Angharad has finished with Lord Menander, we are free to proceed. Unless you¡¯ve obligations of your own?¡±

    ¡°I need to head back to the pce to report to the Lord Rector about the aether in the shipyard,¡± Maryam said. ¡°And while I¡¯m up there I want to establish where the prisonyer¡¯s entrance is.¡±

    ¡°You think that knowledge could be of import?¡± Song asked.

    She sounded somewhat skeptical. <em>I think that knowledge will put me in a room where I can finish devouring the shade</em>, Maryam thought.

    ¡°I developed a theory about the nature of theyer while I was down there,¡± she said instead. ¡°How it was built, and how the cult might be using it to move around.¡±

    Sheid out the clues she had but together with the shade¡¯s help. How the prisonyer containing the Hated One was as a sk with a bottom, the brackstone shrines, but that it must also have a cork ¨C some mystery location up in the rector¡¯s pce. And thus the most important detail.

    ¡°Whatever they used to first breach thatyer, it lets them enter it wherever the material thins,¡± Maryam acknowledged. ¡°There¡¯s no controlling that. But where they <em>exit</em>? It¡¯s not a coincidence the assassin emerged next to a brackstone shrine. The only exits are the shrines and the ¡®cork¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Meaning that anyone infiltrating the pce will have to pass through there,¡± Song slowly said. ¡°To hold that room would prevent a surprise attack by the cult.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the theory,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Either way, having a closer look should let me confirm or disprove my theory.¡±

    ¡°Potentially very valuable information,¡± Song said. ¡°We are in agreement there ¨C it is as good a use of your time as any until Angharad and Tristan¡¯s matters are settled.¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°Shame we won¡¯t be the first to finish our test,¡± Maryam said, ¡°but so far it hasn¡¯t cost us a corpse and I think we have a good chance at being the second.¡±

    ¡°A very good chance,¡± the silver-eyed woman said. ¡°The Eleventh Brigade came backst night. Whatever it is they found out in the hills, it had them ransack the ck House library.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡± Maryam frowned.

    ¡°Books about the gods of Asphodel,¡± Song said. ¡°Inauspicious, considering they first set out for a seemingly simple exorcism contract.¡±

    ¡°And the Neenth is still chasing their assassin.¡±

    ¡°So we believe,¡± she said. ¡°They have not returned here in six days, though at least on the first we know from Tristan that they were chasing a lead in the Kassa workshop.¡±

    That had Maryam asking why the Neenth would be curious about the workshop, which had Songying out what Tristan had been up to. The Mask runarounds were only to be expected, but his running into some sort of bound god assassin was not. Hopefully at least some of the Neenth would get killed chasing forces beyond their understanding and the rest could be rustled up for the noose. Song did offer one note of dissent there, however.

    ¡°So Izel Coyac got cold feet,¡± Maryam shrugged. ¡°Until he turns on the rest of the traitors, I see no reason for him to have a different fate.¡±

    ¡°If we is willing to testify, it would make rooting out the Ivory Library much easier,¡± Song said.

    ¡°Then let him,¡± Maryam said. ¡°So long as he hangs afterwards.¡±

    The Tianxi sighed.

    ¡°We can set that aside for now,¡± she said. ¡°Tristan will no doubt have his own opinions on the matter.¡±

    Murderous opinions, presumably. As it should be. And considering watchmen who ought to be sent to the gallows brought an earlier encounter to mind.

    ¡°I ran into Tupoc on the way in,¡± she said. ¡°He offered to trade information, hinted he ran into something interesting out in Nitari Heights.¡±

    ¡°We do have interesting bits to trade,¡± Song noted, drumming her fingers at the table.

    ¡°He¡¯s a prick but he doesn¡¯t offer wares he does not have,¡± Maryam said. ¡°It could be worth the price.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t disagree,¡± Song said. ¡°In fact, I believe we might need to broaden the matter.¡±

    ¡°Make a meal out of it?¡± Maryam drily asked. ¡°We thank you for your sacrifice.¡±

    ¡°Bring the Eleventh into this,¡± Song replied. ¡°I want to know what has them so spooked ¨C and if there¡¯s any chance of iting back to haunt us.¡±

    Maryam almost wished her good luck, but then she thought again. Tristan was in the wind and Angharad presumably busy telling the local orphans how the orphans back home had it much better due to the inherent superiority of Mni ways.

    Which meant she would be stuck ying second for Song at that meeting.

    ¡°Balls,¡± sheined.

    Somehow Song failed to be moved by the eloquence of her argument.

    --

    After the debacle that had been thest evening with the Asphodel brigades in the same hall, precautions were taken: only two from each brigade, no food and no liquor.

    Captain Imani of the Eleventh Brigade showed up with her designated second, Thando Fenya, and both the dark-skinned highborn had rings around their eyes. Long nights and little sleep, something Maryam was more than passingly familiar with. She¡¯d had the strangling nightmare every night since the shipyard. For the Fourth it was Tupoc and Alejandra Torrero, who unlike her captain seemed to be taking eptable Losses¡¯ death hard. She looked just as exhausted at the pair of the Eleventh, enough her usual scowl wasckluster.

    They used one of ck House¡¯s private parlors for the talk, and though there was hardly any small talk before the servants brought jugs of water and two tea pots the tendency was towards friendliness. The Neenth¡¯s absence kept things civil, something that Maryam almost could not believe she was thinking when one of the ingredients in the brew was Tupoc Xical.

    ¡°Someone will have to go first,¡± said bastard mused, sipping at his goblet. ¡°Perhaps a little wager to-¡±

    ¡°I will pay upfront,¡± Song tly interrupted.

    Tupoc shot her an irritated look at having cut the grass beneath his feet, but that faded when Song began dangling choice morsels in front of the others. She revealed the existence of a brewing coup ¨C though she named no names ¨C and that the cult of the Golden Ram was heavily involved in it. She even revealed that the contracted assassin who made the first attempt on the Lord Rector had been Obsidian Order and that she had personally killed her.

    ¡°And your Mask?¡± Imani asked.

    ¡°Tracking down the cultists,¡± Song replied without batting an eye.

    Alejandra Torrero instead turned to Maryam, catching her gaze.

    ¡°I hear you were in the shipyard,¡± she said.

    Maryam nodded in acknowledgement.

    ¡°Assessing the aether down there,¡± she said. ¡°I believe I have some understanding of theyer we earlier encountered and its purpose.¡±

    ¡°Which would be?¡± Tupoc frowned.

    Song raised her hand to silence Maryam.

    ¡°My throat is parched,¡± she said, pointedly sipping at her tea.

    Captain Imani snorted, Thandoughed and Tupoc rolled his eyes.

    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± he said. ¡°Our hunt began badly. The dragon was digesting an orchard when we first approached Nitari Heights, so we had to guess where it had retreated to ¨C and the local troops kept making a racket as they shadowed us. Thankfully, we read up on the breed before setting out.¡±

    ¡°Ladonite dragons are very territorial,¡± Alejandra said. ¡°So we had eptable Losses rig up explosives that would make a sound simr to an adult male¡¯s roar and set them off near the heights, where it would echo."

    "It worked<em> too</em> well,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°That same night, just after dark fell, it swept through the mountainside and lit up half the camp of our local friends in the first pass. It did not linger enough for us to get a shot at it, but Alejandra was able to tag it with a Sign.¡±

    ¡°Lieutenant Mitra helped,¡± she said. ¡°Regardless, we slipped away and tracked it down to the cliffside cavern where it dwelled. It had not noticed us, so we decided to strike a decisive first blow.¡±

    ¡°We climbed up half a hundred feet and rigged the cavern to blow while it slept,¡± Tupoc happily said. ¡°Which worked, at the low price of a massivendslide.¡±

    Maryam breathed in.

    ¡°Is that how¡­¡± she trailed off.

    ¡°No, though Expendable twisted his ankle,¡± Alejandra said. ¡°We were waiting for thest stones to settle when we found out there was a second mouth to that cave, hidden even higher up.¡±

    ¡°It hit us out in the open,¡± Tupoc calmly said. ¡°If the cave copse had not mangled a wing, we would all be dead. eptable Losses had grenades and powders in her haversack, and when she was clipped by me¡­¡±

    He popped his hands open, making a fwoosh sound that had most everyone wincing.

    ¡°Bait blinded it with spare grenade, which had it crash,¡± Alejandra grimly said. ¡°I kept its mouth shut so it could not breathe fire again while Expendable and Tupoc went in with spears.¡±

    ¡°I lost an eye ¨C do tell Zenzele it was the same one, Song, I expect he will be jealous ¨C but we got our spears deep in the throat where the nd that sprays the fluid is. It began choking on the liquid, which was distraction enough to pierce its first heart, but it panicked and fled.¡±

    Tupoc shrugged.

    ¡°It was probably going to die, but we had to be sure so we pursued,¡± he said. ¡°That took almost as long as finding the beast, but at some point the Sign ceased moving so we knew it¡¯d likely died to the wounds.¡±

    ¡°It hid the better part of a hundred feet up the cliffside of the Nitari Heights,¡± Alejandra Terrero said. ¡°In a hidden temple we believe was its originalir.¡±

    ¡°Long abandoned,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°It was wrecked and filthy, generations of Ladonite dragonsired there. But we found out why this one went on a rampage in the first ce: someone chased it out. There were signs of fighting inside, at least nine months old, and the dragon had broken scales and healed bullet wounds on the chest.¡±

    ¡°The temple itself was some sort ofrge grave,¡± Alejandra revealed, ¡°but there was a shrine at the back and an altar that must have held some kind of sacred object. Missing and recently taken.¡±

    ¡°Graverobbers,¡± Tupoc sighed, sounding almost fond. ¡°All this trouble because someone wanted to grab an old trinket and make a fortune pawning it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s our part,¡± the scowling signifier added. ¡°On you, Eleventh.¡±

    Eyes moved to the Mni pair, who shared a look before Imani Langa spoke up.

    ¡°Our part is, I fear, significantly less exciting,¡± Captain Imani said. ¡°We are not dealing with a forming god or a remnant, or even some lemure. We found two ritual sites, one having been freshly used.¡±

    ¡°Human sacrifice,¡± Thando said, tone turned detached. Methodical. ¡°The victims were all at least sixteen, most of them Asphodelians with no seeming care to gender. Six died at each site, buried alive. They were awake during, as proved by attempts to w themselves out.¡±

    ¡°It is a ceremony meant to carry prayer directly to the god,¡± Imani said. ¡°One that works, by the way lemures have been fleeing the region ¨C the lingering taint in the aether is what they are migrating to avoid.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°The trouble is that whatever cultists of the Old Night did this, they then erased most traces of the ritual beyond the sacrifice itself. We only know stone altars were used because the river they disposed of the second one in ran thick with rain and spit it back on the shore.¡±

    ¡°Before we learn what deity is being invoked, there is no point in chasing this cult through the hills,¡± Thando added. ¡°If this is all being done to bargain for contracts, as we suspect, then we cannot afford to go in blind.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Tupoc said.

    Several shot surprised looks his way, but Maryam and Song had known him since the Dominion. They knew better.

    ¡°It <em>was </em>boringpared to ours,¡± he added.

    That rather set the tone for the free exchange of informationing to an end, at least the formal part. There was some chatting ¨C Imani was somewhat tantly hitting Song up for information and getting frustrated at the icy wall of Tianxi politeness facing her ¨C and Alejandra took her aside.

    ¡°You got strong again,¡± the other signifier said.

    Maryam shook her head.

    ¡°I have gained my strength back,¡± she corrected.

    Alejandra looked her up and down, scowl tightening.

    ¡°In what we do, Khaimov, there is always a price,¡± she said. ¡°Even the good. <em>Especially </em>the good.¡±

    ¡°And I have been paying mine for years,¡± Maryam coldly replied. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to have every drop of my due.¡±

    ¡°On your head be it,¡± Alejandra grunted. ¡°I¡¯m not your mother.¡±

    <em>Neither am I</em>, Maryam thought. <em>But when I¡¯m done, when I have every kernel it stole from me back?</em>

    Then she would atst be a worthy sessor to Izolda Cernik.

 Chapter 60

    Chapter 60

    The orphanage opening had not been a joyous thing.

    Such institutions were not, Angharad learned, paid for by the Lord Rector or the local ruling lord but by whoever cared to offer coin to them. It was a very disorganized method, which she thought was sure to allow some of the orphaned to slip through the cracks. No wonder crime had such a grip on the capital, with these ¡®basileias¡¯ sprouting everywhere. Failure below could always be traced back to failure above.

    At least it had proved an opportunity to speak with Lord Menander Drakos, something that had risen high in her priorities. The sooner this infernal forge business had an answer, the sooner she could begin climbing out of the pit. The older lord was just as eager for a private talk and it proved remarkably easy to get from him an invitation to the manse Lord Gule had mentioned.

    The reason why could be summed up in two words: Song Ren.

    Song¡¯s heroics were the talk of the entire city, deservedly. She was said to have in so many assassins her dress turned red and taken a shot for the Lord Rector that nearly killed her. Angharad knew the truth of the story, of course, having been told by a mellow Song the afternoon¡¯s genuine events. A mellowness Angharad had deduced was not unrted to the love bites the Tianxi should raise her cor higher to fully hide.

    Scandalous, if not exactly unexpected. No woman spent as much time talking about someone as Song had about Lord Rector Palliades without having <em>some</em> sort of interest in them. It had been either sex or murder, and murder would have been messy.

    Either way, forck of the proper lineage Menander Drakos had not been one of the lords attending the Landing Day feast. He was thus keen to learn the details of what took ce and knew that Angharad, as a watchwoman, would be able to provide them. The consequence of that was that she found herself received in the Drakos manse early in the afternoon of her thirtieth day on Asphodel instead of needing to wait until the regr dinner that Lord Gule had mentioned to her.

    A pretext was even arranged for it, given how the ploy with the inheritance rumors would only go so far in erasing the taint on her reputation her visit to the country had left. Lord Menander was one of the patrons for the orphanage, which made him one of the men to speak with should one seek to arrange a charitable donation.

    Song had even been willing to loosen the purse strings for it, though rather than out of phnthropic instinct it was because reimed brigade funds not spent directly on cabalists were often repaid in full by the bureaucrats of the Conve. It would make no difference to the children.Angharad avoided directly sponsoring one despite the offer and it apparently being themon practice, as such amitment would tie her to return to Asphodel and she was not sure she would be able to. No, instead she donated to the cause of furnishing the children with an education. A more practical application of the funds, in her opinion.

    Lord Menander seemed surprised when she sat with him over tea and asked questions as to the nature of the books and tutors that would be acquired, which was puzzling. All the more that he did not seem all that well informed on the particrs and had to send for his majordomo for answers. She hid her disapproval at his taking such a seriousmitment so lightly, and let the subject pass after she was satisfied the coin would not be improperly used.

    Lord Menander was much more taken with talk of the Landing Day massacre, most interested when Angharad hinted that there might have been Izcalli involvement. In truth there was little doubt those had been the same assassins Tristan warned them of. The Watch had obtained some of the ky false faces the assassins had worn, and officers in ck House identified the substance as a kind of lemure corpse ash that could be used to make very convincing false skin.

    The trick was, it was rumored, a favorite of the Obsidian Order. Between these getting on the wrong side of Song¡¯s wrath and Yaretzi dying to her hand on the Dominion, she was viciously pleased to see the pack of assassins having a lousy year.

    Still, now that the mustachioed lord was happily garnished with hints and secrets it was time to pull the rug from under him. Angharad set down her porcin cup ¨C Tianxi-made, its unique imperfections and details showing it had been crafted by hand in a disy of wealth ¨C on the matching saucer and smiled at the man across the table. Agreeable and empty, the way Father had taught her.

    ¡°Pleasant as this conversation has been,¡± Angharad said, ¡°I am afraid that this time I came on Watch business.¡±

    Lord Menander¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°By all means, I am at the disposal of the Watch,¡± he said. ¡°How may I be of service?¡±

    ¡°It hase to our attention that you might be in possession of an artifact whose ownership is forbidden under the Iscariot ords,¡± she smilingly replied.

    The older man stilled, then swallowed.

    ¡°I suspect you were taken in by a false rumor,¡± he imed with false calm. ¡°All my dealings in the artifact trade have been legal and on record, I assure you. My ount books are open for perusal if there is need.¡±

    Angharad sipped at her cup. Let him stew.

    ¡°You did not <em>buy</em> the artifact in question,¡± she said. ¡°It is part of the shipyard trove you¡­ salvaged through the hidden passage. The one we assume was first found by your forebears around the reign of Hector Lissenos.¡±

    Part of her, she would admit, enjoyed watching him go white as a sheet. After all the wheeling and dealing, how he had known he was too useful to refuse insights into Watch matters, to now tighten the screws on the man was a petty but distinct pleasure. Lord Menander licked his lips, eyes flicking to the door. Angharad sipped at her tea again.

    ¡°You are,¡± Menander Drakos said in a strangled voice, ¡°formidably well informed.¡±

    ¡°Our brigade has proved to have some skill in matters of investigation,¡± Angharad mildly said. ¡°ess to pce archives helped, admittedly.¡±

    She drummed her fingers against the table, the small movement drawing the man¡¯s wary eyes.

    ¡°While it is within the authority of the Watch to demand ess to your collection for inspection,¡± Angharad said, ¡°such a thing would be an official process. One involving the office of the Lord Rector, given that the justification for the demand invokes an article of the Iscariot ords.¡±

    And now Angharad had given him two things: first, a reason to fear a formal demand. Bringing in the pce would involve revealing to Evander Palliades that one of his nobles had helped himself to the treasures beneath Tratheke, and that the path to his shipyard was not nearly as secret as he might have wanted. Odds were even that Menander Drakos would die for this, Angharad would wager. Even should he not, he would be ruined.

    On the other hand, a formal process would also publicly reveal the identities of at least some the Thirteenth Brigade since the cabal would be the one making the demand. Song, at the very least, would be definitively outed as a watchwoman. It might be that Angharad¡¯s cover would survive the ensuing scrutiny, it might not. Either way the Thirteenth had good reason to want to keep the matter unofficial, and thus Menander Drakos had good reason to trust in their discretion.

    It was best when reward and punishment were cut from the same cloth, Father had often said. It helped people grasp the swing of consequence.

    ¡°There is no need for such a thing,¡± Menander Drakos firmly said. ¡°As I told you, I am at the disposal of the Watch. If a dangerous artifact inadvertently made its way onto my hands, it is my civic duty to remand it to the custody of the Watch.¡±

    ¡°A most praiseworthy attitude,¡± Angharad said, her tone only slightly ironic. ¡°I expect that discretionary funds have been set aside by the Conve to acknowledge such dutiful behavior, though I would understand if you felt such pecuniary matters to be beneath¡­¡±

    ¡°I would not risk giving offense to the Conve by refusing itsrgesse,¡± Lord Menander hastily intervened.

    It would be unkind, she reminded herself, to judge him too harshly for being so grasping. His house had nearly been driven out of the ranks of the nobility under the Lissenos dynasty, only iming back a ce at court under the Palliades ¨C and reaching a new apex of influence under Menander Drakos himself, by the talk around the capital. Whatever his vices, the man had toiled long and harshly to restore the name of his house.

    A respectable enterprise, if undertaken through less than respectable means. What kind of a man robbed his own liege lord?

    ¡°It may be that, as you said, this is mere erroneous rumor,¡± Angharad said. ¡°It should be a simple matter to dismiss the possibility upon an inspection.¡±

    He blinked.

    ¡°Today?¡± he asked, hesitating. ¡°I was not prepared for¡­¡±

    <em>Of course you aren¡¯t</em>, Angharad thought. <em>That is precisely why I am asking.</em> She said nothing, only smiling pleasantly, and the man¡¯s eyes eventually tightened.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Lord Menander said. ¡°Allow me to make the arrangements, I¡¯ll have a servant refill the pot.¡±

    ¡°That would be courteous of you,¡± Angharad replied.

    It took the man half an hour to prepare, long enough she finished the second pot and some fine finger cakes with it. She¡¯d never tasted that sugary almond cream before, it was a delight to the tongue. When a servant came to fetch her it was to bring her to a parlor on the first floor. Lord Menander was waiting there with a torch in hand, which he pressed against a burning candle to light up.

    ¡°Kindly lock the door, Lady Angharad,¡± he requested.

    She did, turning to watch him slide open a wooden panel in the wall that was obscuring a dark and cramped stairway leading down.

    ¡°Careful with the steps,¡± he advised. ¡°Despite my best efforts the stone insists on dampness.¡±

    ¡°Much obliged,¡± she replied, inclining her head.

    Angharad gingerly made her way down the stairs, leaning on her cane. They spiraled downwards on a steep slope, until they reached a level that must broadly be equal to beneath the mansion. She found Lord Menander waiting at the bottom with his torch in hand. Telling that it was not another man doing it for him even when the smell of smoke was sure to cling to his oiled hair. The older lord did not trust even his servants with knowledge of the crypt.

    ¡°Come,¡± Menander Drakos said. ¡°Let me show you the inventory.¡±

    It was a walk of mere steps through the threshold and into a broader space. Though the insides were but a single room, work had been done here to turn some decrepit basement crypt into a showcase of stolen wealth. Red drapes covered the walls and beautiful panels of wood and ss kept pristine the riches obtained from far below Tratheke. Lord Menander lit the four braziers in the room one after another while Angharad limped across a thick Izcalli carpet,bing through the loot.

    Much of what was on disy here were mere trinkets of Antediluvian make, though even these were often worth a fortune. If not for the wealthy collectors buying them then simply for the materials from which they were made ¨C Angharad found a brooch whose ents were in brumal silver, for example, and thus almost certainly worth thousands of ramas.

    Rings and nes, bracelets and buckles. A spread of ss pearls containing colored, ever-shifting air. A pendulum whose weight went all the way around, uncaring of gravity. Two sculpted monkeys in Tratheke brass that moved the needles of an obsidian clock without hours. The further back she went, therger the finds became. Some sort of glittering machine that knit the air in visible braids, though for what purpose she could only guess. A brass writing desk with shifting cogs inside.

    And then, tucked away near the corner, the secondrgest piece on disy: a thing of gray iron, a toorge printing press with corkscrew handles pressing arge b down on another adorned with so many cryptoglyphs it looked smooth at first nce. The infernal forge. It could be nothing else. Despite its size straining Angharad¡¯s ability to believe it had been brought up through a crevasse, there was no sign of it being scuffed or damaged.

    ¡°Is that the one?¡± Lord Menander asked from her side, stroking his mustache nervously.

    ¡°Almost certainly,¡± Angharad replied. ¡°If I may ask, how did you get it in here? The stairs are too narrow.¡±

    ¡°There is a passage to the Tratheke sewers behind one of the tapestries,¡± he informed her. ¡°Much broader than the stairway, though I had it sealed to avoid the stink.¡±

    She nodded, mind already spinning. It would be child¡¯s y to obtain a map of the sewers in this part of Tratheke from the pce archives, she thought. And without being seen, too, if she used her daily vision to acquire the knowledge discreetly. She could apany Maryam on one of her near-daily visits to the pce, find some excuse requiring her presence.

    After that it would just be a matter of confirming the path to this crypt anding here with the right tools. Tools, she thought, that Uncle Osian could obtain without trouble<em>. It is in my grasp</em>, she thought. <em>Ancestors, but it is.</em> She was not sure if the breath that rattled out of her was fearful or relieved. When you stood on the edge of the precipice, the line between the two could be thinner than one liked to admit.

    ¡°I believed it some manner of Antediluvian printing press,¡± Lord Menander spoke into the silence, as if afraid of leaving it empty. ¡°Would be it indiscreet to ask what it truly is?¡±

    Angharad almost told him it was but decided otherwise. Telling him of infernal involvement meant he would be most wary of trying to get rid of the forge or allow it to be stolen ¨C it might be seen as colluding with Hell.

    ¡°The device is called an infernal forge and it is illegal under the Iscariot ords for anyone but the Watch, or Pandemonium, to possess one,¡± she told him.

    The older man swallowed.

    ¡°Is it¡­ dangerous?¡± he ventured.

    ¡°Not unless it is used,¡± Angharad said then paused and rified. ¡°Not any more than the possession of a rare artifact others might desire generally is, anyhow.¡±

    Especially when Lord Locke and Lady Keys had hinted at Song that thetter was a devil. Angharad might well be looking at the reason those two hade to Asphodel in the first ce. If the Watch could hear rumor of such a device being on the loose, why not Pandemonium? <em>Though it does seem passing strange that a treasure tucked away in a basement would cause any rumor at all</em>, she thought.

    Lord Menander shot her a wary look.

    ¡°I must rely, then, on your discretion,¡± he said.

    ¡°I have no intention of spreading the knowledge any further than I must,¡± she precisely replied. ¡°Though once it is on a written report, that will be out of my hands.¡±

    ¡°Understandable,¡± he grudgingly said, the coughed into his hand. ¡°When might I rely on the Watch to take custody of the artifact, do you think?¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Discretion will be paramount,¡± she said. ¡°I will personally see to this matter, but it might well be days before you receive word. Until then, I would advise you to forget you ever saw the device.¡±

    ¡°Would that I had never obtained it,¡± Lord Menander grimly said. ¡°My thanks for your assistance, Lady Tredegar.¡±

    ¡°It was a pleasure,¡± Angharad replied, inclining her head.

    A pleasure to finally know for sure, mostly, but a pleasure nheless.

    Lord Menander escorted her back up after, visibly eager to have her out of his home under the smooth manners. She did not fight it, allowing herself to be bundled off back into a carriage with absent-minded courtesies. She had much to think on, after all. She had the location of the infernal forge, a discreet way to get to it and two ufudu who wanted it. Now all that Angharad needed was a way to settle all her debts without dragging the Thirteenth into it.

    She told Song, that night, not to send the report to Brigadier Chca immediately. That the Watch might be tempted to grab it immediately, thus interfering with Angharad¡¯s infiltration of the Golden Ram cult. Song epted, not thinking twice of it.

    Angharad found she avoided her own gaze in the mirror that night. She dreamt of unlocked doors and creatures howling in the night.

    --

    Today was the tenth attempt, and she had learned much.

    By the third try Angharad had begun relying on blowing open the door with a powder barrel, which neatly sidestepped herck of lockpicking skills. By the fourth she had, mostly, learned to do this without killing herself. Difficulties unfortunately did not cease there. The fifth attempt taught her that too much powder set everything inside the room on fire, which was not ideal when attempting to read correspondence, then the sixth that too <em>little</em> powder only blew up parts of the door.

    Which was a problem, as the Sign anchored in it would then keep functioning and eat through whatever flesh passed the threshold. Angharad was getting a little tired of having her arm devoured by Gloam, to be frank.

    (The powder smoke tasted thick against the roof her mouth as Angharad limped in.

    Chunks of the door had torn up the desk where Captain Domingo¡¯s private papers were stashed but most of the papers were fine, if strewn all over the floor. There was nothing truly useful in the drawers anyhow: only paperwork, formal correspondence and some derivative attempts at poetry.

    The locked drawer had cost her the seventh attempt, only to learn that beyond the vicious warding Sign was only a t stone put there to add weight. She ignored the mess, heading straight for the trunk by the bed. Padlocked and barded with iron, the dead end of her eighth attempt.

    She wedged a metal spike into the lock and waited until the warding Sign ate through it ¨C ninth attempt ¨C but the second spike settled in fine. Twice she swung the hammer, wincing at the way it pulled on her leg, and the padlock broke. Having learned her lesson from the locked drawer she lifted the trunk open with a long wooden spoon from the kitchens instead of even a gloved hand.

    Nothing. No other Sign. Noticeable one, anyhow. Tristan had warned her of tracking marks.

    Inside the trunk were silken clothes, tasteful jewelry, several books bearing no titles but whose first pages bore the sigil of the Akrre Guild and finally a pouch of documents. Angharad touched thatst with the spoon first, but it did not prove trapped either. She went through the papers then and there, reading them in the light from the hall ¨C it was only a matter of time until Captain Domingo arrived, she must hurry.

    The first paper was some sort medical recipe, she set it aside. The second was a formal document with a Rookery stamp serving as a promissory note good at any Watch branch for a significant but not unreasonable sum of money. Navigators <em>were</em> said to get some of the most lucrative contracts. Thest however, was finally progress: a formal assignment from the ¡®Lesser Committee for the Trebian Northwest¡¯.

    Skimming through, Angharad stopped cold when she got to the core of the duties outlined. Namely, assessing Brigadier Chca for undue influences. In particr that of the ¡®Ivory Library¡¯, an informal Watch research association and correspondence society.

    Running in the hall. Time had run out.

    ¡°What manner of <em>madness </em>is-¡±)

    Angharad breathed out, emerging from the vision, and frowned at the closed door.

    That Captain Domingo had been given that assignment by the roster of officers who effectively ruled Scholomance implied either staggering ipetence on their part or good reason to believe that Domingo Santos was not a member of the Ivory Library. Considering that she was used topetence in the upper ranks of the Watch, if also an unfortunate degree of graft and intrigue, that likely meant Song¡¯s deduction that the Navigator was the traitor was false.

    Either Song¡¯s other suspect was the one or the real traitor had gone unnoticed.

    Rolling her shoulder, Angharad resumed limping down the hall on her way to breakfast. Now that she had answers, something to hold up as a favor done to Song for all the favors she had received in turn, she was finallyfortable having a conversation she had put off too long. Not that Song had broached the subject since her return either.

    The captain of the Thirteenth Brigade was not difficult to find. Now that even Brigadier Chca had been forced to admit that sending her back to the pce would be effectively sabotaging the Thirteenth on their yearly test, she had been spending much of her free time looking into Lord Hector Anaidon as a prelude to grabbing him for interrogation. In an hour Song would thus be gone in the wind, but at the moment it was time for breakfast.

    That rather simplified finding her.

    Angharad limped into the eating hall, easing herself into the seat next to Song ¨C opposite a scowling Maryam begrudging the world having been robbed a longer night¡¯s rest ¨C and leaning in for a whisper.

    ¡°Not Santos,¡± she said. ¡°The Obscure Committee has him watching Chca formon interests with Tristan¡¯s¡­ acquaintances.¡±

    Song stilled, then slowly nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯ll want a full report,¡± she whispered back.

    ¡°Come up to the roof after breakfast,¡± Angharad told her.

    She then leaned forward, helping herself to the te of sausages. The Asphodelian seasoning had grown on her and using the vision always left her feeling strangely starved.

    --

    Angharad liked to oil her sword up here.

    The view of the city was stunning, the great panes of the Collegium like a waterfall of ss under the light of the re, and it was rare for anyone but Navigators to visit and break the quiet. Hard to eavesdrop, as well, given the open grounds. Truly, the great difficulty of it was Angharad having to make her way up the stairs. These days she was no longer out of breath at the end, her lungs almost returned to her, but the weakness in the legs remained.

    Waiting for Song, she lost herself in the work. Hers was an artfully crafted de and Angharad intended to treat it ordingly. She had reced her old washing cloth with soft sheepskin leather and now oiled the saber every two days instead of three. It was soothing, running the leather down the span of steel to rub the oil into it. Ritual and functional all at once, keeping the hand and mind busy.

    She only looked up the once when she heard the steps, long enough to confirm it was Song sitting down by her side on the bench.

    ¡°Tell me everything,¡± the captain ordered.

    It was not a long report. She could have recited the exact text of the Obscure Committee¡¯s assignment, but Song was more interested in the contents than the phrasing.

    ¡°Not him, then,¡± the silver-eyed woman conceded. ¡°I misread Shu Gong.¡±

    ¡°What had you set on Captain Santos, anyhow?¡± Angharad idly asked.

    A moment of silence.

    ¡°Generalck of conspiratorial acumen,¡± Song finally said. ¡°Watching her be taken for a ride by every street merchant she encountered had me doubting her as an agent on the ground for the Ivory Library.¡±

    ¡°Likely she isn¡¯t,¡± Angharad mused. ¡°Their society seems influential, but it is hardly all-powerful ¨C given the importance of the delegation to Asphodel, it may be that she was merely the only member they <em>could</em> get into the roster.¡±

    ¡°The reigning theory, now that Santos is discredited as a suspect,¡± Song acknowledged, leaning back into her seat. ¡°She will at least be significantly easier to intimidate.¡±

    Sleeping God, she ought to be. If Domingo Santos could kill her repeatedly using nothing but traps, she shuddered to think what he might be like in a genuine fight. Oh, signifiers had their weaknesses ¨C direct re, for one, which was why so few rose to prominence in Mn ¨C but there were few things that could strip them of their entire power. It seemed intrinsically bound to them in some way.

    Sliding her hand down the de, Angharad took a long breath and broke what was turning into afortable silence.

    ¡°Before I left,¡± she said, ¡°I spoke of a conversation overdue between us.¡±

    A moment passed.

    ¡°So you did,¡± Song acknowledged.

    She did not raise her eyes from the de, but then she hardly needed to. The noblewoman could almost hear Song tense, like an already-taut string being pulled to the edge of the snap.

    ¡°What truly happened that night, Song?¡± Angharad asked.

    A silence followed, broken only by the sound of the mirror-dancer smoothing the oiled leather down the length of her saber. There was an odd sort of beauty to an oiled de, she had always thought. One born as much from the satisfaction of the work as the lustrous tint leant to the steel. Song rose to her feet, by the sound of it folding her arms under her chest.

    ¡°What you are really asking,¡± Song finally said, ¡°is how Isabel Ruesta died.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s fingers clenched, only the prospect of slicing leather onto the sharp de mastering the twitch.

    ¡°Do not put words into my mouth,¡± she warned. ¡°I asked what I asked, nothing more or less.¡±

    There were things she regretted about the aftermath of that vicious trial, but to this day walking away from the Thirteenth was not one of them. She envied what had formed without her, the thought that she could have been part of it instead, but Angharad also knew better. Things had not simply changed after she left. They had changed in no small part <em>because </em>she left.

    Not because she had been so beloved of all ¨C ha! - but because her departure was simply toorge a hole for the brigade to keep papering over.

    ¡°I shot her,¡± Song Ren suddenly said.

    Angharad sharply breathed in, the hand on her de stopping as her eyes rose to find a silver gaze shying away from her own. She had not expected so blunt a confession. Or for Song to suddenly turn into the sort of woman flinching away from the consequences of the choices she made. If anything, the Tianxi was prone to the arrogance of believing all the choices were hers to make and thus the consequences equally so.

    ¡°That is not the whole of it,¡± she said. ¡°What else?¡±

    Song hesitated and Angharad felt something cold sliding down her veins, halfway between rage and seawater.

    ¡°Oh, but would you just <em>end </em>this?¡± she bit out. ¡°All of this, these¡­ tiresome ys of half-truths and tricks. What is it you are so afraid of, Song? I will notmit violence on you, you ought to know that, and you have already survived standing low in my esteem.¡±

    The Tianxi¡¯s jaw clenched.

    ¡°I do not know if I killed Isabel Ruesta,¡± Song said.

    For half a heartbeat Angharad felt like calling her a liar, but then she parsed through the sentence. The spoken and unspoken. <em>I do not know if ¡®I¡¯ killed Isabel Ruesta</em>, that was what was being said. Song had not been the only one trying. And Tupoc¡¯s words were yet fresh in her mind. There had been more than one person up on the stairs before the tower, aiming a musket.

    ¡°Ferranda shot her as well,¡± Angharad whispered in horrified realization.

    ¡°A heartbeat before I did,¡± Song quietly admitted. ¡°I shot through the smoke, so I do not know whose bullet slew her.¡±

    The other woman¡¯s tone was small, as if¡­ Angharad didn¡¯t know as if what. And was not sure she cared, because all she could think about was how it had felt that night, to turn and find Isabel Ruesta dead on the ground. How it had not even urred to her that they might not all be on the same side when facing hollow cultists attempting to murder them all.

    How, in thatpany surrounding her afterwards, there had been more liars than not.

    ¡°You watched me go to Ferranda,¡± Angharad finally said, tone dangerously mild, ¡°and spoke not a word. Even as I tried to make a ce with the Thirty-First you said nothing. Knowing what you just told me all this time, you still said <em>nothing</em>.¡±

    Song¡¯s jaw set.

    ¡°I knew Ferranda would not ill-use you,¡± she said. ¡°That she would take-¡±

    ¡°Am I a child, Song?¡± Angharad softly asked.

    The other woman frowned, then shook her head.

    ¡°I-¡±

    ¡°You must believe me ackwit, then,¡± Angharad coldly interrupted. ¡°Else why would you evere under the impression that you should get to make that choice<em> for</em> me?¡±

    Ancestors, she had left the Thirteenth believing it to be poison only to reach for another tainted cup without batting an eye. Made a fool again. And again, when Ferranda then judged her too much trouble and cast her out. And <em>again</em>, when she was forced to return to the Thirteenth a beggar. Every time she thought she saw a clear sky there was a storm in it, a bleak spot of Gloam her eye somehow missed. It was as if all of Vesper was conspiring to prove her the worst kind of fool.

    Sleeping God, perhaps she was. She had been led around like one for long enough it might be half a lie to deny it.

    ¡°I have done you insult,¡± Song cast into the silence.

    Tone resolute. As if this were a task to approach, abor to undertake. And that was the droplet that tipped it, really. That Song still thought of this as <em>work</em>. Upkeep for the Thirteenth Brigade, not any kind of rtion between the two of them.

    ¡°I don¡¯t even care about the insult,¡± Angharad bleakly replied. ¡°It is the disregard, Song. The¡­ck of respect.¡±

    She let out a darkugh.

    ¡°You know, even as we parted ways I struggled,¡± she said. ¡°Because lowered as my esteem of you might have been, there was still respect there ¨C enough to wonder at your reasons, at your choices. You earned that on the Dominion, and I thought I¡¯d earned the same from you.¡±

    Slowly, carefully, she set the saber down on the bench besides her. She itched to make fists, to scream, and though control stayed the impulse the levees would break. All levees did.

    ¡°I thought that because you treated me with kindness that meant you were kind,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Or that because you had lied you were a liar. But you are neither. You were just¡­ taming a horse, weren¡¯t you?¡±

    Neither the carrot nor the stick were a lie, they were just a method. Fool she once again, not to have seen them for what they were.

    ¡°Oh, get over yourself.¡±

    The anger in Song¡¯s voice startled her enough that she did not spit out what rested on the edge of her lips. Not until she turned and found Song Ren looking at her with cold anger in those silver eyes ¨C brumal pools, unflinching in the face of her own anger. Good, she thought. Anger, at least, was honest.

    ¡°I shot Isabel Ruesta because she had a maniption contract that she constantly and liberally used on the strongest fighter in our group,¡± Song harshly said. ¡°I shot Isabel Ruesta because she was a useless parasite who schemed to get rid of other trial-takers and was growing increasingly desperate in her attempts to secure safety at any cost.¡±

    ¡°And you did not think to simply offer that safety instead of murdering her?¡± Angharad bit back, voice rising.

    ¡°No, Angharad, I didn¡¯t volunteer to put my life on the line keeping a mind-altering leech feeling happy,¡± Song retorted just as loudly. ¡°Mainly, I assume, because unlike you I wasn¡¯t trying to<em> fuck</em> the leech.¡±

    ¡°No, just the Lord Rector of Asphodel,¡± Angharad scorned.

    Song did not bat an eye. Or even acknowledge the hypocrisy.

    ¡°Tawang as my witness, but if Ruesta had lived through that I would have still killed her,¡± Song said. ¡°She was too much of a problem to be allowed to fester.¡±

    ¡°She just wanted to live, Song,¡± Angharad shouted.

    She did not remember getting on her feet, had not noticed before the ache in her knee.

    ¡°We all wanted to live!¡± Song shouted back. ¡°Only either she could not control her contract, which made her a threat, or she <em>would not </em>control her contract ¨C which made her even more of a threat!¡±

    ¡°We were mere days away from Cantica,¡± Angharad said. ¡°She did not <em>have </em>to die, Song. You just decided that I needed protecting from myself, so you made another choice for me. You wanted a trophy mirror-dancer without attachments you disapproved of.¡±

    She bared her teeth.

    ¡°So you shot the attachment.¡±

    Song went red, flushed with anger, and her fists balled.

    ¡°Maybe it was not as cleanly tactical a decision as I told it,¡± she bit out. ¡°I resented her, it¡¯s true, for making a mess of the whole situation. But if you think for a moment I would kill out of resentment alone, then I wonder why you are bothering with this conversation.¡±

    ¡°Because I thought you were my friend,¡± Angharad hissed. ¡°I thought I had left behind the smiling liars that were using me on the Dominion, only now I find that you wereughing at me the whole time! You never trusted me, Song. Not with any of the secrets you told Maryam, or even Tristan ¨C who even when you looked at him like filth on your boots, you still treated like a man who made his own fucking choices.¡±

    Her breathing was ragged, her hands trembling.

    ¡°This entire time, the secrets I have kept have been <em>eating me up</em>,¡± Angharad raged. ¡°And I med myself, I med Tristan for being who the world made him into and Maryam for how I could not look her in the eye without seeing my home burning writ a thousand times ¨C but, Ancestors, I looked everywhere but the right ce.¡±

    Even through red fury sheughed, the sound ripped right out of her throat like a sob with teeth.

    ¡°<em>Sleeping God</em>, Song, the poison was you the whole time.¡±

    But not Song alone. Even with the rage in her blood, she remembered that. And she was so tired of it, the lies and the deception. Let it end. Let it be made clean.

    ¡°The Lefthand House is leveraging me,¡± she said, ¡°like the Yellow Earth is you. They im my father lived, that he is being held in Tintavel and only they can help me get him out.¡±

    She shook her head.

    ¡°They are lying, I expect,¡± Angharad admitted out loud for the first time. ¡°If not about his survival, then about helping me. But I will give them what they want anyway.¡±

    Because it might be the truth. Because the hope was better than nothing, even if it was a fool¡¯s hope.

    ¡°What did they ask?¡± Song quietly said.

    She snorted.

    ¡°In what mad world do I trust you enough to answer that?¡± Angharad replied.

    Like a forest fire, the rage had swept through her and left little behind. Ashes, exhaustion, the sense that something beautiful had been snatched away forever. She just felt tired now, too old in a too-broken body and a world that could not seem to croak out a truth no matter how hard you squeezed it demanding one. Song breathed out, smoothed her hands down her sides.

    ¡°I have been arrogant,¡± she said. ¡°And you¡­¡±

    The Tianxi licked her lips.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Song said. ¡°I had no right to decide for you. I should have told you everything from the start.¡±

    That was not nothing. And Song had not lied to her, not outright. But the words were so veryte in the telling.

    ¡°If you had told me that before we reached Scholomance, fool me, I might well have forgiven you,¡± Angharad bitterly said. ¡°But you sat on it for months. Watched me make a fool of myself with Vizur, halfway kill myself in ayer achieving nothing.¡±

    She clenched her fist.

    ¡°Would it have been so hard,¡± Angharad asked in an all too brittle voice, ¡°to fight for me like you did the others?¡±

    There was no apology in that silver gaze.

    ¡°I fought the battles I believed I could win,¡± Song quietly replied. ¡°You were not one of them.¡±

    The Tianxi passed a hand through her hair.

    ¡°It was not a kindness on either of us, for you to be forced back to the Thirteenth,¡± she said. ¡°We were¡­ you looked <em>happier</em>, when you lived with the Thirty-First.¡±

    ¡°That cottage felt like a prison,¡± Angharad bleakly said. ¡°It was relief to leave it. But that relief was a lie.¡±

    Song said nothing for a while, then breathed out.

    ¡°I won¡¯t ask you to forgive me.¡±

    <em>That is what people say</em>, Angharad thought, <em>when they want you to forgive them anyway.</em>

    ¡°You don¡¯t forgive a wound,¡± she simply replied. ¡°It heals or it kills you.¡±

    She turned, snatched up her de from the bench and sheathed it.

    ¡°I have work to do,¡± Angharad said. ¡°A meeting to arrange with Lord Gule. It would be best if we did not speak beyond the necessary for a time, I think.¡±

    Song silently nodded. Angharad belted her saber and took her walking stick, beginning the winding path down the stairs. She left Song to drown in that silence, alone on the roof. And though that talk had been a wretched thing ¨C left a scar of disappointment where she had thought the skin too rough for scarring ¨C some part of her felt lighter for it.

    A little less like a wolf and a little more like Angharad Tredegar.

 Chapter 61

    Chapter 61

    ¡°Huh,¡± Maryam said when the tale was done, honestly a little impressed. ¡°That¡¯s not just a fumble, it¡¯s a disastrous fumble.¡±

    ¡°I am not unaware,¡± Song replied through gritted teeth.

    Oh, she hadn¡¯t liked that.

    ¡°A cmitous fumble,¡± Maryam continued.

    The teeth grit harder, but not hard enough. Another log must be tossed into the fire.

    ¡°Perhaps even a <em>cataclysmic </em>fumb-¡±

    ¡°<em>Maryam</em>,¡± Song hissed angrily.

    ¡°Fine, fine, I¡¯ll stop,¡± Maryam lied.

    She would give her captain an hour of peace at most. asions to hold Song¡¯s feet to the fire until the room smelled of pork were too rare not to thoroughly abuse when they popped up. It was like corn, you had to get your fill when it was the season for the crop.In a sign of genuine distress, Song Ren had for once in her life refused an offer to sit down for tea when she came to Maryam looking like she did not know whether to scream or throw up. Instead the visibly troubled Tianxi ¨C the visible part was yet another warning sign ¨C had sat on her bed with her knees folded against her chest, holding one of the single dryest historical chronicles Maryam had ever disinterestedly paged through the same way a child would a nket.

    As a good friend, the signifier had refrained from eating the nuts in a bowl on the table since the crunching noise might distract some from the tale being told. Even though she was pretty hungry. Cashews, though. She would be getting back to thoseter.

    ¡°It does not sound unsalvageable, if that¡¯s your worry,¡± Maryam shrugged. ¡°Say what you will about Angharad Tredegar, but if she is finished with you there will be nothing uncertain about it.¡±

    Neither frosty disdain nor public stabbings left a lot of room for spection as to the Pereduri¡¯s opinions.

    ¡°I may well have killed any friendship there was between us,¡± Song sharply said.

    ¡°Then you killed that back on the Dominion when you pulled that trigger,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Everything that has been built since that moment was a manor on quicksand.¡±

    She met Song¡¯s gaze unflinching until the silver eyes turned away. Killing the infanzona had not been a moment of pride, whatever else might might be said of it.

    ¡°Ruesta was too dangerous to continue letting loose,¡± Song said. ¡°Even within days of Angharad knowing about her contract she had her charmed and toeing the line of her promises again.¡±

    ¡°All that Mni ever do is toe the line of their given oaths,¡± Maryam snorted. ¡°They tie themselves up in knots and call it an honor when they figure out how to live with what give there is in the rope.¡±

    She cleared her throat when Song turned an unimpressed look on her. However true, her words had drifted some from the matter at hand.

    ¡°You made the decision that Isabel Ruesta should be killed,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Fair enough. I am not certain I would have made the same - and I know Tristan would not have, if only in the hope that released back into Sacromonte that snake might yet bite other infanzones ¨C but part of the trials was to make those decisions. It was your right to make that choice, and even to hide it.¡±

    That was part of the trials as well, after all. To clip the wings of threats and get away with it, to make the right allies and the right enemies. The Watch was looking for killers and survivors, not would-be martyrs. Maryam did not begrudge Angharad how she had yed the trials, trying to save as many as she could and holding to gantry asw, but it would be childish to pretend hers had been the only valid path.

    Tupoc Xical had spent his entire stay malingering, betraying and murdering but the Academy had still weed him with open arms at the end.

    ¡°That is not how <em>she </em>sees it, evidently,¡± Song muttered.

    ¡°That¡¯s because when the trial ended, you didn¡¯t tell her the truth,¡± Maryam said, and hesitated.

    It did not escape the silver gaze.

    ¡°What?¡±

    The Izvorica sighed. She was not eager to get into whaty between the two of them, but she supposed she owed Song as much.

    ¡°I¡¯ve sat across a table from Angharad Tredegar quite a bit, over thest month,¡± she said. ¡°And she¡¯s not¡­ inflexible, at least not in the way we sometimes assume of her. She would not be able to use her contract the way she does if that were the case. You keep missing it because you have the Tianxi blinders on.¡±

    ¡°Pardon me?¡± Song said, a tad coolly.

    ¡°Your people love an absolute, Song,¡± Maryam bluntly replied. ¡°It¡¯s in the bones of everything you make and do. All are free under Heaven, yes?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t follow,¡± Song frowned.

    ¡°Your poetry is always about how that moonlit night is the most beautiful there ever was, that tragedy the most despairing. Your enemies are the most wretched, your affairs the most sensual. Everything Tianxia does is on a bedrock of universal truth.¡±

    ¡°I am unsure whether or not I should take offense to that description,¡± the other woman admitted.

    Maryam rolled her eyes. Only gods and fools took offense to their reflection in theke.

    ¡°My point is, the Mni do not have that,¡± she said. ¡°All their truths are circumstantial. Limited.¡±

    Song blinked.

    ¡°That is madness,¡± she slowly said. ¡°Mni are famously obsessed with an unbending code of honor.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s reputation, Song,¡± Maryam chided. ¡°Look at how they <em>act</em>, though. They qualify every sentence, word them to get around potential lies, say ¡®I believed¡¯ or ¡®I think¡¯ instead of ¡®it is¡¯. The only way they can function is by putting every action they take or witness in a little box that separates if from every other action taken.¡±

    Sometimes she thought that the way they were able to swallow something like very so easily was that their honor was not so much about espousing good deeds as containing fault.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Song trailed off. ¡°Well, one of the most interesting interpretations I have heard of Mni customs, but also a different discussion.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Because my point is Tredegar thinks exactly like that. If you had told her at the end of the trials she would have understood you deceiving her as being ¡®part of the trial¡¯, a closed garden where that action remains reprehensible but is allowed by the rules. But then you <em>kept</em> lying by omission when the only circumstances between you two were purely personal, so that part she can only take personally.¡±

    Men tolerated things from a practitioner or a king they would not from a brother, even though they loved the brother better. The role mattered as much the act, sometimes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see what difference what you said makes,¡± Song admitted. ¡°In the end, however roundabout the path the conclusion is still that she is angry at me for withholding the truth from her and acting behind her back.¡±

    Maryam smoothed away the re of irritation. For someone so clever, so capable of reading a room and turning enemies on each other, Song could sometimes miss the forest for the trees. It was not her fault, though, it was Maryam who was odd. She had to think the way she did because she was far away and surrounded by strangers whose strange ways were opaque. Knowing <em>why </em>people took offense to the things they did was the difference between a cold look and drawn de.

    She did not have the luxury of ignorance, not when her mistakes were always paid for.

    ¡°Because you¡¯re not just fighting with her,¡± she spelled out, ¡°you are in a spat with how Angharad Tredegar sees the world. Tea and apologies and a grand gesture aren¡¯t going to fix this, Song, because that would be two friends mending a bridge and that¡¯s not the trouble you¡¯re in. Not really.¡±

    Song¡¯s lips thinned. Bunched up like that on her bed, the Tianxi was unusually open in her expressions ¨C theyer of calm and control thinned enough Maryam could easily make out the shapes moving beneath the silk. Song Ren was not convinced, but enough of what she had been told rang of the truth she was considering it seriously.

    ¡°Then what do I do?¡± she quietly asked.

    Maryam leaned back in her chair and grabbed some of the cashews from the bowl. She¡¯d done good work, wages were owed.

    ¡°Prove her wrong by her own rules,¡± she replied. ¡°Demonstrate that, within personal circumstances, you do trust her.¡±

    ¡°That easy, is it?¡± Song sarcastically asked.

    Maryam popped a few cashews, chewed merrily. Salted! She stole a second handful even though the first was not entirely finished, loudly swallowing.

    ¡°Figure it out,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Look, on asion I might like Angharad Tredegar but at the end of the day I don¡¯t <em>like </em>Angharad. You understand?¡±

    ¡°We barely speak the samenguage,¡± Song snorted, ¡°but I catch your drift. Her being personally agreeable does not change most of your grievances with her.¡±

    Maryam nodded approvingly. She had once thought there was no way the two of them could share a brigade, but she had been wrong in that. Angharad was not¡­ malicious, even at her worst. Childish or selfish, but not with a poisoned edge. That she could adjust, and made an effort to, made her tolerable and admittedly sometimes even enjoyable. In small doses.

    Maryam could not see herself ever considering the other woman a friend so long as she did not grasp the evil thaty at the heart of Mn, cloaked in talk ofws and honor, but a brigade was not a sworn sisterhood. They could share a roof and a side without braiding each other¡¯s hair.

    Song slowly exhaled, her knees pulling away from her chest as her legs spread on the bed. The book ended up on herp, only loosely held.

    ¡°She said that Ruesta only wanted to live,¡± Song finally said. ¡°That to kill her was unnecessary so close to Cantica.¡±

    It was unfair to be irritated with her for that, Maryam told herself. For not getting it. Song <em>had </em>to think that deeds were the only that mattered, because it was the only way she could go to bed without weeping. If Song Ren did not believe that actions were what mattered most, that they defined everything and could change everything, then the certainty that had her get up in the morning and pursue the dream of overturning the legacy of the Dimming would crumble like wet paper.

    It was just that sometimes that also meant Song thought of everything as things she did right or wrong, like the world was a puzzle box she had to solve correctly. Maryam felt a pang of sympathy for Angharad, who she suspected mostly wanted to know that Song did not think of her as being the Watch equivalent of an expensive warhorse.

    ¡°Days away with hollows nipping at your heels and everybody dead tired isn¡¯t nothing. And Ruesta was constantly using her contract after having made a promise not to, the way you told me,¡± Maryam finally said. ¡°Sure, a promise she was technically no longer bound to, but by that same logic you were no longer bound not to put a bullet in her skull.¡±

    Hrious that Ferranda had tried the same thing just a moment before, really. The infanzona reminded Maryam of some of her mother¡¯s war captains, the ones with fine reputations and rivals who kept dying on raids.

    ¡°It is frustrating she would still defend someone using a charm contract on her even now,¡± Song admitted. ¡°Enough to make me wonder at her judgement.¡±

    ¡°It was an influence contract, not control,¡± Maryam reminder her. ¡°There¡¯s a good argument there were insidious secondary effects to it, but I don¡¯t think that the girl with the big eyes and the bigger tits had to do a lot of charming to talk Angharad Tredegar into walking the fine line of a promise so she¡¯d be able to get her hands under that skirt.¡±

    ¡°<em>Maryam</em>,¡± Song reproached, coughing into her fist.

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of coyness from a girl who went for seconds in the creepy brass house,¡± Maryam retorted without batting an eye.

    Cheeks flushed red.

    ¡°I should never have told you that,¡± the Tianxi muttered.

    The signifier grinned. Toote for regrets. Between that and the admission that Evander Palliades was not above getting on his knees to convey his negotiating position to the Republics ¨C and sessfully, too, good on him - she had material to work with.

    ¡°But as for Tredegar¡­ she¡¯s always going to be who she is, Song,¡± Maryam told her. ¡°Eager to get pretty girls into bed and trying to protect as many people as she can whether they deserve it or not. I¡¯d think hard on that before deciding how far you want to go to mend bridges.¡±

    Song frowned.

    ¡°Whether it is the friendship I want to salvage or whether I still want her as part of the Thirteenth,¡± she said.

    ¡°You talk like you do,¡± Maryam said. ¡°And I don¡¯t hate the notion the way I did back at Scholomance, I¡¯ll grant.¡±

    The Tianxi studied her for a moment.

    ¡°And Tristan¡­¡±

    ¡°I do not, in fact, speak for Tristan Abrascal,¡± Maryam drily said. ¡°We argue too, you know. But if I had to wager, I¡¯d say that he will befortable with the idea in a Tristan sort of way.¡±

    ¡°Afraid of her, but the danger is predictable and thus makes him feel safer than if there was nothing visible to be afraid of,¡± Song said.

    Essentially. Their captain was beginning to know the man decently. In truth Maryam suspected that her viper rather liked Angharad, simply in a way that involved no true loyalty or investment of emotion. That was the Murk in him, she thought, and this Nerei¡¯s lessons too. He¡¯d been taught it was fine to like others, so long as it was shallow and did not weigh more than a feather on the scales.

    ¡°The friendship, at least, I would save,¡± Song murmured. ¡°It was¡­ I do like her, you know.¡±

    <em>It¡¯s just that everyone else liked her too</em>, Maryam thought, <em>and you liked that almost as much as you do her.</em> She could not even be too angry about that, now when could understand Song¡¯s craving better than most. She had not grasped how much she liked to be liked before being met with casual contempt and distrust everywhere she went. Song had liked to stand by the hearth and bathe in the warmth, even if it wasn¡¯t really hers.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°It is refreshing, being with someone who <em>wants</em> to be good, and she is surprisingly funny,¡± Song continued. ¡°Even as a captain, I think we are better off with her.¡±

    The Tianxi set down the book on the sheets. Maryam discretely ate a mouthful of cashews in the interval, ceasing to chew when Song¡¯s attention returned.

    ¡°Not even because of the de, though that is no small thing, but she does notpromise as easily as the rest of us do,¡± Song murmured. ¡°She wants us to do things right ¨C I wouldn¡¯t have thought twice about that deal with the Brazen Chariot, if she hadn¡¯t said anything.¡±

    She discreetly swallowed.

    ¡°But,¡± Maryam said.

    ¡°But we won¡¯t always be able to do things right,¡± Song said. ¡°That is not a luxury we have as members of the Watch. I¡¯m not sure if she will understand that. And, to be frank, I do not always agree with what she feels is right in the first ce.¡±

    Maryam said nothing, for she had already spoken all the words she had it in her to speak. While she would consider being the voice of virtue to the Thirteenth a special kind of torment given who made it up, she thought that Song might be underestimating Angharad. The Pereduri was not afraid to twist words to get her way, when she thought something was needed, and she¡¯d not tried to usurp captainship of the cabal even when she had disagreed with Song¡¯s decisions.

    Within the circumstances of ¡®Song being themanding officer¡¯, thews of engagement would likely be quite different from the lines Angharad Tredegar would draw in the sand when it came to her personal life. And she¡¯d proved she could put the job above her pride, in the countryside. It was no small influence on why Maryam had made her peace with the possibility of the Pereduri sticking around.

    But all those things she had already said, and would not repeat them. If that bird was to take flight then it was Song that needed to take the steps by herself. To speak to Tredegar about her fear, to extend the trust. Anything else was just dying the inevitable. And now that she had been a friend, she thought as she polished off thest of the seized cashews, she must be a cabalist.

    ¡°The Lefthand House,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Leveraging her, you said. That¡¯s a concern.¡±

    And not something they could really do anything about in the immediate. Getting the Krypteia involved with the Mni spies would inevitably also mean getting them involved in the neighboring Yellow Earth situation, which Song desperately wanted to avoid.

    ¡°Something is off there,¡± Song frowned. ¡°They are ckmailing her about her father, but for what? If the Lefthand House knew about her having joined the Watch, Lord Gule would not be recruiting her into the cult of the Golden Ram. If they do not know of her joining, then what is it they want from her?¡±

    ¡°The infernal forge,¡± Maryam suggested.

    ¡°Do they need to threaten her for this?¡± Song replied. ¡°From Lord Gule¡¯s perspective, she is already obtaining it for them.¡±

    ¡°Then it might be the Lefthand House and the ambassador want different things,¡± Maryam said, more to keep Song talking than because she genuinely believed it.

    ¡°The most likely answer, and yet senseless,¡± Song muttered. ¡°Without the backing of the Lefthand House, and thus implicitly of the High Queen, how could a mere ambassador dare to support a coup overthrowing the Lord Rector of Asphodel?¡±

    ¡°And if they¡¯re <em>not</em> on the same page, why is the man still alive?¡± Maryam mused. ¡°Obviously they know of the coup to some extent. It¡¯s an extension of Mni policies in the Trebian Sea, it would be absurd for Gule to be acting alone.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps the Lefthand House does not want the forge in the hands of the cult,¡± Song said.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the cult asking Angharad to find it, it¡¯s Lord Gule,¡± Maryam reminded her. ¡°With the implication that with her having cleaned her te with the Lefthand House and proved herself he will vouch for her and have her initiated into the ranks.¡±

    The Tianxi grimaced.

    ¡°I cannot make sense of it,¡± she said. ¡°We are missing something.¡±

    ¡°Whatever they want, so long as the coup is being handled by the Lord Rector the Lefthand House can¡¯t do much,¡± Maryam said. ¡°They are spies, not an invading army. I don¡¯t mind letting that simmer until you¡¯ve either made amends or we can put Tristan on sniffing something out.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like how many of our solutions can be summed up by the word ¡®waiting¡¯,¡± Song grimaced, ¡°but then it would not be a good idea to press her on this.¡±

    ¡°And you need to take care of your Yellow Earth situation,¡± Maryam bluntly said. ¡°On top of our lingering Ivory Library problem. I tell you now, if we don¡¯t have a solid lead by the time Tristan returns bodies are going to start dropping.¡±

    ¡°I am well aware, thank you,¡± Song sighed, passing a hand through her hair. ¡°For thetter, I have a final suspect and a notion in how they interrogated.¡±

    ¡°Captain Santos,¡± Maryam guessed.

    ¡°He is meant to investigate the Ivory Library¡¯s influence on the delegation,¡± Song said. ¡°I might not have the power to order the arrest of a suspect, but he does.¡±

    ¡°If you can convince him,¡± Maryam said.

    ¡°If I can convince him,¡± Song echoed tiredly. ¡°As for the Yellow Earth, well, not even Chca would dare put me out in public again after that Landing Day skirmish. I can pass them general information about the Watch and pce under my discretion as captain of the Thirteenth without it being outright treason.¡±

    It would be a decision Song would have to justify to Wen afterwards, in the reports, but the Watch did not forbid involvement with even the worst of sorts. You never knew when you might need their help to deal with something entirely worse. Song grimaced.

    ¡°Then I will tell them that I am no longer the Lord Rector¡¯s escort and can thus am no longer told of any measures being taken by he or the Watch,¡± she added.

    <em>They¡¯re not going to let you off that easily,</em> Maryam thought. Which, by the look of that grimace, Song suspected as well.

    ¡°Take someone with you,¡± she said.

    Song blinked.

    ¡°That seems unw-¡±

    ¡°Take someone with you, Captain Ren,¡± Maryam said, and this time her voice brooked no argument. ¡°They have you by the throat, bring someone who <em>won¡¯t</em> just be thinking about their grip tightening the entire time.¡±

    Song studied her a long moment.

    ¡°You won¡¯t let me refuse that, will you?¡±

    Maryam smiled sharply.

    ¡°Try me,¡± she challenged.

    A long moment passed, then finally Song nodded.

    ¡°So I will,¡± she promised.

    --

    It took three days for Maryam to figure it out, all in all.

    The first day was, admittedly, mostly waiting around. Her report needed to make it to the Lord Rector, who would in turn decide whether or not her request to investigate the pce looking for the ¡®cork¡¯ of the Hated One¡¯s prison was to be epted, along with the implicit ess to the regr and private archives that puzzling out the location would require.

    Normally Evander Palliades could be counted on to promptly reply whenever a matter involved the Thirteenth, usually by tossing an audience their way in the hopes that Song might thus be delivered to his pce for lusting after, but this time would be different. Maryam had been back from the shipyard for a day now, and gone through all the mandatory debriefs. Which meant Brigadier Chca would be headed up to the pce to have a little talk with the Lord Rector.

    The one that¡¯d been getting put off, about that coup aiming to knife him and put his old regent on his throne while the cult of the probably-not-Golden-Ram pulled at her strings to rule Asphodel from behind the curtains. Not only was that talk likely to take some time ¨C as would the ensuing panicked preparations to make it harder to seize the pce ¨C but there would be diplomatic talks about the shipyard, sundry negotiations and other matters to upy the Lord Rector¡¯s day.

    There would also be the slightplication that Evander Palliades was going to be made aware that the Thirteenth Brigade had been sitting on information about that coup for some time and even at some point been contractually obligated to mention it to him only for Song to keep quiet about. At Chca¡¯s order, admittedly, but that the woman he was so taken with would hide such a thing from him would finally provide weight on the other side of the bnce from ¡®saved my life twice and saw her naked¡¯.

    Maryam was honestly a little surprised when on the morning of her thirty-first day on Asphodel summons to the pce came to ck House. She¡¯d been expecting to be put off for a few days more at least as a show of displeasure. Regardless, with that whole affair with Angharad and its aftermath she was only able to head out to the Collegium after noon.

    The first difference was that, instead of being sent to the Lord Rector¡¯s office, this time she was greeted by Majordomo Timon. A bit of cooling in the rtions then, though not so much they were being given the runaround with a minor official. Though it might simply be that beyond the majordomo there were few in the pce that could actually voice the permission to ess the private archives without it being treason, she then wondered.

    Either way, she had permission to sniff around the pce ¨C under escort ¨C and to the general pce archives. To ess the private ones again would be only on request. Unfortunate but not unfair. She did have hidden intentions, as a matter of fact, so their precautions were entirely warranted. Maryam had imed it necessary to inspect the rector¡¯s pce to find where the ¡®cork¡¯ of the Hated One¡¯s prison was located, and she did intend to find that.

    But allowing the Lord Rector to guard it was not the most important reason why she was after the location.

    She had a theory, Maryam did. As a general rule, while aether did tend to mirror the material worldymen tended to misunderstand what that actually meant. The realm of aether was not a single great mirror facing Vesper and reflecting it darkly, it was an endless number of connected mirrors of changing sizes mirroring specific <em>parts </em>of Vesper.

    What was ayer, then? It was easy to say that ayer was ¡®asting impression on aether caused by strong emanations¡¯, the textbook definition, but observed as a phenomenon how could it be described? Language tended to be one of the great obstacles in the study of metaphysics, as the concepts involved frequently had no easy description, but sticking by the mirror metaphor ayer would be as if a particr reflection was frozen in time and made into a ce.

    That description held up for the likes of the Witching Hour and Lucifer¡¯s Landing, but the strange emptyyer that Maryam and Tristan had tread through while chasing the assassin was a different thing. No natural phenomenon could create such an emptyyer, it must be caused by an entirely artificial process. Metaphorically speaking? Someone had smashed the mirror with a hammer and frozen a reflection of <em>that</em>.

    Given that by nature what resulted would be fragile, unstable and dangerous those pieces were bound to get swept up by the local aether currents if some strong boundaries were not set around them. That was no doubt why Lord Rector Hector Lissenos had beenfortable having the entrance to the Hated One¡¯s prison be somewhere in the pce where he slept. The ¡®cork¡¯ to the prison, wherever it was in the pce, would be one of the strongest boundaries on it.

    Which meant that somewhere in the rector¡¯s pce Maryam would find a location with a boundary strong enough to let her finish eating the shade. It was just a matter of finding it, and she would keep looking as long as it took.

    Majordomo Timon politely apanied her for a whole minute, then just as politely saddled her with a pair of escorts: a pce servant and a lictor. Thetter was a tall, taciturn woman who avoided looking at any exposed skin of Maryam¡¯s while refusing to meet her eyes, the former a smiling young man by the name of Iasos. In his early twenties, fit, curly hair and blue eyes. Charming.

    Too polished and pretty, as far as she was concerned. Maryam had no use for anything that would not well weather being sshed with mud.

    They began the search with the gardens, which at this hour of the day were well lit. It was not difficult to again find the ce she had first slipped through into theyer, past the field of Asphodelian crowns, but groping around with her nav she found only smooth, sterile nothingness. She and the shade had relied on some temporary ripple to enter, then. That made sense, she conceded. While her revtion down in the shipyard had cast in doubt that the shade was a parasite, it was still clearly a creature of the aether in some way.

    It would be able to feel unevenness in the aether in ways that not even the most skillful of Akrre could. No matter how skillful a swimmer a man might be, that did not turn him into a fish.

    ¡°Shall we visit the other location designated by the Watch, mydy?¡± Iasos smiled.

    ¡°There¡¯s no point,¡± she absent-mindedly replied.

    The location Tristan had given the Lord Rector would be of no use to her, since the assassin had likely been using some sort of tool to enter from there. It could not be the cork. Which, she now considered, might well mean that wherever the cork was ¨C and thus where the killer had first emerged from - the assassin had believed it too difficult a ce to return to theyer through. <em>Inside the pce proper, then</em>, she mused. One of the better guarded sections.

    ¡°To the archives,¡± she told her escorts. ¡°I need to have a look at ns of the pce grounds.¡±

    Captain Wen had done so himself once, so they should not be restricted. It turned out they were not ¨C they weren¡¯t even in the private archives, merely the pce ones ¨C because the ns as avable were really more of an outline. While the parts of the buildings used to entertain guests and the likes were highly detailed, private wings of the rector¡¯s pce were essentially outlines with no further detailing. Still, it would do.

    Aether engineering on the scale of building a halfyer wasn¡¯t something that could be stashed in a broom cupboard, it wasrge in scale and relied heavily on the use of conceptual shapes.

    The rector¡¯s pce, seen from above, was essentially two rectangles sprouting out from the nks of arge square. Gardens spun out in every direction, since the pce did not need to have roads leading to it ¨C it was supplied by lift, from below. The natural ce for a cork would be the center of the square, with hidden anchors at the four corners of the square to stabilize it. That could not be, however, because she already knew exactly what was there: the lifts leading up from the Collegium.

    Constant movement and emanations from the people passing through was the opposite of what you wanted on a boundary pressed into the aether. You might as well build a palisade on a bed of termites. Besides Wen had once told her that the lift to the private archives, which was right above the Collegium lifts, had been built in the days of King Oduromai. The square section of the pce was the first and oldest, built centuries before Hector Lissenos was even born. Considering said Hector was the one to have the Hated One¡¯s prison built, that rather disqualified the section of the pce.

    It must be one of the other internal shapes, like the rectangles. As the right wing was mostly for guests and formal receptions it was very detailed on the map, enough that Maryam ended up worrying her lip: the opposite corners of that rectangle were imed by rooms of sizes that did not match. That probably <em>could </em>still work, if you had the right knowhow, but it had long odds. The left wing it was, then.

    She nced back at Iasos, who had been waiting in silence with an increasingly strained smiled, while the lictor stood there staring at the ceiling in profound boredom.

    ¡°Are you familiar with the left wing of the pce?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I am, mydy,¡± the servant replied.

    ¡°Good,¡± she said. ¡°I need to see the rooms in each corner of the wing.¡±

    Maryam did remember to look up the sewer map that Angharad had requested, though gods only knew why, and traced a Sign tomit it to memory. She would trace it out for her at ck House.

    They proceeded to the left wing, and by the second room she knew it wasn¡¯t the correct part of the pce either. The top right corner room was circr, the bottom left room a long gallery hall. Maryam was not Deuteronomicon tinker, or even a Savant learned deep in the lore of aether, but she knew bare bones: contrasting round shapes and corner shapes in aether structures did not work on the scale of a building. They incited the aether differently.

    ¡°You seem dissatisfied, mydy,¡± Iasos observed.

    ¡°I am missing something,¡± Maryam replied in half a mutter, ring at the wall. ¡°Is there something below either room we visited? An older foundation, perhaps.¡±

    ¡°This level<em> is</em> the older foundation, mydy,¡± Iasos replied. ¡°This was built under the Archeleans, only renovated during the rule of House Lissenos.¡±

    Maryam squinted at him.

    ¡°Which Lissenos?¡± she asked.

    He looked taken aback.

    ¡°I do not know,¡± Iasos admitted.

    ¡°Find out,¡± she ordered.

    And there was the thread to pull: it was their old friend Hector who¡¯d done those reconstructions and also he who built the level above them. It was the same for the right wing, and thus Maryam realized her mistake; she had not considered the multiple levels while looking for shapes. This time she had to send for maps from the private archives, and once she finished scribbling what should be the shape if one could see into the pce from outside the results were puzzling.

    Oh, there was a pattern. Mirroring rooms in the exact same shape and size, built or renovated under Hector Lissenos. The problem was that the mirroring was not internal to the left and right wings: it was between the different wings, the top left room of one rectangle reflecting the bottom right of the other.

    ¡°It can¡¯t be internal to either wing, then,¡± she muttered to herself, rubbing the bridge of her nose. ¡°It has to be in the central square.¡±

    Only Hector Lissenos had not, apparently, built anything there. Or even changed much beyond sprucing up the throne room some. Hitting the books, it was clear that many of the rulers who¡¯d followed him had their own notions of how to improve the oldest part of their pce ¨C which Maryam had to conceded made sense, since the pce she¡¯d walked through did not look like had been built centuries ago. How could the cork of the prison be in there, if theyout kept changing?

    She looked back at a still-waiting Iasos.

    ¡°The original structure that pce was built out of is Antediluvian, correct?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The foundation of the central pce and the lifts themselves,¡± the servant confirmed. ¡°Though, of course, the materials left behind by the Ancient were used for the foundations of the pce expansions as well.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°You only said the <em>foundation </em>of the central pce,¡± she slowly said. ¡°Who built the upper levels?¡±

    ¡°It is hard to say, mydy,¡± the servant said. ¡°Presumably King Oduromai and his descendants, who in time were seeded by the Archeleans.¡±

    Oh, but Maryam was a fool. Hector Lissenos, who seemed to delight in cleverness, had decided to cut a corner: instead of building the cork from scratch, he¡¯d attached his prisonyer to something already there. The wings had been built that way to strengthen something that already existed, not serve as the foundation of a new cork.

    The private archives were an old gaol in the shape of six rooms surrounding a single hole. And it was said that King Oduromai had locked up his six wives in there to make them into aether spirits that would serve him when he became a god. And assuming he really had used that ce in some kind of ritual to press some impression of his mind into a nascent god?

    Then by Necalli¡¯s principle of upancy, that the same discrete quantity of aether cannot hold two affects simultaneously, then the aether in the private archives was probably the single most unbreakable seal on all of Asphodel. So long as Oduromai kept being worshipped then nothing would ever get through that cork. No wonder Hector Lissenos had been willing to sleep so close to a path into the Hated One¡¯s prison, she thought.

    ¡°Mydy?¡±

    Maryam cleared her throat.

    ¡°I need to talk to Majordomo Timon,¡± she said. ¡°Please arrange this.¡±

    Already she was preparing her wording. It was going to be tricky, convincing the man that she needed to be given time alone in the private archives with no lights and preferably no one close enough to make noise, but it was necessary for what she had in mind.

    She¡¯d been eating bites of the Cauldron taken blindly, whatever she could rip out of the shade in the moment, but that was halfhearted work. It was time for her to get her bearings and prevent the bleed destroying the rightful knowledge of the Izvoric, get everything that she could.

    Thankfully, no one liked to argue with a Navigator when they started using words like ¡®solipsistic contamination¡¯ and ¡®inflicted null states¡¯, which <em>sounded</em> very dangerous but were just fancy ways to say it was easier to Sign when nobody else was around to distract you and muck up the aether. Majordomo Timon went pale as a sheet ¨C or her reflection in a mirror ¨C and promised to urgently approach the Lord Rector on the matter.

    The letter bearing agreement and the Lord Rector¡¯s seal arrived at ck House before her rented carriage did. Tomorrow evening she would be granted the run of the private archives, as asked.

    Now she just needed to prepare for a ritual.

 Chapter 62

    Chapter 62

    Breakfast was barely finished when dread showed up in the form of three letters.

    The first was little more than paper folded in the Tianxi manner, unfolding from left to right along with the reader¡¯s eye. No seal, no symbol, not so much as a sender¡¯s name. The Yellow Earth sent their summons, Song thought. Besides them, almost ironically, sat a small letter the messenger had waited in the courtyard of ck House to hand her directly. It was sealed in russet wax, a si ring pressed into it shallowly. House Palliades¡¯ heraldry, a crowned owl clutching a shepherd¡¯s crook.

    It was not the Lord Rector¡¯s seal that had been used there but the personal si ring of Evander Palliades, the implication licking at her cheeks with heat: this was private correspondence. A letter from Evander, not the Lord Rector.

    Thest of the three letters bore the ck wax stamp of official Watch correspondence. That at least Song made herself crack open and read. Her solemn face soon turned into a grimace as not even work proved to be a respite: the letter was from Colonel Adamos of Stheno¡¯s Peak, who sternly wrote never to put to ink any mention of the aether seal ever again. She was to burn this letter when done reading it. Moreover, the Thirteenth Brigade must remain in Tratheke until the garrison officer he was sending to the capital finished debriefing them.

    A tossed off sentence at the end conceded, reluctantly, that since the Thirteenth Brigade was on a formal contract both her inquiries as to the god behind the Ataxia and Maryam Khaimov¡¯s ¡®disturbing observations on the matter of Asphodel crowns¡¯ would be answered by the Savant officer he was sending south. Colonel Adamos even deigned to mark the dates involved, which¡­

    He mentioned sending this letter around the ind by ship and that ¡®Captain Traore¡¯ would be arriving a week after the letter, but his Savant¡¯s theorized date of arrival was around the seventh of the month ¨C in other words, yesterday. The letter appeared to be over a weekte. Odd. This was an important discrepancy to uncover, crucial even, so Song tucked away the letter in her uniform and straightened her cor. She was not putting off reading the other letters, she was doing important work that required her full attention.

    Song locked the door behind her and left as quick as she could make her stride long without feeling like she was running.

    Correspondence was handled by the servants of ck House, but there were nuances at y. While notable figures could send letters directly to the Watch residence in the city, most of the correspondence that reached ck House actually passed through three stations in the city that servants went to empty every day. Angharad, whose identity must remain secret among Tratheke society, received her own letters through an arrangement with the rector¡¯s pce.

    Letter intended for her were sent to Fort Archelean, the fortress at the bottom of the lifts leading up to the pce, and from there Palliades men carried them to one of the Watch stations in the city. Song¡¯s first thought had been that the whole affair would look wildly suspicious, but apparently it wasmon for minor nobles in the capital to make simr arrangements ¨C only their letters were instead brought by Palliades men to the temples of Khrusopos, the messenger god of Asphodel.All it took to have your letters brought to you was giving your name and location at such a temple before paying a small fee, which reputable inns would do on your behalf if asked. Religious observances kept names and letters private, a surprisingly functional arrangement even Lord Rectors were historically reluctant to upset.

    A letter from Stheno¡¯s Peak, however, would have gone around that entire system. Mention of a ship had Song suspecting the letter must have passed through the Watch office in the Lordsport, and if the wagon from there had arrived early today its driver was likely still at ck House. She asked the servants about it and was directed to kitchens, where a stocky dark-haired woman was tearing into a bowl of stew.

    She saluted when Song introduced herself as captain of the Thirteenth Brigade, rising to her feet, and when asked about the letter¡¯s provenance was eager enough to talk.

    ¡°It came by the Salt Dogst evening,¡± the driver said, then cleared her throat. ¡°It¡¯s a merchant runner, ma¡¯am, carries small goods. Dabbles in smuggling too, everyone knows.¡±

    ¡°The letter it carried for me iste in theing,¡± Song told the other woman. ¡°Did they meet with a mishap?¡±

    ¡°Word at port was that they ran afoul of Cordyles ships while swinging around the east of the isle,¡± the driver said. ¡°Ol¡¯ Triton¡¯s boys wanted toe aboard and inspect the ship for ¡®illicit goods¡¯, but the Salt Dog ran for it. They had to lose the Cordyles by going through the Broken Teeth, it took them off course.¡±

    Song politely inquired as to what these Broken Teeth were, learning they were a reef-strewn belt of coast favored by smugglers because sections of the ¡®Teeth¡¯ spared vessels with shallow drag but would gut something as heavy in the water as, say, a warship. The driver noted the captain of the Salt Dog could probably have bought off the Cordyles but had preferred wasting time to coin, hence the dy.

    Song¡¯s smile went a bit fixed as she thanked the other woman, leaving her to her stew after offering a silver in thanks for her cooperation. She was, of course, pleased to have so quickly resolved the mystery of the letter¡¯steness. Why, she was<em> rejoicing</em> it had barely taken ten minutes. Perhaps tea was in order to celebrate that efficiency. Perhaps she should have that tea in one of the rooms on the first floor, to spare the servants bringing the pot all the way up the stairs where her room was, and-

    ¡°Captain Ren, a word?¡±

    Whatever it was the liveried servant saw on her face when she turned, it had the young man flinching.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Captain Santos requests your presence, ma¡¯am,¡± the younger man said. ¡°Immediately, if you can.¡±

    ¡°I am at his disposal,¡± Song replied with an appropriate amount of enthusiasm. ¡°Lead on.¡±

    She was already on the ground floor, but it was still a walk: the signifier was waiting for her at the back of ck House so they went around the courtyard to find him. Captain Domingo Santos was a tall man of middle age, though his slouch made him seem shorter. The short hair was the neatest part of him, and his natural look was a sullen one. Song could never be sure whether it was her presence that displeased him or merely Vesper atrge.

    ¡°Warrant Officer Ren,¡± he grunted out, then nodded a dismissal at the servant.

    The young man scampered away as quick as he could. Well, the superstitious often feared signifiers.

    ¡°Captain Santos,¡± she replied.

    He looked at her oddly, as if surprised, then snorted.

    ¡°You¡¯re in time,¡± he said, then jutted a thumb towards the door they stood at the threshold of. ¡°I sent for Sergeant Ledwaba, she should be arriving soon. I will interrogate her in there.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°Given that one of your cabalists is wrapped up in my investigation, I grant you the courtesy of sitting in on the talks.¡±

    Song cynically wondered whether he¡¯d been hoping she would be busy and made the gesture with the expectation he would not actually have to suffer her presence, but set that spection aside. It had been a risk approaching Captain Santos with her suspicions and what she knew of the Ivory Library, given that some of that knowledge had been earned by Tristan torturing and summarily executing an officer of the Watch. A covenanter officer, at that.

    But it had been a risk she believed she could afford to take, given the nk amnesty paper she had gotten out of Brigadier Chca. Should Captain Santos decide to pursue Tristan¡¯s killing of Lieutenant Apurva, she had a way to get her Mask out of his hands. Not that Domingo Santos seemed so inclined at the moment. He had been pleased enough at the information she provided, though also inclined to try to keep her out of the matter as much as possible.

    Her guess? Santos was trying to keep her name out of the final report and im it all as his own work. Much as Song would have liked gilding the Thirteenth¡¯s name a little by tying it to a second fulfilled contract on Asphodel, in this case letting the signifier have his way might be worth more. His authority here and now was more useful than praise in her dossier a few months down the line.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Song replied, lowering her head.

    She then lowered her voice.

    ¡°Although, I must ask, would this not be better undertaken in the vault beneath the house?¡±

    Domingo Santos blinked at her owlishly.

    ¡°Why would I ¨C Ren, are you under the impression I¡¯m going to <em>torture </em>her?¡±

    She coughed into her fist.

    ¡°Well not at the start, surely, but should she refuse to cooperate¡­¡±

    The man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

    ¡°Covenanter kids,¡± he said, speaking the words like a curse. ¡°Like handing toddlers a crate of grenades.¡±

    He leaned forward, met her gaze.

    ¡°I am going to sit down with Ledwaba, offer her a deal and use what she gives me to dig up a name that actually matters,¡± Captain Santos said. ¡°Not break out a fucking iron maiden at the first sign of resistance from the bottom of a conspiracy. We are the <em>Watch</em>, girl, not Izcalli candle-priests.¡±

    Considering members of the Watch had tried to kill every single member of the Thirteenth ¨C she counted Captain Yue¡¯s experiment in the Azei bay as attempted murder, considering how close Maryam hade to drowning ¨C Song could not help but feel he had a somewhat rosy vision of what the Watch was. That or the Thirteenth¡¯s own time with the order had been unusually sinister, which she grimly admitted to herself was entirely possible.

    ¡°And if she does not take the deal?¡±

    ¡°She will,¡± Captain Santos tly replied. ¡°She¡¯s not a schr, she has no skin in whatever game the Ivory Library is ying here.¡±

    While not convinced Song saw no point in arguing, though he gestured as if to silence her anyway.

    ¡°Sit in a corner, be quiet and try not to kill anyone,¡± Captain Santos said. ¡°That is the sum whole of what I require of you. Can you do that for me, Warrant Officer Ren?¡±

    ¡°I can,¡± she replied through gritted teeth, somewhat insulted.

    The room on the other side of the door was a small parlor withfortable seats, hardly what she would have chosen for an interrogation. As instructed, she sat on a chair in the corner and then waited as Captain Santos lit a fewmps and sat on one side of the low table in the middle of the room. Hardly a minute had passed before there was a knock on the door.

    Sergeant Ledwaba was bid to enter and closed the door behind her. The Mni was short and broad-shouldered, scarred on her hands and neck with neatly done knots keeping her hair in ce. Her dark eyes flicked to Song before returning to Domingo Santos, wary.

    ¡°Captain?¡±

    ¡°Sit down, Ledwaba,¡± he ordered.

    She hesitated, then after a moment slid into the seat across from his. There was a pitcher full of water on a drawer by the wall but Captain Santos did not offer and she did not ask. No contract, Song noted.

    ¡°May I ask-¡±

    ¡°You got sold out,¡± Domingo Santos interrupted her. ¡°Apurva named you as Ivory Library before he got¡­¡±

    The Lierganen drew a finger across her face. Sergeant Ledwaba¡¯s face went nk. Song kept her surprise off her face at both the bluntness of the approach and his false implication that Tristan¡¯s murderous interlude had been at Captain Santos¡¯s own orders.

    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Ledwaba said. ¡°The <em>what </em>library?¡±

    ¡°The Grinning Madcap,¡± Captain Santos said, then folded his arms. ¡°Is your memorying back yet?¡±

    The sergeant¡¯s dark face tightened just a bit when the name of the ship chartered by the Ivory Library was spoken. That continued gambit was only possible because Tristan had obtained the name and Song shared it with Santos, but at least it was being properly employed.

    ¡°The Ivory Library¡¯s not a banned society,¡± Ledwaba said. ¡°Even if I were part of it ¨C and I¡¯m not ¨C it wouldn¡¯t be a crime under Watch rules.¡±

    Song cocked her head to the side. It felt strange, hearing a woman with Mni looks so tantly lie, but then besides her skin tone and name there were no Mni tells about Ledwaba. She did not even have an ent in Antigua, or rather her ent was a Lierganen one. That swallowed ¡®s¡¯ sound was some dialect from the Riven Coast, wasn¡¯t it?

    ¡°Trying to abduct a Scholomance student out on a contract <em>is</em>, though,¡± Captain Santos replied. ¡°The hanging kind. Do they pay you well enough for a noose, Ledwaba? Because if you don¡¯t bargain with me, that¡¯s where you¡¯re headed. I already have more than enough for that.¡±

    Did he really? Song was not so sure. What he had was the word of a man who had murdered a Watch officer that said officer had confessed to a crime and named names. The only way for Tristan¡¯s testimony to be more than his word against Ledwaba¡¯s was for a truth-teller to be involved, which could take weeks if there wasn¡¯t one at hand. Those contracts were rtively rare, and in even higher demand than sniffers besides. Only healers were more highly prized.

    The air hung tense, the sergeant worrying her lip, then she spat out a few Antiguan words Song did not recognize. Definitely Riven Coast, the Tianxi decided. Some of that had sounded simr to hollow cants.

    ¡°No, they don¡¯t,¡± Sergeant Ledwaba grunted, then spat to the side. ¡°I want a pardon.¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± Captain Santosughed. ¡°Fuck no. You get a ck mark ¨C sealed, don¡¯t whine ¨C on your record and a transfer to a<em> sitiada</em> posting. If you give me everything and keep your nose clean, when that tour is done your record will be purged and we forget this ever happened.¡±

    ¡°You might as well send me to the Bleands,¡± Ledwabained. ¡°They¡¯re <em>still</em> cleaning up thest of Loving Kiss revenants down south.¡±

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have taken the gold,¡± Santos told her, unsympathetic. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s for your own good ¨C you¡¯ll be far from the Library down there. Too far for them to take a shot at you on the cheap, and you¡¯re not worth an expensive vengeance.¡±

    Ledwaba grimaced, leaning back to nce at Song. The silver-eyed captain offered her only ice.

    ¡°I should have known it¡¯d end up too much trouble,¡± the sergeant sighed. ¡°Fine, what do you want from me?¡±

    ¡°Names and a confession,¡± Captain Santos said. ¡°There¡¯s another one of you in the delegation, a higher-up. Who?¡±

    ¡°Lieutenant Shu Gong,¡± Ledwaba said. ¡°I don¡¯t know how deep she is in their little cult, but I know she¡¯s not just a hireling like me.¡±

    Song bit at the inside of her cheek. Shu Gong, <em>really</em>? She was a terrible spy! Even setting aside that near every merchant in the southwestern ward had robbed her, Song had watched that woman and she was a nervous, awkward mess. Song had once seen her flip her own breakfast te onto herp trying to clean up spilled tea. Either she was one of the most skilled dissembled Song Ren had ever encountered or <em>someone</em> in the Ivory Library had made a mistake.

    ¡°Who runs the plot locally?¡± Captain Santos asked.

    ¡°It was supposed to be Apurva, I was told I answered to him,¡± the sergeant said. ¡°Shu¡¯s in charge now, but she has no idea what she¡¯s doing so she¡¯s crossing her fingers hoping the Scholomance <em>bastardinos </em>will handle everything for her.¡±

    And there we went, confirmation of the Neenth¡¯s involvement. If that could be put to ink and signed, even should Tristan reappear apanied by fresh student corpses Song should be able to keep him off the gallows. That was a relief, but she did not let herself soak it in. <em>Do not count your chickens before they hatch</em>, Song reminded herself. Nothing was on paper yet.

    ¡°Is there anyone else?¡± the signifier pressed. ¡°The more you give me, the more is added to your tab.¡±

    ¡°I got the impression Chca might have been bribed to look elsewhere,¡± Ledwaba added after hesitating a moment. ¡°But they did not tell me everything, I¡¯m only meant to be muscle. I know the sign and countersign for the Madcap¡¯s captain to take on the prisoner, though, if that¡¯s worth anything.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Captain Santos assured her. ¡°What makes Abrascal such a tempting target, anyhow?¡±

    ¡°No idea,¡± Ledwaba admitted. ¡°I heard Apurva mention a report being leaked to the Ivory Library some months back, but the schrs were never chatty with me. Tight with the purse strings, too.¡±

    Thatst part sounded a little like whining. Domingo Santos hummed, sounding mildly interested in the Library¡¯s interest, but did not push further even though Song would have preferred him to. What he was <em>truly</em> interested in, it turned out, was putting out ink and paper so he could hash out the terms of a signed confession with Sergeant Ledwaba. He was friendly with the traitor, almost too friendly ¨C suggesting phrasing that avoided implicating herself with graver crimes and striking out mention of payment so she could keep her ill-earned gold.

    It left a sour taste in the mouth, watching it all, but Song kept her mouth shut. Sergeant Ledwaba deserved worse than she would get, but what she was giving them was worth much more than the temporary satisfaction of seeing her put up against the wall and shot. Within the hour, Ledwaba had signed the confession and the ckcloak strolled her way out of the parlor with rather more cheer than a woman in her position should be feeling.

    Silence lingered behind her, until Captain Santos let out a long pleased sigh and leaned back into his chair.

    ¡°Good as finished,¡± the signifier said. ¡°I will need to bring in Brigadier Chca before I arrest Lieutenant Gong, else he could stonewall me, but I wager that as soon as it can be done without the Asphodelians noticing she¡¯ll be grabbed.¡±

    ¡°Good news,¡± Song said. ¡°And the Neenth Brigade?¡±

    ¡°Ledwaba gave them up,¡± he shrugged. ¡°As soon as I¡¯ve shown the brigadier that confession you can petition him to have them all arrested even if they¡¯re on contract ¨C though he¡¯ll want some kind of face-saving measure to be able to avoid telling the Lord Rector they were traitors. He¡¯ll have to do <em>something</em> when presented the evidence, though, otherwise it breaks Watch regtions."

    ¡°I am looking forward to it,¡± Song toothily smiled.

    ¡°So am I,¡± Captain Santos happily replied. ¡°Finally I get to stop sniffing at everyone¡¯s private papers and mark their belongings. I¡¯ll be off this rock on the next ship, mark my words, and the Obscure Committee will shower me with gold and praise.¡±

    He paused, turning to look at her.

    ¡°You made this much easier on me than it could have been,¡± Domingo Santos frankly said. ¡°You might be a bloody-handed kid in covenanter boots, but this was good work and I¡¯ll not let a good turn go unanswered. I owe you a favor.¡±

    Silver eyes narrowed. Song had not dared hoped for that, but a good officer should n for oues both foul and fair.

    ¡°There is a way you could settle it now, and at no cost to you.¡±

    He raised his eyebrows, intrigued, and so she told him. The signifierughed.

    ¡°Easy enough to arrange,¡± Captain Santos said, and this time when he nodded there was an undertone of respect to it. ¡°A good day to you then, Captain Ren. I expect I¡¯ll be hearing good things of the Thirteenth in years toe.¡±

    ¡°And to you, sir,¡± Song replied, rising to her feet. ¡°It has been a pleasure.¡±

    And after that favor, she could even say thetter part wasn¡¯t a lie.

    --

    Angharad was no great riding enthusiast, but there was nothing like being forced to repeatedly ride carriages to make one miss sitting the saddle instead of a bench.

    Even in Tratheke, a city boasting some of the finest streets she had ever seen, the exercise was unspeakably tedious. It did not help that the quality of the streets meant most people of means used a carriage to get around, leading to frequent glut on the main arteries. That and idents, which was not nearly as interesting after the third time you watched valets brawl as they angrily used each other of being responsible for the crash.

    Even knowing that the plenty of carriages paired with appropriate precautions was the reason no one had been able to figure out where Lady Angharad Tredegar lived while in the capital, she was in a dark mood as the carriage that¡¯d picked her up finally rode into the ck House courtyard. An hour and half spent to learn almost nothing had her stewing in private frustration. Given that she was meeting Lord Gule this afternoon, she could have used this time for preparations.

    Angharad limped out of the carriage onto the stone floor, leaning on her cane, only for her eye to be drawn to a silhouette by the door: Uncle Osian stood there waiting for her, unsmiling. That his face heralded ill news to match those she had found in the Collegium was not a fine start to the day. Osian must have noticed her mood just as she had his, for as she made her way to him his frown deepened.

    ¡°Did something happen out in the city?¡± he asked.

    She fell in with him as they entered the manse, his long stride never quite going faster than her hobble. He had developed a knack for matching his steps to hers without seeming it, Angharad fondly thought.

    "Officer Hage and his cat are missing,¡± she told him. ¡°The Chimerical has been shuttered and the locals do not know when it will open again. Given Tristan¡¯s continued absence andck of reports, this is somewhat concerning.¡±

    If Tristan Abrascal were merely facing city guards and criminals she would not have thought twice about his continued absence, but some of the plots afoot the capital might just be more dangerous than he knew how to handle. The Mask had an impressive bag of tricks, but when it ran out he was a less than impressive fighter.

    ¡°Ah, the Sacromontan,¡± her uncle muttered. ¡°Often underfoot, that one.¡±

    He did not quite keep his disapproval out of his voice.

    ¡°You mislike him?¡± Angharad asked, surprised.

    ¡°You do not?¡± her uncle asked, sounding equally so.

    Angharad paused, seriously considering the question.

    ¡°I do not always like his actions,¡± she conceded, ¡°but he is honest in his reasons and intentions. I cannot say I dislike him, not truly, especially when being underhanded is his duty as a Mask. He is, well¡­¡±

    She coughed and ended the sentence there, faintly embarrassed she had been about to say ¡®like an agreeable rogue in a story¡¯. The world was not a thing of stories, as Vesper seemed keen on reminding her these days. Else she would have already dueled Song for honor and moved on instead of feeling her stomach clench in a knot of feelings too tight to pick apart every time they sat at the same table.

    ¡°I won¡¯t tell you to change your opinion of him,¡± Osian said, ¡°but be wary of his patron. Krypteia are dangerous at the best of times, and that one more dangerous than most.¡±

    ¡°He seems to consider her a grandmother of sorts,¡± Angharad told him. ¡°As much as he does a mentor, anyhow.¡±

    ¡°His ¡®grandmother¡¯ might well have been alive during the Second Empire,¡± Osian grunted back. ¡°By rumor, she is also a habitual cannibal.¡±

    Angharad winced.

    ¡°Rumor alone, surely,¡± she tried.

    Osian did not answer, which to those of the Isles <em>was </em>an answer. He was not so certain as to state it outright but found it believable enough to mention the rumor. Perhaps it was a contract price, Angharad thought. The murder of men as a contract price was forbidden under the Iscariot ords, but to consume human flesh after death might¡­ not be? She was not conversant with the details there. Devils certainly wore corpses as shells without sanction, so it seemed usible.

    Horrifying to consider, mind you.

    Her uncle cast a look around them, finding them alone in the hall, and lowered his voice. Angharad expected further gossip about the apparently infamous Abu but was instead to be informed as to why she had found him unsmiling.

    ¡°I have the tools,¡± he said. ¡°Do you have the map?¡±

    ¡°It was obtained for me,¡± Angharad replied.

    Instead of borrowing it Maryam had memorized they and drawn it for Angharad on paper, relying on Gloam sorcery for precision. The signifier had used a simr trick on the Dominion, allegedly, so it was trustworthy ¨C and discreet, which was almost as important. Maryam had not even asked <em>why</em>, to her surprise. She¡¯d had reasons readied, precise wording to weave a with, but the blue-eyed woman had simply shrugged and agreed.

    It had been something of a shock to realize that Maryam Khaimov now considered them amiable enough acquaintances to do her a small favor without question. That and humbling, for from the way that Song had disappeared into a room with the Izvorica for a few hours after the¡­ argument, Maryam was near certain to be aware of Angharad¡¯s entanglements with the Lefthand House. She would have been well within her rights to interrogate Angharad¡¯s intentions and she simply <em>had not</em>.

    Uncle Osian nodded at her words, face grave, and she was wrenched away from her dim sense of guilt.

    ¡°Moving the object after it is taken will be the trouble,¡± he said. ¡°We cannot use Watch resources for it, and there have been¡­ inquiring eyes around the delegation ofte.¡±

    Angharad swallowed. Well worth a frown, that.

    ¡°Are you suspected?¡± she asked in a whisper.

    ¡°I believe my personal papers were looked through,¡± Osian grimly said. ¡°There is nothing reprehensible in them, but that my affairs are being looked at in the first ce is troubling.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°By the wary looks of some of my colleagues, I might not be the only one whose papers were inspected.¡±

    It urred to Angharad then that this might not be about the infernal forge at all but about the traitor watchman Tristan had righteously in. Was the investigation turning its eyes on their fellows in the ck for a culprit after having found nothing in the city? <em>It does not matter</em>, Angharad reminded herself. Even if it were so, Tristan¡¯s bloodied hands were not her secret to share and thus her suspicion could not be discussed with her uncle.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°I still have a fourth of the funds you sent me on Tolomontera,¡± Angharad said. ¡°If coin is the concern¡­¡±

    ¡°Coin is coin,¡± he dismissed. ¡°I can still spend significant sums before having to turn to a Watch vault and its attendant paper trail. But neither of us will be able to ride a cart to the Lordsport without drawing attention and the cart will be inspected by lictors on its way south. I¡¯ve secured room on a ship at port, but getting the artefact there¡­¡±

    ¡°Tristan spent time as a traveling man for one of the city¡¯s trading houses,¡± she murmured. ¡°He might be able to make introductions.¡±

    ¡°We cannot risk Krypteia involvement,¡± Osian tly said. ¡°No matter how innocuous their contribution might seem. They are veritable bloodhounds for this sort of thing.¡±

    She considered bringing up the criminal gang calling themselves the Brazen Chariot, as they imed to be smugglers of some skill, but Angharad was reluctant to involve them when they had ties to the Thirteenth that had been written down in official reports. It might put the others in the line of firee the time of reckoning. That and they were criminals, thus just as likely to steal the infernal forge as to keep their word.

    Unfortunately that left only a single name.

    ¡°I will have to speak with Imani,¡± Angharad said. ¡°She ought to be capable of arranging for <em>that</em> part, at least.¡±

    ¡°She is the ufudu you¡¯ve chosen to bargain with, then,¡± Osian murmured.

    They had discussed approaching Jabni over the matter instead and simply killing Imani Langa whenever convenient, but Lord Gule¡¯s ¡®attendant¡¯ now struck her as too risky gamble.

    ¡°Jabni is too tied up in the coup,¡± Angharad quietly replied. ¡°When it is put down he could be caught by the Watch or the Lord Rector.¡±

    ¡°And thus it could all be squeezed out of him,¡± her uncle agreed. ¡°The Lefthand House is not prone to telling tales even when their fingernails are pulled, but the Watch has methods that even spirits fear.¡±

    ¡°I will meet with her today,¡± Angharad decided. ¡°There is no time to waste, the Thirteenth might be leaving Asphodel soon.¡±

    Very soon, if Angharad¡¯s sess with the infernal forge proved enough for Lord Gule to judge her worth bringing into the cult. His written note when arranging the meeting this afternoon had been too bare bones to judge his mood, but she had hopes. If Angharad met other cultists and they went unmasked, they could be grabbed that very evening and interrogated.

    If their identities were veiled it would take somewhat longer, but arrangements had been made to cover the eventuality. Song and Captain Wen would be keeping a watch on the ambassador¡¯s residence to try and narrow down the list of possible cultists, drawing on who wasing in and out.

    ¡°Then I will finish the preparations on my end,¡± Osian replied, then paused. ¡°I will require the map.¡±

    ¡°I will trace you a copy tonight,¡± Angharad promised.

    They parted ways by the main flight of stairs, Osian taking long strides up it while Angharad turned a look of distaste on the carpeted heights. Best to take the east wing stairs instead, she decided. It would be a detour, considering the liar was likely in the ck House library, but the slope was significantly less ambitious despite the stairway being narrower.

    While the library being open to any watchman in principle, in practice the Eleventh Brigade had been living in it since their return from the countryside. Only officers of the delegation had the bite to send them out, Angharad having heard Songin to Maryam that on the asions the Tianxi had gone inside to borrow a book she had been red at like an intruder the entire time.

    Naturally this meant Tupoc tried to visit at least thrice a day, which exined why the doors were closed and locked when Angharad finally reached them. The Fourth had finished its contract on Asphodel and been paid by the throne, but instead of chartering a merchant ship to a port where a Watch vessel might ferry them back to Tolomontera they had chosen to wait two weeks for the next Watch ship headed straight to Port Azei.

    Tupoc had been spending that time making a nuisance of himself to everyone, but with his cabal so visibly shaken by the loss of ¡®Expandable Losses¡¯ she could not begrudge them lingering. Grief deserved time. What she <em>did </em>begrudge the Fourth was how when she knocked twice on the locked doors there was no answer, even when she raised her voice. It did attract the attention of a servant carrying a mop, however, and Angharad hailed him.

    ¡°I need to have a message passed to Captain Imani Langa,¡± she told the young man.

    The liveried servant coughed, looked either way as if to find anyone else she might be talking to, then blushed.

    ¡°Um,¡± he said. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I require that she attend me on the roof garden at her earliest convenience,¡± Angharad said. ¡°<em>Very </em>earliest convenience.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll, um, tell her,¡± he said. ¡°Master Voros has the keys. I just need to mop up the¡­¡±

    ¡°Take care of this first, or pass it on to someone who can,¡± she said, kindly but firmly. ¡°Tell Master Voros it is brigade business of some urgency.¡±

    The young servant swallowed and saluted, which set the mop to swinging, and he retreated most precipitously. Angharad spent a moment staring at his back in amusement, wondering whether she should remind him that ck House servants were not members of the Watch and thus there was no need to salute officers, but ultimately decided against it.

    Well, she sighed, timed for another few sets of stairs. She was already regretting having chosen the roof again.

    --

    It took Imani Langa the better part of an hour to show up, by which time Angharad was thoroughly irritated.

    She had already oiled her saber yesterday so it would have been of no benefit to the de to do so again and she had no intention of risking the<em> ufudu</em> seeing the sewer map so she could not spend the time drawing her uncle a copy either. That left the mirror-dancer to stare at the view of the city for a quarter-hour until she got bored of it, then to pick petals off flowers for the rest while sitting on the bench to rest her leg. Ancestors, maybe she should have brought a book.

    Captain Imani wore an irritated look to match hers when she stormed up the stairs, not that Angharad particrly cared. She pushed herself up at the sight of the other woman, hand on her walking stick.

    ¡°Do not send for me like that again,¡± Imani Langa tly said. ¡°Coming to meet you when summoned so boorishly forced me to-¡±

    Angharad turned and walked away, freed from the implied obligation of courtesy by Imani¡¯sck of polite greeting. She limped to the edge of the roof, leaning an elbow on the bronze railing overlooking the long drop down to the street. There were a few people passing below, too far for her to be able to make out their faces. Imani stomped up to her angrily.

    ¡°- ildish of you, Tredegar,¡± the liar said. ¡°Continue to behave in such a way and-¡±

    ¡°Are we being listened to?¡± Angharad interrupted.

    Imani¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°No,¡± she said.

    There was no dy or hesitation. Her contract was always in use, as far as the Pereduri could tell.

    ¡°I have found an infernal forge,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Measures are being taken to secure it.¡±

    The ufudu stilled. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes searched the noblewoman for any hint of deceit.

    ¡°Where is it?¡± Imani finally asked.

    Angharad snorted.

    ¡°I will not be telling you that, you honorless cur,¡± she amiably said. ¡°I require of you that you secure means of safe transportation to the Lordsport. You will be given a time and ce to pick up the artefact and told where in port to deliver it.¡±

    ¡°I can arrange transportation to Mn myself,¡± Imani replied without batting an eye.

    ¡°I would not trust you to carry an iron vase,¡± Angharad scorned, ¡°much less the only thing you need of me. The Lefthand House will have the artefact when I have proof they will deliver on their end of the bargain.¡±

    ¡°You overestimate the strength of your bargaining position,¡± Imani warned.

    ¡°Do I?¡± she asked, honestly curious as she met the liar¡¯s stare.

    A long moment passed, then Imani Langa sighed and leaned her elbows against the railing.

    ¡°I will make arrangements,¡± she said. ¡°I need at least six hours of forewarning for the pickup, but it should be possible from tomorrow onwards.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Angharad smiled. ¡°Then our personal business is concluded.¡±

    She paused and took in the angle, the way the liar¡¯s limbs were arrayed. How Imani was putting her weight on her arms, head just past the railing, legs slightly angled. It would do.

    Without word or warning, Angharad mmed her walking stick across the back of both Imani Langa¡¯s knees.

    The spy let out a yelp and the lowers limbs folded, for one heartbeat entirely helpless. It was long enough for Angharad to grab her by the back of the cor and drag her past the edge of the railing until half her body was leaning forward into the drop and Angharad¡¯s grip was the only thing keep her from a tumble into the void.

    ¡°Tredegar,¡± Imani hissed, ¡°what are you-¡±

    Ignoring the kicking legs, Angharad snatched the liar¡¯s pistol out of her holster and tossed it into the garden. When her gaze returned to Imani it was to find the other woman had a knife in hand, but when she clicked her tongue the ufudu hesitated.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± Angharad said. ¡°If you struggle too much I would be at risk of falling at well, which would make dropping you to preserve myself tolerably within the bounds of honor.¡±

    ¡°It would be murder,¡± Imani hissed. ¡°Killing a guest under the same roof.¡±

    ¡°Oh, not at all,¡± Angharad mildly replied. ¡°It would be ¡®allowing you to die¡¯, which most schrs agree falls under the more general category of circumstantial bloodshed.¡±

    Whatever it was Imani saw on her face, it had her cease kicking her legs. Wise.

    ¡°This is pointless,¡± the liar said. ¡°We both know you still need me.¡±

    The noblewoman dropped her by half an inch, Imani swallowing a scream.

    ¡°I have found another ufudu on the ind,¡± Angharad said. ¡°They could provide the same service.¡±

    Which was true, though the additional risks made Imani the better option. Not that Angharad intended to tell her that.

    ¡°What do you <em>want</em>, Tredegar?¡± Imani panted, looking queasy.

    ¡°The Ivory Library,¡± she said. ¡°Tell me everything you know about them.¡±

    The spyughed in scared disbelief.

    ¡°Really, <em>that¡¯s</em> what this is about? Abrascal¡¯s little problem?¡±

    To remind her of her situation, Angharad dipped her down slightly.

    ¡°My legs are starting to ache,¡± she informed Imani. ¡°It would be wise of you to wrap up this conversation before the pain grows intolerable or my fingers begin to sweat.¡±

    Imani paled.

    ¡°They¡¯re some kind of schrly society,¡± the liar said. ¡°Trying to figure out the nature of divinity by studying contracts that seem to break known rules.¡±

    ¡°Then why the interest in Tristan?¡± Angharad frowned.

    Song had mentioned his patron spirit was a frequent visitor, but surely that was not so unusual? Lesser spirits supposedly found such visitation easier than great ones, in some ways, given they were¡­ lighter in a metaphysical way, forck of better word.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Imani hissed. ¡°But he¡¯s hiding something, part of the report about him from the Dominion evaluators was sealed by the Krypteia.¡±

    ¡°Then how would its contents be known to anyone else?¡± Angharad frowned.

    ¡°He¡¯s a Scholomance student now, the Obscure Committee gets everything on the students no matter what the covenants want,¡± Imani replied through gritted teeth.

    Her face was flushed from the blood pooling there, Angharad noted. Her eyes were beginning to tear up as well.

    ¡°What else?¡± she pressed.

    ¡°You know the rest,¡± Imani hissed. ¡°They put a bounty on his head but they can¡¯t get involved in Tolomontera.¡±

    Angharad hummed. Perhaps that truly was all she knew. Another matter, then.

    ¡°Tozi Poloko,¡± she said.

    ¡°The daughter of a Sunflower Lord,¡± Imani grunted. ¡°From a consort, not a formal wife, but she was killing her way up the line of session so they forced her into the Watch.¡±

    Oh? That might exin why Tozi considered herself beholden to her family still. Did she hope to go back to Izcalli one day to take the title, or was it simply that escaping the kingdom hade at a price and renouncing the bargain would get her killed? It would not excuse her actions either way, but the noblewoman would admit to some curiosity.

    ¡°Izel Coyac,¡± Angharad ordered.

    ¡°All the Coyac sons serve in the army, but Izel broke a pact with a warrior society to flee abroad and enroll in the Watch,¡± Imani panted. ¡°He was going to be given back, but instead Doghead Coyac made some kind of deal and he was suddenly rmended for Scholomance.¡±

    Both endangered lives snatched away from the gallows at thest moment, Angharad thought. She could hazard a guess as to what sinister society had offered them salvation, and what price was now being asked of them for it. She felt a pang of sympathy, considering her own circumstances, but only a pang. Her next questions were anticipated.

    ¡°Kiran Agrawal did too well in courting tournaments, his parents stopped looking for a match and just sent him for the constion money,¡± Imani blurted. ¡°Barboza¡¯s family were nobles in a <em>sitiada</em> but it fell to a gue god and they became destitute exiles. That¡¯s all I know about the Eleventh, Tredegar, so <em>let me up</em>.¡±

    Angharad hummed. Her legs<em> were</em> beginning to throb, and her arm to shake. Imani was not heavy but neither was she light.

    She released her grip, just long enough for a scream of terror to bloom, then grabbed the ufudu with both hands and wrested her back behind the railing. She let Imani drop in a painful sprawl, taking back her walking stick and rolling her shoulder. Imani stayed on the ground for a long moment, eyes white and hands trembling.

    Was she imagining the strange glint in that gaze? Something like satisfaction, or perhaps vindication. She must be.

    ¡°Contact me when you have obtained means of transportation,¡± Angharad ordered.

    The noblewoman limped past the spy, feeling the weight of a hateful re resting on her back, and stopped at the head of the stairs.

    ¡°And do remember to pick up your pistol,¡± Angharad called out. ¡°Gunpowder is bad for the flowerbeds.¡±

    Feeling somewhat refreshed, she made her way down the stairs. A bit of a meal and then meeting the ambassador, she thought. Yet more intrigue to wash up the intrigue she had just drunk down.

    Her life really had too much cloak and too little dagger in it these days, Angharad mourned.

    --

    Dealing with Tupoc Xical was, Song had found, an ufortable bncing game.

    Give the man too much credence and attention and he would, without batting an eye, use them to draw you into pointless timewasting for his own entertainment. Given him too little, though, and he would make certain that you had missed something of importance by ignoring his caterwauling. Song had devised a working method to mitigate the risks, but it was admittedly somewhat inelegant.

    ¡°I have not yet struck you in the head, so there is no exnation for your wandering tongue,¡± she informed the Izcalli. ¡°Have you considered killing yourself and allowing your brigade to be led by a halfwaypetent officer instead?¡±

    Tupoc¡¯s eerily symmetrical face fell into a pout that, if disyed on a statue, Song would have called artless. Too even and therefore not quite passing as human.

    ¡°And to think I hade bearing gifts,¡± he said. ¡°Song, you wound me.¡±

    ¡°I wish,¡± Song replied, ¡°but there are simply too many witnesses in ck House.¡±

    Captain Imani coughed into her fist, not quite hiding her smirk.

    ¡°As we were discussing before this distraction,¡± the Mni said, ¡°I am amenable to Captain Song¡¯s suggestion that we share our reports and pool information to finish our contracts as swiftly as possible.¡±

    One, two. Answer Xical¡¯s dancing around with an open and blunt verbal attack that he either had to answer or y off, then let the third person at the table drag the conversation back on track as a form of de-esction. Tupoc didn¡¯t truly <em>want</em> to brawl at the negotiating table, not when he had nothing to gain from it, so he would let the redirection happen.

    Song just had to wildly escte every time he tried to be a nuisance, which while rather uncouth was oddly satisfying. That he seemed somewhat at a loss at how to deal with not being the most unreasonable person at the table only added to the attraction. Of course, it would beneath Song to be so taken with what was nothing but a measured negotiation tactic.

    Song Ren smiled in small, petty satisfaction at the pale-eyed Izcalli.

    ¡°My brigade has already finished their contract,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°What is there to gain for us? Besides, we already had a little talk along these lines a few days back. What worth is trading reports?¡±

    ¡°We shared only broad lines,¡± Captain Imani pointed out. ¡°We do not even know whosends you fought the dragon in, while Captain Song has remained painfully vague on the nature of the cult and conspiracy her brigade unearthed.¡±

    Song ignored the reproachful look from Imani at thetter part of the sentence. She had no obligation to entertain another captain¡¯s requests and receive nothing in return. As for the earlier part, about the location of the Ladonite dragon¡¯s death, Song had her suspicions. Xical had mentioned journeying through wheat fields for <em>day</em>s, and there were only so many noble holdings in Asphodel where such a thing was possible outside of Tratheke Valley.

    Tupoc smiled thinly at the Mni, as unmoved by the implied reproaches as Song was.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a shame that even in her grief Alejandra can tell when she¡¯s being hit up for information, isn¡¯t it?¡± the Izcalli said. ¡°Between that and your secret meeting with Tredegar up on the roof, you might have avoided these talks entirely.¡±

    Song hastily smothered any hint of surprise at the mention of Angharad meeting Imani, then silently cursed when she saw Tupoc¡¯s lips twitch. She had not been quite quick enough.

    ¡°I would have preferred to simply obtain the information,¡± Captain Imani agreed without a hint of abashment, ¡°but that does not appear to be feasible. I havee to the belief that all our contracts ¨C and perhaps even the Neenth¡¯s ¨C are in some way connected. To share reports would allow us to put all the facts together.¡±

    ¡°And I repeat myself,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°Given that the Fourth has finished its own contract, what¡¯s in this for us?¡±

    Best nip that in the bud, the Tianxi thought. He had found a thread and would not cease picking at it until the weave broke, she could see it in that little gleeful look he¡¯d put on.

    ¡°Social obligation to pretend your presence is not physically repellent until the exchanges are finished,¡± Song told him. ¡°I might even feelpelled to feign some degree of grief at your funeral after you inevitably get yourself killed.¡±

    Tupoc narrowed his eyes at her, but Imani should be well schooled enough to¡­

    ¡°You are still on Asphodel for perhaps as long as two weeks,¡± Captain Imani told him. ¡°Given the very real possibility the Watch will get caught up the coup Captain Song warned us about, learning the details of what is toe seems the kind of precaution a wise captain would take.¡±

    Tupoc leaned back into his seat, tipping his chair backwards. Song resisted the urge to nudge it back and watch him topple onto the floor, no matter how satisfying it would be to watch.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to think about it,¡± the Izcalli mused. ¡°Why, between your spying and Captain Song¡¯s endless train of insults I am unsure as to the untrustworthiness of my fellow captains. Of course, should an apology be given¡­¡±

    Given how pale eyes then turned to Song it was clear who he wanted that apology from. If there had been a good chance he¡¯d cooperate after receiving said apology, Song liked to think she would have forced herself to give it. As the chances were slim to none, she was spared that dilemma.

    ¡°I am sorry,¡± she replied instead, ¡°that I did not take the time to kill you on the Dominion and spare myself your continued presence on Vesper.¡±

    A beat passed, then he snorted.

    ¡°That almost offended me,¡± he praised, smirking as he rose to his feet. ¡°Not what I asked for, though. I will have to keep pondering whether the bargain¡¯s worth it for my brigade.¡±

    He stretched out his arms, cracking his shoulders to Song¡¯s twitch of distaste and Imani¡¯s appreciative look at the muscles on disy.

    ¡°But a parting gift for you lovelydies, as I did say I came bearing them,¡± Tupoc said. ¡°I got curious about what the Neenth Brigade is up to, you see.¡±

    Song cocked an eyebrow. She was as well, but trying to track down Hector Anaidon ¨C and failing, the man had apparently disappeared ¨C had taken up too much time for her to make a serious effort.

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°Tozi should have shaved her head fully,¡± he said, ¡°if she wanted to visit half the shrines in the city without anyone noticing it.¡±

    ¡°Shrines,¡± Imani said, honing on the same detail Song was. ¡°Not temples?¡±

    ¡°Only small gods,¡± Tupoc agreed. ¡°I wonder how that ties into them avoiding ck House like the gue?¡±

    Song was left to wonder whether the Neenth was pursuing shrines because the temples to the greater gods of Asphodel would be more closely watched, or because it was the lesser gods that were genuinely of interest. Hopefully when Tristan returned he would be able to shed some light on the matter since he was all but sure to have followed them.

    The two women remained seated in silence until Tupoc had finished strutting out of the room, leaving the door open behind him out of what Song assumed to be base pettiness.

    ¡°His lunacy would be significantly less tragic if he were not so pretty,¡± Captain Imani opined.

    Song turned a look of open disgust on her. You might as well ascribe good looks to a gunpowder barrel with some insults painted on. The Mni was only amused, and as the silence stretched out Song sighed and looked away.

    ¡°Why are you so intent in getting his reports?¡± Song asked. ¡°Trade between our own brigades might be enough to unearth most of what we need.¡±

    ¡°Because I have spent days and nights tearing through the theology of Asphodel and found frustratingly little matching the rituals out in the valley,¡± Captain Imani darkly replied. ¡°There are gods associated with the number six and gods associated with burying the dead, but none that are both. And you cannot have missed the timeline, either.¡±

    Song sighed but nodded. The hidden temple that the Fourth had stumbled upon had been robbed of a sacred artefact around when the ¡®Golden Ram¡¯ cult began expanding aggressively ¨C likely due to being taken over by another cult ¨C but also before the killings investigated by the Neenth began. Thetter facts, at least, could feasibly be linked. Someone was out there using a leashed entity tomit murders and the most sacred artefact of a dead god seemed a fine way to control its remnant.

    ¡°You think the artefact taken from the temple has something to do with your rituals,¡± Song stated.

    ¡°I even tried to match when we suspect rituals to have taken ce to the deaths investigated by the Neenth, but there was no noticeable pattern,¡± Captain Imani said. ¡°Not that my saying this means much when we have no idea how deaths went unnoticed. We know of at least three the lictors missed.¡±

    ¡°I have some interest in the nature of that sacred tool as well,¡± Song admitted. ¡°Though not half as much as in the details of the rituals you uncovered.¡±

    ¡°If he does not bite by tomorrow, we can trade between ourselves,¡± Imani replied, refusing the implied offer. ¡°I would rather have him in than out if that is possible.¡±

    Song raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°And the Neenth?¡± she probed.

    ¡°Captain Tozi is in the wind,¡± Imani shrugged. ¡°We can discuss cutting her in should she return, but until then¡­¡±

    The Tianxi watched the other woman and moment, then nodded. It would have to do. There was a risk the Neenth might be able to figure out where Tristan was from the Thirteenth¡¯s reports, broadly speaking, but Imani¡¯s implication she would not bring in Tozi Poloko and her aplices without first consulting Song seemed reliable enough.

    Lying over the matter would thoroughly burn any bridge between their brigades, and Tupoc¡¯s little jibe earlier seemed to indicate Imani Langa still had an eye on a member of the Thirteenth.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Song said, rising to her feet. ¡°A pleasant afternoon to you, Captain Imani.¡±

    ¡°And you, Captain Song,¡± the dark-skinned woman smoothly replied.

    Song did not linger behind. Angharad would be leaving for Ambassador Gule¡¯s mansion within the hour and when she did Song would be following at a distance to keep an eye on theings and goings around said mansion ¨C as would Captain Wen. With any luck, it would help them put together a list of potential cult members.

    Song had already prepared her affairs for that, but returning to her room would involve surrendering herst excuse to avoid being in the presence of the two remaining letters so instead she kept walking down the hall and rapped her knuckles against Maryam¡¯s door. The Izvorica had spent all her time in her rooms since returning from the pce yesterday, save for meals and a single trip to the ck House library.

    A muffled shout bid her to enter and Song stepped into the room to find Maryam Khaimov bent over her writing desk, scribbling in the same journal she had used since her trip to the private archives. Her eyes were sunken fromck of sleep but she peered down at her journal with intense focus as themplight flickered. Her blue gaze rose but an instant, noticing Song and grunting at her to close the door.

    The Tianxi did, eyeing the two books sharing the writing desk with the journal as she crossed the room. One was open and set before Maryam, who nced at the neat writing inside periodically, while the other was closed and to the side. She hardly needed to look twice to know these must have been from the ck House stacks. Even though there were no rare forbidden books there, it hardly meant there would be nothing of use for a signifier.

    The Akrre Guild kept their precious secrets locked up tight, but while the Navigators were the only covenant to wield the Gloam they were hardly the only one to study it. The works Maryam could get her hands on here were no match for what she could borrow in a chapterhouse, but the schrship of the Peiling Society would still be of use ¨C and the signifier <em>was </em>using them.

    ¡°Ontological Dialectics, volume three,¡± Song read on the spine of the closed book as she grabbed a chair from across to the room to sit facing Maryam. ¡°Were the first two not stirring enough a read?¡±

    The pale-skinned woman snorted, setting aside her steel tip pen and blowing at the fresh ink on her journal page.

    "The first two books busy themselves with generalities,¡± Maryam replied. ¡°Practical experiments are only found in the annex, which is thest section of the third volume.¡±

    ¡°Experiments?¡± Song leadingly said.

    ¡°On retention rates,¡± Maryam replied.

    She flipped the book she had open Song¡¯s way, letting the Tianxi glimpse at pages. The contents were halfway between a mathematical equation and sheer gibberish, cleanly written lines with numbers and symbols intermixed with terms like ¡®logotic saturation¡¯ and ¡®observational solipsism¡¯. The measure in use was called an <em>intero</em>, a term she vaguely remembered being one of the few Second Empire base units that¡¯d not continued to be used across the old imperial territories after the fall of Liergan.

    ¡°What does an <em>intero</em> measure, if I might ask?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°The intersection of a unit of Grasp and Command as wielded by an average practitioner,¡± Maryam recited. "Only the Second Empire was never able to figure out there is such a thing as inherent Gloam density ¨C that some currents of Gloam are naturally heavier than others ¨C so the unit is basically worthless for anything remotely precise.¡±

    ¡°But it is still useful to measure a general direction,¡± Song tried, more or less following.

    Maryam nodded.

    ¡°So a generality is what you are seeking to rify, then.¡±

    The Izvorica passed a hand through her matted, almost oily hair. How long since she had washed it? Maybe since Tristan left, the captain though.

    ¡°My question is whether it¡¯s possible to cheat my way past logotic saturation principles by relying on solipsistic metaphysics,¡± Maryam said.

    Song silently raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Gloam suspends the rules of the Material wherever it is dominant,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Observational solipsism is the theory that Gloam can do this because its fundamental property is that it is ¡®unobserved¡¯, only leaving its original state of being everything-and-nothing when beheld. Like a liquid that bes a solid whenever looked at.¡±

    Song¡¯s eyebrow rose even higher. Maryam sighed.

    ¡°My logos is a waterskin that can only hold so much water,¡± she said. ¡°But if I put out the lights before filling it, since no one can see what happens in the dark will the world forget what the limits of the waterskin are?¡±

    Song hummed.

    ¡°<em>Will</em> it?¡± she asked, genuinely curious.

    ¡°Signs point to yes,¡± Maryam said. ¡°But also that a portion of that cheat water will evaporate when the lights are lit again. I have been trying to calcte howrge that portion would be, but with the sources I have at hand it¡¯s like¡­ trying to multiply a cat by the future price of scissors.¡±

    Song paused.

    ¡°Where are the scissors being sold?¡± she asked, putting on a serious face.

    ¡°You think you¡¯re so funny, don¡¯t you?¡± Maryamined.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Song lied, lips twitching.

    She then turned the book back Maryam¡¯s way.

    ¡°So what is the water in that earlier metaphor?¡± she asked. ¡°What do you intend to fill your logotic waterskin with?¡±

    There was a beat of silence then Maryam¡¯s face closed. She must be tired indeed, Song thought, to be so unsubtle.

    ¡°In getting rid of the parasite afflicting me, I might be able to make a few gains,¡± Maryam casually said.

    Too casually. Song¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°That is quite a bit of preparation work for a ¡®might¡¯,¡± she noted, gesturing at the writing desk.

    ¡°I should make the most of it when ites,¡± Maryam dismissed. ¡°Finite chances and all that.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve yet to answer my question,¡± Song said. ¡°What does ¡®water¡¯ stand for here?¡±

    ¡°The parasite absorbed memories of a few of my people¡¯s rites,¡± she replied. ¡°I would have them back.¡±

    Song looked at her for a long time, stomach clenching. It had begun so lightly, this talk, but now¡­

    ¡°You are lying to me,¡± she said.

    Maryam scowled.

    ¡°I am not-¡±

    ¡°Saturation,¡± Song cut through. ¡°I am no theist, but I understand what <em>that </em>word means. You are trying to drink enough memories that it would strain the capacity of your logos and you want to rely on ritual to get around that limit. That does not sound like a <em>few</em> rites to me, Maryam.¡±

    Or, for that matter, something that could be done without damaging your own mind. As Song had said she was no theist, but force-feeding your own logos like a goose did not strike her as the safest of decisions.

    ¡°It is my inheritance,¡± Maryam defensively said. ¡°Mine to do with as I will.¡±

    <em>Rights are not my concern</em>, Song thought. <em>Last time you consumed part of the parasite, it nearly killed you and made your soul fragile as ss.</em> But she could see it in the way Maryam¡¯s chin was tucked, that the stubbornness had already set in. That she was tossing her worries at a mountainside.

    ¡°How much knowledge is there really?¡± Song quietly asked.

    The Izvorica grit her teeth.

    ¡°A lot,¡± she said. ¡°Leave it at that.¡±

    Song worried her lip.

    ¡°Keeper of Hooks,¡± she finally said, halfway guessing. ¡°It is one of the titles the parasite imed, when it intervened to save my life. You never told me what it means.¡±

    ¡°That is a private matter,¡± Maryam scowled.

    ¡°A private matter that has ties to what you are nning up in the pce,¡± Song pressed.

    ¡°Would that make it any less private?¡± Maryam retorted.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Song said. ¡°If you are using the Thirteenth¡¯s contract with the throne to enact this¡­ ritual you are nning, then it has implications for all of us.¡±

    Maryam slowly, measuredly, closed her journal.

    ¡°You are returning to the pce tonight,¡± Song continued. ¡°Muchter than usual. How much is the investigation and how much this ritual?¡±

    When blue eyes met silver, Song almost shivered ¨C it was as if she were looking into ice.

    ¡°I kept quiet as Tredegar dabbled in treason,¡± Maryam evenly said. ¡°I kept my mouth shut as you let yourself leveraged, let yourself be <em>physically beaten</em> by a pack of crazed revolutionaries. Even when Tristan murdered an officer of the Watch and began scheming to knock off an entire cabal, I stayed silent. Because personal matters are exactly that.¡±

    Song swallowed.

    ¡°And now,¡± Maryam quietly said, ¡°now that I try to settle an old debt ¨C without it costing anyone else anything, without making a mess and murdering, <em>now</em> you act as if some line has been crossed?¡±

    She leaned forward.

    ¡°Is that what you are saying, Song?¡± Maryam asked.

    Part of her already knew there was no good end to this conversation. That she¡¯d already hit the reef and all that sailing forward would achieve was ramming it deeper into the hull. But she had to <em>try</em>.

    ¡°I am saying,¡± Song replied, ¡°that I am <em>concerned </em>at your decision. That you are visibly exhausted and that thest time you tried something like this it nearly killed you.¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t,¡± Maryam denied. ¡°I did it again down there, in the shipyard, and suffered no worse than a migraine for it. I figured it out, Song. How I can use this ce to help me.¡±

    ¡°Saturation,¡± Song echoed again. ¡°Tell me you aren¡¯t being reckless, Maryam, and I will believe you. Swear to me to you are not putting yourself at risk and-¡±

    ¡°<em>There is no safe way to wield the fucking Gloam, Song</em>,¡± the pale-skinned woman shouted. ¡°Or to do what I need to do. Just like there¡¯s no safe way to cozy up to the Yellow Earth and a king at the same time.¡±

    She let it sting, let it sink, let it pass. Hand on the chisel.

    ¡°So you will be risking your life,¡± Song said. ¡°Why? Why <em>now</em>? You could wait until we return to Tolomontera, where Captain Yue can help you.¡±

    ¡°Because I won¡¯t have another opportunity like this,¡± Maryam bit back. ¡°You don¡¯t get it, Song. It¡¯s not just finally matching my Grasp and Command, although that¡¯d be reason enough. I found a filter to put between me and the memories, one strong enough I could look for decades and not find a better one. I will not get a chance like this again.¡±

    ¡°Why do you need a filter, Maryam?¡± Song pressed. ¡°What is so urgent?¡±

    ¡°Because it could be the difference between losing two thirds and losing half,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Maybe even just a third, if I¡¯m lucky. I could try this again in Tolomontera, maybe, but the results would be overwhelmingly worse. I will never be able to keep so much the Cauldron as I can here.¡±

    ¡°The Cauldron?¡± Song pressed.

    ¡°My people¡¯s knowledge,¡± Maryam replied through gritted teeth. ¡°Centuries of it.¡±

    Song paused.

    ¡°And you would risk destroying half of it?¡± she asked, honestly taken aback.

    ¡°As opposed to the<em> nothing</em> I currently hold?¡± Maryam mocked. ¡°Even if I got only a hundredth it would still be worth it. And it won¡¯te to that, anyway. The shade has a soul, it¡¯s stable and I can make it even more stable. That will stem some of the bleeding.¡±

    ¡°So it does have a soul,¡± Song said.

    As she had glimpsed that day, when it saved her life. Maryam curtly nodded.

    ¡°Thank you for informing me,¡± she visibly forced herself to say. ¡°That knowledge made my ritual much more feasible.¡±

    ¡°It sounds,¡± Song slowly said, ¡°as if you are nning to ritually murder a soul for knowledge.¡±

    ¡°I am killing a thief to take my stolen inheritance back,¡± Maryam coldly said. ¡°What of it?¡±

    ¡°This does not sound like you,¡± Song tried. ¡°You are no pacifist, but ritual murder?¡±

    ¡°Then you don¡¯t know me at all,¡± Maryam Khaimov bit out.

    Recognizing the dead end, Song bit her tongue.

    ¡°How dangerous will it be?¡± she asked instead.

    ¡°As much as it needs to be,¡± Maryam tly replied.

    ¡°Reckless, then,¡± Song said, but there was not even a flicker of doubt in those blue eyes.

    Maryam wasn¡¯t hearing her. Maybe¡­

    ¡°Perhaps you can wait until Tristan re-¡±

    ¡°Tristan Abrascal,¡± Maryam hissed, ¡°is not my father.¡±

    Song flinched. That had been a mistake.

    ¡°Do you know how I can tell?¡± Maryam harshly said. ¡°Because I watched my father wither to death in his sickbed, Song, then watched again as the Mni swept over my home like a tide of locusts - iming they¡¯d inherited<em></em>Volcesta from him.¡±

    The signifier¡¯s fists clenched, oily darkness billowing around them.

    ¡°Thieves,¡± she said. ¡°Just like the parasite who stole Mother¡¯s gift and sent her spiraling into the worst of her madness. And I am done letting thieves liverge off the bones of my family, Song. I am <em>fucking done.</em>¡±

    Song pushed her chair, some primal instinct in the back of her head fearing the sight of the darkness dripping from Maryam¡¯s grip and staining the table.

    ¡°Tonight I trap it,¡± she said. ¡°The day after that I¡¯ll kill it, and atst some of my ghosts will beid to rest.¡±

    ¡°Are you really willing to kill yourself over this?¡± Song bit back.

    ¡°No,¡± Maryam Khaimov harshly smiled, ¡°but I am entirely willing to murder. Now get out, Song ¨C I am done humoring the moral authority of someone who can¡¯t be bothered to decide what side they¡¯re on.¡±

    She swallowed. That¡­ it would have been nothing,ing from someone else, but from Maryam? It cut deeper than she would have thought.

    ¡°Close the door behind you,¡± Maryam said, and flipped her journal back open.

    She dipped her pen into the inkwell and Song swallowed again. The dismissal stung almost as much as the words. She ambled to the door, feeling lost, but what could she do save leave? Her feet took her to her room and she sat on the chair at her own writing desk. Staring down at the two letters remaining. Fingers trembling, she unfolded the first.

    A date, a ce, a time. The Yellow Earth demanded her presence tomorrow.

    She set down the summons, breathed in, and cracked open the seal on the other. It was not long, and the hand that had written it was not yet practiced. More specifically it was not practiced in using Cathayan characters, careful but still rough calligraphy strokes addressing Song in her own native tongue.

    <em>We both have our duties, I knew that from the start. It stings, but not as much as you disappearing from my days. Meet me again just the two of us.</em> And beneath that was a line from one of her favorite poems by Lady Zong¡¯s, ¡®Farewell of Lovers¡¯. <em>To part in joy, summer¡¯s sorrow. </em>He¡¯d left the following line unwritten. <em>To part strangers, on wintry roads.</em>

    Evander would rather mourn her departure in joy than remember as a distant stranger.

    Song shakily breathed out, fingers twitching to crumple the message but immediately she regretted the impulse and almost obsessively smoothed it out. She put the paper down before she could make more of a fool of herself. Maryam had been right about one thing, at least.

    This would be easier if Song still knew what side she was on.

 Chapter 63

    Chapter 63

    Angharad went dressed in men¡¯s clothes: hose and a doublet under a long coat with a tricorn pulled down as far as she could, her hair bundled up. There was no hiding the walking stick, but being let into Lord Gule of Bezan¡¯s mansion through the servant entrance ought to keep most eyes off her.

    As the ambassador of the Kingdom of Mn the older noble had been assignedrge and luxurious quarters near the heart of the Collegium, the upper levels of the edifice a series of well-lit galleries of brass and ss that were as beautiful viewing from as viewed. Angharad, however, was not led to those salons and windows. Silent liveried servants bid her in then led her through empty kitchens and a well-stockedrder. At the end of it a heavy door needed unlocking and in the cold room beyond waited two men.

    Lord Gule of Bezan was richly butfortably dressed, in pale gray-and-orange silks with a hand on his sculpted cane ¨C a length of smooth, polished sandalwood. That stick was likely worth as much as all the clothes on her back, Angharad idly thought. Lord Gule inclined his head in greeting, ushering her through the door with a simple gesture.

    His attendant, stone-faced Jabni, was seated on a stool with a te and a stick of charcoal on hisp ¨C an indication he was here as ufudu and not a servant, for none worth the name would have sat when their master stood.

    ¡°Lady Angharad,¡± Lord Gule said, putting his hearing horn to his ear. ¡°I am pleased to see you again so soon.¡±

    ¡°And you, my lord,¡± she replied. ¡°I know we discussed meeting anew after the feast, but¡­¡±

    ¡°But you cleverly made your way in using that orphanage opening,¡± the older man praised. ¡°I take from your presence that you did find something.¡±

    ¡°The very device you sent me to look for,¡± she agreed.

    ¡°That remains to be seen,¡± Jabni said, eyes unreadable. ¡°I have questions. You will answer.¡±Angharad swallowed her distaste at theck of courtesy and curtly nodded.

    ¡°What pattern did the gilding disy?¡± the ufudu asked.

    She blinked. There had been no gilding, what did he ¨C ah. He was trying to trap her, to verify if she had truly seen an infernal forge. Insulting, but the Lefthand House lived in a world without honor.

    ¡°There was none,¡± Angharad replied. ¡°And this will be quicker if I describe the device instead of dance through your traps, so I shall.¡±

    Lord Gule covered a yawn with his hand, or perhaps a smile. She described the infernal forge as well as she could from memory, the ufudu not interrupting, but it could not be so easy at that. He still asked further questions afterwards. Three, all traps, though thisst one she might in truth have answered mistakenly had she not studied the device closely enough.

    ¡°The surface was so thickly covered with cryptoglyphs it almost seemed smooth from a distance,¡± she told the spy.

    Jabni slowly nodded, making a note on the te. He then looked down on it, breathed in slowly and wiped it clean before exhaling.

    ¡°I am satisfied,¡± the ufudu said, rising to his feet. ¡°Lord Gule, the matter is now entirely in your hands. I see no need for myself or the House to have further involvement.¡±

    The older man nodded back pleasantly, and to her surprise Jabni sketched the barest of bows when passing her on his way out of the room. Her brow rose, drawing the ambassador¡¯s eye.

    ¡°Jabni has a suspicious mind, as befitting a man of his duties, but he is not unreasonable,¡± Lord Guleughed. ¡°Infernal forges are rare and depictions of them almost as, so such a detailed description is unlikely toe from anything but your own eyes.¡±

    ¡°He did not ask where the hidden room is in the house,¡± she said.

    Lord Gule snorted.

    ¡°Beneath it, no doubt, as are most in this rat¡¯s warren of a capital,¡± he said. ¡°Besides, we are¡­¡±

    He paused, pawing at his silks and producing a golden watch whose ticking was nearly noiseless.

    ¡°Nearly runningte,¡± Lord Gule finished. ¡°He may have further questions for you, but a written ount will be enough ¨C and at a time where it will not dy us.¡±

    She cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°Dy us, my lord?¡±

    Lord Gule nced at the servant still holding the door open and the man bowed before gesturing to someone out of sight. A young girl bearing antern offered them both a curtsy before stepping into the cold room, slipping past the izinduna and walking to the back wall to pull at what turned out to be a steeltch hidden behind stacked stalks of celery. Threetches slid to the side, one after the other, and then a door popped open. A hidden door, behind whichy stairs.

    <em>Again</em>?

    ¡°Did you think I received you in the cold room to keep the hamspany?¡± the ambassador drily asked.

    Ancestors, she thought. Did every mansion in this misbegotten capital have a hidden passage of some sort? Thentern girl took the lead, gliding down the stairs as Angharad and Lord Gule followed. The older noble was in a fine mood, and a talkative one.

    ¡°Under thete Archeleans there was a craze of hidden rooms in the Collegium and the southwestern ward, which at the time was where most nobles dwelled,¡± Lord Gule told her. ¡°They fell out of favor during the Ataxia, as they became the favored tool of assassins to enter mansions.¡±

    Ah. Yes, that<em> would</em> tamp down on the enthusiasm some.

    ¡°But not this one?¡± she asked.

    ¡°It leads only to what I suspect was a room dedicated to concubinage,¡± Lord Gule said, ¡°so they never bothered. Digging a passage from there to the tunnels beneath the city took my staff several months.¡±

    No doubt more out of the need for discretion than physical difficulty, Angharad mused. The room at the bottom of the stairs was much as advertised, essentially arge bedroom though it currently stripped of any furniture. It also disyed with a gaping hole in a Tratheke brass wall, the presumed path forward.

    Through there thentern girl led them through a cramped tunnel angled slightly downwards, dug through stone and emerging into an underground passage not unlike a hallway. For five minutes they walked through the dark, until they emerged what should be¡­ west of the mansion, at a guess, but far below? Water must be close, for there was a sense of dampness to the cool here.

    Her suspicions proved correct, as at the end of the hall a smokelessmp hung over a narrow canal of dark water. An even narrower boat waited there, tied to a ring of steel nailed into the ground. It had two seats and a paddle waiting across them. Angharad¡¯s eyes strayed to a crate under themp, on which two brown hooded cloaks and two pairs of deerskin gloves were neatly folded.

    ¡°I took the liberty to prepare clothing for you as well,¡± Lord Gule informed her. ¡°Though I¡¯m afraid I will have to prevail on you to bring us to our destination.¡±

    Angharad silently inclined her head, smothering her excitement. Hoods and gloves? There were only so many reasons for Gule to seek to hide their faces and hands. The cloak was of fine make and the gloves delightfully soft. Angharad stepped onto the boat first, taking the paddle, and watched as the servant girl helped the ambassador down onto the other seat before passing him thentern and withdrawing.

    ¡°Forward,¡± Lord Gule instructed her. ¡°Ours is the easiest of all the routes, a straight line to the shrine.¡±

    There was a faint current to the water, headed the same way they were, so Angharad hardly needed to do a thing to propel them across the water. A droplet sshed on her face revealed, to her surprise, that the wet was not cold but lukewarm. Odd, given the coolness down here. The islet of light cast by thentern felt fragile, but Lord Gule¡¯s continuing volubility propped it up.

    ¡°The ceremony we are to attend takes ce every lunar month ¨C the Coral Moon, that is,¡± he specified. ¡°While the red crescent can no longer be seen from Asphodel, it was above the ind during much of the Second Empire and it is believed that in a century and a half it will begin to journey back towards Tratheke.¡±

    Angharad nodded as if she had understood. She had never heard of the Coral Moon, and the few moons she <em>was</em> familiar with were much closer to Mn. Save for the Leviathan¡¯s Tear, anyhow, which was the guiding light for sailing journeys to the westernnds if you knew how to see it - which precious few save the captains of Mn did.

    ¡°Am I to take from the hoods that initiates keep their faces hidden even from each other?¡± she asked.

    ¡°To some degree,¡± Lord Gule replied. ¡°The most prominent among the cult have long been guessed at, including myself, and to lead or openly participate in the ceremony one must reveal their face. The small nobles and officials clutch their secrets, but it is difficult to rise to prominence without ceding some hints.¡±

    ¡°So there are ranks,¡± Angharad probed. ¡°Means to rise.¡±

    ¡°Not yet initiated and already so ambitious,¡± the ambassador teased, but he sounded pleased.

    Angharad dipped her head, feigning abashment, but he only chuckled.

    ¡°Most of the society are mere pawns,¡± Lord Gule said, ¡°and know nothing of the mysteries save a few signs to recognize each other and the promise of power toe. Your attendance to the ceremony will make of you an initiate, one who glimpsed the powers wielded but works under a head of the cult.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°I am one such head, and you will naturally be employed at my discretion.¡±

    She did not hide her surprise.

    ¡°You stand high in the ranks.¡±

    ¡°Not so high as you think,¡± Lord Gule warned her. ¡°The five heads hold great sway, but ours is a power earthly. We have authority because of means and influence, because we are needed for the advancement of the society¡¯s schemes. That is, I fear, temporary authority. The true power lies with the priesthood, the officiants of the spirit, and their master who founded the cult and still leads it.¡±

    Angharad hid her thrill. Atst, progress! Learning the identity of that master as well as that of the mentioned five heads should see the Thirteenth¡¯s contract to the throne discharged. There was finally a clear path out of the mire.

    ¡°He is known as the lesiast,¡± the ambassador added, perhaps anticipating the question. ¡°I met him only once and do not know his true name, for pains were taken to hide his identity.¡±

    Even a title, now. <em>The lesiast</em>. She almost rolled her eyes at the pretentiousness.

    ¡°Will he be in attendance?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°Such rites are beneath him,¡± Lord Gule scoffed. ¡°His acolytes attend in his stead, priests one and all ¨C though their priesthood is by virtue of the spirit¡¯s favor and not genuine virtue. None I have seen would be fit to serve the Sleeping God.¡±

    Though she did not turn, Angharad could feel the weight of his eyes on her back.

    ¡°I expect you will recognize some of those attending and perhaps be recognized by them in turn, despite our precautions,¡± the izinduna said. ¡°Discretion will be paramount in this matter.¡±

    She nodded silently.

    ¡°Good,¡± Lord Gule muttered. ¡°We are nearly there, so mind your hood.¡±

    Angharad saw nothing that separated the dark stretch of canal she was guiding them through from any other, but there must have been some mark for the older man proved right: the canal abruptly ended, leading into some kind ofrge underground reservoir. At its heart was an ind, as if a cluster of basalt had grown out of the water like a mushroom, and atop that rocky shore stood a worn shrine.

    It had neither doors nor walls, steps roughly hewn into the basalt leading up to driftwood columns holding up arge, thick square roof that seemed made up entirely of broken wood. Masts, oars and spears, shattered prows and painted idols. Dull, warmmps were strewn all over the shore and inside the shrine. They cast the shadows of the small boats moored by the dozen and of the quiet assembly standing within the shrine. At least three dozen were there, in hooded cloaks ranging from vivid red to a gray so dark it came close to infringing on the rights of the Watch regarding ck cloaks.

    Angharad guided her boat to one of the empty stretches on the shore, wincing as she got onto the stone with uncertain legs. She was passed her walking stick by Lord Gule and leaned on it long enough to tie the boat to a thick figurehead of bronze and help the older noble onto the shore. They werete in theing, she saw, but not thest: there were two more boats out in the water, torchlight heralding their approach.

    As Lord Gule began the walk to the shrine, she lingered a moment to take a sniff of the air. Frowning she knelt by the shore, angling herself to hide her hand within her cloak while she took off a glove and dipped a finger in the water before bringing to her nose. It truly was salt water; she was not going mad. Was this ce somehow connected to the Trebian Sea? She <em>had </em>been wondering where all the water of the Tratheke canals came from, given that no river fed the city.

    Angharad put the glove back on and pushed herself up. Her eyes went to the driftwood shrine, and she wondered if there might not be another exnation for the waters here turning from fresh to salt. Powerful spirits, the elders of their kind, could change the world around them merely by being. <em>The Golden Ram does not have such power</em>, she thought. <em>It did not even at its height. So who is it that rules here?</em>

    She followed behind Lord Gule, standing in his shadow as a retainer would, but under the hood her gaze swept the ce. It was only a moment before she entered the shrine that she noticed it ¨C a bit of pale in the roof of broken wood, easily mistaken for one of the painted idols.

    A skull. A human skull, and now that she knew what to look for she saw others. Scattered bones among ruined wood, at least several men¡¯s worth. She shivered and forced herself to follow Lord Gule without further dy, for already some hooded faces had turned her way. She came to stand by the izinduna¡¯s side, among a line of quietly murmuring figures all facing the heart of the shrine: a polished stone floor, at the heart of which forged chains held down a single prisoner.

    And that prisoner was not a man.

    The Golden Ram, for what else could this be, was aptly named: a great horned sheep with a golden mane, twice the size of a warhorse. But though the sight of that spirit out in the wilds would have been a fearsome thing, down here in the ancient shrine it was¡­ Sad, almost. It was bound in chains of forged silver and deep glinting spikes were driven deep into its sides, but Angharad could see it had been sick even before that.

    The spirit was malformed, with a leg that ended in a stump and another shriveled like a twig. Its coat had the luster of gold, but rivulets of rust-like ichor dripped down from its wounds and peeled away both coat and skin with them. Itsrge, curved horns were fully formed but a wound had clipped one and broken it, showing they were hollow inside. Like empty shells.

    The Golden Ram barely breathed; its eyes closed as ity on the stone floor marked with a mess of ovepping circles that all surrounded it. Boundaries, she remembered from her Theology ss. They would not stop it walking it out, were it healthy, but they would muddle and diffuse its power.

    ¡°It is no pretty sight, I will grant,¡± Lord Gule murmured, leaning her way.

    ¡°I have never before seen a spirit so misshapen,¡± Angharad replied as quietly. ¡°Is it¡­ healthy?¡±

    She got an incredulous look from the ambassador and coughed into her fist.

    ¡°Beyond the obvious wounds,¡± she borated.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Lord Gule said. ¡°Well caught. The spirit did note to be in a proper way, I am told. Our fellows caught it as a middling thing, granting small boons and barebones contracts, and used the properties of the local aether to force it to manifest physically.¡±

    <em>They made cattle to bleed</em>, Angharad thought, keeping her disgust off her face even under the hood. It was one thing for a Redeemer like Lord Gule to be indifferent at the sight before him, but that was not the faith she kept to. Evil done onto spirits was still evil, for all that their nature was not that of men.

    ¡°The society keeps to a greater patron,¡± she probed.

    Lord Gule smiled approvingly.

    ¡°You will see soon enough,¡± he whispered back. ¡°The taste of health we gave you is the least of it.¡±

    He then gestured for silence, however, as thest attending had arrived. Thest three figures hurried up the stairs under the silent disapproving stares of most everyone else, their bodynguage embarrassed even under the cloaks. It appeared that even in murderous spirit cults punctuality was expected, Angharad amusedly thought. With thest finding a ce in one of the rows facing the inside of the shrine, a hush fell over the assembly and even whispers died out.

    The line of becloaked cultists in the back of the shrine parted to allow through another figure, one that did not hide her face and had Angharad stiffening in surprise. While the usual ttering dress and stylings had been traded for a simple cloth robe and sculpted bronze bracelets, there was no mistaking that face and figure.

    ¡°You who stand in the hall of the Odyssean,¡± Lady Doukas spoke in a resonant voice, ¡°<em>kneel</em>.¡±

    It took a heartbeat for Angharad to adjust to the sight of the flirtatiousdy Tristan had caught having a tryst in a closet during a banquet with the solemn priestess now standing before her. Long enough that Lord Gule tugged at her cloak and she hastily knelt by his side, leaning on her cane. Only when all had knelt did Lady Doukas speak again.

    ¡°The Cunning King receives your submission,¡± she announced. ¡°All may rise.¡±

    Angharad swallowed a grunt of pain as she did, having leant on her knees a little too much today. Still, there was no helping it. She had already learned much and the ceremony had yet to even begin. Sleeping God, Lady Doukas? The noblewoman had been one of the suspects on the original list, it was true, but Angharad had all but dismissed her. The admittedly handsome older woman seemed a lot more interested in bedding young men than anything conspirational.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Less so now, simply dressed but with a dim sense of power rolling off her in waves. It caught the eye almost like a naked me, beckoning and searing all at once.

    ¡°We gather here beneath the lights of Tratheke to remember the original truth of Asphodel,¡± Lady Doukas said. ¡°That which was forged in death can only through death be preserved.¡±

    <em>Only through death</em>, around half the assembly echoed. Lord Gule did not, the way he stood beneath his cloak hinting at a certain distaste for the ritual. A Redeemer like him, Angharad thought, would find this entire affair to smack a little too much of religion. Spirits could be bargained with, but they should never be worshipped. In this, they shared opinion.

    ¡°There are none in thisnd who can resist the might of the Odyssean,¡± the priestess, for that was what she must be, told the assembly. ¡°Behold before you the Golden Ram, a god chained and bled. Behold now the de of the Cunning King, and how it carves even the divine.¡±

    Lady Doukas gestured at cultists behind her and a pair carried forward a cushion on which rested the aforementioned de. Angharad had expected a cuss, the kind of pirate lord the likes of which Odyssean had been in life might wield, but instead what was brought into the light ofmps was a sickle. Bronze, with a dull handle but a gleaming curved de.

    She frowned. Since when was the sickle a symbol of the Odyssean? Much less one without any ornaments. Maryam had spoken gemstone eyes and the ancient spirit¡¯s hoard of treasures, but never of such a in de.

    ¡°Let the daring step forward,¡± Lady Doukas called out, ¡°and wield their ambition as a de. Let the worthye into the gaze of the Odyssean. Who will answer the call?¡±

    There was heartbeat of hesitation, then a silhouette stepped out of the row to Angharad¡¯s left. Another two had begun to move, but just a breath toote. The figure in a roughspun cloak of wool took two steps towards the smiling priestess, whose smile broadened when the man pulled back his hood and revealed his face to the entire assembly. Angharad breathed in sharply.

    ¡°I will,¡± Lord Cleon Eirenos replied.

    Her heart clenched. She had hoped, even knowing now that his contracted patron was the spirit worshipped by the cult, that he would not be part of this. But the chance had always been slight.

    ¡°Honored be Cleon Eirenos,¡± Lady Doukas said, smiling in something like triumph. ¡°He who stands young among you, but long in the care of the Cunning King. Never before has he asked favor, only giving faithful service.¡±

    <em>Honored be</em>, the crowd sang back. The hooded attendant stepped up to Lord Cleon, offering up the sickle, and the young lord deftly took up the de from the cushion. Cleon Eirenos was a huntsman, Angharad knew, and skilled with a de. She did not believe him a cruel man by nature and when he moved it was with care and precision.

    It still left an ugly taste in the mouth watching him cut into the helpless spirit¡¯s side.

    The Golden Ram¡¯s flesh parted without resistance and the sickle¡¯s de came away red. After Cleon drew away Lady Doukas knelt by the bound spirit with a wooden cup and captured the fat, rusty droplets that bled. The Ram never even stirred. The priestess then raised the cup for all to see, smiling ecstatically.

    ¡°Cleon Eirenos cut a god for his ambition,¡± Lady Doukas said, ¡°and the god bled. Name now the price of the ichor, honored Cleon.¡±

    The young lord¡¯s face hardened.

    ¡°The life of Theofania Varochas, of the Meda¡¯s Rock Varochas,¡± he coldly said. ¡°I grant my share to the Odyssean, that he may share this death with me.¡±

    Angharad tensed, for in the moment that followed wind billowed sharply across the temple. Lamps flickered, and on the air was the faint sound of screams and shing arms. Only instead of the clean, burning scent of salt Angharad caught something like¡­ rot? A sickly-sweet reek, and also a whiff of the smell of wet earth. She had to keep her hood in ce with a gloved hand, and when she could spare attention again she saw that the sickle in Cleon¡¯s hand was now bare of red and half the ichor in the cup was gone.

    ¡°The price was epted,¡± Lady Doukas announced. ¡°Death will find your enemy.¡±

    The crowd exhaled, Angharad among them, and Cleon set the sickle back down on the cushion. He kept his hood down, as if disdainful of secrecy, and returned to the side. Lady Doukasunched into a sermon exalting the might and virtues of the Odyssean, but Angharad felt too sick in the stomach to listen<em>. Never before had he asked favor</em>, Lady Doukas had imed.

    Was this on her head? This ceremony appeared to be some kind of¡­ death ritual, sacrificing ichor to the Odyssean to buy the death of one¡¯s enemies in what could not be called anything but a form of murder. Yet Cleon, who must have known of this for years, had never before made such a sacrifice. Was it because of the humiliation Angharad had allowed to be inflicted on herself at the Eirenos manor?

    She had known he felt trapped by his unwanted suitor, by the way the neighboring nobles were hemming him in, but to ask for that girl¡¯s head was¡­ She had attacked him first, Angharad reminded herself. Not by wielding a de at him, but it was no less an attack to chase away all his potential matches and try to impose herself as a wife. It had all begun long before any Tredegar knew this isle, years ago.

    And yet she could not shake the feeling it was her deception under his roof that had led him to this¡­ threshold of decision. This mistake. <em>Dishonor bringing only further dishonor.</em>

    But Angharad had her duty, and wallowing in guilt was not it. She must try to find if any of the other heads were in attendance, or even other priests with bare faces. She eyed the crowd carefully as Lady Doukas continued exhorting them, finding that while there were some matching cloaks like hers and Lord Gule¡¯s none of the silhouettes under them stood out recognizably.

    She could guess at gender from height and shoulder width, but only that. Perhaps someone who better knew the grandees of the court might be able to, but how might they¡­ Angharad breathed in sharply, and sunk into her contract. She did not stay long in the vision, just long enough to take a long look at the crowd around her.

    It would be enough to fix the sight perfectly in her memory.

    There was a shiver of cold on the nape of her neck when she let the contractpse, almost like the Fisher wasughing against the skin. An unsettling thought, and she was d to that Lady Doukas¡¯ sermon did not go on much longer ¨Cwhat followed demanded her full attention, stopping her from thinking too much about what that distant satisfaction that echoed truly meant.

    ¡°Only the chosen may stand in this holy ce,¡± Lady Doukas reminded the crowd with a smile. ¡°The most beloved and trusted hands of the Odyssean, those who will rule when the hour of our triumphes.¡±

    The smile widened.

    ¡°And that hour,¡± she purred, ¡°has grown near.¡±

    A breathless, excited shiver ran through the assembly. Even Angharad, who was here to see these traitors pped in chains, felt a strange joy rise in her. A feeling like when the de cut into flesh at the perfect angle, like¡­ leaping into the dark andnding on solid ground. The reservoir had been still as a grave before, but now there was a faint breeze and she thought she heard wavespping at the shore of the ind. <em>The spirit is here</em>, she thought with dread. <em>Or at least its attention</em>.

    ¡°Our brethren in the rector¡¯s pce have sent word,¡± Lady Doukas said. ¡°Atst our agents are in ce: the throne is in the palm of our hand, and as soon as our soldiers are mustered it will be time to <em>close our fist</em>.¡±

    Excited murmurs spread while Angharad¡¯s stomach clenched. How long before the coup - hours, days?

    ¡°The lesiast has spoken,¡± the priestess said. ¡°On the night of the thirteenth, as night falls, we will take our rightful ce atop Asphodel.¡±

    The thirteenth of the month. Angharad counted up the days ¨C they were currently the eighth. Five days. There were five days left before the fuse hit powder, before the knives came out.

    Five days to get the infernal forge out of the city and put her affairs in order.

    --

    Maryam proved her theory within three minutes of walking into the private archives.

    It wasn¡¯t all that difficult to test aether sticity when you knew how, which she did. It was only a matter of tricking yourself into feeling something while you felt out your own emanations with your nav, and she was feeling nervous enough she didn¡¯t have to do any tricking. She¡¯d been right: this ce had to be the cork on the Hate One¡¯s prison.

    She¡¯d not noticed when tracing a Sign here the first time because the local aether was so solid and stable it didn¡¯t feel all that different from the barren emptiness of the rest of the pce until you looked closely. There was no give here at all ¨C the amount of faith in Oduromai permeating the ind of Asphodel made the cork so frightfully dense it felt like it wasn¡¯t even there until you pushed against it. Maryam watched thest of the archivists leave down the lift, the lights below go out, and took a deep breath.

    Three minutes, that was all it¡¯d taken until she had the answers she had told the Lord Rector she muste here to find out. The answer to Song¡¯s t question of how much this visit was about her desires and how much about her duty was left ufortable bare and in the open, like a dead fish on the shore. Maryam wrestled the thought down. She would take no lecture from Song Ren in this, considering the mess the other woman had in her hands. It was time to set the distractions aside and do what she had trulye here for.

    It would be easier in the dark.

    Captain Totec had exined it as an effect of observational solipsism, a reduction of the metaphysical impurities that came from the Material being observed by a lucent mind. It was a provable conclusion, measured and recorded and stripped clean of anything the Navigators deemed to smell of mysticism. The Akrre wanted no uncertainty in their Signs or the principles guiding them.

    Practitioners of the Craft spoke instead of sympathy, about the thinning of thresholds between world and Nav and how the soul-effigy became eminent by straddling<em> is</em> and <em>could-be</em>. It was an intuitive answer, meant to guide the mind along thought-paths that reinforced themselves. A craft of words to make craftsmen of those who heard it.

    Maryam preferred to think of it as emptying herself.

    To wield the Gloam was an act of will, whether that will was used to trace the resonant solidity of the Signs or to sculpt intention into act as the Craft did, but ¡®will¡¯ was not an absolute. It was a finite resource. Humans were animals, embers of divinity trapped inside beasts, and the beast weighed it all down. Will could not be made greater save by time and training, but the beast could be lulled into sleep. Drowned in the dark, where its savage instincts could not drag down the practitioner.

    Darkness and silence let you empty yourself of everything but you, until there was nothing but yourself and the Gloam. And so Maryam Khaimov sat alone in the dark, eyes closed, at the heart of the private archives.

    She sat neither high nor low, above the earth but beneath firmament, utter silence and the absence of light turning her body into a ship sailing a dark sea. Hours passed until a heartbeat was an eternity and the turn of an era but a single breath, the creeping teeth of the Gloam eating away at time until it was more nothing than not. She could no longer hear her own breath. Her limbs were numb and her awareness was a keel parting ck waters, a smooth cut that left no trace behind it.

    Her lungs exhaled, her lips blind to the passing of the breath, and Maryam traced a word with her nav. A Sign, consecrated sybles carved out from the death rattle of existence: <strong>OIDE</strong>

    Imperial deration of knowledge,plete and self-contained. Autarchic. That thought-path was meant to be looped, invoked at the begin and the end ¨C knows she, she knows ¨C but Maryam Khaimov was an empty vessel. She did not wield herself under the cannibal crown but made herself into the dark sea. Slick like oil, perfect and still. Reflecting the hidden thing facing her. Maryam dered that she knew, and so she did, for she was the mirror to secrets thought lost.

    And as a mirror she reflected everything that the Cauldron was, thus knowing it fully for a single terrible moment.

    She saw the harrowing disorder of it, ages of secrets and cheats and glorious lies thrown haphazardly into the confines with no thought to use or deservedness. Blood-drenched vitions dripping onto the most mundane of crafts, terrified howls woven into braids with theughter of children and tricks to dy sleep. There was <em>so much</em>, and all of it made sense but not in the same ways or with the same words, and it was all jumbled and jagged. A hand reaching within would be torn to shreds.

    Then the moment passed and Maryam Khaimov fell forward onto her knees, loudly throwing up on the wooden roof. She could not see in the darkness, but somehow she knew the bile was ck and would turn into shadowy vapor. Her ragged breath tore at her lungs, her very soul aching at the terrible magnitude of what she had mirrored ¨C not even held, not even owned, merely <em>mirrored</em>! ¨C for an instant. Her forehead dripped with sweat, feverish, but this was not mania. There was no joy in this, no heedless energy. Maryam was a rag wrung dry, not a pitcher filled to the brim.

    ¡°They raise them from birth to hold the Cauldron, you know? Mother cut corners. So very many of them, near the end.¡±

    And there was the scavengere to haunt her. As expected. Inevitable, really. All living things were beholden to the tyranny of their own nature, even a parasite such as this. Maryam pushed herself back onto her ass, the wood under her fingers slick from her own bile. The shade was seated by her, legs folded, like a friend holding herpany. Maryam could not see in the dark but she knew that much with utter certainty.

    ¡°We already knew that,¡± Maryam rasped. ¡°She told me the risks, that it might shatter parts of me.¡±

    The Cauldron was not a thing lightly borne, but borne it must be: it could be bound to the skull of thest Keeper of Hooks for only so long before it began to fade. And it was useless without a Keeper, anyway, mostly indecipherable. Maryam had thought that because of the grand eldritchness of the secrets held within, the lightless depth of the whispers, but now she knew better.

    It was because without a Keeper¡¯s mind to organize the Cauldron the entire thing was just howling, senseless cacophony of screams.

    A hiss, someone pulling away. Maryam opened her eyes in the dark, beholding light. Ate autumn day in the burnt husk of an ancient forest, raised stones cracked by heat with their painted faces streaked in ash. A pit that fled deep into the belly of the earth, belching out a warm breath tasting of sulfur. And a young Maryam Khaimov, cradling her bleeding arm as her mother frowned down at her with a long silver needle in hand.

    ¡°Steady, <em>meda</em>,¡± Izolda Cernik chided. ¡°Your will must not wane, no matter whates.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± the young Maryam swore.

    The fear behind the words was obvious now, looking at the child. Maryam wondered if it had been as obvious to her mother as it was to her.

    ¡°It didn¡¯t,¡± the shade said.

    ¡°Of course it did,¡± Maryam said, mouth tasting vile. ¡°I was too afraid to lose myself, it prevented the joining.¡±

    ¡°Did it?¡± the shade asked. ¡°We have the Cauldron. It was passed.¡±

    ¡°You stole the Cauldron,¡± Maryam bit out. ¡°Stole it, you <em>thing</em>. That is not passing anything.¡±

    Izolda Cernik wiped the bloody needle against the pad of her thumb, smiling as she traced a red streak across the bridge of the young Maryam¡¯s nose, and it was like a convulsion. Seeing Mother like that again, blue eyes smiling along with the rest of her. She was not a handsome woman, Izolda Cernik, with mousy brown hair and a face that looked it had been carved by a journeyman. She had all the curves of a dead branch and teeth just a little toorge to miss how they were yellowing. But when she loved you, when it came to the fore of her, it was like basking in the re itself.

    Gods, Maryam thought, tears picking at her eyes.

    Then Izolda Cernik batted at the air near her ear, as if chasing off a horse fly that did not exist. She looked out into nothing, frowning, then snarled at the empty air.

    ¡°Silence,¡± she shouted. ¡°<em>My </em>daughter, <em>mine</em>. Be silent or I will wring your necks.¡±

    A different fear flickered across the young Maryam¡¯s face. That child had only been far enough down her journey to hear even the barest hints of the souls bound to her mother, back then. Maryam wondered if she had now grown enough she would be able to hear the words, to truly <em>know</em> that Mother had not truly turned into a violent madwoman who screamed at empty air and lost herself in thought for hours at a time.

    ¡°Mother,¡± the young Maryam whispered, tugging at her sleeve. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±

    Izolda turned, face serious.

    ¡°Of course you are, <em>meda</em>,¡± she said. ¡°You will not let me down.¡±

    ¡°I do not want to watch this,¡± Maryam quietly said, stomach clenching.

    To watch herself fail again.

    ¡°Then why are you wake-dreaming it?¡± the shade asked. ¡°My hand does not guide our nav.¡±

    She had no answer to that. The preparations had taken so long, in her memory, but Maryam watched the ghostly scene pass in mere seconds. Watched as Gloam slunk out of her mother like a living thing, the gargantuan limb of a leshy reaching into the depths of the pit and plucking out the skull of thest Keeper of Hooks like a delicate flower.

    ¡°Look into her eyes when she gives it to you,¡± the shade said. ¡°Watch, Maryam, and you will see hunger. I will never mistake that, when so much of me is made from the same.¡±

    ¡°She needed me,¡± Maryam bit out. ¡°She prepared me as best she could, kept me from taking the oath to Mother Winter. I was supposed to <em>seed </em>her.¡±

    There was no good end to being wintersworn. It was not a gant or beautiful thing, a daring deed worthy of telling. It was fear and spite and hatred that had seen the hundreds by the river swear their death to the cause, their wriggling soulsmitted to the hide-bag of Mother Winter so that their deaths could be turned into a curse. A ck thing that the dreadmost goddess would drown the invaders in should they fail.

    Curse them and their children and their children¡¯s children, forever until thest of those ursed lines had ended or thest of the sworn soulsy spent.

    Maryam had been held back that day by the river, forbidden from taking the oath, because already Mother had meant her for the Cauldron. To inherit the sum of the Craft and bring about the spring in the wake of a great winter as the Keeper of Hooks. To renew the Izvoric, be the sprouts in the ashen grounds. She watched as her mother punctured her cheeks with needles, as gently as she could, and red trailed down.

    Watched as Izolda Cernik bit her own thumb and¡­ traced it on her own right eyebrow? Then did the same to young Maryam¡¯s left. There was still enough of the mirroring left in Maryam to know that was wrong. That it added another headwater to the river trying to break the dam, made everything more fragile.

    ¡°Did she get it wrong?¡± she said.

    ¡°She had bound to her the souls of all the remainder of the Ninefold Nine,¡± the shade said. ¡°Izolda Cernik might have been raving mad, but she did not make mistakes in matters of Craft. Not even there, at the end.¡±

    ¡°But she made the shape of the joining more fragile,¡± Maryam whispered. ¡°And she didn¡¯t know about you.¡±

    ¡°<em>I</em> did not even know about me, back then,¡± the shade said. ¡°How could she?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s how it went wrong,¡± Maryam said as she watched her mother press a bone-white skull against the young Maryam¡¯s forehead, chanting words of power. ¡°That¡¯s how you ended up getting the Cauldron. I was afraid and it was fragile and <em>you were there</em>.¡±

    She was almost grateful when the dream died with thest of her sentence. Spared the sight of her failure, Mother¡¯s disbelief slowly turning into fear and then a dozen different thoughts as the other souls bled into her. The screaming as she tore up the sacred stones, shrieking in grief at what had been lost. Instead Maryam was sitting before a candle, and though her mind knew she was alone and in the dark on the other side of that false candlelight sat the shade.

    It was wearing the same colorful robes Mother had that day, hair held back by a headband of thick colored beads. Still putting on a face that could have been a sister or a cousin.

    ¡°It was an ident,¡± Maryam finally said. ¡°You didn¡¯t mean to take it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t <em>mean</em> to do anything,¡± the shade hissed. ¡°I was dreaming, unknowing, until you brought me to an aether well. And even then all I could do was what you threw away.¡±

    Maryam swallowed, slowly stitching the details together.

    ¡°You tried to break the gift Angharad received from her uncle,¡± she said.

    ¡°How you hated it, that someone loved her enough for that when she did not deserve it,¡± the shade said, grinning toothily.

    A thought she had pushed down, decided was unworthy of her. A dark impulse. The shade had first been seen at the chapterhouse when she had wanted to go but decided she was too exhausted, then seen out at night when she had been curious about the forbidden parts of Azei but forced herself to set that curiosity aside. And when the shade had saved Song¡­

    ¡°You told yourself it was fine to leave her with Professor Kang,¡± the thing facing herpleted. ¡°But you didn¡¯t think that, not really. You were afraid for her, wanted to check on her. And I cared for her then, because you were angry enough that you didn¡¯t let yourself feel it.¡±

    ¡°But out here you do what you want,¡± Maryam said, ¡°because the aether currents on Asphodel are unstable. They swelled you like they do the local gods. Made you more.¡±

    ¡°I was always more,¡± the shade replied. ¡°You know that now. You felt it thest time you ate from me.¡±

    The fear she had felt in the aether, the emanation that had note from Maryam Khaimov and could thus only havee from the shade. Only a mere shade would not have been able to emanate that way. She was looking at a living thing. One, Song had forced her to admit, that she intended to murder to take back the Cauldron. Or at least some of it.

    ¡°You think that changes anything, that you live?¡± Maryam asked.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Piglets live too, and they are jolly little fellows,¡± the signifier said. ¡°I still love a good cut of pork.¡±

    ¡°See?¡± the shade smiled. ¡°You have to make me less, for it to be ptable. An animal.¡±

    ¡°Because that¡¯s what you are,¡± Maryam hissed. ¡°The ram I need to sacrifice on an altar to get the Cauldron back. To finish what Mother meant for me.¡±

    ¡°You know better than that too,¡± the shade said. ¡°You saw it, how tangled up the knowledge is. If you keep taking bites out like you have you will make it even messier and the whole thinges apart. Muddles itself irreparably. You can take what, a tenth? Then it bes babbling.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Maryam said. ¡°I believe I¡¯ll take half.¡±

    The shade grew angry.

    ¡°You can¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°You are part of the weakness,¡± Maryam told her. ¡°Not a fit container, more than a skull but less than a woman. You are¡­ too pliable, a waterskin that will rip when I drink too deep of it. But I can change that.¡±

    She clenched her fingers. All this time, she had been so careful. Avoided what she was about to do, been so wary of doing it by ident. All that so she could now do it on purpose. As always the gods owned thestugh.

    ¡°You called yourself a princess of Volcesta,¡± Maryam said. ¡°I deny you this.¡±

    ¡°That is not your right,¡± the shade hissed.

    ¡°You called yourself the first andst of the Ninefold Nine,¡± Maryam said. ¡°I deny you this.¡±

    ¡°Then who, <em>you</em>?¡± the shade mocked.

    ¡°You called yourself the Keeper of Hooks,¡± Maryam said, ¡°and it is untrue but there is a bone of truth to the im. You keep nothing, you are no steward of wisdom. But the knowledge<em> is</em> there inside you.¡±

    She grinned sharply.

    ¡°I name you Hooks,¡± Maryam Khaimov damned her. ¡°For that is what you are, the tyranny youbor under: to bite and be dragged but never be, tearing that which moves you.¡±

    The creature shivered, firmed. Became something <em>more</em>.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± Hooks hoarsely asked.

    ¡°I made you into a person,¡± Maryam said. ¡°And now that you are one, <em>you can be my enemy</em>.¡±

    She rose to her feet.

    ¡°Grow your shell,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Sharpen your bite and your tricks and your fear, Hooks, for I will return to this ce when I am ready.¡±

    Gloam boiled around her fingers, eager and ready. The stronger the shade became, the firmer its personhood, the more Maryam would be able to take from the Cauldron before it broke. And half¡­ half was a tragedy, but it was still half more than she held in her hands today. The wintersworn had failed, in the end. The curse stillborn, Mother Winter in by swordmasters.

    Even with a mere half a victory scraped together, Maryam would still being out ahead of the rest of her kind. It would be enough, it <em>was </em>enough. It had to be, for what else was there? Leaving the Cauldron in Hooks forever, letting it devour her nav and condemn herself to being less until the end of her days? No, Maryam would not let herself be mediocre. She would not let herself fall behind, she would not let the Mni ruin her again from all the way across the sea.

    ¡°I will return and crack you open like a skull,¡± she lovingly said. ¡°Drinking as much if my inheritance as I can before putting an end to you atst.¡±

    ¡°It would be murder,¡± Hooks told her, appalled. ¡°You<em> made</em> this into murder by your own hand.¡±

    Her fingers clenched until the knuckles ached. It didn¡¯t mean anything, that Song had said the same thing. Of course her enemy would grasp at straws.

    ¡°Aye,¡± Maryam Khaimov agreed, ¡°it will be murder.¡±

    Like curls of blood in the water, she felt Hook¡¯s plumes of fear spread in the aether.

    ¡°And this time, I will be right end of the knife.¡±

 Chapter 64

    Chapter 64

    On the second day of his captivity, Tristan woke to the sensation of someone briskly jabbing him in the ribs. He startled awake, eyes stinging, and found a dark-haired woman in a padded brown surcoat staring down at him. The butt of her spear was raised but a few inches above his ribs, ready to strike. Marce again, joy.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± he groaned out.

    "Good morning, Ferrando,¡± the mercenary brightly said. ¡°Smile, I have good news.¡±

    ¡°You are getting transferred to the opposite end of Asphodel and we will never meet again,¡± he suggested.

    ¡°Now you¡¯re hurting my feelings,¡± Marceined, cocking an eyebrow. ¡°Perhaps I will have to remain silent after all.¡±

    Besides him Fortuna, sprawled on the dirty floor as if it were the most decadent of sofas, let out a long yawn. Purely for effect, considering she did not sleep or tire.

    ¡°Do not be a brute, Tristan,¡± she chided. ¡°Apologize to this lovelydy whose propensity for bothering you has been making this whole imprisonment business marginally less boring for me.¡±

    s, flipping off the Lady of Long Odds the finger could not go unnoticed. He¡¯d take petty revengeter by ying cards and calling at the first opportunity every single time, which drove her crazy. It ¡®left no ce for chance¡¯, which was apparently the metaphysical equivalent of spitting in her soup. Marce¡¯s gaze, though, he met head on.

    ¡°Oh merciful goddess, forgive me my trespass,¡± Tristan said in his ttest, most lifeless tone. ¡°I was only struck dumb by your magnificence, knowing not the words tumbling out of my mouth.¡±Marce stroked her chin a moment, as if assessing his groveling, then nodded in approval.

    ¡°That will do,¡± she said. ¡°And buckle up, Kassa boy, you got your wish: the Tianxi need helping hands. You¡¯ve half an hour to be at thedder ready for work.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± he replied, sitting all the way up, then cocked an eyebrow. ¡°Was the spear in the ribs really necessary?¡±

    Marce smirked.

    ¡°No, but it¡¯s been a boring shift,¡± the mercenary said. ¡°Have to get my entertainment where I can, unless you¡¯ve alternatives to offer.¡±

    He gestured rudely at her, which sheughed off while sauntering away. The Trade Assembly¡¯s hired soldiers were keeping them all prisoner, beneath the paper-thin pretense of this being a ¡®training camp¡¯, but as far as captors went these were a cordial lot ¨C likely owing to the fact that the hostages would be fighting at their side during the rising. The prisoners only earned the back of the hand if they made loud trouble or tried toe near the stairs, otherwise the soldiers in brown surcoats left them to their own devices.

    Unless they took to you in a different way, which he was not so blind as not to notice Marce had to him. Her advances were currently limited to petty bothers and verbal hair-pulling, so Tristan had chosen to pretend ignorance. Less risky than turning her down when he knew so little of her character.

    Rolling his shoulder, the thief took a quick look around. It was difficult to tell the time in here, though it was probably early in the morning ¨C earlier than seven, since themotion hadn¡¯t happened yet. No one could sleep through <em>that</em>. Most of the hostages were still asleep, snoring away in their ratty cots, and the fewmps hanging from the ceiling cast weak, flickering light. Low on oil. <em>It ister than I thought, then</em>.

    He missed Vanesa¡¯s watch, the cold certainty it represented, but there would have been no good exnation for the likes of ¡®Ferrando¡¯ to own such a costly piece. Besides, someone might well have robbed it off him by now.

    The mercenaries might be holding off on that sort of thing, but no one was protecting the hostages from each other and Tristan knew better than most what happened when rats were left alone in a box for too long.

    And this prison was very much a box. Whatever the Antediluvians had built this ce for was now a mystery, as time and men had wrecked the structure but what remained was straightforward enough: arge square stone warehouse with a low ceiling, its walls windowless and the gates to adjoining rooms bricked in long enough ago said bricks were crumbling in ces. Two sets of stairs nestled against the walls led to a second level, mirroring each other on opposite sides.

    Those stairs and the doors atop them were guarded by rotations of the mercenaries in brown surcoats and the asional Trade Assembly guards, but there <em>was</em> another way out of the warehouse: the massive span of copsed floor in the middle of the warehouse.

    Something or someone had shattered the stone, about a third of the warehouse floor turned into a ragged hole rimmed by copsed masonry and the asional jutting rod of brass. The break was a little to the left of the room, so the right side of the warehouse floor was where most cots had beenid down. Even where the hole came closest to the wall there was a solid ten feet or so of room, though.

    Still, fear of rolling over the edge in one¡¯s sleep had about two thirds of the hostages bunking on the right side of the room. That side also happened to hold most of the barrels of water meant for drinking or washing as well as the two rickety tables hostages were meant to eat sitting at ¨C in turns, as there were about a hundred and twenty captives while the tables sat barely thirty.

    The left side of the warehouse had thus been assigned half a dozen chamber pots, some of which were even hidden behind a cloth curtain. Tristan had bunked down in the lower-right corner along with the other Kassa worker taken hostage ¨C Damon, the warehouse man ¨C mostly because sticking to the man was the best way not to be pped around into bing someone¡¯s minion. Besides, his bedding was close to a stretch of floor that people liked to use for gambling.

    He''d overheard quite a bit while pretending to sleep, though nearly everything petty gossip.

    Leaning over, Tristan shook the man sleeping besides him awake. Damon of Tratheke was a tall and weedy sort who looked like he shouldn¡¯t havested an hour doing back-breaking work in the warehouse of the Kassa family, much less the decade he had worked there. There was a sly strength to him, and surprising endurance.

    ¡°Ferrando?¡± Damon called out, eyes fluttering open.

    He had long and delicate eyshes, the thief thought, which felt as if they had been borrowed from a prettier face. On him they felt odd, like gilding on a spade.

    ¡°I have to go,¡± Tristan told him. ¡°The artillerymen are trying me out, so I¡¯ll be in the pit for who knows how long.¡±

    The fair-haired man passed a hand through his hair, groaning as he pushed back his nket and swallowed a yawn.

    "Feels a mite unfair that I¡¯m made to pay for you wasting your chance at a gun,¡± Damon groused.

    Tristan rolled his eyes. On the first day the hired soldiers of the magnates had taken all the new hostages ¨C there¡¯d already been about seventy in here - below and made them fire five shots with those bulky, ungainly muskets the rebels had entire cratefuls of. Anyone who made three shots out of five was marked for further drilling with guns, everyone else told they would be handed a pike or a club when it was time to fight.

    The thief had not wanted eyes on him so he had failed out of the musket drills on purpose, while Damon had qualified. Mind you, Tristan was not sure if he<em> would </em>have been capable of qualifying even if he were trying. The bulky guns the magnates had handed them were nothing like the sleek killing tools of the Watch. Their kickback hit like a mule and the powder used stank like rotten eggs, thetter hinting at an overuse of sulfur in the recipe.

    Anyhow, that decision proved a mistake. The stairs were watched too closely by the mercenaries and after thorough investigation Tristan found there was no path through the bricked doors even where they¡¯d crumbled. If he wanted to get out, and he must since there was no telling how long he would be stuck down here otherwise, then the pit downstairs was looking like the best way. Given that he¡¯d passed on the easiest way to get time there it meant he had to go fishing for another opportunity.

    To his relief, he hadn¡¯t had to arrange an ident for one of the would-be musketeers as there was a superior alternative.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be manning a bigger gun, arguably,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°For lesser pay, though,¡± Damon smugly replied.

    He¡¯d wondered what the angle would be, when after the cheers died down at the rally the leading magnates had announced that about half of the people attending would need to head out to a hidden camp in Tratheke so they might be ¡®trained in the use of muskets¡¯. It was sound notion, given the heavy risks of leaks otherwise, but it had dampened the crowd¡¯s revolutionary enthusiasm noticeably. Anyone not a fool knew such tant hostage taking when they saw it. How would the rebels make up for it?

    By passing the me, he first thought, as the ringleaders let every crew pick their own ¡®recruits¡¯ and thus diluted ire by turning it inwards as well as inwards. Tristan himself knew he¡¯d end up picked whatever happened ¨C Temenos was too important and the twins spoke for the most expensive workers under the Kassa ¨C so he volunteered instead of being told to go. It won him esteem enough that Damon was noticeably friendlier when they were sent to this hideaway, making it easier to stick to his side for protection.

    Being ferried here with bags over their heads under the watch of armed criminals had failed to improve morale afterwards, but after that first drill separating the future musketmen from the spares the Trade Assembly revealed its path to earning back loyalty: earnings. A merchant guard speaking for the rebels announced that even while ¡®being trained¡¯ pikemen would be earning one silver arbol every five days and musketmen a full gold rama.

    That¡¯d rather revived the revolutionary mes, though Tristan suspected that the magnates were counting on casualties keeping the costs in silver down. Dead men were easy to stiff, and sending workshop workers armed with spears and clubs after trained soldiers like the lictors was going to result in more corpses than payouts.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be standing further away from the people shooting back,¡± Tristan noted. ¡°Worth the pay cut, I¡¯d say.¡±

    ¡°Two silvers are a pittance, if you are to stand next to those death traps,¡± Damon opined.

    He wasn¡¯t wrong there. The magnates, perhaps aware that cheap muskets and pikes were not the stuff grand victories were made of, had more to their arsenal. Namely, cannons. The artillerymen handling those kept in this hideout were Tianxi specialists, a nnish band of foreigners who came down once a day to drill just before the scheduled racket then disappeared back into the upper levels of the facility.

    Seeing an opportunity there, Tristan made inquiries. As it turned out the Tianxi <em>were </em>meant to train some of the hostages like the mercenaries were doing with muskets but there had been no takers for the job regardless of the bumped pay rtive to pikemen: cannons were dangerous, and not only to the people they were pointed at. They had a way of blowing up in one¡¯s face, especially the cheap ones. It did not help that the Tianxi were apparently rather unpleasant with neers, the few hostages who¡¯d tried to apprentice driven out quickly.

    Almost as if said Tianxi had a financial interest in not being reced by cheaper localbor. An amusing turnabout, considering the Republics were infamous for flooding small Trebian inds with masses of their cheap workshop goods. Tristan was not expecting his tryout to be a pleasant time, but he would stick it out until he had what he needed. If anything, mistreatment would be a baked-in excuse to stop when he was done.

    ¡°There is no guarantee they¡¯ll keep me, anyhow,¡± Tristan finally shrugged, then pushed up to his feet. ¡°Cardster?¡±

    ¡°I have never seen a man love losing so much,¡± Damon grinned back, nodding. ¡°I¡¯m sure I will be able to rustle up a few volunteers to lighten your purse.¡±

    The warehouse man was, in fact, <em>very</em> good at that. Even better was that said yers tended to be warehouse hands from other tradingpanies, some of which Damon was already passingly familiar with. The talk that those games led to Tristan¡¯s doorstep was not quite as useful as if they had been traveling men, but it came close: some of the other hostages had been here for more than a month and they were a wealth of knowledge.

    Those games were how he¡¯d heard about the Tianxi running out the previous takers, and how he¡¯d gotten an idea of theyout of the rest of the edifice. There was a towering wooden structure built over the second story, apparently. One thaty against the western wall of Tratheke and needed a lift to reach the top of, rather narrowing down the possible locations of this hideout.

    Useful knowledge, if he got out.

    ¡°Looking forward to it,¡± Tristan replied, rolling his eyes.

    He stopped by a barrel of water to dip in a cup and drink, then by one of the meal tables to help himself to a bowl of the sludge simmering in a cauldron the mercenaries reced whenever it ran empty. It was porridge, approximately, and hostages were allowed to help themselves to the contents at will ¨C probably because the actual meals served twice a day were not particrly fine orrge.

    He went to ssh his face from one of the washing barrels afterwards, and even took off his shirt long enough to rinse himself off ¨C there was a whistle from what could only be Marce, and someughter from other guards. As ready as he would get, Tristan went around the edge of the hole until he reached the tworge metaldders that were fastened to the stone by iron chains nailed to the floor. Marce was already there, and though she teased him for being early ¡®like an eager pup¡¯ she still offered to take him down immediately.

    There was no reason to wait, so momentster they were climbing down into the depths. The basement beneath the warehouse floor was not so deep under Tratheke as it appeared, but a cavernous ceilingbined with the low height of the warehouse ceiling above made it seem like some faraway journey. Tristan, counting the distance between the rungs of thedder instead of trusting his eye, established it to be no more than forty feet below.

    The basement was, itself, not much to look at. Arge room with a brass floor and a curved stone ceiling. The back bore arge door that must be utched by working a wheel, but it did not see use because the rebels had piled a kingdom¡¯s worth of crates in front. Mostly cannon balls and guns, with some powder barrels, but alsorge boxes that must have been for the cannons themselves. The rest of the room was empty space, leading directly into arge channel of soiled water churning the foulness into a tunnel it filled to the brim.

    At the source of that channely the likely reason the rebels had chosen this ce for a hideout: arge, wheeled machine set into the stone and churning the water along. It erupted into hour-long stretches of the most horrid racket thrice a day at the same hours, all loud thumps and scraping steel. Between the sewage smell and the noise, it was no wonder the magnates figured they could get away with training men in using muskets here.

    There were two mercenaries seated on crates near the wall, ying cards as they kept a loose eye on the situation, but his attention went to the three cannons in the middle of the room and the Tianxi tending to them. Three bronze pieces tied to carts, tworge enough they would have fit on a warship but the third narrower and longer. Hardly siege cannons, these, or anything like the infamous <em>Viudas Severas</em> ¨C the six massive iron cannons defending the Sanguine Port of Sacromonte, ship-killers one and all.

    A dozen Tianxi in loose Asphodelian clothing stood around the cannons, speaking among themselves in their native tongue, and Marce loudly cleared her throat in their direction. The chatter ceased, eyes turning on her and then Tristan himself.

    ¡°Here¡¯s your student,¡± she said, gesturing at him. ¡°Try not to run him out like the others.¡±

    The dubious looks that followed as they eyed him were just a mite insulting. Quick chatter erupted between the Tianxi, a disparate lot that shared little aside ck hair and the Cathayan look, until the tallest among them whistled sharply and gestured for Tristan to head towards the smallest of the three cannons. There were groans from the two Tianxi handling it, an old man with skinny white beard and a middle-aged woman with her hair pulled into a severe bun.

    Not the most auspicious of beginnings, but it was on him to turn that around. He found himself preempted for introductions as he approached.

    ¡°Ming,¡± the old man announced, tapping his own chest.

    ¡°Ferrando,¡± Tristan replied, doing the same.

    ¡°Feihan Ho,¡± the old man confidently repeated.

    From the amused glint in the woman¡¯s eyes, Tristan guessed he was already being hazed.

    ¡°Close enough,¡± he agreed, squaring his shoulders. ¡°What can I do?¡±

    ¡°Ever touch cannon before?¡± Ming asked.

    The thief leaned forward, touched the bronze piece and then turned a brilliant smile on the old man.

    ¡°Once,¡± he said.

    He got rolled eyes in return, from both. They did their level best to run him out with usible deniability after that, avoiding teaching him anything and instead sending him to constantly fetch and rece tools. Twice they sent him up thedder to ask the mercenary officer at the stairs an asinine question, which was so transparent the grizzled old veteran actually shot him a pitying look.

    Half an hour in, though, the pair realized they had to teach him <em>something</em> or their employers wouldin. His repeated admission of ignorance in matters of artillery saw him informed that his lesson would be on loading ammunition, which was not simple as it looked. It was not merely a powder charge and a stone ball, as he¡¯d assumed, but also two differentyers of wadding which had to be put in the right order before it was all crammed down securely with a ramrod.

    The pair made him drill again and again, using sand instead of powder and nitpicking at every detail. Mostly the woman, for that. Her Antigua was better and Ming seemed to dislike the hazing beyond making sport of the thief with something resembling good humor. The more Tristan spoke with the old man, however, the more something itched at him. As the middle-aged woman ¨C who had yet to introduce herself ¨C inspected histest work with a critical eye he caught Ming¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Caishen?¡± he asked.

    Ming¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, then he grinned toothlessly.

    ¡°Caishen,¡± he agreed, tapping over his heart.

    He then added a fast-paced sentence in Cathayan that had Tristan squinting. Had the word for ¡®boat¡¯ been in there?

    ¡°He praises you for recognizing he is from the greatest city in the world.¡±

    Tristan¡¯s gaze moved to older woman, who had leaned back from the cannon to study him.

    ¡°Dandan,¡± she added almost reluctantly.

    ¡°Your name, I assume,¡± he tried.

    She smiled thinly.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the vition.

    ¡°Where does a Sacromontan like you learn to recognize the Caishen ent?¡± Dandan brusquely asked.

    ¡°I knew a man from there,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°A veteran from the Long Burn who left for Sacromonte after the war. He¡¯d lost most of his ent but not all.¡±

    The woman¡¯s brow rose and she addressed the old man in Cathayan, who looked surprised and replied in the same.

    ¡°Where did he fight?¡± Dandan asked. ¡°For who?¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t talk much about it,¡± Tristan admitted. ¡°Though he told me he was one of the four thousand militia who charged across the field at Diecai. He fought for Caishen through much of the Burn, as I understand it.¡±

    ¡°<em>Diecai</em>?¡± Ming repeated, voice rising.

    He said something in a scathing tone, then spat on the ground. A Tianxi from the cannon besides them heard the words, repeating Diecai quizzically before getting an exnation from Ming, then spat on the ground as well. The word spread across the room and soon a dozen Tianxi between the age of forty to sixty were repeating the word with disgust and spitting as Tristan watched on in amused astonishment. Dandan cleared her throat.

    ¡°Nearly all of us fought in the Long Burn,¡± she told him. ¡°Most as Caishen militia, a few in the Mazu raiding fleets. Diecai, well, it was a great victory but the militia was reaped like wheat.¡±

    ¡°So I heard,¡± Tristan replied, thinking of that look in Yong¡¯s eyes when he had spoken of it. It was not the sort of thing you forgot. ¡°Then the mercenaries took the day, nothing to do with the rest.¡±

    ¡°Thrice as many Someshwari died as we did during the rout, but that did not make the dead grow back,¡± Dandan grunted. ¡°I was part of the army under General Qi as well, though I never made it to the battle.¡±

    His brow rose.

    ¡°What happened?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I was with the artillery train and wegged behind. The cannons Mazu sent us for the offensive were so heavy they kept breaking the cart wheels,¡± Dandan replied. ¡°We only made it to the field three days after the fighting was finished.¡±

    Tristan was no general, but that struck him as somewhatte to be of use.

    ¡°Mazu goodwill,¡± Ming cut in. ¡°Sanxing? <em>Wang ba da</em> Sanxing.¡±

    Something egg? Sounded like an insult, going by the tone.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s a story there,¡± he prompted.

    <em>The more you talk to me, the more I be someone in your eyes</em>. <em>The harder it bes to run me out in petty ways.</em> Most people found it ufortable to be pricks to others unprompted, when they let themselves think of the other person as being a person instead of just a silhouette.<em></em>Dandan sighed.

    ¡°The Republic of Mazu did not send Caishen the field pieces that were asked to match the ones used by Kuril, but at least the siege guns saw use against forts,¡± she said. ¡°The Sanxing, however, only sent twenty of their new war machines called the <em>jiu tie pao. </em>Volley guns on wagons. These were¡­ not popr with Caishen artillerymen, for many reasons.¡±

    Ming mimed blowing up with his hands, then pointed down at his feet.

    ¡°Nine toe now,¡± he said. ¡°<em>Bastardos</em> Sanxing.¡±

    ¡°Bastardos Sanxing,¡± Tristan agreeably replied.

    He was pped enthusiastically on the back, and after that the mood thawed. He was not sent on further pointless errands and they actually took the time to teach him properly. Ming remained much friendlier than Dandan, but she was now rather more willing to trante his enthusiastic tirades in Cathayan and even on asion borate herself.

    Tristan¡¯s honest curiosity about how the likes of them hade to be tangled with an Asphodelian rebellion paired well with his professional duty to find out as much about the magnates¡¯ rebellion as he could. Though wary, Dandan seemed to pick up he was genuinely interested in the tale.

    ¡°After the Watch forced a peace, Caishen went to the dogs,¡± the older woman told him. ¡°The entire north was a wastnd and the Izcalli looted the westernmost prefectures down to the bedrock, which was bad enough even <em>before </em>the voting began.¡±

    ¡°<em>Pingmian</em> should all burn,¡± Ming absent-mindedly noted while he cleaned the inside of the cannon.

    Tristan choked at the casual use of the slur. He wasn¡¯t sure what exactly <em>pingmian</em> meant, but whenever Tianxi sailors used it the Izcalli ones drew knives.

    ¡°To sit on the general assembly, a citizen must ownnd or property worth at least five thousand silver taels,¡± Dandan told him. ¡°With the regions ravaged, the hearnds took advantage and stacked thetest round of Secretariat appointments. Then the Secretariat appointed their friends and kin as prefects over the brokennds and stripped the Ministry of War¡¯s funds to fill prefecture coffers in the name of<em> rebuilding</em>.¡±

    Thus putting those funds in the hands of their friends and kin. It was the same old racket, everywhere in the world. There was a reason Tristan was no friend to nobles but he was no <em>confederale</em>s either. Power did not get any cleaner because it was handed down through votes rather than birthright.

    ¡°I take it the Ministry of War runs, well, the army?¡± Tristan asked.

    From what he recalled the republics all had the ¡®Eight Ministries¡¯ as a functioning government, their ranks filled by those who passed the examinations, but the Secretariat was supposed to have some authority over them to hold them in check. Dandan grunted in agreement.

    ¡°Those greedy fucks bled the funds out of the same army that held against Kuril and the Sunflower Lords, saying now was a time for peace, and unceremoniously tossed the soldiers into the streets.¡±

    ¡°So you were out of a job,¡± Tristan led on.

    ¡°There are only so many border fortresses whose cannons need manning,¡± Dandan unhappily said. ¡°They kept only the most experienced officers and I was younger then. Caishen was full of cashiered soldiers, after the Burn. A lot of them went mercenary, but I have no taste for that life.¡±

    Tristan raised an eyebrow, gesturing meaningfully around them. What was this if not mercenary work?

    ¡°We don¡¯t work for the merchants, Ferrando,¡± Dandan tly told him. ¡°We work for the Yellow Earth, who loaned us out. I¡¯ve been training yellow sashes for a decade now, this here is no different.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°It¡¯s better than taking pay to shoot cannons at fellow Tianxi under a mercenary banner,¡± Dandan fervently said. ¡°The things I heard about the borders with Jigong after the Dimming¡­¡±

    Tristan made a noise of understanding, feigned. He had never bought into sentimentality discouraging violence against one¡¯s countrymen. Sacromonte was a beast that cannibalized its own every hour of every day in a hundred different ways ¨C there was not a soul within those walls that was not, in some way, at war with the rest of those inside.

    Dandan was the warier of the pair, so he didn¡¯t prod any further and instead waited until she was distracted to approach Ming for his question.

    ¡°When fighting<em> yiwu</em>?¡± the old man mused, repeating the words. ¡°Soon, merchants say. Days, week?¡±

    Ming shrugged.

    ¡°Before month end,¡± he then added with a toothless grin. ¡°They say no pay next month, cheap <em>bastardos</em>.¡±

    The old Tianxi had evidently fallen in love with that one word in Antigua. He liked to work it into sentences regardless of whether it fit, often with more enthusiasm than skill. Ming had just given him very useful information, though: the magnate coup was to take ce before the end of the month.

    Considering it was now the fourth, that left twenty-six days. The rebellion was thus imminent, though with a little luck the Thirteenth would be well out of the capital before that fire caught. The difficulty here was that the magnates had been open about their intention to keep the hostages here until it was time to take up arms, which meant Tristan <em>really</em> needed a way out.

    Yet despite his earlier hopes, the basement was not looking promising as a means of escape. Trying to get out through the sewage water was certain death, by the look of the churning current and how closely the water kept to the ceiling of the tunnel it disappeared into. He was not desperate enough to roll the dice and hope that the current would carry him to somewhere he might surface to and breathe before he drowned in sewage. Bad way to go, not that there were any good ones.

    The back wall behind the channel was marked with impacts and burns from where cannons and muskets were fired at it, but it was solid stone and thick. There would be no punching through. The gate behind the crates might represent a way out if it led into a tunnel, but the sheer number of crates in the way made it effectively impossible to crack open discreetly. Besides, there were always a pair of mercenaries down here during the night. Not particrly watchful ones, but presumably still alert enough to notice an hour¡¯s worth of someone moving around heavy crates.

    No, Tristan wouldn¡¯t be able to sneak out on his own. He would need someone else to do it for him. The thief finished the drills, even standing by the smallest cannon while it was fired by Dandan once. It was after that he went fishing again through feigned worry.

    ¡°How many times will we be able to practice with live shot before the fighting?¡± he asked, putting on a troubled look. ¡°Won¡¯t the musketmen eat through the powder stocks with their own drills?¡±

    ¡°We do not use the same barrels,¡± Dandan told him. ¡°Theirs is local. But it doesn¡¯t matter, they¡¯ll lower more barrels if they have to. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time.¡±

    Tristan made himself snort.

    ¡°A shit job for whoever has to strap the empty barrels on their back climbing thatdder,¡± he opined.

    She shot him an amused look.

    ¡°You dumb, boy?¡± Dandan said. ¡°They use ropes to pull them up, same way they lowered it all down.¡±

    ¡°Mercenarieszy,¡± Ming added with a smirk. ¡°Always wait until morning, let merchant guard do it.¡±

    Oh? Now that was a useful bit, considering the merchant guards only kept guard until six, to plug a hole in the shifts caused by the rtively small number of brown surcoat mercenaries.

    ¡°You should have heard them whine when they had to bring up the broken cannon,¡± Dandan mocked. ¡°You would think they were being murdered.¡±

    ¡°A cannon had to be changed?¡± Tristan asked, and now his wariness was not feigned in the slightest.

    ¡°Old shit bronze cannon, of course break,¡± Ming sneered. ¡°They say better when fight, but who believes?¡±

    ¡°No one was hurt,¡± Dandan assured him. ¡°And they changed it the following day.¡±

    She gave a mean little smirk.

    ¡°They had to. It is in our contract we do not have to fight or teach unless properly equipped, you see, which means at least three cannons in fit state. The merchants in charge hate the thought of wasting coin by leaving us to idle, though they don¡¯t hate it enough to send us proper cannons from the homnd.¡±

    ¡°Magnates <em>bastardos</em>,¡± Ming happily contributed.

    Tristan smiled, changed the subject, and silently began nibbling at that little detail.

    There was an angle there, he could almost taste it. He just needed a little more before he could make it into a n.

    --

    Cards were the easiest way to get information.

    Damon liked the Delinos siblings, so all it took was mentioning them in conversation for the warehouse man to decide on roping them in for a round of cards. Phoebe and Pollos were in their early twenties, both tall and stacked strong as befitting their years of work moving heavy crates around for the Delinos family.

    Tristan eyed his hand, hiding a wince at the fact that even after two rounds he¡¯d be putting coin on a high card alone if he raised. He habitually ignored Fortuna¡¯s assurances that if he went all in he was sure to bring home the pot. Raising a single copper before drawing his third card, he proved fully justified in his habitual distrust in any promise of the Lady of Long Odds by the addition of a third card of a different suit with a mere valet of Staves for his highest value.

    Damon won the round with a pair that narrowly beat Pollos¡¯ own. He caught Phoebe¡¯s eyes and groaned in feigned sympathy, getting a grin out of her.

    ¡°Do not put us in the same boat, Kassa,¡± she said. ¡°<em>I </em>sometimes win more than once a day.¡±

    ¡°Admittedly, at this rate I might leave our captivity broke,¡± he noted.

    ¡°Oh, you just need to slow down a little,¡± Phoebe told him, the fair-haired woman then pitching her voice low. ¡°Marcos told me there¡¯s some kind of higher-up visiting this week, our¡­ vacation might be ending soon.¡±

    Marcos was the mercenary soldier Phoebe had taken up with, a middle-aged man the younger woman sometimes snuck off with during the night. Tristan was not sure what had drawn her to a man ten years her elder with a slight pot belly and a fierce beard, but admittedly he was no expert on matters of desire. It might have been the muscles. Either way, Phoebe¡¯s lover was not above pillow talk and she in no way above spreading said pillow talk around.

    More importantly, by the sound of it they were still involved and Phoebe seemed in no danger of losing interest. The lever that was that entanglement could still be used. Tristan counted the days in his head ¨C Marcos would have the night shift tonight, the one down in the pit, but that was too early. The next time should be in two days. Potentially enough time to get the rest of his affairs in order.

    ¡°The honeymoon ends atst,¡± Pollos drawled. ¡°Whatever will you do parted from dear Marcos?¡±

    ¡°A honeymoon should have a bed,¡± Phoebe groused. ¡°Or at least more privacy than the dark and a prayer.¡±

    Thatint was not an infrequent one, though thatck of privacy wasn¡¯t stopping her taking the man to bed any more than it did the rest of the couples that¡¯d formed with other guards or between hostages. Thatint was, in fact, the very reason Tristan had wanted her in this game of cards. He didn¡¯t even need to ask about the duty roster, given that it was regr and there were few enough mercenaries it was entirely predictable.

    ¡°Another magnate is visiting?¡± Tristan idly asked, putting on a show of rolling his eyes as he went fishing for the information mostly out of habit. ¡°Gods take pity on a poor Sacromontan, I¡¯m still learning all the names of the other ones.¡±

    ¡°A noble this time,¡± Phoebe denied. ¡°I <em>think</em> the Anaidon are nobles, anyway. I heard them called a house once.¡±

    Tristan methodically smothered any trace of surprise. House Anaidon, as in the same aristocrats who were hiding troops and arms for the noble coup? Or, he then thought, perhaps this was <em>Hector </em>Anaidon ¨C the suspected member of the cult of the Golden Ram, outed by Song as having some sort of boon. Which in turn would mean the cult had some hand in this ce.

    That¡­ he¡¯d good as dismissed that possibility, seeing what he had seen. Was this not a Yellow Earth operation, propping up their Trade Assembly allies? <em>Get out first</em>, Tristan reminded himself. <em>Then investigate.</em>

    ¡°Why¡¯s a noble on our side?¡± Damon asked with a frown.

    ¡°Must be a traitor,¡± Pollos opined. ¡°There¡¯s always a few.¡±

    There was some grumbling, but nothing all that strongly worded. Few among even the firebrands of the hostages were truly arguing for every highborn in Asphodel to be shot, and he was hardly sitting with firebrands. Damon was the one with the strongest republican leanings here, on ount of his mother having been hanged for poaching, and he imed no real appetite for corpses beyond those of the sitting members of the Council of Ministers.

    ¡°Heavy talk aside, I would have thought <em>your </em>dalliance had time for a bed out of all of them,¡± Tristan said with measured nonchnce.

    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Phoebe replied, already half-ring.

    He raised his hands to im peace.

    ¡°Only that he always shares the night shift with Cymone,¡± the thief said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t she¡­¡±

    He mimed drinking.

    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s a drunk all right,¡± Phoebe snorted. ¡°But their captain forbade her to buy bottles after she almost fell into the pit, now she has to do with what¡¯s served with meals.¡±

    ¡°Poor Karolos,¡± Pollos smiled a tad cruelly. ¡°His only shot there is if she gets enough liquor in her belly.¡±

    ¡°Pollos,¡± Phoebe chided him, but she was smiling.

    <em>Karolos</em>, Tristan mused. <em>Karolos</em>. Rolling around the name in his memory eventually yielded a face. Another brown surcoat mercenary, a big man with a face like a bull¡¯s and manners to match. Not liked among the hostages, for he was quicker than most with the back of his hand.

    Oh, that would work quite nicely.

    ¡°Anyhow, sober dear Cymone remains so there¡¯s no sneaking off to bend me over during the night,¡± Phoebe sighed mournfully, to the disgusted grimaced of her brother.

    Tristan shared in the sentiment but hid it, and paid the price for his maneuver in the form of a veritable tide of bawdy jokes. Ugh. He had what he¡¯de for, though: the right angles and the right actors. That look in Phoebe¡¯s eye had been considering: her lover would be hearing of the idea when they next met, Tristan would put coin on it. Now he just needed to deliver Marcos that opportunity to sneak off, and for that he would need a borrowed pair of hands.

    Thankfully, he knew just where to get them.

    --

    After the midday musket drill the hostages made their way back upstairs, falling back into the small coteries that¡¯d naturally emerged among them. The warehouse hands, the shop owners, the sailors, the traveling men. Once these settled, gambling sprouted like mushrooms after rain. Perhaps buoyed by his decent luck that morning, Damon had fetched the Delinos siblings again when they sat for cards ¨C but this time Tristan had added someone on his own to the circle.

    Her name was Rhea.

    The small, twitchy woman sat to his left as they yed a seventh round of Cacho. Rhea of Tratheke smiled a lot and she had the sort of guilelessly chubby face that incited trust in most encountering it. Rhea also cheated constantly and relentlessly at every game she yed at. She was not even particrly skilled a cheater, Tristan mused, getting away with it mostly on ount of being able to tear up at the drop of a hat.

    Now <em>there</em> was an impressive skill, though. Crying onmand was much harder than people tended to assume. Said cheater pped down her cards with a triumphant smile.

    ¡°Cacho,¡± Rhea announced, revealing an eight, nine and ten of Cups. ¡°Beat<em> that</em>.¡±

    A groan from Damon, who threw away his valet and knight of Wands nked by a useless two of Staves, while the Delinos siblings outright cursed and threw their own cards face down. Tristan eyed the smug Rhea with amusement, wondering how she would dig herself out of the hole should he point out he could see another ten of Cups tucked away up her sleeve. Not that he needed to put her down, for tempted as he was to let her win he was running low on funds. Time to refill the coffers a bit.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Fortuna hissed over his shoulder. ¡°Crush them, Tristan, <em>crush them mercilessly</em>. And to think you wanted to fold!¡±

    Clearing his throat, he caught Rhea¡¯s gaze and flipped his three cards one after another. Six of Cups, six of Wands, six of Coins. Three sixes were the single strongest hand, beating her flush even though the ¡®Cacho¡¯ she had put down was the hand the game was named after.

    ¡°<em>No</em>,¡± she whimpered. ¡°That was half my savings.¡±

    By which she meant half of what she had cheated her fellow hostages out of, Tristan silently amended.

    ¡°I was due some luck,¡± he shrugged as he picked up the pile of copper coins. ¡°Next round, yes?¡±

    ¡°Please, let us dice for bragging rights instead,¡± Damon pleaded. ¡°At this rate I won¡¯t be able to afford the bottle of rotgut I sent for.¡±

    ¡°The prices are robbery,¡± Phoebe conceded.

    To most everyone¡¯s side-eye, considering she was sleeping with one of the mercenaries setting those robber prices. As Damon had requested dice reced cards, but Rhea seemed disinclined to y those and instead approached Tristan with a pitiful look. Ah, good, that spared him the need to approach her. She sat close and leaned in, pitching her voice low.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose,¡± she pleaded with a wobbly lip, ¡°that you would trade me your coppers for my arbol? I cannot gamble with one silver, and my only friends here all y cards.¡±

    He squinted at her. The mercenaries guarding them were entirely willing to split arboles into radizes if you ceded a part of the sum to make it worth their while. That made it sound like Rhea was simply trying to avoid that informal three radizes tax by having him change it instead, but that was too simple a racket. She was, after all, a cheat to the bone. There would be more to it.

    ¡°Show me the silver,¡± he said.

    She produced a polished silver arbol, the intertwined oaks on the front almost shining. The coin looked new, he thought. Perhaps<em> too</em> new, and he could not help but notice she was showing him only the front.

    ¡°And the other side?¡± he asked.

    She turned teary blue eyes on him.

    ¡°You really think I would-¡±

    He snatched the silver out of her hand, ignoring her yelp and suddenly tearless eyes. His lips twitched when on the other side was not a stamped griffin a real arbol would have but identical twined oaks.

    ¡°Fake coinage?¡± he asked. ¡°That¡¯s a step past the cards up your sleeve.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s got the same silver concentration, I swear,¡± she pouted. ¡°It¡¯s just that the idiot counterfeiter stamped them the same way twice. I got them at a price that was a steal!¡±

    Tristan rolled his eyes at her. He really doubted there was as much silver in it as a genuine arbol, given that the counterfeit coinage rampant across the Trebian Sea tended to see the most use in ces where theck of precious metals or general poverty meant Sacromontan coinage was worth more than it should. There was precious little of it in Asphodel, which was not all that rich an ind on precious metals but <em>was </em>well provided in silver by the mines digging into the sides of the Nitari Heights.

    ¡°If it truly was good silver, they would have melted and reminted it,¡± Tristan replied.

    The pout deepened.

    ¡°Well,<em> I</em> know that. I was just hoping<em> you</em> wouldn¡¯t,¡± Rhea admitted. ¡°You¡¯re less of a rube than you look.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I wouldn¡¯t take it,¡± Tristan mildly said.

    Her eyes lit up.

    ¡°No takebacks or I¡¯ll cry,¡± she threatened.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the silver,¡± he said, ¡°but my payment will be a favor.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s open-ended,¡± she noted, face closing.

    ¡°You know what <em>wouldn¡¯t</em> be open-ended, Rhea?¡± Tristan mused. ¡°Your chances of anyone in here gambling with you again if ites out you put cards in your sleeve and pass bad coin.¡±

    ¡°A solid counterargument, friend,¡± Rhea replied immediately. ¡°I am entirely at your disposal.¡±

    Tristan squinted at her again. Too easy, and long years in thepany of Fortuna had taught to recognize the scent of utter insincerity when it was in the air.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to try to avoid me until we leave,¡± he guessed.

    Her eyes suddenly turned teary again at this ¡®most unfair usation¡¯, which they both knew to be entirely urate. He still made the trade, of course. A petty crook was exactly what he required and he could be mostly sure she would fold under pressure when the time came. Tristan had his pair of hands.

    Now all that remained was the timing, and patience would deliver that right onto hisp.

    --

    ¡°Consider a box,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°No,¡± Fortuna replied without batting an eye.

    For all her reflexive contrariness, she still leaned over his shoulder as he traced a square in the dust. She rested her chin against his shoulder, and it was an effort not to lean back into it. It was not real, Tristan reminded himself. And it would be noticed besides.

    ¡°That box,¡± he continued, ¡°has only two exits.¡±

    He marked either side of the square with an X, representing the warehouse stairs and the doors atop them.

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong, though,¡± the Lady of Long Odds smugly said. ¡°There¡¯s two more exits down in the basement, the waterway and the big gate.¡±

    ¡°Which are respectively barred by drowning and at least an hour¡¯s work,¡± Tristan said. ¡°They are disqualified.¡±

    ¡°<em>You¡¯re</em> disqualified,¡± Fortuna muttered.

    ¡°Those two exits are watched at all times,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Two guards at each door, two more down in the pit.¡±

    ¡°You can distract two guards,¡± the goddess reassured him.

    ¡°I could,¡± he agreed, ¡°but those doors are locked ¨C key around the neck of the office running the shift. It might be possible to arrangerge enough a distraction to pick the lock before they notice, but I would then be running blind into the rest of the building.¡±

    And while it was only a guess, he believed at least one of those doors led straight to the barracks where the mercenaries bunked. The brown surcoats changed guards for their shifts very quickly, which stood out given that they were not particrly assiduous workers otherwise. Proximity to where the barracks would exin it, and Tristan was a fine sneak but not so fine as to pass unnoticed through a riled up barracks.

    ¡°So we¡¯re stuck,¡± the Lady of Long Odds pouted. ¡°That was a lot of talk, Tristan. You could just have said ¡®I¡¯m a disappointment, Fortuna¡¯ and left it at that.¡±

    He flicked a finger at her face, which naturally went through thin air but still had her withdrawing from his shoulder and hissing like an angry cat before taking revenge. The thief was d no one was asleep right now, for he would have looked like a madman fending off the void with his arms. After a truce was established, at least until Fortuna betrayed it remorselessly, he returned to the matter at hand.

    ¡°You are right, at least, that I cannot pass through those doors myself,¡± the thief said. ¡°Which means I must have someone move me instead.¡±

    ¡°Fake sickness,¡± Fortuna advised.

    ¡°I asked Phoebe earlier,¡± Tristan replied, ¡°and she said that Abran ¨C the trader with the beard ¨C had a fever on his first week. All the browncoats did was quarantine him on the left side of the floor.¡±

    ¡°Impersonate one of them,¡± she tried.

    ¡°I considered that,¡± he admitted, ¡°but they¡¯re too small an outfit. Fewer than thirty mercenaries, unless they¡¯re hiding a great many officers upstairs. They all know each other¡¯s faces.¡±

    ¡°The merchant guards?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the same six whoe every morning,¡± the thief grunted. ¡°Even worse. No, I need to be <em>smuggled</em> out.¡±

    ¡°Hidden under what, someone¡¯s skirt?¡± Fortunaughed. ¡°That Marce girl might be tempted, but she wears trousers."

    ¡°A box,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I¡¯ll be smuggled out in a box. I even know who will be moving it out of here afterwards. The problem is that I need to get <em>into </em>the box and the damn thing is down in the pit.¡±

    ¡°So how do you get there?¡± Fortuna asked.

    ¡°Night is when there are the least eyes,¡± he said. ¡°More importantly, it is when they only keepmps lit around the gates and down in the pit.¡±

    ¡°The pit¡¯s where you need them n<em>ot </em>to be, though,¡± she pointed out.

    ¡°The lights don¡¯t matter,¡± he retorted, ¡°if there is no one to watch.¡±

    ¡°And how will you achieve that?¡± Fortuna asked.

    Tristan Abrascal smiled.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to give people,¡± he said, ¡°exactly what they want.¡±

 Chapter 65

    Chapter 65

    On the fourth morning of his captivity, Tristan Abrascal began the n.

    It was quiet, despite Rhea¡¯s attempt to welch. All it took was beginning to raise his voice while speaking of cards in sleeves and she folded, leaving him to disappear into the crowd and then past it. The thiefy back against the warehouse wall, eyes on the cramped tables where hostages were tearing through breakfast in rotations of thirty. Patiently he watched, chewing on the old ck bread he¡¯d swiped on his way through. Taking his time. If he didn¡¯t, he might just choke on this veritable stone he was wetting against his teeth.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Fortuna muttered, standing next to him. ¡°She¡¯s bad at this and you stole the knife yourself, so why aren¡¯t you doing it this time?¡±

    The Lady of Long Odds had changed her dress again, going native. She woreyers of scarlet silk, a sprawling peplos dress like on old Trathekan statues, over which she hadid some sort of half-cloak pinned to her right shoulder by a golden brooch. A matching red shawl and tinkling golden bracelets rounded off the look, lending her a respectable air in an old-fashioned sort of way. s, long acquaintance with the goddess in question precluded Tristan falling for such a tant misrepresentation.

    He didn¡¯t immediately reply, continuing to chew on his bread until one piece was wetted and mulched enough to actually consume. Only when he swallowed did he cover his mouth to hide a murmur.

    ¡°That is exactly why I told her to do it,¡± Tristan replied.

    Both their gazes slipped past the pair of tables where the hostages crammed their faces with the fare of the revolution ¨C mostly beans, but also some chicken ¨C to the sprawl of bedrolls where an almost painfully shady Rhea of Tratheke was stealing a bottle of rotgut on Tristan¡¯s behalf. That liquor would be smuggled into here was, of course, inevitable. Over a hundred people winning coin every five days with nothing to spend it on except gambling, held captive solely by mercenaries and merchant guards?

    The amount of smuggling that¡¯d ensued was almost obscene, though the mercenary officers at least had the good sense toe down hard on anything even vaguely weapon shaped.

    Anyhow, finding out who brought in liquor had been trivially easy considering there were at least a dozen bottles floating around the warehouse at any time. Finding out who had <em>bought</em> some of that liquor had been slightly more difficult, given that the guards did in fact confiscate contraband if they caught hostages with it. Drink was shared with your circle, though selling out another hostage would see you made a pariah ¨C as some had learned the hard way.The trick was to look for sudden changes in poprity. When a sullen prick like Heavy Halia became everyone¡¯s favorite friend overnight it meant there was something in her pack, in this case an old wine jug filled with firewater. Tristan ought to know, he had gone and checked during the night.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Fortuna muttered, leaning forward. ¡°That mercenary saw her, Tristan.¡±

    The thief broke off another piece of mollified ck bread, swallowing it. Terrible, terrible bread this. He¡¯d eaten loafs with sawdust cut into the flour that were easier on the gullet.

    ¡°<em>Finally</em>.¡±

    The tall, broad-shouldered man in a brown surcoat currently clearing his throat at a teary-eyed Rhea was called Karolos. He had the morning shift every odd day and always stood in the same cornerwhcih meant arranging for him to catch c Rhea red-handed had been trivially easy. His sacrificialmb¡¯s sole trick, getting weepy, did not do much when Karolos caught her removing a wine jug from a bedroll. Despite her protestations that it was ¡®medicinal, for her cough¡¯, the mercenary confiscated the jug and sent her off with a stern warning.

    Nothing more, though, even though Karolos was known to lightly justify a heavy hand on the hostages. That, too, had been predicted: after all, if he made a fuss he¡¯d have to hand over the jug to his captain and that wasn¡¯t what he wanted to do with it. It¡¯d helped when nning this to be mostly certain that no punishment would be dealt out to his pasty, meaning the risks of her trying to turn it around on him were minimal.

    Tristan hade down to a third of the bread by the time Rhea slunk up to him, already prepared to cry. The cheat, well aware that he still had her over a barrel and she had failed to aplish the favor he¡¯d called in as payment, put on her most pitiful face.

    ¡°I did all I could,¡± Rhea pleaded. ¡°Only the man had eyes like a hawk and greedy, greedy hands. Now he¡¯ll keep an eye on me, and if Halia learns I was in her pack-¡±

    ¡°She won¡¯t,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°But you¡¯re right there¡¯s heat on you. Lie low for a while, we¡¯ll revisit this in a few days.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Rhea happily smiled. ¡°So clever of you, wise Ferrando. We must be patient, rush nothing and-¡±

    ¡°Run out the clock to the rising so you can stiff me?¡± Tristan drily asked.

    ¡°Ah, I think I hear another voice calling for me,¡± Rhea hastily replied. ¡°Let it not be said I would ignore any friend in need."

    She fled under his amused gaze. Fortuna harrumphed in displeasure. The goddess disliked Rhea, no doubt because part of her divinity resonated with the surefooted uselessness of the mortal crook.

    ¡°She botched it,¡± Fortuna grumbled. ¡°You should rob her as retaliation, Tristan. I¡¯m sure she has more of those fake silver coins stashed somewhere.¡±

    That was, in fact, quite likely. Having the intertwined oaks on both sides of a silver arbol was tant enough a w Rhea would find it quite hard to pass those and she was just the kind of short-sighted swindler not to wonder<em> why</em> the counterfeiter was selling those coins so cheaply in the first ce.

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± he said, faking a yawn. ¡°She did what I wanted, got the bottle in Karolos¡¯ hands.¡±

    Fortuna eyed him skeptically.

    ¡°Why do you want him to have a bottle of rotgut?¡± she asked. ¡°He¡¯s an ass.¡±

    ¡°Because tonight I will be going into the pit,¡± he replied. ¡°There always two guards down there, which are sure to see me at some point while I climbed down forty feet ofdder. Now, I have a way to rid myself of one but I need that bottle for the other.¡±

    ¡°Karolos won¡¯t be down there, the guards that work morning don¡¯t work nights,¡± Fortuna sneeringly pointed out.

    ¡°No, they don¡¯t,¡± he agreed, which took the wind out of her sail.

    ¡°What¡¯s this about, then?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Wait and see,¡± Tristan replied, pushing off the wall.

    He swallowed thest of his rocky ck bread, squaring his shoulders. The first part was done, now he must see to the second and that would be¡­ trickier, to the say the least.

    His Tianxi acquaintances were no fools.

    --

    The first obstacle to sabotaging the cannons was that the artillerymen were almost obsessively watchful of the pieces.

    As many of the dangers in using cannons came from continuous use, when the metal heated and firing shots in a row risked powder or other filth umting in the body, but even though the Tianxi rarely shot their bronze pieces more than twice times a day they were extremely careful with their care. Which was not unwise, considering that the Trade Assembly had sent them old cannons and there was no guarantee of quality for the foundry work.

    Tristan had spent thest two days looking for an angle only to find himself repeatedly stymied by simplepetence.

    Could he clog the bore with filth or debris? No, the cleaning was always double-checked by another artilleryman. Might he oil up the wadding to mess with the ignition? The attempt was caught on the way in and the entire crate of wadding set aside for thorough inspection before any was used again. It¡¯d be impossible to spike the gun with so many eyes on him ¨C ramming a metal spike in the bore was not exactly subtle ¨C and none of the gunners let him anywhere near the vent hole, the orifice through which the powder bag was pierced and the fuse inserted.

    Struggle as he might, Tristan was dragged kicking and screaming to the conclusion that he would have to use his contract.

    That was ying with fire in an altogether different way, not the least because if someone got hurt by the use of his contract the bacsh would turn vicious. It always did, when the luck hurt someone. That and he¡¯d rather not hurt any of the artillerymen, who had beenrgely pleasant to him after he broke through their initial hostility. And if they wanted to fight the aristoi, well, he took no issue with that so long as he was not between the nobles and the shot.

    So it was with veiled nerves that Tristan pulled at his contract when, shortly after breakfast, the three bronze pieces were pointed at the back wall.

    <em>Breathe in, breathe out. Now.</em>

    Tristan released the luck immediately after pulling, barely leaving time for a single tick, in the hope that his price would pass as part of theing ident ¨C and it did, thank the Manes. There was a loud crack from the leftmost cannon, the breach half-shattering, and the four Tianxi manning it threw themselves to the ground. Before the thief could even blink, the fuse was blown out of the vent hole by a gout of burning powder wind.

    He ttened himself against the ground like the Tianxi, which was the only reason he kept his eye. The cracked breech burst open, belching me, and heated bronze shrapnel flew. A piece hit Ming in the shoulder, to the old man¡¯s hoarse shout, and razor-sharp heat sliced just above Tristan¡¯s left eyebrow. He hissed in pain, and as the spent powder charge billowed up in a cloud of smoke he reached for his face. Fingers came away red, the cut narrow but deep.

    A strong grip dragged him up to his feet, Dandan patting him down with a worried look on that ever-severe face.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± she asked. ¡°Where you hit anywhere else?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Tristan replied, a little dazed.

    His mind focused. Recalled what he¡¯d seen and¡­

    ¡°Shit,¡± he said, turning. ¡°Ming, are you-¡±

    He turned to find the old man had taken off his shirt, revealing skinny ribs and spare chest hair. More importantly, Ming was also not bleeding in the slightest. He wasughing, picking at the bronze shards stuck deep in what appeared to be a wooden shoulder prosthetic.

    ¡°Battle Yun Shan,¡± he exined, grinning toothlessly as he rapped a knuckle against the wood in demonstration. ¡°Kuril <em>bastardos</em> shot it out, had to rece.¡±

    ¡°Lucky,¡± Tristan croaked out, genuinely relieved.

    He would have lived with the guilt. Wearing ck, up there, he sometimes had the luxury of clean hands. Down here, though, he was just another rat. He would have lived with the guilt, yes. But he would live better without.

    ¡°You too,¡± Dandan grimly said. ¡°That was almost your eye.¡±

    ¡°You man now, Ferrando,¡± Ming told him, seeming pleased. ¡°Gunner without scar not gunner.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to him,¡± Dandan muttered. ¡°He¡¯s from the southern prefectures, they¡¯re all mad. They think it¡¯s a rite of passage to get mauled by tigers.¡±

    ¡°I think I need to sit down,¡± Tristan admitted, not entirely feigning it.

    He was allowed thatfort, and duly kept an ear out for the chatter between the Tianxi. With a cannon blown and the manner in which it had broken hinting that the Trade Assembly had sent them something shoddily cast, the artillerymen were more than willing to call a halt to drills. They would not work, or fight for that matter, until their contracted right to be ¡®properly equipped¡¯ was again fulfilled.

    Three cannons, that was what Dandan said the Tianxi counted as the strict minimum. They now had two and no inclination to do the magnates any favors.

    The thief let out a long breath, passing his hand through his messy hair. If not for Ming¡¯s wooden shoulder, he suspected the misfortune might well have shed out his eye. There was a reason he was reluctant to use his contract near anything that could explode. But he had had what he¡¯de for, the second part of the n: now the rebels would have to switch out the broken cannon, dragging it up in its crate before lowering a recement. That crate would be passing through the guarded stairs, and that was his way out of the warehouse.

    Now he just needed to get <em>inside</em> of it.

    --

    Sex was the solution. Not a thought that often urred to Tristan, for whom desire was not much of an acquaintance, but sex proved to be how the pieces fit together.

    Now, the thief needed to be inside the broken cannon¡¯s crate when it was taken out of the basement and he knew he had until the morning to do it because he¡¯d had Dandan¡¯s gossip confirmed by several sources as well as his own eyes. Namely, the brown surcoat mercenaries werezy and they always left the job of bringing powder barrels up or down to the merchant guards. Those guards only came for the morning shift, usually at five or six, so by four at thetest Tristan needed to be inside.

    Which meant he had to get around the two mercenaries that would guard basement overnight, theoretically keeping an eye out for trouble though in practice they usually spent most of that time ying cards.

    Even pulling on his contract as hard as he could, Tristan doubted he would be able to make it all the way down forty feet ofdder into an open basement and then have the time to cross the floor and hide before either guard noticed. His luck let him skew the odds, not fold them into a paper crane that then miraculously came alive. That and for such a deep draw the bacsh was sure to be¡­ unpleasant. He¡¯d almost lost an eye this morning, he was not eager to roll the dice again.

    As a boy he¡¯d been more careless with his contract, a child with a new toy, but he¡¯d quickly learned that using it was a crutch - and in the Murk, there was only one fate in store for someone going around hobbling. Fortuna¡¯s gift was best used when things were already bad, to change his trouble into one he might be able to ovee instead.

    Besides, there were limits to what the luck could do. He¡¯d tried grand works as a boy, a few times, and little had happened. The<em> bacsh</em>, however, had been matched to the borrowing. That falling roof had nearly killed him.

    So to get around the guards, he had done the work. The first step was picking his moment, which was not difficult: thepany hired by the Trade Assembly was not arge outfit, their shifts were regr and did not seem to change week from week. A few casual questions had given him the rosters, or at least the visible rosters. No telling what went on upstairs.

    And tonight, after he broke the cannon, the two guards in the pit would be Marcos and Cymone.

    Marcos was the reason he had chosen that shift in the first ce. The mercenary had taken up with one of the warehouse workers for the Delinos, Phoebe, and Phoebe had admitted once or twice that they found it frustrating how hard it was to find the time to sneak off and fuck. That they couldn¡¯t take their time or expect real privacy. So he had sown in conversation the seed of an idea for her to pass to her lover: using the night shift for privacy. He could not be certain, of course, but he liked his odds: if Marcos had an opportunity to desert his post to spend private time with Phoebe, he would likely take it.

    That left Cymone as the key to providing that opportunity.

    Cymone was, thankfully, a drunk. One whose habits were being contained only at the order of her superior officer ¨C who had forbidden her to buy liquor, only allowing it with meals - thus implying an exploitableck of restraint. At least out in the world. Down here, where liquor was a smuggled good? Handing her a bottle of strong liquor before the beginning of her evening shift would have been wildly suspicious, and left toorge a trail that could lead back to him. A broken cannon, and shift in disarray and the man who¡¯d handed Cymone the bottle went missing? Someone would figure it out.

    Only, what if someone else gave her the bottle instead? Sex once again came of use, a turn of phrase he had deeply regretted using in Fortuna¡¯s presence and since heard so many times the words no longer sounded like words to his ears, only a litany of regrets. Cymone, though of regrettable habits, had attracted the attentions of another mercenary: Karolos. His affections went unreturned, but that was even better. Made him more predictable.

    It meant that when Karolos caught Rhea with a bottle of rotgut this morning, Tristan knew exactly what was going to happen. He was going to keep the affair quiet, confiscate the bottle and then offer the apple of his eye a gift she could not obtain on her own.

    And since Cymone was forbidden to drink save at meals Tristan knew exactly when she would crack open that bottle. Knew exactly why the other person on that watch, Marcos, would keep his mouth shut about it.

    And so everyone got what they wanted, Tristan Abrascal most of all.

    --

    Thenterns were put out, save the one at the doors and the bottom of the pit. Thetter revealed the sight of victory: Cymone in her brown surcoat, a jug of firewine in hand as Marcos pretended not notice.

    Now it was all over but the waiting.

    --

    It took an hour and a half before Cymone was snoring away the drink and Marcos had hurried back up the stairs to shake awake Phoebe. Within moments the lovers were sneaking off to a dark corner, giggling. Tristan breathed out, centered himself and took the knife he¡¯d slipped under his cot. Not that he intended on any violence tonight.

    Only one of the stairs was currently guarded, by a bored-looking man picking at his fingernails and a gray-haired woman loudly snoring. The other door was barred, the pair guarding it having gone for a meal. They would be back, though, so Tristan made use of the unexpected opportunity as best he could: angles and patience did the work, neither too quick nor too slow. There was a greater risk of waking up other hostages creeping by them than being seen by the mercenary, truth be told, so despite knowing his hourss only had so much sand in it he did not hurry.

    It would be difficult to make these ¡®coincidences¡¯ line up twice, he could not afford a blunder even should he go uncaught.

    It took ten minutes to make it to thedders, crawling and creeping and pretending to be one sleeper among many. Another minute waiting for the nail picker to be facing the wrong direction for even peripheral vision to catch his getting onto thedders. Once he was there, however, he moved down swiftly. He could not stay in the open long, even with Cymone asleep. Fortuna was down there, keeping an eye on the drunken mercenary, so he kept his breath even and moved.

    Halfway down the goddess let out a cry of warning and he froze. Cymone slumped against a crate, knocking over a pile of cards and sttering them over the floor. But though she stirred, the mercenary did not wake. Breathing out, Tristan hurried the rest of the way down.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    His feet touched solid ground to a sense of triumph, but it was too early to celebrate. Skittering across the brass floor, he headed for the crates. As expected, the broken cannon was already packed away for lifting in the morning. The lid of the crate was nailed in, though only enough to keep it slipping off, and there was a line of red on the wood so the merchant guards would be sure it was the right one when they lowered the ropes.

    Knife in hand, Tristan cast a look at the snoring Cymone to reassure himself and then wedge the de between the head of a nail and the wood. He would have to be careful to leverage out the nails without snapping the de, but it would have to do. There had been no hammer at hand to steal, the few down here carefully packed away by the Tianxi gunners after each drill.

    ¡°A gamble, but a measured one. It is an eptable n for a young Mask.¡±

    In a heartbeat he turned with his knife de pointed, only to find he was not facing an enemy but something altogether stranger. Half-naked in a brown shift that was more akin to sleepwear than his usual, Hage sat atop a pile of crates to his left with his impressive eyebrows raised. And there was a scent of¡­ Tristan sniffed. Well, no need to ask where the devil hade from. He might have cleaned himself of the muck, but he still smelled like sewer.

    There were advantages to not needing to breathe and being stronger than currents. Ah, one more reason to sleep lightly. It wasn¡¯t like he had been in danger of running out.

    ¡°Sir,¡± Tristan replied, sloppily saluting. ¡°Fancy seeing you here.¡±

    ¡°You paid for a dead body,¡± Hage quietly replied. ¡°The Krypteia always delivers.¡±

    ¡°Guessing by the way you smell,¡± the thief said, ¡°the defenses upstairs are solid?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Hage unhappily said. ¡°It will take months to scrub all the sewer out of my shell, Abrascal, and sometimes it never washes out entirely. I am debating an inconvenience fee.¡±

    ¡°Take it up with my captain,¡± he replied without batting an eye.

    Any silver that could be pried out of Song Ren¡¯s thrifty grasp was entirely earned, as far as he was concerned. The devil clicked both sets of teeth disapprovingly, then flicked a finger to his right ¨C where Tristan had missed arge waxed bag lying atop a row of crates. About, the thief mused, the right size to contain a corpse. That would help a great deal if it were true. His bet had been that there would be enough time between the crate being brought up and his disappearance being noted that he would be able to make it out of the facility, but that would still leave him as sticking out in the aftermath.

    No one would be looking for him if he was dead, though.

    ¡°Can you still make it look like an ident?¡± he asked.

    ¡°You are going to fall from upstairs,¡± Hage replied. ¡°It will destroy your face, but your clothes will be recognizable. I brought a set for you to change into.¡±

    ¡°Splendid,¡± Tristan smiled, not unhappy to be getting out of his current set.

    He was going soft, being displeased at a mere few days without fresh clothes.

    ¡°Now, I don¡¯t suppose you might be willing to lend me a hand with¡­¡±

    The old devil raised a hand, rubbing thumb and index.

    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll pay the fee,¡± the thief sighed. ¡°I just need you to nail the lid back into ce properly behind me.¡±

    He¡¯d been intending to only remove some of the nails and then squeeze through the gap into the crate, but having them properly back in ce would only improve the deception. Well worth some silver, as coin could be earned back but he only had the one life to spend and they were hard toe by. Hage inclined his head in agreement.

    ¡°Should you escape instead of being caught and tortured, I will find you,¡± the devil said. ¡°I established a supply stash close by.¡±

    ¡°I can always rely on you for encouragement, sir,¡± Tristan drily replied.

    ¡°Asphodelians were once fond of castingrge bronze bull statues that were hollow on the inside, then heating them up under me and forcing traitors inside to die in screaming agony,¡± Hage told him. ¡°I believe the execution method is still used behind closed doors in some outlying parts of the ind.¡±

    A pause, a friendly single-teethed smile.

    ¡°Do you now feel encouraged to seed in your escape?¡± Hage asked.

    Tristan sighed. There went his nap inside the box, nightmares would likely give away his presence.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± he replied.

    Hage was worth the hiring, at least: the devil plucked out the nails by hand and nailed them back in just the same. Within minute Tristans wasfortably crammed atop the broken cannon, the lid shut back over his head with just enough give air would keep entering. Within minutes there was a wet thump on the ground as a corpse hit the basement floor wearing his clothes.

    It was half an hour before someone noticed the dead body.

    --

    As far as crates went it was not the worst he¡¯d spent a few hours in, though hardly the best either: the broken cannon made for an ufortable perch despite the straw packed around it.

    But he did notck for entertainment, listening in on how the rebels dealt with finding Ferrando¡¯s dead body.

    It was Marcos who found it,ing back from his tryst. The still-drunk Cymone had all the me pushed onto her, though she argued that the dead man must have fallen down from the edge of the pit and no one could have helped that. After dragging the dead body out of sight, coincidentally not far from Tristan, they went to fetch officers. Not just a mercenary one either but one of the merchant guards as well, for those were the magnate¡¯s own men and so higher up thedder of hierarchy.

    Tristan¡¯s false corpse was identified by the clothes and hair as ¡®the Kassa boy, Ferrando¡¯, followed by a quick discussion of whether or not he was someone who mattered. The resulting verdict was that besides having been taken under Temenos¡¯ wing he did not, so the corpse was unceremoniously dumped in the sewer. It was agreed on that losing a hostage would reflect poorly on them to ¡®Mistress Maria¡¯ ¨C presumably Maria Anastos, the magnate ¨C so it was best kept secret.

    The officers settled on telling Damon in the morning that his fellow Kassa hostage had been moved to another hideout to further his training in cannonry. <em>There¡¯ll be corpses by the hundreds on the night of the fighting</em>, one of the officers imed. <em>We can add him to the tally then.</em> Not a bad n, Tristan considered, so long as no one talked. Considering one of those relied on for silence was a habitual drunk, however, he had some doubts on the secret being kept unless the rising happened soon.

    No one so much as checked on the crates, leaving Tristan to rest his eyes in packing of straw until the merchant guards came on shift and someone began tying up his vessel. He tensed as ropes were attached and pulling began, but the guards were careful ¨C likely more to avoid breaking the crate than out of tenderness towards whaty inside. There was grunting and cursing aplenty after they dragged up the crate on solid ground, several men pushing it up on a wooden pallet where it was fastened with ropes so it could be dragged without damaging the bottom of the crate.

    They dragged him across the warehouse, up the stairs and then down a hall. Several unkind things about the artillerymen and Tianxi as a whole were spat out, ming them for the work, but even more venom was reserved for the mercenaries ¨C who were ¡®uselessyabouts¡¯ and whose captain should beshed for the insistence that they¡¯d been hired as guards and notborers so they could not be asked to move crates unless a better rate was offered.

    It took the better part of an hour for him to be lifted out of the basement and onto the presumed storage room where the merchant guards left him. Ear pressed to the crate he heard the door closing and a key being turned, but that did not necessarily mean he was alone in the room. He waited for a few minutes more, ear pricked for breathing or movement.

    Nothing.

    It was mildly tricky pushing up the crate¡¯s lid without making noise, but Hage had proved worth his fee: he¡¯d pushed down the nails at depths and angles that made it easier from the inside. A quick look around revealed a dark room, but re light was filtering in a few rays from a boarded-up window. All around where crates and woven baskets, though the room was too small to be the main storage for a hideout of so many men. Considering the few open baskets he could see were filled with trash like broken jugs and metal scraps Tristan gave it good odds he was in the base¡¯s dump ¨C though a dump for materials that were expensive enough to be worth keeping.

    He slipped out of the crate onto a wooden floor, careful not to make the shoddy wood creak, and snuck to the door to press his ear against it. Breathing. There was a guard on the other side, or at least close. Best find another way out, then. The window he¡¯d seen earlier was boarded up with thick wooden nks, but the work was sloppy. It was easy to find out why the shoddy workmanship had been allowed to remain: they were on the second story, at least fifteen feet above the street. <em>Maybe closer to twenty.</em>

    He took the time to close his crate, cleaning up his trail, before going through the room for ¨C ah, and there they were. A hammer and prybar, left on atop a crate near the window. Easier to leave the tools here than bring them every time you needed to open a crate inside here. The prybar was what he picked up, taking a closer look at the boarded-up window. Trying the wood and nails, he¡¯d guess that it was going to give if he applied pressure.

    It wouldn¡¯t give <em>silently</em>, though, which brought him back the problem of the guard. Pressing his face to the window boards, Tristan judged by what he could see of the hideout wall ¨C wood for this level, stone lower down ¨C that he should be able to climb down without snapping his neck. Not quickly enough to avoid pursuit if someone was pursuing, however, which meant he¡¯d have to be patient. He settled in to wait, though not before preparing a hiding ce in case the door was opened again.

    It was at least another hour before there was movement on the other side of the door. Whoever approached the guard stopped to chat and Tristan risked approaching so he might catch more of what was being said.

    ¡°-ess Maria said to treat them as guests.¡±

    ¡°Sure, they¡¯re guests,¡± a woman¡¯s voice replied. ¡°<em>Creepy</em> guests. There¡¯s something off about that man, I tell you.¡±

    ¡°Not our problem,¡± a man said. ¡°They¡¯re just here waiting for Anaidon anyways. I¡¯ll be a pain to wheel them up all the way to the top of the watchtower, but they¡¯ll be gone by tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Fucking noble,¡± the woman cursed. ¡°Can¡¯t believe we have to let him in, peacocking around like he owns the ce.¡±

    ¡°A small price to pay to have someone on the inside in the pce,¡± the man shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ll lose enough men taking Fort Archelean as is, let¡¯s not turn down traitors.¡±

    ¡°This is why I can¡¯t talk politics with you, Teo, you¡¯re always so<em> reasonable</em>,¡± the woman sighed. ¡°Come on, go get your grub. I¡¯ll have a walkabout and then I can guard this tactically crucial hallway boasting both a storage andtrines.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a whole cannon¡¯s worth of bronze in the storage now,¡± ¡®Teo¡¯ amusedly said. ¡°Lots of coin in that, if you know a smith.¡±

    ¡°Away,¡± the woman repeated.

    There was chuckling, then the sound of someone walking away. Tristan kept his breath shallow, almost silent. The other guard, despite her words, was staying there.

    ¡°Come on, Lia, heughs at your jokes and you know you¡¯re not that funny,¡± the guard muttered. ¡°Just ask him out for drinks, it¡¯s not that fucking hard. What¡¯s the worse he can do, say no?¡±

    To Tristan¡¯s mild amusement, ¡®Lia¡¯ then cursed and then stalked off. He bade her good luck in her quest, then got to work. He¡¯d picked out the two nks that would be easiest to remove to make an opening, and though the first went off without a hitch the second splintered when he leveraged it out. Fuck. Well, so much for leaving no trace. He put the splintered nk into one of the baskets, hoping one of the guards would get med for it, then popped his head through the opening to get a better look.

    About a twenty-foot drop, like he¡¯d thought. And the street was empty, which would notst forever, so there was no time to waste. He did what he could to wedge the surviving nk back into ce behind him, half-hanging off the window, but did not have the leverage to put the nails back in more than symbolically.

    Or the time to screw around trying to do it better.

    The only trouble climbing down under the Tratheke daylight was splinters since he was doing this all without gloves, but he grit his teeth and made it down to the stone of the first level, resting on the edge. He leaped down the rest, which had his knees aching but he managed mostly silent. And just like that, he was out.

    Now, to find Hage.

    --

    The devil had promised to find him, and he did. Just in time, too, for the basileia hirelings of the Trade Assembly were patrolling the streets. Loosely, but even bored men had eyes.

    Hage pulled him off the street into a gutted house, then through hidden stairs into a basement where waited two surprises: a packsack¡¯s worth of equipment and a menagerie. Mephistofeline had made bedding out of a pile of likely stolen correspondence, the burial mound of fur and fat purring loudly as he crinkled stolen secrets. On the other side of the room, a bundled Watch uniform served as a perch for a happy Sakkas.

    The magpie trilled happily at the sight of him, which the thief had to admit was rather endearing. It was a fine little abomination, it was.

    Tristan went to stroke its soft head, getting a pleased warble, and pointedly ignored Mephistofeline ¨C who meowed intively at the favoritism even though he had until a moment ago been pretending to sleep.

    ¡°They do not check the houses,¡± Hage informed him. ¡°There will be no trouble so long as we remain quiet.¡±

    He was back in his usual, high-cored doublet and hose with his neat little beret, but still smelled faintly of vinegar. Drastic measures had been taken to get the sewer smell out of the mustache, evidently.

    ¡°Understood,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°Are those supplies for me?¡±

    ¡°The uniform, ckjack and poison box,¡± the devil said. ¡°For anything more¡­¡±

    ¡°There will be a fee,¡± he finished with a sigh.

    He took the time to change into the regr¡¯s uniform Hage had brought him, pulling it all in ce save for the ck cloak. Tristan felt¡­ stronger, with it on. Almost armored, even though it was nothing save ck cloth. What an odd thing. The ckjack went up his sleeve and he checked on the poison box ¨C his own and nothing was missing ¨C before straightening and turning to face Hage¡¯s expectant gaze.

    ¡°Report,¡± the old devil ordered.

    Heid it all out, how he had been taken and how he went about escaping, what information he had gleaned during his captivity. Hage stoked at his chin thoughtfully.

    ¡°Anaidon is the piece that stands out,¡± the older Mask said. ¡°Your captain¡¯s current theory is that elements of the Trade Assembly were coopted by the noble coup, but the Yellow Earth¡¯s involvement contradicts this. We are looking at two different coups, almost certainly, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Either House Anaidon is ying both sides with an imusible degree of sess,¡± Tristan said, ¡°or Hector Anaidon, suspected cultist, is involved with this rebellion.¡±

    He paused, put his thoughts in order.

    ¡°Which also seems passing odd, considering the noble coup and the cult of the Golden Ram are essentially the same organization.¡±

    ¡°The cult could be attempting sabotage,¡± Hage said. ¡°Or intending on using the Trade Assembly¡¯s move as a distraction for their own.¡±

    Tristan could believe thetter, at least. It¡¯d be one Hell of a distraction for a mob of workers, sailors and mercenaries to take to the streets and ram themselves bloodily against the walls of Fort Archelean ¨C expecting traitors on the inside to silence guns or open gates. The fighting would draw the lictors down to the fort, draw the Lord Rector¡¯s eyes there as well, and then the nobles moved to seize the unprotected pce. There was, however, a problem with that.

    ¡°This Anaidon was considered high up the ranks of the conspiracy by the mercenaries,¡± Tristan said. ¡°That means whoever they are must have rubbed elbows with the Yellow Earth at some point. I can buy them fooling the magnates, but the sashes too? The Yellow Earth would have gone digging for every skeleton in that closet as a matter of course.¡±

    ¡°We are missing information,¡± Hage calmly agreed.

    The devil said nothing more, but then he didn¡¯t truly need to. Tristan grimaced.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to go back in,¡± he said. ¡°Grab him for interrogation.¡±

    ¡°Song Ren has, in fact, been attempting to abduct Hector Anaidon for simr reasons over thest few days,¡± Hage said. ¡°Only he went missing, as if disappeared into thin air.¡±

    ¡°You think Hector¡¯s our mystery visitor, then,¡± Tristan said.

    ¡°I think that the chaos rising within these walls is all too organized,¡± Hage replied. ¡°The thread that ties it all together is the cult and Hector Anaidon is likely to be a member of it.¡±

    The thief hummed, then nced to the side.

    ¡°My thanks for the help in getting out,¡± he finally said.

    ¡°Your n had fine odds of seeding without my help,¡± Hage replied. ¡°As expected of Nerei¡¯s student.¡±

    The way he spoke the words, they sounded as much of an insult as apliment.

    ¡°My false death keeps it all quiet, that¡¯ll make a difference,¡± Tristan replied, then quirked an eyebrow. ¡°Why did you bring Mephistofeline here, anyway? The neighborhood kids would have loved feeding him, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    They loved the cat enough to make him a little ne of scrap metal sickles, after all, some obscure reference to an Asphodelian death god that ate bodies buried in the ground.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Hage said. ¡°We had to make our escape when Locke and Key attempted to assassinate us.¡±

    The thief stilled.

    ¡°They struck at the Watch?¡± he asked. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°Nothing new,¡± Hage said. ¡°It would not be the first time they slew me, either.¡±

    Tristan swallowed. It wasn¡¯t that he¡¯d thought of the old devil as invincible, but the thought that the funny little pair had been capable of killing him more than once was difficult to swallow.

    ¡°That they came for my<em> cat</em>, however, I take personally,¡± Hage muttered. ¡°Though I expect they would argue that I started it by looking into their schemes.¡±

    ¡°You tried to find the infernal forge?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°There isn¡¯t one,¡± the old devil replied. ¡°I tracked down the source of these rumors, Tristan, and they began circling the capital only shortly before Locke and Key arrived. As if preparing the grounds for that very arrival. It is a smokescreen to obscure what they are truly after.¡±

    ¡°Which is?¡± Tristan asked.

    The old man¡¯s face twitched and there was a sound of clicking teeth and mandibles.

    ¡°I am still unsure,¡± Hage said. ¡°They were invited by the Lord Rector, but they seem uninvolved in the plots infesting the court. That is¡­ unusual, for them.¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t seem like the type to leave trouble well enough alone,¡± Tristan agreed.

    ¡°They are mad,¡± Hage tly said. ¡°Quite irremediably so. Either way, I must remain out of sight lest they try for me again. It is poor timing, given how things areing to a head in the capital.¡±

    ¡°The magnates will make their move soon,¡± Tristan slowly agreed. ¡°By month¡¯s end, I was told. Or is there more to it than that?¡±

    Hageid out the reports Song had been handing in while Tristan absented himself being a hostage, and the thief¡¯s brow rose. The Obsidian Order had made another attempt at fulfilling their contract for Evander Palliades¡¯ death andmitted the tactical mistake of being rowdy at a party attended by Song Ren, with predictable consequences. Real stickler about heckling, Song, in the sense that she would stick you with a sword for it.

    And now the other brigades were back, bringing with them talk of grisly rituals in the hills and hidden temples. Song apparently believed the yearly tests might be connected to each other, and Tristan was inclined to agree. So was Hage, for that matter.

    ¡°There is a greater work afoot,¡± the old devil said. ¡°Asphodel is a powder keg that should have blown off months ago, Tristan. All these plots that are months or even years in the making, all slowly falling into ce? Someone holds the reins here.¡±

    ¡°Seems like a lot of trouble, all this for a throne,¡± Tristan frowned.

    Nobles liked to pretend there something mystic about nobility, but as far as he could tell nobility was mostly a matter of having enough steel and gold to kill anybody inclined to argue with your being in charge. If your family managed to do that for long enough inertia started to work for you being on top instead of against, and you got to paint a nice title over the generations of sessful violence.

    Taking the throne of Asphodel might not be as simple as putting a bullet in Evander Palliades¡¯ overly haired head, but it certainly wasn¡¯t asplicated as the mess in Tratheke seemed to be.

    ¡°It does,¡± Hage approvingly said. ¡°And that schemes remaining hidden for so long to begin leaking now is not coincidence. If the enemy were sloppy, they would be long caught. I fear that we begin to catch their tail only because they are reaching the end of the game anding into the light has be unavoidable.¡±

    ¡°So I need to grab that Anaidon,¡± the thief grimaced, ¡°or we¡¯re going to stay in the dark.¡±

    ¡°Weigh the risks and decide, Mask,¡± Hage simply said.

    Tristan passed a hand through his hair. Well, when he put it like that. Anyhow the thief had been missing for too long, he shuld bring back <em>something</em> useful to appease Song. His captain was reportedly doing her level best to catch up to Tredegar¡¯s body count, best not give her an excuse.

    He closed his eyes, considered the approach.

    ¡°I can¡¯t grab him on the lower levels,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Too many ways for that to go wrong. I might, however, be able to ambush him up in the tower where he¡¯s supposed to be headed.¡±

    He¡¯d gotten a look at the entire edifice from outside, and it was impressive enough. The ground level, where he had been kept prisoner, was a typicalrge Tratheke building in stone and brass. The two levels above that, however, were wood. And from the depths of the building, near the eastern wall of the city, a tall but ramshackle tower led to some sort of chamber set in the wall. Not one that could be climbed by stairs, only by a hand-pulled lift that was essentially a glorified metal box hanging on pulleys.

    ¡°And how will you get him out?¡± Hage asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need someone to work the lift for me on the way down, handle the guards there,¡± Tristan admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d do it for a fee?¡±

    The old devil hummed.

    ¡°As Hector Anaidon is a figure of interest to the greater Watch, I will wave the fee this once,¡± he finally said. ¡°I will, however, not involved myself beyond infiltration and working the lift to lower you.¡±

    ¡°You <em>could</em> help me carry him out you know,¡± Tristan peevishly said. ¡°If it¡¯s really Hector Anaidon I saw him back in the pce, he¡¯s pretty heavyset.¡±

    Hage¡¯s brow rose and Tristan sighed. For a fee, yes. Well, if he was going to get robbed he might as well get the most of it: he went to inspect the supplies. Unsurprisingly, there was climbing gear in there as well as weapons and thieves¡¯ tools.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need the climbing gear,¡± he sighed. ¡°How much?¡±

    Hage answered, and Tristan stared at him for a long moment.

    ¡°This is extortion,¡± he finally said. ¡°A full arbol to <em>rent </em>rope, pegs and a hammer?¡±

    With a fee for keeping them too long, as well, which retroactively justified any and all wars mankind had waged against Pandemonium.

    ¡°Prices are set by the demand, that is the basics of trade,¡± Hage serenely replied.

    If you were a devil, maybe. Although, thinking about it, maybe he could¡­

    ¡°I¡¯ll take it,¡± he said, putting on a resigned look.

    He put the gear in a pile, then made a show of reluctantly handing his silver. The devil cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Did you really think that would work?¡±

    Tristan sighed and put the false coin back. Hage hadn¡¯t even needed to look at the second set of intertwined oaks stamped on the side instead of a griffin to know it was counterfeit coin. Rhea had been right, the fake silver <em>was</em> difficult to pass. With genuine reluctance this time he handed a real silver, then his eyes drifted to the pair of leather gloves by the thieving tools.

    ¡°And these?¡±

    ¡°A silver as well,¡± Hage smiled, teeth and teeth.

    At this rate he was going to leave the basement heading straight for a debtor¡¯s prison.

    ¡°The leather¡¯s not that nice,¡± he said. ¡°Ten radizes seems more reasonable.¡±

    He had a pair at ck House, that was the worst part. Not his finest one, he had left that on Tolomontera, but a nicer pair than this and he¡¯d not had to pay a silver to <em>buy</em> them ¨C much less rent!

    ¡°All prices are final,¡± Hage smirked.

    The several unkind things Tristan was in the process of rephrasing in ways that wouldn¡¯t result in added fees were frozen by the sound of a dry retch. He turned, as did Hage, and found that Sakkas was standing on his dirty clothes and shivering. The magpie twitched again and Tristan eyed it warily.

    ¡°You¡¯re not sick, are you?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I can keep Mephistofeline from eating you if-¡±

    The bird¡¯s jaw unhinged and it let out a ghastly retching sound, wet and raspy. The thief backed away, reaching for his knife, but Sakkas¡¯ throat bulged and it began vomiting out¡­ something, inch by inch, letting out that horrid noise. When the magpie finished he preened, hopping on his feet, and Tristan warily approached. It had thrown up a mass of leather and it was ¨C gods.

    ¡°These,¡± he slowly said, ¡°are my good gloves. Which I am<em> very</em> sure I left at the cottage.¡±

    The magpie trilled affirmatively.

    ¡°The cottage that is back on Tolomontera,¡± Tristan reminded the bird.

    The bird hopped on his feet again, trilling confusedly and perhaps a little intively.

    ¡°He <em>is</em> being very rude,¡± Fortuna agreed, though she showed only through her voice.

    She avoided Hage even outside the Chimerical, though he suspected she saw it as punishing <em>him</em> by withdrawing her presence.

    ¡°Say thank you, Tristan,¡± she continued. ¡°Do you know how hard it is to regurgitate a satchel that size?¡±

    ¡°Do<em> you</em>?¡± Tristan demanded, disbelieving.

    ¡°Perhaps not,¡± she airily replied, ¡°but is it harder than saying thank you?¡±

    Sakkas trilled again. Sighing, Tristan stroked the soft head feathers.

    ¡°Good bird, thank you,¡± he said, to a fresh bout of preening. ¡°I¡¯ll get you fresh plums when we get back to ck House, but we will also be having a discussion about thister.¡±

    Sakkas trilled in confusion.

    ¡°I¡¯m not falling for that,¡± the thief informed him. ¡°Not after your magically vomiting an object several days of travel away by sea moments after I thought about it.¡±

    Sighing, he squared his shoulders and turned to an amused-seeming Hage.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be taking the gloves,¡± he told the old devil.

    ¡°Surprising,¡± Hage replied.

    Tristan rolled his eyes, then set about picking up his supplies. He¡¯d need to keep watch for Anaidon¡¯s arrival, timing his climb correct, and there was no telling how long that would take.

    Best get to work.

 Chapter 66

    Chapter 66

    It was not a difficult climb, skill-wise, but that did not make it any less taxing.

    Though the scaffold-tower hugging the western wall of Tratheke had been built with care and precision, it was still made of wood. While the materials made it easy for Tristan to pull himself up with hammer and bolt, bringing up his rope with him as he did, the whole edifice felt like a reed about to fall over. It did not help that the wind had the wooden panels rattling and that abination of time and the elements had visibly taken a toll on the structure.

    At least there was little chance of his being seen, hidden under cover of night as he was, or of getting lost on his way: the chamber at the top had litmps, lending it the look of the me on a candle¡¯s tip, but night had fallen and the remainder was dark.

    Hector Anaidon ¨C there was no mistaking the silhouette ¨C had entered the hideout the better part of half an hour ago, so Tristan knew this would be a close-run thing. He had moved the moment the man showed his face, but there was no telling how long Anaidon would spend downstairs before entertaining his guests in the upstairs chamber.

    The lift was still at the bottom of the structure, at least. With a little luck Tristan would have time to hide and n his ambush.

    About three quarters of the way up, limbs trembling and sweat trickling down his back, Tristan found himself gritting his teeth and swallowing a snarl as weight pressed down on his left. Sakkas, that hateful beast, had justnded on his shoulder. The bird was light for its size, its talons barely felt through the ck coat, but still too damn heavy.

    ¡°Not now,¡± he hissed, taking a hand off the hold to p away the magpie. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re-¡±

    It flew off with a cackling call.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Fortuna whispered, straight into his ear. ¡°Tristan, it was warning us: the lift is moving.¡±Much as the thief would have liked to check, he was too far from the corner of the tower to do so. He¡¯d have to take the goddess on faith. Looking up at the stretch of creaking wood awaiting him, Tristan grimaced. Hesitated.

    ¡°How quickly is it rising?¡± he asked.

    Fortuna hummed, her presence receding until she popped her head out of the wall just a foot to the side of his right hand.

    ¡°Not that fast,¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re pulling it up by hand I think. If you hurry you should beat them up there.¡±

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Tristan cursed.

    The good news he¡¯d least wanted to hear. Now he had to take on the risks climbing in a hurry or risk trying to enter the room while there was already someone<em> in</em> it. He weighed those on the bnce for a too-long moment, then cursed again. Without rope, then. Hammer and peg alone would be quicker, as cutting corners with one¡¯s life often was.

    The fear of his sweat-slick palms slipping on the pegs only wet them further, but he gritted his teeth and focused. Tear, ce, hammer down. Up. Tear, ce, hammer down. Again and again he hitched himself up the side of the tower, moving as fast as he could. He began to turn around the edge when he got within ten feet of the opening, and below he could now see the wooden box slowly being pulled up. The roof was solid, no chance of anyone seeing through. He breathed out shallowly. No sign of anyone currently up there, and at least a few minutes before the lift arrived.

    He could do this.

    Now was the most dangerous part not because of the pressing time or the climb itself but because he would be inmplight, and so finally vulnerable to being seen from below. Tristan could not let himself think on that, however, for distraction and slippery hands were death¡¯s ingredients. Careful, steady. Do not hammer too little or too much. It was windy up here, now that he was no longer covered by the tower, and that slowed everything down.

    He still reached past the edge of the floor, finding thick carpet there, and began hoisting himself up ¨C only for a burst of wind to catch him in the side. Swallowing a scream, the thief slipped. Fingers wed at the carpet, his boot slipped against the peg and he dropped. His elbow hit the edge of the floor on the way down, he dropped the hammer and scrabbled desperately for anything he could reach. He caught the peg his boot had slipped on, eyes white and heart thundering, fingers digging into the palm until he was bleeding.

    Fear sludged through his veins like molten ice, but he swallowed his spit and bile. <em>Concentrate.</em><em>Forget everything but what needs to be done. Leave only the act.</em> He emptied his mind and moved: hoisted himself back up the peg, then got his boot wedged in and reached up. Past the edge ¨C what if there was wind again, what if. No. The thief breathed out. <em>Nothing ahead, nothing behind. Move.</em> He went over the edge, onto the carpet, and rolled on the room¡¯s floor.

    There he allowed himself a moment of bubbling terror, to realize how utterly close he hade to a pointless death, before burying it. He was not out of the grave yet.

    <em>Find a hiding ce. Move.</em> He rose, careful not to stain the carpet with his bloodied palm, and took a look around. The rebels had not built this room: it was a hole straight through the wall,rge enough it had been made into a makeshift chamber. The back wall was wood, the floor beneath the carpeting brass. As if to force the illusion of hospitality, the furniture was rich and near every inch of wall covered by tapestries or colorful paint. Two tables, a set of sofas and assorted chairs, arge bed and an evenrger wardrobe. There was no door, only thick curtains, and ¨C the creaking, it was loud.

    ¡°Fortuna?¡± he rasped out.

    ¡°They are almost here,¡± the goddess whispered into his ear.

    <em>They</em>? The guests wereing up at the same time, then. There was no time for anything borate. At a look he might fit under the sofas, but that was a risky y. Though it seemed almost a child¡¯s notion, Tristan headed straight for the wardrobe. It was filled to burst with terrible taste, which at least provided decent cover. The thief slipped behind the clothes and crouched, pulling his legs to his chest, and settled in for the wait.

    Best to wait until Hector¡¯s guests were gone to grab the man for an intimate talk, he decided. He could keep an eye on the situation through the slight gap between the two front panels of the wardrobe. In a matter of moments the lift reached the summit, metal nking against metal as it stopped moving. Atch was pulled and then they walked in.

    Lord Hector Anaidon had not changed since Tristanst saw him: a tall, broad-shouldered sort with graying blond hair and a bulbous nose. He was fleshy, though not exactly fat, and his blue eyes were deep-set. The lordling had the soft hands of a man who had never needed to work or fight and the clothes to exin why. There was enough silk on him to dress two marginally smaller men. The pair that apanied him, though, had Tristan¡¯s breath catching in his throat.

    A short, stout man with a jolly smile and swirling mustache. A tall, bony woman with narrow spectacles and pursed lips.

    ¡°Why, what a fascinating little nook,¡± Lord Locke enthusiastically said, looking around.

    ¡°Much trouble for a room norger than a salon,¡± Lady Keys scorned.

    ¡°I am told it served as a watchtower of sorts before the lictors wrote off this district,¡± Lord Hector replied, striding across the room towards one of the tables.

    There he reached for a carafe, sniffed the inside and let out an approving noise before pouring himself a cup of what looked like brandy. Despite inviting looks, he offered the pair no such courtesy.

    ¡°Somehow you talked Maria Anastos into thinking a conversation should take ce between us,¡± Hector Anaidon said, guzzling down the cup before setting it down sharply on the table. ¡°Well, have at it.¡±

    Lord Locke thumbed his mustache, smiling still. Now that Tristan knew what he was, he could not help but think of a cat ying with his whiskers as he eyed a plump mouse.

    ¡°We¡¯ve but a single question for you, Lord Hector,¡± he said. ¡°And will be departing as soon as we have our answer.¡±

    ¡°Will you now?¡± the other noble grunted. ¡°I think not. At the very least, you¡¯ll be remaining our guests until the rising. We cannot let knowledge of this ce spread.¡±

    ¡°That would not suit our purposes,¡± Lady Keys lightly said.

    ¡°I do not much care what suits you,¡± Hector Anaidon disdainfully replied. ¡°I may, in fact, have Maria¡¯s head for bringing you here. The Trade Assembly could use a reminder that they need us a great deal more than the other way around.¡±

    Tristan winced. It was like watching a man slowly shove his hand down a wolf¡¯s gullet. Reaching deeper and deeper, thinking the monster¡¯s belly was a pack to take things from.

    ¡°Are you threatening us?¡± Lady Keys asked, sounding almost pleased.

    ¡°There is always a bit of roughness in a revolution,¡± Lord Hector said, rolling the<em> r </em>of thest word as if making sport of it.

    ¡°Abduction and threats of death,¡± Lord Locke happily said. ¡°From a wicked cultist, no less! Is that not enough to arrest him, Warrant Officer Abrascal?¡±

    Tristan went still as stone for a moment, thoughts flying. The blood. Even if they hadn¡¯t heard him breathing, which they might well have, the blood would have given away the game. Keep them smiling, Hage had ordered him. No one¡¯s game but theirs would be yed tonight. The thief let his forehead drop on the wardrobe door and let out a long sigh. Well, so much for doing this cleanly.

    Under the bbergasted gaze of Hector Anaidon ¨C and the smirks of the married pair ¨C he emerged from the wardrobe with his ckjack in hand.

    ¡°Was that really necessary?¡± he asked the devils, pulling his uniform back in ce.

    ¡°No,¡± Lord Locke cheerfully admitted. ¡°But it has been very entertaining so far. Do continue!¡±

    Tristan sighed again, straightening as Lord Hector suddenly realized he was alone in a room a hundred feet above the ground with no guards to protect him and three potential enemies. The heavyset noble scrambled to his feet, reaching for the bejeweled knife at his hip and drawing it.

    ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± he demanded.

    ¡°Oh, best not to bring Hell into this,¡± Lady Keys gently said. ¡°It will do no wonders for your life expectancy, Hector.¡±

    Tristan rolled his shoulder.

    ¡°You¡¯re under arrest,¡± he told the cultist. ¡°By order of the Watch.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re all dead,¡± Hector snarled back, and ran for the door.

    Tristan did not even bother to move, eyes on the devils, and he still almost missed it. Plump, jolly Lord Locke was across the room in a heartbeat ¨C having torn the carpet pushing off ¨C and holding up the wiggling Hector Anaidon on the wall by the throat. Hector had at least a foot and a half on the smaller lord, and heavier shoulders, yet there was nothingical about the sight.

    It was Locke¡¯s eyes, Tristan thought. They were t and lifeless as a doll¡¯s.

    Hector rasped out a word, something sounding like a plea, and there was a ripple of¡­ something in the air. Like a pistol fired, but without the noise or smoke. Lord Locke¡¯s mustache billowed slightly before the devil bared teeth and teeth and something altogether more malign.

    ¡°Your god has no power over me, Hector,¡± Locke said. ¡°None one ising to save you, <em>that</em> least of all.¡±

    The cultist let out a noise of such despair Tristan almost sympathized. Lady Keys leaned over the low table, helping herself to the carafe of brandy and pouring a clean finger in a silver goblet. Swirling it, she took a sniff and let out a noise of approval. Tristan could not be sure whether or not he was imagining the echo of clicking mandibles under it.

    ¡°Would you be particrly opposed to our sharing this interrogation with the Watch, Warrant Officer?¡± Lady Keys asked. ¡°While the ck had been doing some admirable grave-digging in these parts, we¡¯ve some curiosities of our own to sate.¡±

    The thief straightened. <em>Show no weakness, y along with the games and always try to beat the expectations. My kind has a weakness for novelty, especially the oldest among of us, </em>Hage had taught him.

    ¡°By all means,¡± he said, bowing low. ¡°We could take turns asking questions.¡±

    Lady Keys seemed unimpressed, he gauged. Apt to tear off the veil of pretense this was anything but their show to roll on. So he tacked on-

    ¡°- deciding on whose it is by flipping a coin, perhaps,¡± Tristan added.

    Both devils stilled, then turned their heads towards him with unnatural sharpness ¨C not at angles impossible, but neither were they moving like someone who genuinely had to worry about the state of their spine. Lady Keys absently reminded her husband that ¡®you¡¯re killing him, dear¡¯, to which the other devil embarrassedlyughed before loosening his grasp and letting a choking, red-faced Hector Anaidon desperately suck in a breath.

    ¡°How interesting,¡± the devil said, peering at him through her borrowed eyes and spectacles. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be intending on cheating would you, Tristan?¡±

    ¡°I have never once cheated at anything in my life,¡± Tristan replied without batting an eye.

    How could he? There were no rules to life, and thus no one could cheat. Lord Locke let out a delighted chortle, picking up a panicking Hector by the throat again and shaking him like a misbehaving kitten. There was a small sound of tinkling, which had the devil reaching in the cultists¡¯ pocket and deftly picking out a silver arbol. He tossed it Tristan¡¯s way, the thief snatching it out of the air and showing both sides to Lady Keys.

    Uwfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°Ladies pick first,¡± he charmingly smiled. ¡°Would you prefer oaks or griffin?¡±

    ¡°Oaks,¡± Lady Keys said, tapping a finger against her chin.

    She sent her husband a burning look.

    ¡°Intertwined trees? Such a romantic thought.¡±

    Lord Locke blew back a kiss, Hector Anaidon sparing a moment in the process of being choked out to look in utter disbelief at the pair. Tristan flipped the coin, and without hesitation pulled on his luck. Heid out his palm without even looking, the perfect arc of the spinning silver ending with a dull p against the skin. A nce.

    ¡°s, griffin,¡± Tristan falsely sympathized. ¡°Better luck next time.¡±

    He released the luck, bracing himself, but a mere coin flip should only ¨C shifting his footing happened to pull at a fold in the ripped carpet, which in turn tugged at the table. The bottle of brandy tipped his way, and though he was quick enough to catch it there was still a small spill on his boots. Oh, that was on the lower end of his expectations. Fortuna must be in a fine mood.

    While he struggled with wiping his boot on the carpet, Lord Locke had lowered Hector. He gestured in extravagant invitation for Tristan to ask his question, somehow working in both a flourish and a bow.

    ¡°What is your role within the cult?¡± he asked.

    The overweight noble shot him a disdainful look.

    ¡°Why should I-¡±

    There was a snapping sound and Lord Locke¡¯s hand over the mouth of the cultists muffled a scream. A scream caused by the devil having, casually, snapped Hector Anaidon¡¯s left thumb at an angle that had bone peeking out of the bleeding flesh. Tristan breathed in, kept his heartbeat steady and his smile fixed. He had known, in his mind, that for all the smiling and joking they were brutal monsters.

    Tristan had hurt men before, for answers or coin or to survive. But it had still been a choice to him, a decision. Locke¡¯s hand had moved like the violence was an afterthought. How many fingers did you need to snap before it could be done so casually, so effortlessly? Hundreds, the thief thought. Thousands.

    ¡°<em>Torture</em> is why, obviously,¡± Tristan made himself reply in the tone of someone amused. ¡°Answer the question, Hector.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a priest,¡± the man hurried to reply the moment Locke allowed him to. ¡°A priest of the Odyssean, initiated into the rites. I renounced the Ram just like they asked and they brought me into the mysteries. Please, I¡¯m bleeding, you need to-¡±

    His mouth was covered again and Lady Keys, setting down her goblet after having drained it of brandy, turned a look on him. He offered up the coin for her.

    ¡°Oaks,¡± the devil decided.

    Griffin again, and all it cost him was a thread in his coring loose. Only a problem if he pulled at it.

    ¡°Who is the head of your cult?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°The lesiast,¡± Hector Anaidon replied, sweating and shivering. ¡°I don¡¯t know his real name, only that he founded the cult.¡±

    The man kept ncing down at his snapped thumb, looking sick.

    ¡°That can¡¯t be all you know,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Does Lord Locke have to¡­ put your thumb on the scale again, so to speak?¡±

    The devil beamed back at him, chortling and looking as if that threat had made his day. The cultist paled, looking about to throw up.

    ¡°I, um,¡± he stammered. ¡°He¡¯s a noble, and wealthy. I could tell from his tastes. Real coin, not just passing.¡±

    Tristan hummed, shaking his head at Lord Locke¡¯s quizzical look. He offered up the coin to Lady Keys again, and this time there was a particr intensity to her gaze.

    ¡°Oaks,¡± the devil said.

    He used the luck to secure <em>he</em>r pick, this time, at the low price of the edge of the coin pping at the edge of the phnge in a vaguely painful way.

    ¡°Ah, atst fortune smiles on us,¡± Lady Keys grinned, revealing just a hint of teeth beyond her teeth. ¡°Dearest, if you would?¡±

    ¡°Hector, my friend,¡± Lord Locke said, putting the man down and cleaning his shoulders as if they were old acquaintances instead of his torturer. ¡°What do you know about the harpoon?¡±

    Tristan breathed in sharply. As in the great bronze artifact that Maryam had found in the heart of the prisonyer, plunged into the wastnd of salt keeping the Hated One contained? More interesting yet was that Hector Anaidon flinched, betraying he knew exactly what the devil was asking about.

    ¡°I know that Lord Cordyles has an entire collection of-¡±

    Lord Locke gently reached inside the cultist¡¯s mouth, prying it open and seizing one of the front teeth between two fingers.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need your teeth to answer our questions,¡± the devil noted. ¡°Human teeth, my friend, are <em>most</em> shoddily built. They are so very easy to pull out.¡±

    <em>No they aren¡¯t</em>, Tristan thought. It was actually quite difficult unless you had pincers. Lord Locke removed his shell¡¯s fingers out of the terrified cultists¡¯ mouth, allowing him enough room to speak.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know where it went,¡± Hector sniveled. ¡°They only used my brother¡¯s warehouse for a night, that was all they needed me for!¡±

    ¡°They?¡± Lady Keys idly asked. ¡°borate, my good man. Who told you to hide the artifact?¡±

    ¡°The lesiast,¡± Hector said. ¡°It was all him, all his n.¡±

    ¡°And where did he get it?¡± Lord Locke pressed, for once entirely humorless.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Hector said. ¡°He never said. From some temple, probably, like the sickle.¡±

    Both devils scoffed.

    ¡°Did he ever mention a helper?¡± Lord Locke asked. ¡°A benefactor?¡±

    <em>They¡¯re not here for the infernal forge</em>, Tristan realized. Hage was right. They were hunting someone, someone they thought might have provided this cult of the Odyssean with the weapon that breached the Hated One¡¯s prison.

    ¡°Nothing, he doesn¡¯t trust anyone,¡± Hector wept. ¡°Not even the priests.¡±

    Lady Keys sighed.

    ¡°A waste of time,¡± she told her husband. ¡°Only this lesiast has our answers.¡±

    Lord Locke twirled his mustache thoughtfully.

    ¡°Thatplicates matters somewhat,¡± he said, not sounding entirely displeased.

    Tristan cleared his throat, drawing their attention, and offered up the coin.

    ¡°Onest for the road?¡± he asked, smiling charmingly.

    ¡°By all means,¡± Lord Lockeughed. ¡°We im griffin, this time.¡±

    Oaks it was, and as Tristan released the luck he shifted the weight and immediately felt the sudden itch in his boot ¨C right under his foot, and he¡¯d have to uce the entire thing to scratch it. Ugh, hopefully it would pass soon.

    ¡°What a lucky young man you are,¡± Lady Keys observed.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing to rely on,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Fortune is a fickle thing, I find.¡±

    Had those devils not most likely been annealed and thus to be avoided, he suspected Fortuna would have given him an earful about that. Lady Keys shrugged.

    ¡°Your question, Warrant Officer,¡± she said.

    His gaze returned to Lord Hector.

    ¡°Your cult supports a coup by the nobles, but you are also involved with the Trade Assembly¡¯s own plot,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Which of them are you really backing?¡±

    Given how many nobles were supposedly in the cult he suspected they were the horse that had been picked to ride, but the magnate plot was truly getting a helping hand. More than he would have expected if the point of the cult¡¯s infiltration was mostly to sabotage rival efforts.

    ¡°Involved?¡± Hector mocked. ¡°We started the bloody thing, rook. Riled up themons, put the Yellow Earth in a room with the magnates. Do you really think our ambitions stop at backing-¡±

    The end of the sentence was interrupted by a loud, resounding crack. Not a finger this time. Hector Anaidon¡¯s eyes bulged out, his breath stolen by the way Lord Locke had nonchntly snapped his neck.

    ¡°Ah,¡± the devil eximed, sounding embarrassed. ¡°Manifold apologies, Tristan. My hand slipped.¡±

    ¡°Nothing to apologize for, it happens to me all the time,¡± Tristan said, smile gone stilted.

    <em>What are you after?</em> No, he already knew that. The mystery benefactor they had asked Hector about, that was what they wanted. The only part of this ind they took seriously. Whatever the cultists had been about to reveal, then, must have been something that would make it harder for them to find said person. Something tob throughter, though, for now the thief was suddenly and painfully aware he was the only living soul left in the room with two devils that might well prefer there be no witness to their passing through.

    Tristan coughed into his hand.

    ¡°It is gettingte,¡± he said. ¡°I suppose I should be headed out. Any interesting ns for the night?¡±

    Lady Keys cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°I could go for dinner,¡± she smiled. ¡°Dear?¡±

    ¡°Something Trebian, I think,¡± he mused. ¡°Not too fat, I fear that our diet has been a little heavy in Tratheke. I feel full enough to burst.¡±

    Shit. <em>Shit</em>. How could he - breathing in, Tristan swallowed his fear and crossed his arms over his chest. The arbol he put away, slipped inside, and moved his fingers a little more to reach deeper.

    ¡°Oh, I can¡¯t stop you if you want a nibble,¡± he said. ¡°But two on one? It hardly seems sporting.¡±

    ¡°A fair point,¡± Lord Locke mused. ¡°<em>Cara mia</em>?¡±

    ¡°He wants to gamble for it,¡± Lady Keys grinned. ¡°Use his contract to cheat a fourth time, no doubt. Naughty, naughty.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so you<em> could </em>tell when I used it,¡± Tristan said.

    He¡¯d thought they might, considering Hage was able to see Fortuna. Odds they couldn¡¯t tell what it did, though, just that he was using it.

    ¡°I offer you a bargain, then,¡± he continued. ¡°Onest flip ¨C this one with real stakes. If I use my contract in any way, it counts as my loss.¡±

    He presented his shiny silver coin.

    ¡°Oaks I live, griffin you dine on these fine Sacromontan ribs,¡± Tristan smiled, closing his fist around the coin with a snap. ¡°How about it?¡±

    The devils leaned in hungrily.

    ¡°Oh, that will do. Flip the coin, Tristan Abrascal,¡± Lady Keys said.

    ¡°How lucky are you feeling, Sacromontan?¡± Lord Locke grinned.

    ¡°Oh, not at all,¡± Tristan honestly replied, and flipped the coin.

    It rang out with fine twang, a blur to the eye, but almost immediately he snatched it out of the air and pped it down on the back of his other hand. He nced back at the devils, whose shining gazes had never left his face. Drinking in his nerves like fine wine.

    ¡°Ready?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tease,¡± Lord Locke said, clicking his teeth.

    <em>All </em>his teeth.

    He raised his hand, revealing the intertwined oaks under his hand. Both devils sagged, almostically disappointed, but neither seemed¡­ angry at the loss, so to speak. As if the game was as satisfying to them as the meal might have been.

    ¡°Lucky boy, after all,¡± Lady Keys sighed.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Tristan lied.

    He cleared his throat, taking a step towards the lift.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s been a pleasure, but I do have to run,¡± Tristan said, backing away until he was at the door.

    He opened it, backed into the lift and reached for a hanging rope before tugging it. A bell sounded downstairs. By now Hage had either failed or seized the bottom of the lift, but even if he hadn¡¯t risking the soldiers was probably safer than staying up here.

    ¡°So eager to leave us, Tristan?¡± Lady Keys asked.

    ¡°Almost as if you had something to hide,¡± Lord Locke mused, thumbing his mustache. ¡°Suspicious.¡±

    Tristan tugged at the rope again. Twice. Thrice. What in the Manes was Hage doing?

    ¡°I thought you might need a moment alone with the¡­¡± his eyes drifted to Hector Anaidon, looking for a word, ¡°¡­ local fare. Light some candles and it could be quite the romantic evening.¡±

    ¡°You reek of lies,¡± Lady Keys used.

    ¡°A hazard of my upation,¡± Tristan lied, tugging at the rope again. ¡°Mine is an honest soul, mydy, and I would never cheat beloved friends such as you.¡±

    And, thank the gods and even Fortuna, the lift finally began moving.

    ¡°Tristan,¡± Lord Locke seriously said. ¡°Did you cheat us?¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Tristan said, putting a hand over his heart. ¡°Here, you can even inspect the coin.¡±

    And now here was the real gamble for his life. He tossed them the coin even as the lift began going down, just before his upper body went out of sight, and hoped he had made the choice that would not result in them ripping out the cables keeping the lift in ce and send him tumbling a hundred feet down to his death in a wooden box.

    See, the pair of them did not like losing. That was why he if he had kept cheating on the tosses Lady Keys would likely have snapped his neck. But they <em>did</em> like to be entertained, which he thought could involve losing if they still got augh out of it. So instead of trying to get away with thest time he¡¯d cheated them, he gave away the trick. Tristan had not been lucky at all, with thatst toss.

    He¡¯d just used Rhea¡¯s counterfeit arbol with oaks on both sides so he could not possibly lose.

    And just as the lift cleared the upper level, leaving him to look only at the tall brass wall and the long drop, twin shrieks of anger came from the room. An exmation of ¡®<em>beloved friends¡¯</em>, and something that sounded like a curse on seven generations of the Abrascal. A theater of anger. Tristan¡¯s shoulders dropped and he sagged against the railing, the tension bleeding out of him.

    So they wanted to keep toying with him, make him empty his bag of tricks before they ate him. They¡¯de for his hide again, he was sure, but it was looking he¡¯d make it through the night.

    Sometimes that was the most you could ask for.

    --

    Hage was waiting at the bottom, leaning against the wall in the brown surcoat with a wide hat pulled back to cover much of his face. Whatever the old devil had been about to say, Tristan cut it short.

    ¡°Locke and Keys are up there,¡± he tly said. ¡°Time to get out, Hage.¡±

    The old devil was instantly alert.

    ¡°They let you leave?¡±

    ¡°I tricked them in a way they liked but who knows how long that¡¯ll keep,¡± Tristan grunted, striding out of the cage. ¡°<em>Move</em>.¡±

    He did not ask what had happened to the guards who would have kept an eye on the lift, hurrying towards their designated escape path ¨C a room to the east which had a window that led right onto a smaller rooftop if you leaped right.

    ¡°Anaidon?¡± Hage asked.

    ¡°They snapped his neck before he could tell me something important,¡± he grunted back. ¡°He still had time to imply the cult might be ying both sides for some greater purpose, though.¡±

    Leaving proved less difficult than expected, in no small part because it was evening and most of the mercenaries were abed. Hage picked the lock on the room they had chosen and momentster Tristan was leaping across to the smaller rooftop. The old devil was not far behind, light-footed as a cat, and they disappeared into the night. The basileias did not patrol the streets as much,e night, and when they did their torches were visible from afar. The Masks returned to the basement without incident.

    They methodically cleaned up all traces of their presence, Sakkas still gone with the wind while Mephistofeline was stashed in Hage¡¯s packsack with only his head peeking out curiously. He did not seem to mind this, purring loudly.

    ¡°We should move before the corpse is discovered,¡± Hage said. ¡°There are paths that will let us slip around the streets the basileias keep an eye on, I will-¡±

    Whatever it had been the old devil was about to say, it was interrupted by ringing bells and shouting. Sharing a look they crept back to the surface for a look, and what they found gave them pause. The hideout was ame, fire already licking its way up the tower as the warehouse levels burned bright and panicked men tried to organize a daisy chain of water buckets.

    ¡°That,¡± Tristan murmured, ¡°is one way to get rid of the evidence, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t do that for one dead noble, boy,¡± Hage said. ¡°They set fire to the anthill so the ants would swarm around it: they are forcing us off the streets.¡±

    Because, the Mask grasped, the fire would draw every rebel and criminal in the ward to the few city blocks around here and so there could be no sneaking back into the city proper.

    ¡°They are slowing us down,¡± Tristan murmured.

    Hage nodded.

    ¡°We stay in the basement for now,¡± he said. ¡°Better to wait it out than risk sneaking through, even if that is what they want.¡±

    The devil sighed.

    ¡°I suppose we can share a carriage back to ck House in the morning,¡± he allowed, as if he wasn¡¯t going to pay for it with Tristan¡¯s own silver.

    ¡°Very kind of you, sir,¡± Tristan drawled, ¡°but I have another visit I must make first. I have a supply stash in the city, I must check on.¡±

    Hage¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°You will not be returning to ck House first?¡±

    ¡°I have some loose ends to tie up,¡± Tristan vaguely replied.

    He needed to check on his poison stocks and his preparations around the Neenth¡¯s safehouse. He¡¯d had it all in ce to make his move when the magnates decided he would make a better hostage instead. The old devil cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°The Neenth,¡± he said.

    Tristan swallowed, smoothed away his fear.

    ¡°I am investigating them, yes,¡± he said.

    ¡°Investigating. Is that what you would call it?¡± Hage asked.

    ¡°What else would I?¡± he pleasantly smiled.

    The devil only hummed.

    ¡°Report to ck House first,¡± the devil ordered.

    He gritted his teeth, but arguing with Hage was a losing proposition. It was not clear how high up the creature was in the Krypteia¡¯s ranks, but that he stood higher than Tristan was certain.

    ¡°As you say,¡± Tristan grunted.

    In and out in an hour, he thought. Leaving a written report if the others were busy would make a decent excuse. Song would be miffed and Maryam would berate him, but he¡¯d pay his dues when he had finished the necessary work.

    ¡°Good,¡± the old devil said. ¡°Then, as a reward for your performance tonight, here is a tidbit of interest: their entire brigade will be at their safehouse at the sixth hour of the evening. They reported a breakthrough in their investigation and have borrowed certain machinery from our Lordsport facilities as well as given warning of a nned aether disturbance. Here is a list of the goods.¡±

    The thief¡¯s fingers clenched. It was deeply unpleasant, feeling as thoroughly seen through as he tended to around Hage. And now that he had been given this, he must genuinely report to Song or he would not be returning the favor the devil had just done him ¨C and thus be in his debt. Tristan did not want to be in any devil¡¯s debt, much less this one¡¯s. He took the offered paper.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he stiffly replied.

    He opened it, frowning at the contents. Aether pump. Tensile barometer.

    ¡°What¡¯s ¡®perfect culm¡¯?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°Fuel,¡± Hage said. ¡°And not the natural kind.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re up to something,¡± he muttered. ¡°Izel Coyac is a tinker, they¡¯re making some sort of device.¡±

    ¡°I believe their n is to draw the god and trap it,¡± the old devil said. ¡°So they might then disy him as proof of a contract discharged.¡±

    ¡°And that would work?¡± he asked, skeptical.

    ¡°Their Deuteronomicon boy is, at least, using the correct time of the day for the ritual,¡± he said. ¡°Though by their choice of devices, I expect they are either trying to shove the entity into the prisonyer or to bind it to their service.¡±

    Tristan stilled. If they got their hands on that remnant god, there was one obvious target for them to use it on.

    ¡°Duly noted,¡± he croaked out.

    He turned a clean pair of heels, eager to return to the basement and show his back to those prying eyes, only to slow when Hage¡¯s voice resounded.

    ¡°Tristan.¡±

    He turned, finding the devil¡¯s face gone ck. The shell had no expression at all, like a puppetid to rest.

    ¡°The Krypteia,¡± Hage said, ¡°does not deal inws. We deal in<em> necessity</em>. It does not do to forget this.¡±

    <em>The Krypteia allows other ckcloaks to put a bounty of my head,</em> Tristan thought. <em>Allows other students to attempt to collect on it.</em> He did much care what the Krypteia was meant to deal in.

    Abu¡¯s teachings were clear: no loose ends.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 67

    Chapter 67

    The knock on the door would have woken up Song, if she were asleep.

    Instead she was sitting in the dark in her uniform, a treatise on Izcalli titles lying open in front of her ¨C ¡®<em>tetehcutin¡¯</em>, it read, <em>is the highest semi-hereditary rank under the Calendar Court, ruling the broad equivalent to a Lierganen coun- </em>in a silent reproach, the page unchanged for thest hour. Song¡¯s eyes burned with exhaustion but she could not sleep. There was another knock, soft but urgent. Toc toc toc. Shaking out her empty-eyed trance she rose to her feet, leg knocking against the writing desk, and made for the door.

    She wrenched it open, hoping for Maryam or Angharad or even Tristan. Instead what she found was a nervous-looking Someshwari with a in face decorated by brass spectacles.

    ¡°Adarsh Hebbar,¡± she said.

    ¡°Bait,¡± he retorted. ¡°Let me in before someone sees.¡±

    Too surprised to argue, she moved aside and he hurried in as if some angry hound might nip at his heels out in the hall. Song closed the door, and after a moment of the man looking lost remembered it wasplete darkness in here for someone without her eyes. She moved to light one of themps, striking the match. Hebbar looked relieved by the light, arms loosening their grip around the packet he was clutching like a buoy.

    ¡°Bait,¡± she said. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure?¡±

    He passed her the packet, cloth tied up by rope, and her wrist dipped under the weight. Heavy. Piles of paper, by the feel of it.

    ¡°There,¡± Adarsh Hebbar said. ¡°All our reports, along with Alejandra¡¯s tracings of the symbols in the temple and the drawings I made of theyout. You have two hours at most before I have to put them back or Tupoc will surely notice.¡±Song¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°And what brings on this bout of generosity?¡±

    ¡°Tupoc¡¯s going to refuse your deal in the morning,¡± Adarsh said. ¡°Said he wants to see if he can make you and Imani squabble first. So here it is.¡±

    Song cocked her head to the side, saw how his fingers were twitching and there was an expectant cast to the angle of his wobbly chin.

    ¡°I would praise your sense of duty,¡± she said. ¡°But I expect that¡¯s not why you are here.¡±

    ¡°Fuck duty,¡± Bait cursed. ¡°Tell Abrascal that we¡¯re square after this. te clean.¡±

    The Someswhari licked his lips.

    ¡°You can tell him to stop, right? You¡¯re his captain. Tupoc¡¯s been keeping a closer eye on all of us since the Eleventh tried to y Alejandra, if he notices that I¡¯m being hit up by <em>Abrascal </em>of all of people then¡­¡±

    ¡°I can,¡± Song slowly said.

    She was slightly more than half sure this was true. Would it stop Tristan from looking into further ckmail on the man now that he had found a weakness in the Fourth? Oh, gods no. But she was confident he would agree to wiping the te clean of the current chalk. Behind the brass spectacles hopeful brown eyes implored her and she sighed.

    ¡°Consider it done,¡± she said.

    The man nodded, sagging with relief, then shuffled awkwardly on his feet.

    ¡°Can I, uh, stay here while you read?¡± Bait asked. ¡°They might notice if I keeping in and out of rooms.¡±

    Song stared him down. He wilted instantly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be quiet,¡± he hurried to assure her. ¡°You won¡¯t even notice I¡¯m there.¡±

    After a moment she nodded.

    ¡°Feel free to read anything I left out,¡± Song conceded. ¡°Though do not move any of the markers I left.¡±

    ¡°I would never,¡± Bait strongly replied, sounding almost offended now of all times.

    Ah, right, Adarsh Hebbar was a Savant. She never had been given a clear idea of his area of interest within the Peiling Society, however. Song waved him away and he settled by themp after having gone through her pile of books, picking one on the anatomy of lemures. One of her attempts to stay ahead when it came to Teratology. With him upied, she settled back at her writing desk and cleared the abandoned book off before carefully opening the package.

    It irritated but did not surprise her that Tupoc Xical had beautiful handwriting, a genuine pleasure to the eye. Even worse his reports to his patron and the Obscure Committee were clear, concise and structured in a rather intuitive way. It might actually be better than the temte she used, which had her gritting her teeth. No, copying the pattern would be letting him win. She would need toe up with something <em>better</em>. Righteous anger aside, Song skimmed through the lines quickly to get at what she wanted.

    There it was, the itinerary taken by the Fourth. Once they¡¯d made shore on the eastern third of Asphodel they had quickly gone northeast through thends of House Florin, Chontos, Florin again and then the major stretch in thends of House Arkol. It had been Arkol troops that shadowed the Fourth Brigade on their hunt, eventually being dispersed by the Ladonite dragon. Song had held her suspicions, but it was good to have it confirmed.

    It meant the hidden temple was somewhere near Arkolnds and that Lord Phaedros Arkol, a social acquaintance of Angharad¡¯s, could potentially be approached to obtain information on it. Lords might not concern themselves with old country legends, not courtiers like Lord Phaedros at least, but there would be <em>someone</em> in that household who would know something.

    With that lead unearthed Song moved on to the part second most of interest, the temple itself. Tupoc theorized in his report that it had been as much a mausoleum as a ce of worship, as the structure was built to emphasize of a ring ofrge stone caskets buried around the shrine to the unnamed god. He also added that while he had earlier in his report mentioned his belief that the temple had recently been visited by grave-robbers, there were also signs of the temple having been forcefully shut down some time ago. At least decades prior but potentially much longer.

    He noted that while some symbols remained carved into the walls near the altar, what appeared to have once been names and scripture had been rendered forcefully unreadable in the rest of theplex. Tupoc identified several broken chunks of stone he believed had been the bottom of steles and there were signs of mosaics having been ripped out and colors scrubbed. He added that considering the symbols found¡­

    There Song set aside the report to refer to Alejandra¡¯s tracings of said symbols. The first traced was a stone casket, like those described in the report. Some sort of ritual reference? The second had her eyes narrowing, though, for it was a sickle. She returned to Tupoc¡¯s writing, where he wrote he believed the artifact taken from the shrine would have been a sickle going by the iconography and dust pattern on the altar. That, Song grimly thought, did not strike her as a coincidence.

    The sacred sickle of a faded death god went missing, then a leashed remnant bearing such a sickle began appearing in Trathekemitting murders? Whether or not it had been grave-robbers who first found that temple, the sickle had since fallen into the hands of someone with greater ambitions than turning a profit.

    The rest of Tupoc¡¯s report on the temple was a methodical description, paired with Adarsh Hebbar¡¯s fine drawing of it. She nced at the Someshwari, finding him engrossed in his book, and revised her opinion of his talent upwards. It led into Tupoc¡¯s formal rmendation that the Watch take custody of the temple since it had likely been used for human sacrifice in its heyday.

    He based that rmendation on the outer graves, which were long rectangr stone pits filled with earth but some of which hadin empty. Unlike the caskets, which he proposed had been reserved for priests since there were ashes inside but no bones, the pits had been used for mass burials and the skeletons the Fourth unearthed had all been killed the same way: a single de wound through the back of the neck. A familiar description to Song, that.

    It was the same way the leashed remnant killing in the city took its victims.

    Song set the papers down, leaning forward to set her elbows on the table and close her eyes as she rested her chin on folded hands. Another piece of the puzzle. She could now be mostly certain of what the killer the Neenth was pursuing truly was: the remnant of the nameless sickle god, leashed by means of a sacred artifact. But who held the leash, and why?

    The Neenth had been convinced the killings were arbitrary but Song doubted it. The sickle alone would not be enough to set a remnant loose, there would have to be some attendant ritual ¨C potentially a pricey one. Not the sort of thing one used to cause random deaths. <em>Unless the randomness is the point</em>. <em>It creates fear in Tratheke, fear that the ambitious can exploit.</em> But if that was the case, why not use the knife slightly more discriminately when causing that chaos? No, something was still missing.

    But she was closer to solving the mystery now, she could feel it. On the very edge. Now what she needed was a look at Imani Langa¡¯s own reports, the ones about the sinister rituals out in Tratheke Valley, and for Tristan to return with the secrets he¡¯d gathered. <em>Someone </em>out there knew about the remnant, because they¡¯d warned the man Tristan had saved ¨C a certain ¡®Temenos¡¯ ¨C that he might be a target. What did that person know, and how did they know it? That was the thread in need of pulling to unravel this entire conspiracy.

    Song itched to wake Maryam and Angharad, to shake answers out of them and force them to look at all this, but both had returnedte to ck House and gone to bed instead of seeking her out. Thosete returns were half the reason she¡¯d been unable to sleep, considering Maryam was set on a dangerous ritual that might well kill her and Angharad had been infiltrating the cult ¨C sessfully, one presumed, given that she had not returned until the small hours of morning.

    But now she was spinning again, wing at the walls of her own mind. They needed their sleep, the same rest she should be taking if she had any sense. She had what she needed from the report, time to end this.

    ¡°I am finished,¡± Song said.

    Bait nearly leaped out of his skin at her words, having entirely forgot where he was. His spectacles almost fell off his face and he fumbled catching the brass frame, which would have hit the floor if not for getting caught on a belt ornamentation. He hastily shoved them back on and rose to his feet, which made the book still on his knees fall, and when he just as hastily bent to pick it up his spectacles almost fell again. Song watched the entire debacle from beginning to end with what she could only call morbid fascination.

    ¡°Right on,¡± Adarsh Hebbar forced out, coughing into his fist. ¡°Nothing left to read?¡±

    ¡°I am finished,¡± Song repeated. ¡°Thank you for your help, Bait.¡±

    He cleared his throat.

    ¡°And Abrascal¡­¡±

    ¡°Consider the matter he used against you permanently buried,¡± she said. ¡°You will hear no more of it.¡±

    The naked relief on his face almost made her feel bad about the precise phrasing of that sentence. How very Mni of her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the wrapping,¡± he said, ¡°there¡¯s a trick to it, to avoid someone not of our brigade doing exactly what I did. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Captain Ren.¡±

    ¡°And you,¡± Song replied, inclining her head.

    She did not sleep well, after he left, but she did sleep. It was better than nothing.

    --

    Refraining from ambushing her cabalists in their own room the moment they woke took a great deal of self-control, but Song mastered herself. Hand on the chisel. She went down to breakfast with them, seating herself by Captain Imani Langa just in time for Tupoc to stroll in and theatrically announce that he must decline their bargain, wary of his secrets being spread too broadly, but that he might ept sharing with <em>one</em> of them.

    Song painted anger over her face, noticing the satisfaction on the Izcalli¡¯s, but the moment he was out of earshot she turned to Imani.

    ¡°I will cede you the right to his information for a favor,¡± she offered.

    Imani studied her.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have much use for the information,¡± she said.

    Song knew the beginning of a negotiation when she saw it, though, and got to work. It was fairly straightforward to aplish, given that Imani had rtively little leverage and Tupoc was the one forcing the choice so the Thirteenth couldn¡¯t be used of being the problem. Song used the opportunity to secure the trade of their own reports, too, just after breakfast.

    Though it would not be immediately read, considering she had higher priorities. Her eyes drifted to Maryam and Angharad, who sat on the opposite side of the table and had watched the negotiation with all the interest of someone who might begin to care when they had finished their morning tea but not a moment sooner. Maryam, in particr, looked like she might copse at any moment.

    But she wasn¡¯t speaking in tongues, so at least her ritual had not taken a turn for the very worst. It shouldn¡¯t have, when she said thatst night was a trap and tonight would be the murder, but with Gloam there was no certainty save harm.

    ¡°After breakfast,¡± Song began, ¡°you are to join me in my room for a-¡±

    ¡°Captain Song Ren?¡±

    She turned, frowning, to see one of the liveried servants smiling at her apologetically. She smoothed the displeasure off her face. They had done nothing to earn it.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°A guest requests your presence, ma¡¯am,¡± the young man said. ¡°You and Warrant Officer Maryam Khaimov.¡±

    She blinked.

    ¡°And this cannot wait until we are done eating?¡±

    ¡°He said no, ma¡¯am,¡± the servant said. ¡°And he¡¯s an officer, ma¡¯am. Captain Traore.¡±

    Song stilled. That was the name Colonel Adamos of Stheno¡¯s Peak had given for the Savant he was sending to the capital to debrief them. She gulped down thest of her almost-scalding tea, then gestured for Maryam to follow.

    ¡°About your letter,¡± she exined when given a quizzical look.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Maryam muttered, slowly rising. ¡°My own fault then.¡±

    Angharad raised expectant brows, but Song shook her head. This was not to be the kind of conversation where one went without summons and Angharad had not been named. Likely if Maryam had not sent a letter of her own to Stheno¡¯s Peak she would not be attending either.

    ¡°In my quarters after breakfast,¡± Song simply said.

    After a beat of hesitation, Angharad nodded. The noblewoman had begun avoiding her like the gue again, since their confrontation, but she did not refuse direct orders. Even when angry she tended to her duty with care. Maryam shambled up to Song¡¯s side and after onest look Song nodded at the servant to guide them. They followed him into the depths of ck House, the silver-eyed woman slowing her steps so she could address Maryam without being overheard.

    ¡°Will you be fit for conversation?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Maryam said, wrinkling her nose.

    Under Song¡¯s steady, unblinking stare that false confidence began to wane.

    ¡°I¡¯m not at my best,¡± the signifier conceded, ¡°but I am capable.¡±

    Song hummed.

    ¡°Your health?¡±

    ¡°Fine, Song,¡± Maryam snapped.

    ¡°Captain Ren,¡± Song coldly corrected, ¡°if rank is what it takes to get an honest reply. Answer, Warrant Officer Khaimov. You undertook a dangerous Gloam ritual against my rmendationsst night. <em>How is your health</em>?¡±

    Blue eyes hardened, and Song saw the sharp reply on the tip of her tongue. Whatever it was that Maryam found on her face, though, it gave her pause.

    ¡°It would be best if I slept in a Meadow soon,¡± she conceded.

    ¡°Then you will be sleeping on the roof this afternoon,¡± Song ordered. ¡°At least three hours.¡±

    ¡°I was going to anyway,¡± Maryam muttered.

    But she did not argue. By the stiff way the servant ahead of them was now walking he¡¯d overheard some of that but Song was too tired to be embarrassed. They were soon brought to what she realized after a moment of uncertainty was the very same room where yesterday she had watched Captain Santos strike deal with the traitor Ledwaba. It was exactly the same inside when they were bid in, down to the water carafe on the buffet.

    ¡°Good, you did not waste time. Sit.¡±

    Captain Traore, who must be the man who¡¯d just addressed them, would have been one of the shortest Mni she ever saw were he Mni at all. He was not, for though very dark of skin he had a lilting ent and borate earrings inscribed with a prayer pattern. He was Jahamai, like Commander Salimata back on Tolomontera. Would Maryam know the difference, though<em>?</em> By the stiff look on her face, she did not.

    They both sat as instructed and since the small, almost fragile-looking man offered no refreshments Song cleared her throat.

    ¡°A pleasure to meet you, sir,¡± she said. ¡°I only received the letter from Colonel Adamos yesterday, it was dyed by an encounter with Cordyles ships.¡±

    ¡°The roads through the valley were no better,¡± Captain Traore told her. ¡°Lemures are wandering the paths and there¡¯s even been talk of them attacking farms. Whatever has them stirred up, it is only getting worse.¡±

    ¡°There have been rituals in the hills,¡± Song carefully said. ¡°The Eleventh Brigade is investigating this.¡±

    The captain waved that away.

    ¡°The colonel sent one of our cabals to look into it as well,¡± he said. ¡°Whatever it is, our Skiritai will have it shot full of silver and salt soon enough. Much more dangerous is what<em> your</em> brigade has been up to.¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡± Maryam said, her first word since the talk began.

    Were she less tired, Song thought, she would better hide the general antipathy she felt towards any Mni holding authority over her. But she was exactly tired enough not to. Lucky for them, Traore either did not notice or did not care.

    ¡°Not you,¡± the man dismissed. ¡°In particr at least. Though the letter you sent about the Asphodel crowns and their effect on the local aether has our own Akrre in a frenzy.¡±

    Maryam blinked in surprise.

    ¡°Was it not a documented phenomenon? I reached out to consult their records of it.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a phenomenon at all, as ofst year,¡± Captain Traore tly said. ¡°It still isn¡¯t on the northern edges of the valley, but the closer to the capital a signifier approaches the fuller the phenomenon bes. We had it tested, it fully coalesces about a week from Tratheke by horse.¡±

    Song shared a look with Maryam, sensing gravity but not exactly what it meant.

    ¡°I am a Stripe, andrgely untrained in such matters,¡± Song tried. ¡°Could you exin for my sake?¡±

    The man shrugged.

    ¡°We do not know what it means, exactly,¡± he admitted. ¡°At the very least, such arge-scale disturbance in the aether means that something concerning the emanations rted to those flowers is undergoing a significant change.¡±

    ¡°Those flowers are a symbol of Asphodel,¡± Maryam quietly said, ¡°but also of the god Oduromai. Do you think¡­¡±

    ¡°Our leading theory is that the god¡¯s association to the <em>ruler </em>of Asphodel in particr is the cause of the disturbance,¡± Captain Traore said. ¡°That the local aether is reacting because the first steps of a civil war for the throne have been taken, yet unseen.¡±

    Song was rather beginning to wish she had taken Angharad¡¯s reportst night regardless of the Skiritai¡¯s inclination to wait until morning. She kept that thought off her face.

    ¡°Which would be why the phenomenon centers on Tratheke,¡± Maryam muttered. ¡°The throne is here and it¡¯s happening here.¡±

    Captain Traore inclined his head in agreement.

    ¡°Has the question been answered to your satisfaction, Warrant Officer Khaimov?¡± he asked.

    Maryam nodded, saying no more.

    ¡°Good,¡± the small man said, then his face turned harsh. ¡°Now, I must ask you ¨C what in Caged Hell went through your minds when youmitted the epithet of a god under aether seal to paper?¡±

    Song cleared her throat.

    ¡°Maryam had nothing to do with that.¡±

    ¡°I saw your brigade roster,¡± Captain Traore replied, unimpressed. ¡°You have a sneak and swordarm filling the other seats, did you truly not think to consult your sole reliable source of lore on such a matter before writing to Stheno¡¯s Peak?¡±

    ¡°Given that she had recently been harmed by contact with the aether seal, yes,¡± Song tly replied.

    The older man shook his head.

    ¡°Then you are a fool,¡± he said. ¡°You are now under formal order of themanding officer of the Asphodel garrison to never again mention the Hated One until granted authorization by said officer or the Conve.¡±

    Song frowned at him.

    ¡°A colonel does not have that authority,¡± she said. ¡°Unless¡­¡±

    ¡°Unless the whole matter was put under seal by the Conve¡¯s own order in the first ce, yes,¡± Captain Traore said. ¡°You are allowed to file a petition to ess the appropriate file, though I wouldn¡¯t hold my breath.¡±

    Neither would Song. Getting the petition to the Rookery might take weeks, but actually getting it in front of the Conve would take even longer and have no guarantee of sess.

    ¡°The matter concerns our contract with the throne,¡± Song said. ¡°Surely the Lord Rector at least-¡±

    ¡°The colonel has decided that if House Palliades lost that knowledge, it¡¯s on them,¡± Captain Traore said. ¡°All the better for the work.¡±

    ¡°But<em> we</em>, at least, are owed an exnation,¡± Maryam pressed.

    ¡°Enough of one to fulfill your obligations,¡± the man conceded. ¡°What I can tell you is that after the Ataxia, Lord Rector Hector Lissenos hired the Watch to build a prison and an aether seal over the entity now known as the Hated One.¡±

    ¡°So it was the same god that drove the Ataxia,¡± Song pressed.

    He nodded.

    ¡°The entity is a manner of thanatophage, a death-eater, so the protracted civil war paired with entrenched worship made it effectively impossible to kill at the time,¡± Captain Traore said. ¡°The Watch deployed twenty cabals under Commander Estefania Estay to trap it in a massive Antediluvian cavern beneath the capital long enough to imprison it inside an artificialyer.¡±

    Meaning Hector Lissenons had reigned for a few years with the Hated One trapped under his capital. No wonder he had been willing to spend a fortune to import brackstone and the machinery necessary for an aether seal. There was a mad god dwelling beneath his feet. And now Song finally had a name: Commander Estafania Estay, who must be the ¡®C.E.¡¯ from the letters with Hector Lissenos. Maryam suddenly stirred.

    ¡°That cavern,¡± she said. ¡°Was it brass or stone?¡±

    The man frowned, as if looking for a reason to refuse information, but seemed to decide there was none.

    ¡°Stone,¡± he said. ¡°Though given the sheer height of the ceiling it can only have been dug by the First Empire.¡±

    ¡°And it¡¯s essible by the pce lift,¡± Maryam continued.

    The captain leaned back into his seat. For the first time that morning, Song found surprise on his face.

    ¡°And how would you know that, exactly?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I was part of the delegation that went to the shipyard,¡± Maryam said. ¡°To feign us being on the road, the Lord Rector¡¯s men had us going around in rings in a massive room. One that wasn¡¯t brass. It must have been the same one.¡±

    Captain Traore hummed.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± he said. ¡°Our knowledge of that cavern¡¯s existence is why we dismissed the possibility of the shipyards being directly beneath the capital. We had not considered what proved to be the truth, that the facility was in a deeperyer.¡±

    Most likely, Song thought, because the rulers of Asphodel had not known about it either. Some predecessor of Evander¡¯s must have discovered it by happenstance and begun the work of restoring the shipyard.

    ¡°Yet the god is no longer physically in that cavern,¡± Song said. ¡°It is in the prisonyer, and under an aether seal besides.¡±

    ¡°Should theyer break, that is the most likely location for the entity to emerge into the Material again,¡± Captain Traore said. ¡°But despite your report of some local agitators having stumbled onto a way to traverse thatyer, we don¡¯t believe it at risk of being breached. The entity has been starved for over two centuries and is still under seal, it is thoroughly contained.¡±

    ¡°Water always gets out,¡± Maryam retorted.

    ¡°Don¡¯t quote Totec the Feathered at me, girl, I¡¯ve read his books too,¡± Captain Traore grunted in amusement.

    By the befuddled look on Maryam¡¯s face, she had read no such thing.

    ¡°The colonel dispatched a cabal to check on the prisonyer and sent word to the regional headquarters in Lucierna asking for the Akrre Guild to send a team of specialists for a full inspection. That harpoon you mentioned was deemed worrying, we¡¯re looking to extract it.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°What we do not believe is that a theistic leak is in any sense <em>imminent</em>,¡± he took pains to make clear. ¡°A god held under such conditions for centuries will not simply spring out at the first opportunity, it is very much a salted slug: even should there still be life in it, it would take watering for it to even wake up. Nothing so simple as a few sacrificed beggars, either.¡±

    They then went through the song and dance of trying to ask more about the Hated One ¨C well, Song did at least, Maryam looked two thirds dead and acted half ¨C only to be reassured that the situation was being handled. It became clear after several rounds of this that she would not be getting any more information out of Captain Traore. The officer then presented papers for them to sign, little more than an acknowledgement that they had received Colonel Adamos¡¯ orders on the matter of the Hated One.

    Song extracted in return a signed acknowledgement that the Thirteenth Brigade was allowed to mention the entity¡¯s existence as part of its obligated contract duties, including reports. The captain must have assumed she only meant her reports to Wen and the Obscure Committee, but she had in practice secured an exemption to pass some knowledge of the Hated One to the Lord Rector should she wish it.

    Not that she was sure if she<em> did</em> wish it, or to see him again at all.

    She was to meet the Yellow Earth at noon, besides, and did not want to answer Evander¡¯s letter before she had heard what the revolutionaries wanted of her. She doubted it would be anything pleasant.

    ¡°I will be at ck House for another day or two,¡± Captain Traore said. ¡°Should you have any concerns over this matter, you may send for me.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, captain,¡± Song replied, inclining her head.

    Maryam jolted out of her half-sleep to imitate her. He inclined it back.

    ¡°You are dismissed.¡±

    She took her leave, tugging Maryam along. The earlier burst of energy at the mention of the cavern had long faded, leaving Song in thepany of a moderately mobile corpse. She stopped her halfway to the room, in an empty corridor, and sighed.

    ¡°You are in no state for a debrief,¡± Song said.

    ¡°M¡¯fine,¡± Maryam grunted, but the protest was weak.

    Song knew that Maryam¡¯s stubbornness was the only reason she had made it this far. She only wished it was not so likely to be the reason she stumbled having gotten here.

    ¡°What happened up in the pce?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°I got what I needed,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Tonight I finish it.¡±

    Song gritted her teeth. Recklessness upon recklessness.

    ¡°Look at the state of you right now,¡± she said. ¡°You are not fit for anything strenuous. Won¡¯t you at least wait a day to-¡±

    ¡°Will that be all, Captain Ren?¡± Maryam evenly asked.

    Song looked into those blue eyes, wondering how many before had seen what she did: determination like bedrock, as likely to move as the mountains. Maryam was set.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she bit out. ¡°You are to have at least three hours of sleep on the roof garden, then seek me out for a debrief should I be back.¡±

    ¡°Back from where?¡± Maryam blinked.

    ¡°That will be all, Warrant Officer Khaimov,¡± Song pettily replied.

    The satisfaction was like a struck match, there long enough to burn but not to warm. So be it.

    There was work to do.

    --

    They sat in Song¡¯s room for the debrief, with tea and cakes, but when Angharad ceased talking her first thought was that she should have sent for something stronger than tea.

    ¡°Four days,¡± Song said. ¡°We have only four days until the coup.¡±

    ¡°That is what Lady Doukas imed,¡± Angharad confirmed.

    Song closed her eyes to blot out distractions. It had all been important information, or close enough, but beyond the timeline what was the crux here? <em>Lord Gule confessed to being one of the five heads of the cult</em>, she decided. That confession and the nature of the ceremony that Angharad had witnessed should be enough for the Watch tomit to the risk of arresting an ambassador of Mn. Bleeding a god was not forbidden under the Iscariot ords, but buying murders off one like plums at the market most certainly was.

    If the Kingdom of Mn was given solid enough evidence, they would let Gule disappear quietly rather than taint their reputation around the Trebian Sea by letting ite out their ambassador had been up to his neck in a coup and a murder cult.

    Lady Doukas? Even easier, as she did not have the Queen Perpetual standing at her back. The Watch could pick her up within the hour, if Song asked, but was that the right call? She was not sure. Silver eyes opened, finding Angharad sitting patiently with her hands folded in herp. That face might as well be nk, Song thought. The pleasantness there was just the badge of office Angharad Tredegar felt she owed life to wear, as a ck cloak for what the noblewoman thought she owed Vesper.

    They¡¯d been closer than that, on the Dominion. Before Song pulled the trigger and lied about it. Before she dug a second grave for that friendship trying to fill the first one.

    ¡°Once more, your sess is worthy of praise,¡± Song said.

    Angharad shrugged.

    ¡°I did my duty,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Anyone dutiful can do that,¡± Song replied, unwilling to let her wiggle out of it. ¡°It takes skill to do it<em> well</em>.¡±

    The dark-skinned noblewoman coughed into her fist, seemingly embarrassed.

    ¡°My thanks, captain,¡± she got out.

    Captain. That would be it how it was between them until Angharad found another brigade. Unless Song did something about it. She had been chewing on that decision all night, but she felt no closer to making it. To knowing what was the right choice to make.

    ¡°That said,¡± she made herself continue, ¡°Captain Wen and Brigadier Chca must immediately be informed that we have a day for the coup.¡±

    She gave it even odds that the Thirteenth would get chewed out for having waited until morning as it was. Angharad cocked her head to the side.

    ¡°I expected as much.¡±

    ¡°Which will mean exining <em>how</em> you won Lord Gule¡¯s trust,¡± Song borated. ¡°I can no longer dy the report mentioning the infernal forge, no matter your reasons.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s face went entirely nk. Song studied her, looking for anything at all, but whoever had taught the Pereduri had taught her well. Angharad was not a guarded person by nature, but when her guard was up it was nigh imprable.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Angharad simply said.

    Was that relief in her eyes, in the way her fingers loosened, or was Song misreading her? She must be, for what was there to be relieved about? If the Lefthand House was able to grab the forge under the Watch¡¯s nose because the Thirteenth had dyed in telling the ckcloaks about it the me would fall on all of them but on Angharad most of all.

    ¡°We have enough to begin acting,¡± Song continued, ¡°but now we must consider how.¡±

    A fine brow rose.

    ¡°Should Maryam not be here for this, captain?¡±

    A funny thing, that the same word in Tristan¡¯s mouth and in Angharad¡¯s could feel so different. A gift in one, a wall in the other. Between that wall and the ice in Maryam¡¯s eye, Song found failure wherever she looked even as the Thirteenth¡¯s time on Asphodel finally neared sess.

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    ¡°Maryam is barely fit to walk up stairs at the moment, much less n,¡± she replied. ¡°I will consult Captain Wen, naturally, but I would hear your thoughts first.¡±

    Angharad hesitated, then nodded sharply.

    ¡°When we strike, we must strike everywhere at once,¡± she advised. ¡°If Lord Gule is arrested it is not impossible the cult willunch its coup early in fear of his betraying them. The same holds true of Lady Doukas, though she is less public a figure.¡±

    ¡°We are in agreement then,¡± Song said.

    While she remained certain that Hector Anaidon was involved with the cult of ¨C well, the Odyssean as it turned out - the man was in the wind. Doukas and Gule were the targets left to them, and if the ambassador was grabbed the rest of the capital would know before the hour was out. There was no keeping that under wraps. Doukas might be feasible to arrest quietly, but first she would need to be<em></em>found.

    If they were lucky the priestess would be in her manse out in the southeastern ward. If not? Then matters grew tricky, because arresting an ambassador of Mn was open thing but keeping him was another. They would need Lady Doukas to sing if they wanted to finish this.

    ¡°We are?¡± Angharad asked, sounding surprised.

    ¡°Dying too much would be dangerous, but so would striking in haste,¡± Song said. ¡°I will be sitting with Wen and Chca within the hour, if I¡¯ve anything to say about it, and formally request the help of the Garrison forces on Asphodel to deal with the matter. We were hired to <em>unmask a cult</em>, not step into the middle of a civil war.¡±

    The noblewoman nodded in approval, then caught herself and wiped her face clean of her thoughts. She coughed politely.

    ¡°If I may make a suggestion¡­¡±

    ¡°I am listening.¡±

    ¡°This morning, while you and Maryam were speaking with that officer, I was informed that yesterday evening a letter came for me,¡± she said. ¡°There is to be a concert and banquet at the rector¡¯s pce tonight, which Lord Menander invites me to attend as his guest. Given the implied exclusivity of the guest list, I expect Lord Gule would be in attendance as well.¡±

    ¡°Meaning we could grab him there, possibly even quietly,¡± Song said. ¡°We just need to find Lady Doukas, unless¡­¡±

    ¡°I do not know if she is to attend,¡± Angharad frankly replied. ¡°But though she is a personality of some renown at court, her holdings are not particrly wealthy and she has no title beyond that of her birth.¡±

    A court office, Angharad meant. Evander was known as tight-fisted with these, inrge part because the magnates would raise a ruckus if the ministers got privileged ess to the Lord Retcor through such appointments ¨C and the ministers would raise the same if someone not nobly born received such a title, however ceremonial. Song hummed.

    ¡°<em>Apollonia Floros</em> should be there, however, if it is a banquet for the most influential,¡± the silver-eyed woman said. ¡°The coup answers to the cult, but she is still the figurehead they aim to put on the throne. Arresting her should make their more opportunistic supporters reconsider taking up arms.¡±

    ¡°Or it could outrage the nobility enough that twice as many rise in her name,¡± Angharad warned.

    <em>Not if she¡¯s tarred with association to a cult ouwed by the Watch</em>, Song thought. But that was not a decision for her to make, or even Brigadier Chca ¨C though by dint of his rank and the urgency of the situation he might well end up making it anyway. There was no time to wait for the Conve¡¯s opinion on this, and Chca not only outranked the colonel in Stheno¡¯s Peak he had also been granted a mandate to negotiate with the Lord Rector on behalf of the Watch. It would be stretching the bounds of his authority to make such a bargain, but not outright overstepping.

    Not unless the Conve didn¡¯t like the way the aftermath turned up, anyway. Then they woulde down on him like a vengeful storm.

    ¡°Either way,¡± Song finally said, ¡°I must speak with the brigadier urgently.¡±

    She breathed out, sipping at the bottom of her teacup and getting more air than taste for it. Angharad half-rose to her feet, but the Pereduri searched Song¡¯s face and found none of the expected dismissal there. On the contrary, like a fucking child Song was biting her lip and flinching. Again.

    ¡°Captain?¡± Angharad prompted.

    ¡°I need a favor,¡± Song blurted.

    The other woman¡¯s face nked again.

    ¡°We are not,¡± she slowly said, ¡°on terms to be trading these.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Song said. ¡°I have to ask anyway.¡±

    She saw from the way Angharad¡¯s jaw clenched the thought of refusing outright, of closing the book, but either manners or curiosity won out.

    ¡°Ask,¡± Angharad tly said.

    ¡°The Yellow Earth summons me at noon,¡± Song said. ¡°At a ce of their choosing. They have, I expect, finally run out of patience with my silence.¡±

    <em>Or they know something is happening and they want to squeeze what out of me,</em> she thought.

    ¡°I can only advise that you do not meet them alone, given their demonstrated willingness tomit violence on you,¡± Angharad said.

    She swallowed.

    ¡°Maryam, well ¨C before we started arguing, anyway ¨C Maryam said something along those lines and it was good advice,¡± Song admitted. ¡°So I am.¡±

    She bit her lip.

    ¡°Asking not to go alone, I mean.¡±

    Angharad stilled.

    ¡°If they coerce you and you ept,¡± the Pereduri slowly said, ¡°then I will be unable to lie when asked about it. I will, at the very least, likely learn what it is they hold over your head when they threaten you with it.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Song said.

    ¡°If they bare des, I will bare mine as well,¡± Angharad told her. ¡°Whether or not you give the order.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Song repeated.

    There was an angry cast to the dark-skinned woman¡¯s jaw, as if she tasted something sour.

    ¡°Why would you trust me with this now?¡± she challenged. ¡°You never have before. Do you think I will be appeased with a gesture, Song? I am not a child to be distracted from our history by some¡­ tossed bauble.¡±

    Song¡¯s eyes rose to find hers. She swallowed, the roof of her mouth dry.

    ¡°I don¡¯t even trust myself, right now,¡± she admitted. ¡°It is all¡­ I thought I was making it simpler, cutting the knots, but now the ropes are choking me. What I do know is this-¡±

    She squared her shoulders.

    ¡°You won¡¯t bend if you think that what¡¯s happening is wrong, Angharad,¡± Song said. ¡°Not even if it makes my life easier. And I think I might need that more than I do anything else.¡±

    Angharad held her gaze for a long moment, then looked away.

    ¡°I have made my ownpromises with honor,¡± she said. ¡°More than you know. I may not be alone in paying the price for them, either, though I have taken measures to ensure otherwise.¡±

    Song¡¯s jaw clenched. She knew ¨C or at least suspected ¨C a lot more than Angharad figured. She was not blind, and the other woman had told her it was the infernal forge that the Lefthand House wanted. Put that together with how she had asked that Song dy the report revealing the forge¡¯s location and the small argument she¡¯d had with her uncle back in Port Azei? The picture painted itself.

    But that path, it was a dead end. She could not shame Angharad into staying by her side, or offer to clean up her mess for¡­ friendship, respect? Admiration, part of her suspected. She wanted someone she believed exceptional to think well of her, to look up to her. It was why it had been so easy to fall into the habit of trying to fix things for Angharad. It let her give something back, protect Angharad from herself.

    rue a debt that would force her to stay by Song¡¯s side. That was the ugly kernel beneath the dross of justifications. She wanted Angharad ¨C and the others, but Angharad most of all ¨C in her debt. So they would have to stay. Song swallowed again. It went against ever screaming instinct, everything she had been taught, but she made herself say it.

    ¡°I wanted you to owe me,¡± Song said. ¡°It was not the only reason I pulled that trigger, but I think it might be what tipped the scales.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s forehead creased.

    ¡°Owe you what?¡±

    ¡°The nature of the debt didn¡¯t matter,¡± Song said. ¡°Just that I¡¯d be owed. It was¡­¡±

    She licked dry lips.

    ¡°It was the only way I thought it would work, being captain of the Thirteenth,¡± Song said. ¡°I thought that if you were all indebted to me ¨C because I ignored weaknesses or proved to be the finest leader around or most of all helped tidy over your troubles, then you would all stay in the brigade. Even though my name will be a noose around my neck until the end of my days, a curse in every way.¡±

    Dark eyes studied her, unblinking.

    ¡°I did not have to be that way,¡± Angharad finally said.

    ¡°It is what I know,¡± Song said. ¡°I do not attempt excuse the act, to be clear. I still stand by the decision to kill Isabel Ruesta, if not the decisions that sprang in its wake.¡±

    ¡°I treated you as a friend,¡± Angharad said, voice tight. ¡°Why would you think it necessary to use me when I freely offered you my hand?¡±

    She sat ramrod straight, a coiled string. Pulled taut.

    ¡°I thought better of you,¡± Angharad said. ¡°That you were unlike all the¡­¡±

    There she trailed off. All the others seeking to bind her, Song thought she meant. All the chatans offering a helping hand and a kind word now that she had reached safe harbor, now that she no longer needed either.

    ¡°Because you are exceptional,¡± Song honestly replied.

    The Pereduri startled and began to wave away what she would dismiss aspliments but this time Song wouldn¡¯t let her.

    ¡°You <em>are</em>, Angharad,¡± Song cut through. ¡°This is not ttery or exaggeration; it is a fact. You are learned, engaging and clever. You are one of the finest des I ever met and wield a powerful contract. And even all these aside, you are¡­¡±

    She paused looking for the right word. Angharad was blushing hard enough it was visible ¨C though the tip of her ears was much pinker than her cheeks ¨C and biting her lip.

    ¡°Principled,¡± Song settled on.

    Those principles were not always kind or just, but they always were.

    ¡°I looked at you,¡± she continued, ¡°and saw everything I wanted in arade. In someone I would share years, decades with.¡±

    Song exhaled.

    ¡°I also knew others would see it when we reached Scholomance,¡± she said. ¡°Captains whose surname would not be despised by millions, who could offer wealth andfort and connections. How long did it take, Angharad, before the first offer came?¡±

    ¡°You say you think highly of me,¡± the other woman replied. ¡°And in the same breath decide I would go back on my word and leave the Thirteenth? You were my<em> friend</em>, Song.¡±

    And that Song Renughed, though there was no mirth in it.

    ¡°That¡¯s not enough, Angharad,¡± she said, honest in a way she had not been in years. ¡°It¡¯s never enough. You think they turned on my family the first day? My parents, my kin, they had friends and rtives and allies across half the republics. And they all swore they would not leave us, that we ought not to be punished for a mistake that was solely my grandfather¡¯s. That they would stand by us, defend us.¡±

    She passed a hand through her hair.

    ¡°Most had gone silent by the time I was old enough to notice,¡± Song said. ¡°But I still saw thest gasps of it: fewer visited every year, or sent letters or even acknowledged they¡¯d ever known us. Because there was a price for it, a real tangible cost to a point of principle, and when sentiment goes against the world the world always wins.¡±

    Even among the Ren her family were given wide berth. They were the blood of Chaoxiang, the line that had brought ruin down on all of them.

    ¡°I did not believe you would step off the ship and leave,¡± Song told her, looking away. ¡°But you would have left. It is not a weakness of character, when people do. It is¡­ gravity.¡±

    ¡°So you wanted me in your debt,¡± Angharad quietly said.

    She silently nodded.

    ¡°No longer,¡± Angharad pressed.

    Song looked down at her hands, clenching them.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think a brigade can truly stand, thought of like that,¡± Song quietly admitted. ¡°How should I measure them up, all our troubles? Are the Jigong students who tried to murder me better or worse than the cabals that tried to abduct Tristan? Maryam intends to break in an altar while lying to the pce, you are beholden to the Lefthand House and now the Yellow Earthes to threaten me. It¡¯s¡­¡±

    Sheughed, soft and bitter.

    ¡°So many things,¡± Song said, eyes finding the ceiling. ¡°It was supposed to be simple. I was to excel, <em>we</em> were to excel, and we would be¡­ legends, I suppose. A great enough good to even out the evil tarring my family¡¯s name. Instead it was all eaten up by the act of counting debts, and now here I am left sitting and wondering ¨C does it even matter?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t follow,¡± Angharad murmured.

    ¡°Does it really matter, if one of us brings more trouble than the others?¡± Song asked. ¡°There is no ledger to bnce, Angharad. Trying to shove one into the Thirteenth only put something between all of us. We will not ever be anything if that is how we go on.¡±

    Song breathed out.

    ¡°We can¡¯t simply all be standing on the same side of a line,¡± she said. ¡°We have to just¡­ be a side, and there can be no notion of debt in that.¡±

    ¡°There are always debts,¡± Angharad quietly said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that,¡± Song said. ¡°It¡¯s a choice, to keep count. And that means I can choose to<em> stop</em>.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know what I have been doing,¡± she said.

    <em>I know your uncle wasn¡¯t at breakfast this morning</em>, Song thought. <em>Thatst night there was too long between the arrival of your carriage and when you returned to your room, that you must have stopped elsewhere.</em> She could have told Angharad all of this, but did not. It wasn¡¯t the point, just another line in a ledger that ought to be ash.

    ¡°No,¡± Song agreed. ¡°I don¡¯t. But I can choose to trust you. Because that¡¯s what ites down to, isn¡¯t it? Therees a day where that choice has to be made.¡±

    It was Angharad¡¯s turn to look away.

    ¡°I fear,¡± Angharad finally said, ¡°that this ind has not brought out the best in any of us.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Song softly agreed. ¡°But then maybe that¡¯s exactly when the choice should be made ¨C when it¡¯s truly a choice and not just a gesture.¡±

    Silence hung over the room in the wake of her words, not a knife¡¯s edge but a shroud. Soft but covering everything, ayer of snow. Angharad slowly rose to her feet, went for the door.

    ¡°Meet with the brigadier,¡± she finally said. ¡°I¡¯ll arrange for our carriage.¡±

    Song did not feel triumph at the words, for it was not a victory. There was nothing to be won here, no more than you could win a crossroads.

    But there had been a choice, and not one either of them would forget.

    --

    <em>Thunk </em>went the de, cleaving through flesh and bone until the edge hit wood.

    The butcher eyed the cut with a grunt, pushing aside the scraps and gesturing for his apprentice to pick up the leg. He had to grunt again, louder, for said young man was lost in thought considering a very important matter. Namely, how Angharad¡¯s coat pulled tteringly against her buttocks while she bent over to take a closer look atmb chops. The boy¡¯s eyes widened at the second call and he scurried away to work under his master¡¯s displeased frown.

    The butcher, an old man in his sixties with a neat pointed beard and a pristine topknot in the Sanxing style, then shared amiserating look with Song.

    ¡°Nothing to do with them at that age,¡± the man sighed. ¡°Might as well try to put a dike on the Heavens.¡±

    ¡°As you say,¡± Song replied.

    She would have been offended at the apprentice hardly sparing her a look, given that all three of them were Tianxi and she was hardly uely, but Song had worn enough coats to know she did not fill them quite like that. Fair was fair.

    ¡°They¡¯ll be ready for you soon,¡± the butcher assured her. ¡°Just need to get the water boiling.¡±

    She inclined her head in thanks, ambling away. When the Yellow Earth had sent her an address without a description, she had expected an abandoned warehouse or maybe some sort of teahouse. Instead, when they turned the indicated street corner, she and Angharad had found arge two-story butcher¡¯s shop. It would be unfortunate to assume that the butcher and his apprentice were Yellow Earth merely because they were of Cathayan stock, but, well. They were.

    Song strode past a row of hanging hams and piles of sausage to find Angharad now looking down at a basket full of chicken feet with a puzzled look on her face. She cleared her throat.

    ¡°I thought Mni ate those too,¡± Song said. ¡°Why the surprise?¡±

    ¡°It is a <em>very</em> Mni dish,¡± the Pereduri replied, looking a little nauseous. ¡°Though at least they are peeled and grilled. These do not appear to be prepared for it.¡±

    ¡°Tianxi marinate them,¡± Song said. ¡°In Mazu after they are fried and steamed, though I am told that in Jigong they are served cold in a rice vinegar sauce.¡±

    Angharad politely refrained from expressing the disgust in on her face.

    ¡°Maryam tells me that her people boil and cool them,¡± Song idly added, ¡°to make some sort of meat jelly.¡±

    ¡°Foot jelly?¡± Angharad intively asked. ¡°<em>Really</em>?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d still try that over a hundredth variation of Lierganen salted ham,¡± she snorted, ncing around.

    There were few meats here prepared in a proper Tianxi manner. Lierganen meats, mostly, which was not unusual on a Trebian ind. The Second Empire¡¯s hegemony had thrived by devouring whatever customs existed before it, and nowhere had that policy been more thoroughly applied than the waters of the Trebian Sea.

    ¡°Themb is fine cuts, as I havee to expect of Asphodel,¡± Angharad diplomatically said, then she leaned in and pitched her voice low. ¡°Have our hosts given notice?

    ¡°Soon, allegedly.¡±

    The dark-skinned woman nodded, casting a bemused look around.

    ¡°It does sound like the beginning of a violent joke, does it not?¡± Angharad said, picking at her tricorn. ¡°A Ren and a Pereduri noble are invited by the Yellow Earth¡­¡±

    ¡°And it¡¯s to a butcher¡¯s shop,¡± Song drily finished. ¡°Yes, the thought urred.¡±

    Mind you, strictly speaking Angharad had not been invited. Regardless of the old butcher¡¯s words, Song wondered if her presence was not the true reason they had been idling in the front of the shop for the better part of ten minutes now. Though Angharad wore what she called her ¡®disguise¡¯ clothes, a thin doublet with a high cor matched with hose under a somewhat ill-fitting longcoat, there was no missing the saber sheathed at her belt. Or the walking stick she used to get around. Between that and the dark skin, the Yellow Earth would not need to ask Angharad Tredegar¡¯s name to know it.

    Song had elected for simple clothes as well, taking from the ck House stocks in an effort to avoid going around in the cks of a watchwoman. The faded greens of her tunic and hose did not quite match and the brown cloak whose hood she had pulled down was ragged at the rim, but the shabbiness had meant greater discretion. So she reminded herself every time her eye caught the mismatch, along with the necessity of the cloak to keep her knife and pistol hidden.

    A cleared throat had her turning. The white-haired butcher jutted his thumb towards the back door.

    ¡°They¡¯re ready for you,¡± he said. ¡°Down the hall, door at the end.¡±

    It was not a long walk, though the narrow corridor forced them to move one at a time. Song knocked once on the painted door and it was immediately opened. Her throat caught at what she saw inside, even as she stepped in, and Angharad breathed in sharply.

    It was a ughtering room.

    For pigs, one of whichy on the stone floor with an open belly. A young boy with a knife was taking out the intestines, putting them in a bucket as his gore-slicked hands dripped red onto the stone. The blood flowed through channels in the floor towards a grid in the heart of the room, where the wetness disappeared beneath the shop.

    The Yellow Earth hade in strength today. On either side of the room hung butchered pigs on hooks, and among the dead flesh five living men and women stood with watchful eyes. All dark-haired and inly dressed in loose brown hanfus, armed with des and pistols. The boy kept butchering the pig, paying them no mind, and Song¡¯s eyes went to the center of the room. To the small table by the bloody grid where, tending to a steaming pot of tea, Hao Yu waited.

    The small, in-faced man wore a yellow sash over his worn robes today. Dering his allegiance to the Yellow Earth for all to see. His hairless face revealed nothing but calm as he silently gestured for Song and Angharad to sit down across from him. The silver-eyed captain swallowed, ncing at Angharad ¨C whose face was a mask of ice, but was gripping the head of her walking stick like a woman intent on shattering it.

    Neither of them were fool enough to miss the implicit threat here.

    ¡°Do not mind the boy,¡± Hao Yu said, ncing at the youth carving away at intestines. ¡°His uncle set him to the task, he will leave when he finishes.¡±

    ¡°We can return then,¡± Song evenly replied.

    ¡°You could,¡± the small, hairless man agreed.

    He cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°Will you?¡±

    No, she knew, and so did he. The Yellow Earth had a greater knife than mere violence to press against her throat. A de her fool of a brother had <em>handed </em>them, because it wasn¡¯t enough for him to fail their family now he had to try and drag her down to¡­ Her silence had gone on too long, she knew, and from that glint in Hao Yu¡¯s eyes he knew it too. She licked her lips, looking for a response, but instead-

    ¡°Are we meant to be impressed, Tianxi, by a bloody pig and a handful of thugs?¡± Angharad said.

    That cool, almost disdainful tone was like a bucket of cold water. Besides her the Pereduri stood tall, ring down at the leader of the Asphodel sect.

    ¡°We have faced gods and devils with steel in our hands,¡± Angharad Tredegar scorned. ¡°Serve your tea, by all means, and know petty theater does you no favors.¡±

    Hao Yuughed.

    ¡°Impressed?¡± he said. ¡°No, Mistress Tredegar. It is only a reminder.¡±

    He reached for the pot and began pouring, again inviting them to sit.

    ¡°We are all meat, in the end. The clothes we put on, the titles we give ourselves, the grand causes we invoke?¡±

    The man shrugged, his perfectly plucked eyebrows and shaved head eerily smooth to the eye.

    ¡°None of it makes any difference to the knife.¡±

    ¡°You sound like a Jixian,¡± Song said.

    It had been a small thing, Angharad cutting in, but it had mattered. It had dragged Song out of the spiral and given her back her wits ¨C enough that she could go on the offensive. She moved towards the table, watching Hao Yu¡¯s face, but he did not seem offended by her suggestion.

    ¡°Do I?¡± Hao Yu replied. ¡°And to think I consider myself one of the tamer heads.¡±

    Some chuckles from the watching partisans. Song made a point of drawing the chair for Angharad, which finally got a reaction out of the man ¨C his face tightened oh so slightly at the sight of a Tianxi offering that courtesy to a nobly born daughter of Mn. Angharad, seemingly not noticing, cleared her throat even as Song sat by her.

    ¡°Jixian?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The Jixi School is a radical offshoot sect of the Orthodoxy,¡± Hao Yu said. ¡°Based on the more esoteric sections of the Fangzi Yongtu, it advances the argument that since souls are perpetual to kill for a principled reason is not a sin.¡±

    He poured thest two cups of tea, first for Song and then for Angharad, and set them down before each.

    ¡°The nature of men being what it is, the philosophy became popr with assassins and hired killers of all stripes,¡± he finished.

    Song¡¯s gaze was drawn by the noise as the boy withdrew his knife from the dead pig, dropping thest of the intestines in the bucket with a wet slurping sound.

    ¡°I am in fact a practicing Feichist,¡± Hao Yu finished. ¡°Which is one of main currents of Tianxi Orthodoxy, Mistress Tredegar. We believe that only by abolishing all chains can we be saved, for the Gloam is nothing but the darkness of mankind reflected into the aether.¡±

    What a pretty way to put it. A shame that was not the reality of Feichist Orthodoxy.

    ¡°There is no such thing as a unified Feichist practice, Angharad,¡± Song told her. ¡°They are a hundred squabbling temples, most of which believe that bloody revolution is the only path forward.¡±

    Her words earned scoffs from some of the watching partisans. Well, it was no surprise yellow sashes would prefer the most militant of the great creeds of Cathayan Orthodoxy. It¡¯d had a resurgence in strength in northern Tianxia after the Long Burn, as it tended to in the wake of any war with the neighbors of the Republics.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Angharad said, and seemed to honestly mean it. ¡°I must confess that I was taught little of the Orthodoxy beyond the most infamous squabble.¡±

    The Grand Lie, she meant. The Imperial Someshwar¡¯s im at being the seat and arbiter of the Orthodoxy since the fall of Second Empire, as if the priesthood of the copsing Liergan had not fled with all its gold, icon and gods to southern Tianxia. The Kingdom of Cathay had been the strongest and wealthiest of the sessor states when the Session Wars began, weing the fleeing best and brightest of Liergan with open arms.

    It could hardly even be measured, how much the arrogance of kings had cost her people in the following decades.

    ¡°Though I would enjoy a conversation on the nature of Universalist beliefs ¨C unless I peg you incorrectly there, Mistress Tredegar?¡±

    Angharad shook her head and he let out a pleased hum.

    ¡°-it would be best to settle our matters first,¡± Hao Yu said.

    He sipped at his cup, set it down.

    ¡°I take it from yourpanion¡¯s presence, Song Ren, that you trust her with such talk?¡±

    Song thinly smiled.

    ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°Then I will be frank,¡± Hao Yu said. ¡°We discussed an arrangement, you and I. Silence over the matter of your brother¡¯s defection to the royalists, for which I would receive some understanding of the measures being taken to prevent a noble conspiracy from taking over Asphodel.¡±

    ¡°This was discussed,¡± Song acknowledged.

    ¡°My silence was kept,¡± the in man said. ¡°You, on the other hand, have provided me nothing at all.¡±

    Song sipped at her cup.

    ¡°I am too low in rank to be told what the Watch intends regarding the conspiracy,¡± she said, ¡°while my personal association with Lord Rector Palliades hasrgelye to an end. I cannot give you insight into his thoughts.¡±

    ¡°You can,¡± Hao Yu calmly replied. ¡°Oh, I doubt he gave you a report but given your ess you could easily have obtained that information.¡±

    He smiled mirthlessly.

    ¡°It appears, however, that you did not choose to,¡± he said. ¡°That is unfortunate.¡±

    There was a stir among the partisans, but none drew. Angharad still swept them with her gaze, those brown eyes moving with slow, unhurried grace. Song knew that look. The mirror-dancer was killing them inside her mind, crafting the steps of the deaths like a painter putting ink to the scroll. There were five hardened killers in here with them, along the boy and Hao Yu, while Angharad still used a cane and Song only carried a single shot in her pistol.

    At no point in her browsing of the room did Angharad Tredegar ever give the impressions she doubted she could kill everyone in it.

    Song¡¯s belly clenched with want. Not the bedroom kind, but almost something like greed at the thought of having someone so exceptional on her side. Someone with the skill and confidence to beat the odds, to go against the tide of the world and win. Someone who could help her make the Thirteenth into a legend, into a name that she could wield against the curse devouring her family. But that thought was where it all begun to unravel, she¡¯d realized.

    A swordhand was still a hand. And it belonged to Angharad Tredegar, who was not merely a chivalrous mirror-dancer needing some polish to fit into the Watch. The Pereduri was just as much of a walking ruin as the rest of the Thirteenth, for all that she hid it better.

    ¡°I am surprised to hear you speak of that bargain as a done deal,¡± Song said, ¡°when that very same night your second savagely ambushed me in an alleyway.¡±

    Hao Yu¡¯s face stiffened. He sipped at his tea, savoring the thin brew too much for it to be true enjoyment. The gesture of someone buying time, but Song only stared at him. Was he feigning that, pretending Ai had acted on her own when it truly had been at his order? He was a hard man to read.

    ¡°If such an encounter took ce, it was not at my order,¡± he finally said.

    ¡°<em>If</em>,¡± Angharad coldly spat. ¡°I helped wash those bruises and you would call her a liar?¡±

    ¡°That is not what I did,¡± Hao Yu evenly replied.

    ¡°Then your contracted attack dog is off the leash,¡± Song slid in, before the talk could spiral. ¡°How can I deal with the Yellow Earth when it seems unable to restrain itself from attacking me as I do?¡±

    A long moment passed.

    ¡°An understandable concern,¡± Hao Yu conceded.

    He sharply nodded at the boy cleaning up the pig, the youth scampering away to the front of the shop. Hao Yu then set down his cup, rising smoothly to his feet. A few strides had him at the door left open by the boy and after sliding it open he called out Ai¡¯s name before withdrawing. The contractor padded through the doorway silent feet momentster, her loose gray <em>daopao </em>robes kissing her ankles as she did.

    She passed the two rooks, offering Song a smirk and Angharad a look of casual disgust before turning to cock an eyebrow at Hao as she stood at his right. Ai looked unworried, Song thought. Unafraid of consequences. Which made little sense, for even if the two of them were feigning this her handler would make a show of saddling her with some punishment. Theck of fear would make a deception obvious.

    DONGMEI, the golden letters read atop her head. Song focused on that as discreetly as she could, trying to get a better read on the contract. It had been used against her once and might yet again. The god holding that contract was¡­ The Eighth Judge of the Court. One of the punishment deities under the Red-Robed Official, scourging souls clean so they could enter the Circle without burden. A minor god, subordinate to another, but broadly worshipped as one of the Nine Judges. Not the kind of deity to offer a shoddy contract with an easy weakness to exploit.

    ¡°I thought I was to be put away like dirty linen for this one,¡± she drawled. ¡°What gives?¡±

    ¡°Not an inaptparison, given what I have just learned,¡± Hao Yu replied, tone sharp.

    His jaw was tight.

    ¡°I have just been told,¡± Hao Yu continued, ¡°that you assaulted Song Ren.¡±

    ¡°I put her in her ce,¡± Ai corrected. ¡°What of it?¡±

    Song¡¯s fingers clenched.

    ¡°I offered her a hand in good faith,¡± Hao Yu said. ¡°Your pointless temerity has undone my every effort to establish trust.¡±

    ¡°There can be no trust, Hao,¡± Ai sighed, as if addressing a child refusing to grasp a simple truth. ¡°She¡¯s a Ren tangled up with half a dozen<em> yiwu</em>. Let us cease to pretend friendship and treat her like what she is: a tool to be used.¡±

    ¡°That is not your decision to make,¡± he sharply said. ¡°You do not lead this sect.¡±

    ¡°That is true,¡± Ai conceded.

    ¡°Kneel and apologize,¡± Hao Yu ordered. ¡°Then swear there will be no repeat of your reprehensible behavior.¡±

    ¡°Now there,¡± Ai easily replied, ¡°we must disagree. Nothing I did was reprehensible.¡±

    ¡°Obey,¡± Hao Yu coldly said, ¡°or be abjured.¡±

    ¡°I thought you might say that,¡± Ai mused. ¡°There is a troubling pattern of youcking the will to act, Hao.¡±

    She folded her arms behind her back, began to stroll around the table. <em>Price</em>, Song thought as her eyes read through pages of golden characters. <em>What¡¯s your price? </em>There. An exchange contract, with a simple price paid upfront. The phrasing was poetic, threading in in ¡®blossoms and fragrance¡¯, but the meaning was mostly clear. Ai, whose true name was Dongmei, had traded away her ability to feel both pleasure and pain. No small thing, Song thought, but nothing that could be<em> used</em>.

    But there must be a weakness, there must. In the particrs of the power granted, perhaps?

    ¡°When we found out the magnates were making guns to rebel, what did you do?¡± Ai said, circling the table. ¡°Nothing. You left them to it, offering no help.¡±

    Song¡¯s eyes narrowed. Was the Trade Assembly rebelling in its own right, not as a few traitors going over to a noble conspiracy? Ai clicked her tongue.

    ¡°When the cult of the Odyssean approached us, offered to help overthrow the nobles? Nothing again, even though they proved they have a man in the pce.¡±

    Angharad stiffened, as well she would. Justst eve she had been at a ceremony where the same cult imed it was about to lead an entirely different coup. More importantly Hao Yu¡¯s eyes were too cold, Song thought, for this to be theater. The small man was genuinely furious at how much his right hand was revealing here and now.

    ¡°And now that we have a de to cut Evander Palliades¡¯ throat with,¡± Ai continued, gesturing at Song, ¡°still you dither. Refuse to pull at the leash even though we have it wound around her neck.¡±

    ¡°Youck foresight,¡± Hao Yu bit back. ¡°Backing coups that are certain to fail will not aid the cause in Asphodel but <em>damn</em> it ¨C a republic of Tratheke will notst out the year, you fool. It does not have the force to seize the surrounding valley, much less the ind.¡±

    ¡°It will, when the Republics send a fleet,¡± Ai smiled.

    ¡°That would mean war with Sacromonte and likely Mn as well,¡± Hao Yu tly said. ¡°Something we are incredibly ill-prepared for even were it desirable, which it is not. I will not repeat myself, Ai: recant yourself, here and now, or face abjuration.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d hoped it wouldn¡¯te to this, Hao,¡± Ai said. ¡°I truly did. But the time for meekness is past.¡±

    He rose to his feet, knee hitting the edge of the table in his haste, and sneered.

    ¡°Pistols out,¡± Hao Yu said. ¡°Ai, I abjure you from this sect. Surrender yourself or-¡±

    He paused, interrupted by the same thing Song was hearing: silence. Not a single one of the killers in yellow sashes so much as moved a finger. They only watched, faces hard as stone.

    ¡°You can¡¯t abjure me, Hao,¡± Ai gently said, ¡°because as of this morning Ambassador Guo gave me permission to abjure <em>you</em> in the face of your continued ipetence. This was yourst chance and you just threw it away.¡±

    The hairless man swallowed.

    ¡°You-¡±

    The change was almost instantaneous: Ai¡¯s gaze turned cloudy green, a shell of green-zed pottery forming over the front of her body as she moved. Her armored hand was on the back of Hao Yu¡¯s head in a heartbeat and she mmed him down on the table. Gods, Song saw with horror even as she drew to her feet with a pistol in hand. The first hit didn¡¯t kill him, only shattered his nose.

    So Ai mmed him down again, and a third time to be sure.

    Thest hit broke the table, sent the pot and cups toppling all over, but the sound of a wet crack made it in the skull had been split open. Angharad¡¯s saber was in her hand and Song had her pistol raised, aimed at the hungry ghost mask now painted over Ai¡¯s face.

    ¡°Oh, stop that,¡± the distorted voice sneered.

    The shell began to thin, then it was sucked into the body in the blink of an eye. Left behind was Ai, untouched save for a slight disarray in her hair.

    ¡°This is Yellow Earth business, rooks,¡± Ai said. ¡°Put those down before I make you put them down.¡±

    ¡°I think not,¡± Angharad coldly said. ¡°What is the word of a murderer worth?¡±

    ¡°Still more than yiwu¡¯s,¡± Ai snorted.

    Song raised a hand, though the pistol in the other did not waver.

    ¡°Our weapons stay where they are,¡± she said. ¡°Talk, if you insist.¡±

    ¡°The rector¡¯s pce sent you a little letter yesterday,¡± Ai said. ¡°Boy wants another taste of Tianxia, I¡¯m guessing.¡±

    ¡°You assume much,¡± Song coldly said.

    ¡°And what are you going to do about it?¡± she asked, amused. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you grew sense and decided to stop fucking the enemy, you¡¯re still going to agree to meet him again.¡±

    She leaned in.

    ¡°Down here in the city, where we can pick him up nice and easy.¡±

    ¡°You are mad,¡± Song bit out. ¡°I¡¯m an officer of the Watch, I cannot-¡±

    ¡°Dear people of Tianxia,¡± Ai said in a mocking, high-pitched voice. ¡°Did you know that the Ren are royalists and they did the Dimming for the rajas, and also all this other evil shit that we need to me someone for?¡±

    ¡°That is a lie,¡± Angharad said.

    She sounded genuinely aghast, as if despite holding the Yellow Earth¡¯s ideology in utter contempt it had still been a line too far to assume they would be liars.

    ¡°It¡¯s a lie Yellow Earth sects will have shouted in every vige square from Caishen to the Sanxing,¡± Ai replied. ¡°Hey, Ren, tell me: which do you think will die from the Gloam curse first, your mother or your sisters? My money¡¯s on the oldydy. I heard she almost died in the birthing bedst time, that what came out wasn¡¯t a child but¡­¡±

    ¡°<em>Enough</em>,¡± Song hissed.

    Golden letters unfolded to her eye. The shell Ai wore was not solid aether manifested by the contract. Instead the power granted by the god transmuted already existing matter into the green-zed pottery, though what exactly was transmuted was unclear. When the shell was undone, that substance was transmuted back. Blood, flesh? The contract did not rece what was lost, so it could not be too essential ¨C if it were Ai¡¯s heart that was transmuted, she would drop down and die. <em>Ah, if the shell is broken clean through it forced to transmute back and then must be brought up again.</em>

    That was¡­ slightly better than nothing, considering most weapons that could breach the shell would kill the contractor anyway.

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s enough,¡± Ai smiled. ¡°Enough pretending this is a choice. Do it or die. Either way I¡¯ll call it a good day¡¯s work.¡±

    ¡°You think you can get away with threatening women of the Watch like this?¡± Angharad asked.

    The word used was not transmutation, exactly, but ¡®calcination¡¯ and the matter calcinated was only referred to as ¡®fuel¡¯. There should be a limit to the solidity, Song thought, given that the shell was made from a limited substance. But then a stone wall could break too, it spoke nothing to the strength of the shell. <em>Wait, nothing in here forces her to put a shell only over the front of her body.</em> Which meant Ai was concentrating the contract¡¯s effect, which meant it was¡­ well, not a rampart. More like a heavy oaken door.

    Which still meant little short of cannon fire or at least sustained musket shots in the same spot would affect it, meaning that avenue was a dead end. There must be another angle. Where did the strength and quicknesse from?

    ¡°I think that by the time youdies are done whining your way up thedder to someone who matters, it¡¯ll be our friends running this shithole,¡± Ai shrugged. ¡°You think the Conve will piss off the people who have their hands on an Antediluvian shipyard to soothe your hurt feelings?¡±

    Ai sneered.

    ¡°The Watch takes no part,¡± she mocked. ¡°You rooks pick and choose the evils you fight, like our good friend Hao did. Always talking about making a tower of small victories, about picking the fights we can win and biding our time.¡±

    Ai bared her teeth.

    ¡°Only evil¡¯s real, girls,¡± she said. ¡°And it¡¯s not waiting patiently for us to build towers. It¡¯s out there in the streets with fancy hats on, beating and robbing and raping, strutting around like it owns the ce because <em>it fucking does</em> ¨C and it¡¯ll <em>keep on owning it </em>unless someone does something about it.¡±

    Hard smiles from the thugs and she carelessly kicked the table wreckage away. Song found the lines she was looking for. Nothing pleasant to read. The body was not augmented in the slightest by the contract, but it didn¡¯t matter because it was not the body that moved when Ai used her contract. It was the <em>shell</em>, and the shell moved as quickly as Ai could think it.

    Part of Song admired the way she must have trained herself for years, learning how to use her contract like she did. It was not <em>easy</em>, to wield your own thoughts. The rest of her raged that there seemed nothing capable of killing this contractor except artillery at the end of a narrow alley.

    ¡°So you¡¯re going to roll over and take it, Song Ren,¡± she said, ¡°like the world has been doing for the same yiwu you¡¯re fucking. You tell Palliades this: tonight at six, in that same brothel the two of you visited before.¡±

    ¡°Or what?¡± Song replied, because she needed to hear it.

    ¡°Or I send a letter and by the month¡¯s end the Republics will know Haoran Ren is a royalist,¡± she said.

    Ai took a step closer.

    ¡°Or I will personally snap your traitor neck,¡± Ai said. ¡°After making you watch while I pluck the limbs off every member of your little brigade.¡±

    ¡°Or,¡± Angharad mildly said, ¡°we kill you here and now. I must confess that I am growing quite partial to that idea.¡±

    Without looking, Song put a hand on her arm to restrain her. Angharad was a fine enough swordswoman that if the Pereduri was at her best and they were both armed for the fight, she might be tempted to try. But Angharad still needed a cane, Song only had a pistol and there were five more Yellow Earth partisans in the room. Perhaps more outside.

    Besides, there was something¡­ off about the way Ai was going about this. She¡¯d not been shy about choking Song outst time and she evidently feared neither of them or the consequences of violence. So what was holding her back now?

    ¡°Song?¡± Angharad asked.

    ¡°We don¡¯t fight her,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s what she wants.¡±

    Ai smiled.

    ¡°Yeah, Tredegar,¡± she said. ¡°Listen to your captain. Take one for the brigade. Lie down and think of the Bitch Perp-¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s provoking us on purpose,¡± Song said, and cocked her head to the side. ¡°Because she can¡¯t attack us first. Can you, Ai?¡±

    Aiughed, but the sound came just a little too quick.

    ¡°You asked the ambassador permission to kill Hao Yu,¡± Song continued. ¡°But he did not give you permission to attack us. That¡¯s why you want us to strike the first blow, so you have an excuse.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Ren, I do have permission,¡± Ai smiled. ¡°I just need to wait for it a bit.¡±

    She shook her head, as if amused.

    ¡°Off with you, rooks,¡± Ai said. ¡°You have the time and ce, Song. You have the terms. Give us the Lord Rector and your traitor brother is kept quiet.¡±

    ¡°How can I trust you would keep your end of the bargain?¡± Song replied.

    Her eyes moved through line after line of gold, reading through the contract again and again. Sifting through the text for anything at all she might use. Nothing, damn her. Not a single thing, a weakness or angle. It was all airtight.

    ¡°Because you don¡¯t matter, Song,¡± Ai said, smiling. ¡°Notpared to the shipyard, what it means for the Republics. You¡¯re just an eyesore and I won¡¯t care when you¡¯re no longer in my eyes. Deliver us Evander Palliades, spare us the cost of grabbing him, and I might even be moved to mention you¡¯re not a <emplete </em>traitor to our friends in the homnd.¡±

    ¡°Your position isn¡¯t as strong as you seem to think,¡± Song told her.

    ¡°Even if that were true,¡± Ai said, shrugging, ¡°it wouldn¡¯t change anything. Yours is just <em>that weak</em>.¡±

    The contractor gestured at her soldiers and they moved, Angharad tensing even as Song mastered herself. She had all she would get out of this ce, down to the precise wording of Ai¡¯s contract.

    It was time to leave.

    Song spared onest look back as she led Angharad out, eyes finding the broken table and Hao Yu¡¯s corpse among the wreckage. His face was red pulp, bleeding out in the channels. Man¡¯s blood joined with pig¡¯s blood, disappearing below.

    The stone could not tell difference and neither could Song.

    --

    Without needing to agree on it, they waited until they were three streets away before talking. You never knew where there might be ears listening, in this rat warren of a city.

    They found an alley out of the way, and where even by roof it would be hard for anyone to eavesdrop on them. They stopped there, as much in deference to Angharad¡¯s panting from their hard pace leaving as because the weight of the silence was bing unbearable. Song braced herself for remonstrations or an interrogation, but what she received instead was Angharad grasping her arm and squeezing it infort.

    ¡°I am,¡± Angharad gently said, ¡°sorry to hear about your brother.¡±

    And Song¡¯s mind went nk. The answers she had halfposed when walking, the fear and the forced calm, they were swept away in a heartbeat. She swallowed. That was¡­ Song closed her hand, lest her fingers tremble. When was thest time someone had been sorry for her family? Said they were and really <em>meant</em> it? Song let out a choked, exhausted breath.

    ¡°It was supposed to be him,¡± Song croaked out. ¡°In my boots, standing where I am. Or if not the Watch then one of the militias, or at least a mercenarypany fighting the Someshwari. They raised him to it. Raised all of us to it.¡±

    Her eyes closed. She could not remember his face as well, now. Just the outlines, and that cast to his brow. The<em> anger</em> that never quite left, even when he was at his happiest.

    ¡°My eldest brother, it broke him,¡± Song said. ¡°He couldn¡¯t bear the weight. Haoran, though, he always felt he was being punished. Maybe he was.¡±

    She swallowed.

    ¡°I thought he¡¯d just left to find his own way, to escape the name,¡± Song said. ¡°I never thought he might¡­¡±

    Be a traitor, she could not quite bring herself to finish. And a part of her wondered how Haoran could be called a traitor to Tianxia, when the Republics had never once thought of him as deserving. Her eyes burned so she squeezed them shut until the ache started, until she had killed the tears before they could begin, and only then did she dare open them again.

    ¡°His reasons do not matter,¡± Song said, tone even. ¡°As Ai said, should word of his going over to the royalists be spread it will be the end of my family. They won¡¯t live long enough for the curse to kill them.¡±

    They would be arrested and put on trial, the oue of which was already decided. If they were lucky magistrates would handle the matter and order them executed out in the country, but odds were the local prefect would be ordered to send them to Mazu to stand trial before the republic¡¯s general assembly. Or, worse, all the way to Sangshan so the Ministry of Rites could organize a grand trial like the one that had seen her grandfathershed to death.

    ¡°You believe her threat to be genuine, then,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°I do,¡± Song tiredly replied. ¡°I can¡¯t afford not to.¡±

    The dark-skinned woman rubbed her wrist.

    ¡°It is different, for me,¡± she admitted. ¡°The Lefthand House does not threaten my father¡¯s life, only to withhold help and sufferance should I return to free him.¡±

    ¡°Who holds him?¡± Song softly asked. ¡°You never said.¡±

    ¡°House Cadogan, in practice,¡± Angharad said. ¡°But the prisoners of Tintavel are held on behalf of others. Someone sent my father there.¡±

    ¡°Someone who can make requests of an influential house and have them epted,¡± Song finished.

    Angharad grimaced, nodding.

    ¡°Our histories that only one man ever escaped that prison-fortress, and it was done with the help of Lucifer himself,¡± she said. ¡°Even with the Lefthand¡¯s House help the odds are¡­ stark. Without it?¡±

    ¡°There is no chance at all,¡± Song said.

    ¡°Close enough,¡± Angharad murmured.

    Part of Song itched to ask about the price, about whether her suspicion about the infernal forge was right, but she forced it away. Trust was a choice, and she had made hers.

    ¡°Would the Lord Rector evene down?¡± Angharad asked. ¡°If you ask and he does not, Ai might¡­¡±

    That the Pereduri could not risk finishing a sentence ascribing mercy to Ai was telling. It did not matter anyway.

    ¡°I believe so,¡± Song said, not quite looking the other woman in the eye.

    Angharad¡¯s brow simply rose.

    ¡°He is, I think, taken with me,¡± she delicately said.

    Had been even before she took him to bed. Or, well, table. And wall.

    ¡°And you?¡±

    Song grimaced.

    ¡°I like him,¡± she admitted. ¡°If we were different people maybe more, but-¡±

    ¡°You are not,¡± Angharad finished.

    It was a sweet indulgence, but it could not be more. Song suspected it would not be half as sweet if it were.

    ¡°He¡¯lle if I ask,¡± Song said. ¡°And they follow the letters, they would not know about the correspondence he sent me otherwise."

    "So if you do not send the letter, they will know,¡± Angharad said. ¡°They do not appear aware of the contents, however. You could send a warning instead of summons.¡±

    ¡°They haven¡¯t shown that they know what was written,¡± Song said. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean they don¡¯t.¡±

    If she were Ai, she would not have made that demand without having a way to know. It was lending the enemy power they might not truly have, but could she afford to take the risk it was otherwise? Angharad slowly nodded, then craned her neck to nce up at the roof.

    ¡°Sleeping God, that contract,¡± Angharad muttered. ¡°I will never look at <em>bhuqefileyo</em> the same again.¡±

    Song frowned, tranting the Umoya. Trinket-corpse? Her confusion must have been obvious, for the Pereduri cleared her throat.

    ¡°It is the informal word for bone pottery,¡± Angharad said. ¡°My mother had a zed pot in slightly darker green in her parlor when I was a girl. She loved the piece, always said that¡­¡±

    The other woman then looked faintly guilty. Usually the sign she realized some amusing anecdote from her youth seemed rather less inoffensive when retold outside the confused of the peerdom of Peredur. Song¡¯s lips twitched.

    ¡°That it was made with the bones of someone important, like an old king of Cathay?¡±

    One of the oldest and proudest tricks of Mazu hawkers. So many king¡¯s bones had been sold in that port you would think Cathay grew them on trees.

    ¡°The merchant who sold it imed so,¡± Angharad defended. ¡°And not a king, merely a duke.¡±

    ¡°Oh, if it was only a duke then that¡¯s all right,¡± Song teased.

    The small touch of levity was like fresh water, after earlier. A woman as traveled as Angharad¡¯s mother had not likely believed that even a ¡®mere¡¯ duke¡¯s bones were incinerated for use in the recipe instead of, say<em>, cattle bones</em> but ¨C huh. Incinerated. Did that mean¡­

    ¡°We should return,¡± Angharad spoke into the silence. ¡°We both have preparations to make.¡±

    Her for the concert, Song for¡­ whatevery ahead of her. She shook her head, but the idea would not quite leave. The thought that she might have glimpsed a weakness after all. The noblewoman began hobbling back towards the main street.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t ask what I would do,¡± Song said, the words tearing out of her before she could think better of it.

    Angharad paused, turned back. Looked at her for a long moment.

    ¡°Trust is a choice,¡± she finally replied.

    And though she was on the edge of the pit, bncing as the winds picked up, that was enough to warm Song all the way to ck House.

    There, though, anger red: Song¡¯s bedroom door was open. Someone was in her quarters, and after the day she¡¯d had that felt like the droplet that tipped over the vase. Her knife was out in a sh and she strode past the threshold, ready to take another eye off Tupoc, but then she stopped. Angharad almost ran into her. Sitting at her writing table, looking thoroughly exhausted, a curly-haired man was feeding an enormous magpie bits of crushed grapes from a bowl.

    ¡°Good afternoon,dies,¡± Tristan Abrascal grinned. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m runningte, you wouldn¡¯t<em> believe</em> how hard it was to get a carriage.¡±

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 68

    Chapter 68

    It was infuriating that he¡¯d not immediately gone to her when he arrived, and thus only fitting he suffer the consequences of this slight. Maryam kicked his ankle: boot tip right on the bone, and not skimping on the swing either.

    ¡°Ow, ow ow Maryam what in the Manes-¡±

    The second thing she did was hug Tristan¡¯s scrawny frame until his ribs were nigh creaking. The Sacromontan went stiff as a board, for a moment, then unwound like a breath released. Enough to rest his chin on her head while she buried her face into his shoulders. He smelled liked grapes, for some inexplicable reason, but that was not enough to ruin this.

    ¡°Where have you been?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how I¡¯m meant to reply to ¡®mwah wah bwah¡¯,¡± the prick informed her. ¡°Is this some foreign cant?¡±

    Maryam took her face off his coat long enough to re and kept it there when asking her question this time.

    ¡°Where have you been?¡± she repeated.

    ¡°Broadening my horizons,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°I learned a thing or two of cannonry.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why you¡¯d want to,¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re too heavy for you to throw.¡±¡°I could throw a cannon,¡± he argued, almost sounding miffed.

    ¡°I¡¯m not even sure you could throw a cannon <em>ball</em>,¡± she honestly told him.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what the cannon is for isn¡¯t it?¡± he muttered. ¡°Those things are bloody solid stone, Maryam, they weigh a ton.¡±

    Someone cleared their throat. Tristan had not lost weight since his disappearance, not that she could easily tell anymore, and for once he wasn¡¯t covered in bruises. That did not mean, however, that he was unharmed.

    ¡°You cut your face,¡± Maryam frowned, looking up at the red line beneath his eye. ¡°Did you fight someone?¡±

    That did not tend to go well for him.

    ¡°This from someone I found napping in a knockoff Meadow during the middle of the day,¡± Tristan replied, eyebrows raised. ¡°What have we been up to at night, Khaimov?¡±

    <em>Dreaming of being strangled and eaten alive</em>, she thought. Not that he needed to know that. Someone cleared their throat louder.

    ¡°You¡¯d know if you had been around,¡± she reproached, stepping away to cross her arms. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have sent a letter?¡±

    ¡°I ran out of ink,¡± he drily replied. ¡°It must have all gone to those rings around your eyes, given how dark those got. Did you even sleep a full night since I¡¯ve been gone?¡±

    That was irrelevant. Besides, she¡¯d hardly been sleeping even when he was there.

    ¡°Please,¡± she huffed, ¡°I-¡±

    A loud bang. The two jumped and turned, finding an irritated Song holding the pistol whose handle she had just smacked against her writing desk. Angharad was sitting on the Tianxi¡¯s bed, hand on her cane as she tried very hard not to be amused. The pair had the good sense to wake her up the moment they knew Tristan had returned, at least, unlike the thief in question. He¡¯d left her in the garden for an hour while he sat down here, the fool! He ignored her re at the reminder of his sin, only adding to the tally.

    ¡°As has already been mentioned it is pleasure to have you back, Tristan,¡± Song evenly said. ¡°Maryam, have a cup of tea.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel like tea,¡± she muttered.

    Song Ren turned a very calm smile on her.

    ¡°Have it anyway.¡±

    Maryam eyed her for a moment, then decided that she was a diplomat at heart and capable ofpromise. She only filled the bottom of the cup and made sure to dip one of the ky tea cakes in it before scarfing it down, however, because insults were also part of diplomacy. Song looked like someone had just messily spat on the carpet, which went some way in evening the scales.

    ¡°I also am happy you returned, Tristan,¡± Angharad volunteered.

    ¡°It is even dder news that you came backrgely unharmed,¡± Song added. ¡°Given theck of word from yourself and Officer Hage, I admit to some concern over your situation.¡±

    In the Song Ren dialect, that meant she had beenying out patterns and schedules for the search parties. Maryam nibbled at the sugary tea cake. It was hours yet from the evening meal, but the more she ate the more she found she was starving. Considering she had not skimped on breakfast, that had unfortunate implications. Hooks was drawing on her, preparing for tonight. <em>It won¡¯t save you.</em>

    ¡°Not unwarranted,¡± Tristan said. ¡°As it happens, I spent most of the week prisoner of the Trade Assembly.¡±

    ¡°You <em>what</em>?¡± Maryam said, choking on her mouthful.

    ¡°I escaped,¡± he dismissed, like he¡¯s not been<em> abducted</em>.

    Busy coughing into her fist, she was not able to answer as she should. This was starting to get worse than the bruises. How many times was he going to get kidnapped in a year? Gods, Maryam was going to have to learn a tracking Sign wasn¡¯t she? Those were awful, conceptual to the bone with almost no direct Gloam maniption. She had never met a single signifier who actually enjoyed using tracking Signs, it was like walking around with strings tied to your hair that got caught up in everything.

    ¡°I had some help from Hage, whose disappearance I can exin,¡± Tristan continued, ¡°He went to ground after Locke and Keys attempted to kill him.¡±

    Angharad sucked in a breath.

    ¡°Why?¡± she asked. ¡°That is good as an act of war against the Watch.¡±

    Which meant either they were not afraid of the rooks or that had reason to believe the Watch would be too busy to retaliate. Neither boded well. It urred to Maryam she had yet to hear the results of Angharad¡¯s infiltration, or what she and Song had been up to this afternoon. Her side eye at the Pereduri was cut short before it could bear fruit, however.

    ¡°Start from the beginning,¡± Song ordered. ¡°Leave nothing out.¡±

    Tristan spun his tale, beginning with the revtion that the Yellow Earth was backing the magnates then journeying through bing a hostage trained by Tianxi artillerymen, escaping with Hage¡¯s help and then returning to interrogate Hector Anaidon only to run into Locke and Keys to bloody results. Maryam was down three biscuits and an actual cup of tea by the time he¡¯d finished, while Song had filled two pages with notes. Angharad was the first to break the silence, face serious.

    ¡°That you escaped at all is noteworthy,¡± she said. ¡°That you did so without killing anyone isudable.¡±

    Tristan coughed into his fist, seemingly surprised. Maryam¡¯s lips twitched. Sincerity was one of his blind spots, she had found, and Angharad wore hers like a coat.

    ¡°It is,¡± Song agreed, her tone was absent-minded. ¡°Do not take my distraction as chiding. It is only that the news you bring fit oddly with some of what we¡¯ve learned.¡±

    Maryam blinked. Oh, good, she could finally ask what Angharad had-

    ¡°I attended an initiation ritual of the cult of the Odysseanst eve,¡± Angharad said. ¡°The priestess leading the rite, Lady Doukas, spoke of the cult¡¯s support of the noble coup that will be taking ce in four days.¡±

    Tristan blinked. So did Maryam, for whom this was equally news. Doukas, Doukas¡­ Was that the one Tristan had caught fucking a servant in a closet? Well, that was one way to throw people off your scent. Song was unsurprised, clearly having heard all this before.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Tristan exhaled. ¡°Hector implied the cult was ying both sides, but that seems like a strongmitment to the side of the ministers. I¡¯ve seen nothing implying to me they run simr rites for the magnates.¡±

    ¡°That is noteworthy,¡± Song said. ¡°But not as much as Hage¡¯s assertion there is no infernal forge.¡±

    ¡°What about it?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s wrong,¡± Maryam told him. ¡°Angharad found one.¡±

    Before she could ask him if he was certain he was the Mask in this brigade, the woman in question spoke up.

    ¡°I am not entirely certain of that,¡± Angharad said.

    Maryam frowned at her. Why the quibbling now?

    ¡°As someone who saw such a forge in ayer back on Tolomontera, I assure you your description matches,¡± Maryam told her.

    A strange expression flicked across the Pereduri¡¯s face ¨C anger, regret, something like¡­ rue? And it was gone in a heartbeat, almost fast enough for Maryam to wonder if she had imagined it.

    ¡°That part I do not doubt, Maryam,¡± Angharad replied. ¡°But I did wonder, after first seeing the device, how exactly word of its existence spread around in the first ce. Lord Menander did not know what it was, so it cannot be his work.¡±

    That was a fair point, in truth. But there were ways.

    ¡°One of his guests,¡± Maryam suggested. ¡°You said he¡¯d brought others to the crypt before you, showing off his treasures. Someone must have had a loose tongue.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Tristan muttered. ¡°I see her point. Why spread rumors if you recognized the forge? Either you covet it, and thus do not want Lord Drakos to know what it is, or you intend to wield that knowledge against him and thus spreading the secret across the entire capital would make your leverage unusable.¡±

    But if no one benefited from the news being out and the secret was well kept, how had ite to be spread? Maryam put it together a secondter.

    ¡°Officer Hage¡¯s right that Locke and Keys spread rumors about the presence of an infernal forge to justify their presence on Asphodel,¡± she slowly said. ¡°Only they thought the rumors were false, when by coincidence they happened to be<em> true</em>.¡±

    Which exined why everyone<em> but</em> the devils was looking for that forge, as they would be convinced everyone was chasing a false trail they¡¯did themselves. That was almost worth augh, if not for the way the pair apparently went around snapping the necks of useful witnesses while hunting whoever it was they were after.

    ¡°But the devils were correct that the harpoon has something to do with the cult of the Odyssean, at least,¡± Song cut in, staring down at her notes. ¡°A worrying picture begins to emerge.¡±

    Right, Anaidon had confessed that this ¡®lesiast¡¯ had ordered him to smuggle the harpoon into the city using his family¡¯s warehouse. Odds were the lesiast had also been the one to use it to punch into the Hated One¡¯s prison.

    ¡°The cult¡¯s running a game on this country,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And I think we put together quite a bit of what¡¯s afoot but we are¡­¡±

    ¡°Drowning in the details,¡± Maryam suggested.

    ¡°That,¡± he replied, shing her smile.

    Gods, it was good to have him back.

    ¡°Then let usy them out in proper order,¡± Song said, a stubborn set to her jaw and a piece of chalk somehow already in her hand. ¡°I already have a te in the room, we can put it to purpose.¡±

    ¡°Allow me,¡± Tristan said.

    He reached for the chalk but Song withheld it.

    ¡°Not you,¡± she said. ¡°Angharad?¡±

    The Pereduri eyed them both, confused, but gantly took the chalk when Song passed it to her. A beat passed, gray eyes staying on her until Tristan¡¯s lips finally twitched. So did Maryam¡¯s, who had caught on before he did.

    ¡°You think my handwriting¡¯s too sloppy,¡± he used.

    ¡°If I wanted a headache, I would drink mercury,¡± Song primly replied. ¡°Now, without further distractions, let us proceed.¡±

    ¡°Magnates first,¡± Maryam said. ¡°That¡¯s where all the details go contradictory.¡±

    In that if the cult of the Odyssean was backing the nobles, why in Hell was it also in bed with the Yellow Earth and the Trade Assembly? Angharad shrugged and Song did not object, so their expert on the matter began speaking.

    ¡°To resume the position of the magnates,¡± Tristan said. ¡°They are preparing a coup with weapons smuggled into the capital from Tratheke Valley, which we know courtesy of Song and Angharad-¡±

    Song waved him away, but Angharad was visibly pleased at the acknowledgement. As she should be, it took keen eyes and hands to undo a false bottom like the one the Pereduri had taken the cyphered journal Song deciphered from.

    ¡°That ring of magnates intends on arming workers and sailors to seize Fort Archelean, then the capital itself. They have Yellow Earth backing, both material and political, and supposedly a promise from Tianxia to sponsor Asphodel as a sister-republic.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°The magnates have been spreading around word that some leashed god is killing ¡®malcontents¡¯ on behalf of the Lord Rector, but we have no evidence that¡¯s true.¡±

    Angharad cleared her throat.

    ¡°I may have some insight on the process of those deaths,¡± she said.

    The ceremony she described after ¨C even throwing in the bits about the cult¡¯s hierarchy at Song¡¯s invitation ¨C was not all that grim by Maryam¡¯s standards but it was most definitely a breach of the Iscariot ords. Bleeding a god to buy the deaths of your enemies was the sort of thing the Watch hanged you for. After putting you to the question for names.

    ¡°That¡¯s useful to know,¡± Tristan noted. ¡°And makes it seem rather likely the cult of the Odyssean was actually given names of those reluctant to join the revolution so they can be thrown into the death pile along with all the other people getting offed by the Odyssean¡¯s jolly boys.¡±

    Not the most inspired of tactics, Maryam thought, but it was likely to work if only because it would be difficult for anyone to believe the Trade Assembly had a leashed god assassin. If they did, why not knock off the ministers instead of their own reluctant workers? The answer was simple enough: they <em>didn¡¯t </em>have a leashed god assassin. Their allies in the cult did, and they weren¡¯t going to kill the membership of the other coup they were apparently running.

    ¡°Like your patron under the Kassa, this Temenos,¡± Angharad recalled.

    ¡°Like Temenos,¡± he agreed. ¡°Who was very skeptical of the sales pitch from the Kassa about signing up to overthrow the Lord Rector and then got a visit from the leashed god. One that would have killed him if I were not present.¡±

    Something he had never adequately exined, Maryam thought. The Thirteenth was currently assuming the leashed god was the same assassin the Neenth was pursuing and thus had the same signature ¨C no witnesses, a single cut to the back of the neck ¨C and that begged the question of why the bound god appeared while Tristan was still in that house. Even more so of why the thief had been invisible to it until he stepped in.

    But that was not the thrust of their talk tonight, so Maryam joined in the others in turning an expectant look on Song. Their captain eventually sighed.

    ¡°My family is far estranged from the grand policies formed in the halls of the Ministry of Rites,¡± she reminded them. ¡°Even before the Dimming we were not all that influential.¡±

    The stares did not waver, so the Tianxi pinched the bridge of her nose.

    ¡°That said, I expect that if the magnates seizing the capital and the Lordsport it might be enough for the Ten Republics to offer their support regardless of whether or not it truly was promised through the Yellow Earth. Securing the shipyards would be worth the risk of war exploding across the Trebian Sea.¡±

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    Angharad wrote ¡®Magnates¡¯ on the te btedly, then added Yellow Earth and Tianxia in smaller script beneath. In even smaller script she added ¡®Cult of the Odyssean¡¯ with a question mark.

    ¡°Then we have the ministers,¡± Maryam said. ¡°They have Lord Gule among their ranks, which means some degree of Mni support. Their candidate for the throne is, at least nominally, Minister Apollonia Floros.¡±

    Who in all these plots had not been mentioned as a participant even once. Was she truly a woman with clean hands like her old pupil the Lord Rector believed or had she simply slipped past the Thirteenth¡¯s investigations? Were the lesiast not noted to be a man by several sources, Maryam would have been tempted to bet it was Floros behind the veil. She still half-did. The known lesiast might just be a fake, and Floros run everything from behind the curtain.

    ¡°That coup,¡± Angharad noted, ¡°is backed by the cult of Odyssean in a rather more straightforward manner than that of the magnates.¡±

    ¡°They <em>run</em> it, maybe,¡± Tristan objected. ¡°But the rank-and-file of that coup is toorge to all be part of the cult. Besides, Gule told you the edges of the cult don¡¯t know anything about what¡¯s really going on. My guess is the cult took the reins of what was already a brewing coup around Apollonia Floros.¡±n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    ¡°That¡­¡± Angharad began, then stopped. ¡°That is not impossible. It might exin the sudden turn the cult took towards western nobles, bringing in key members of that incipient coup when they took it over.¡±

    That and why no one in the cult seemed to care that whatever strange rituals were going on, they were unleashing lemures across Tratheke Valley. If all the main noble backers came from the other parts of the ind, what did they care what happened to the hearnds? Foolish, considering the vast majority of Asphodel¡¯s grain came from that breadbasket, but many lords would march right past the edge of the cliff if you dangled a pretty enough prize. Angharad finished writing ¡®Mn¡¯ and ¡®Cult of the Odyssean?¡¯ under ministers, Song speaking up the moment she tied off thest letter.

    ¡°As the cult of Odyssean is in the two columns, I would say it warrants being added to the te as a third party,¡± the silver-eyed captain said. ¡°One who has intentions separate of the other two.¡±

    There was no objection, so Angharad did. Song leaned in.

    ¡°You told me, Angharad, that Lord Gule hinted at tensions within the ranks of the cult.¡±

    ¡°He seemed to believe it inevitable that after Apollonia Floros took the throne, cultists would begin turning on each other,¡± she said. ¡°It is why he sought my services as a champion.¡±

    Meaning the cult was more of a loose alliance under a god, bound by the priesthood, than a movement with a shared ambition. Considering the Odyssean was a ruthless, treacherous prick in the stories that wasn¡¯t exactly a surprise. The god Oduromai might be ater coat of paint on the old tales, Maryam could easily understand why people preferred praying to him rather than Ol¡¯ Knife-in-the-Back.

    Older didn¡¯t always mean better.

    ¡°I think Lord Gule has been had,¡± Song told them bluntly. ¡°I believe that whoever this lesiast is, they¡¯ve never had any intention that the ministerial coup should seed and they have been ying everyone from the start.¡±

    ¡°Now <em>there</em>¡¯s an audacious leap,¡± Tristan cheerfully said, rubbing his hands. ¡°Sell me on it, Ren.¡±

    Said Ren shot him an amused look. Mere months ago, Maryam thought, that cheer would have been feigned and Song would have scowled at him so hard for the ¡®insolence¡¯ his face caught fire. Now it was she and Song who avoided looking at each other instead. Gods, even Angharad appeared morefortable around their captain at the moment. She clenched her fists, feeling ever so slightly as if she were being left behind.

    She wasn¡¯t, she reminded herself. Tristan was back.

    ¡°Ites down to the assassins,¡± Song announced. ¡°The bound god and the Obsidian Order. Now, we know that the contractor was sent by the cult of the Odyssean because they are the only ones who can cross theyer.¡±

    That actually wasn¡¯t true, Maryam thought, since Locke and Keys knew about the harpoon. On the other hand, the devils did not seem to be directly involved in any of the scheming so it was fair to discard them. Things were messy enough without cramming them in.

    ¡°And the contract with the Izcalli assassins bears the same initials as the name of Hector Anaidon, a confirmed priest of the Odyssean,¡± Tristan noted.

    Song nodded at him.

    ¡°From Tristan¡¯s time as a hostage we know the cult is associated enough with the magnate coup - and thus the Yellow Earth - that the Trade Assembly is able to send the bound god to kill individuals whose death would benefit their cause.¡±

    ¡°Within limits,¡± Maryam noted, echoing her earlier thought. ¡°Else Minister Floros would be dead, and likely the Lord Rector as well.¡±

    Song paused, conceded the point with a nod. As well she would, since it fed into her earlier assertion: the lesiast wasn¡¯t going to knock off all the pieces in the way of the magnates if he did not genuinely want them to seed. He¡¯d instead given just enough rope they could be convinced to hang themselves.

    ¡°When the contracted assassin first escaped the pce, by dint of her being Tianxi we originally suspected the Yellow Earth of being involved,¡± Song reminded them. ¡°But when I sounded them out, they gave me a credible argument why it would not be them.¡±

    ¡°They imed that civil war would prevent Tianxia from having ess to the shipyard, which they ardently desire,¡± Angharad recalled. ¡°Which was a lie, as they were already fomenting a coup.¡±

    There had always been scorn when Angharad spoke of the Yellow Earth, Maryam thought, but now there was heat as well. She breathed in sharply, finally realizing <em>why </em>the two of them had left ck House for a few hours. They had gone to meet the Yellow Earth together. That should have been pleasing. And it was! But it also had her clenching her jaw, because why did Song only ever listen when it came to other people?

    Song was willing to trust Angharad with a knife at her throat but not Maryam with a de at her own. Infuriating.

    ¡°But<em> was</em> it a lie?¡± Song challenged them. ¡°Tristan, you told me that when you attended the rally where Ai made an appearance many of those in the warehouse seemed neers, previously uninvolved.¡±

    ¡°They were,¡± he agreed with a frown. ¡°The Kassa boys would never havee if Temenos didn¡¯t have a close shave with the god, I am sure of it, and I asked around when I was a prisoner. At least another two of the major trading houses had never had workers show before that night.¡±

    From what Maryam recalled, among the magnates something along the lines of seven trading families stood at the top of the heap. If the Trade Assembly hadn¡¯t even been able to bring in the whole set of its most influential until this week, Song had a point: that did not sound like a coup ready for the trigger to be pulled.

    ¡°Hao Yu was not lying, even beyond his being unaware of what Ai was up to,¡± Song said.

    Now<em> that </em>was news. Maryam nced at Angharad, whose face betrayed nothing of the secrets she must have be privy to. Trouble inside the Yellow Earth? She itched to ask, to be brought into Song¡¯s confidence again, but she knew the price for that. She refused to pay it, always shelling out the gold where everyone else tied to Song Ren got it all for free. It wasn¡¯t Maryam¡¯s fault that Song refused to listen when she told her the entire affair with Hooks was under control.

    Maryam reached for another tea cake and scarfed it down, starving.

    ¡°They <em>weren¡¯t</em> ready to seize the city, not back then,¡± Song said. ¡°They might be right now, but weeks ago while they might have had the weapons they did not yet have the men. If they attempted a coup there was a good chance it would have failed, and if Evander Palliades died¡­¡±

    ¡°They would have to strike,¡± Maryam quietly said. ¡°Otherwise the odds are good that Apollonia Floros would be on the throne by the week¡¯s end without even need for a coup of her own, and she¡¯d move against them immediately. The moment Evander Palliades dies, they <em>have</em> to move.¡±

    Palliades really was the key to it all, wasn¡¯t he? Not because of anything he did, but what he represented: legitimate order, the keeper of oaths. He was not so much a king as the bridle forced onto the bucking chaos.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Song said. ¡°Now, on the other hand, consider the position of the ministers: their coup is deeply infiltrated by the cult of the Odyssean, which knows a secret way into the pce through which soldiers can be smuggled. There are troops hidden in the capital, enough to take the pce, and the longer they stay out there the greater the odds someone will find their trail ¨C as both the Watch and the Yellow Earth have.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°Assassinating Evander Palliades is preferable,¡± Song said, smoothing out a visible twinge of difort at the words. ¡°It allows Apollonia Floros to take the throne without much violence. But when that assassination attempt failed, given possession of sufficient forces and a back entrance, why did the ministers not simply take the pce?¡±

    ¡°Traversing ayer is highly dangerous,¡± Maryam pointed out.

    She did not look at Angharad as she did. No need to twist that knife, not when the other woman was still paying the dues on that debt.

    ¡°So they lose men,¡± Tristan shrugged. ¡°Even if only half of what they march in gets through, with surprise on their side they probably win ¨C or at least seize the lifts, which lets them stop reinforcementsing up from Fort Archelean. I recall that back when the Lord Rector made Song check through his lictors, there were about three hundred. When Brigadier Chca made his estimate of the ministerial forces it was¡­¡±

    He trailed off, inviting someone who remembered the numbers to borate.

    ¡°Eighteen hundred,¡± Angharad provided. ¡°And that estimate was made without knowledge of the Ambassador Gule¡¯s involvement. It might well be more.¡±

    ¡°So even if only a third make it through theyer, they¡¯ll rout the lictors,¡± Maryam conceded.

    She leaned back, eyeing Song.

    ¡°All right, then. Why <em>haven¡¯t</em> they taken the rector¡¯s pce?¡±

    ¡°Because the cult of the Odyssean ¨C the <em>real </em>cult of the Odyssean, not the gaggles of plotters they are using - hasn¡¯t told them it is possible,¡± Song said. ¡°And it has not because the lesiast no more wants the coup of the ministers to seed than he does the rising of the magnates. The intent is for both of them to try and <em>fail</em>.¡±

    Tristan breathed in softly, cursed. Maryam frowned, for she wasn¡¯t seeing whatever he just had.

    ¡°That would be lunacy,¡± Angharad frowned.

    She hummed in agreement with the Pereduri.

    ¡°What would it aplish?¡± Maryam asked. ¡°I see no real gain to be had there.¡±

    ¡°Chaos,¡± Tristan said. ¡°They¡¯re not in it for a crown, Maryam. Shit, I said the same thing to Hagest night but I didn¡¯t have enough to put it together then: this is too much work for just a crown. They¡¯re not after a throne, never have been. They¡¯re a cult, <em>they worship a god</em>.¡±

    ¡°The lesiast sent an Izcalli assassin after Evander Palliades through one of his priests<em> because </em>he wanted both conspiracies to attempt their coup early,¡± Song said. ¡°He wanted war in the streets of Tratheke with thest of the Palliades dead in the pce above, usations flying while every noble in Asphodel calls their levies and great powers muster intervention fleets.¡±

    ¡°The Ataxia,¡± Maryam quietly said. ¡°You¡¯re describing the Ataxiae again, only worse.¡±

    None of the great powers had stepped in when Asphodelst tore itself apart. Nothing on the ind had been worth stepping into the mess, but the shipyard changed things. Song gently approached the board, lifted the chalk from Angharad¡¯s hand and crossed out the ¡®Odyssean¡¯ part of the ¡®Cult of Odyssean¡¯ column. That word she reced with two: Hated One.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Maryam said, rubbing her forehead, because it made sense didn¡¯t it? ¡°The sickle, the one that the bound god wields to kill people. There¡¯s nothing in the stories about the Odyssean that mentions a sickle and I would know - I read the damn Oduromeia front to back. It¡¯s another god wearing a corpse, like the Red Maw.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s worse than that,¡± Tristan suddenly said. ¡°Fortuna would have told me, if we had a repeat of the Dominion on our hands. She could see through it back then, to some extent.¡±

    Song blinked.

    ¡°Are you certain?¡±

    Maryam was treated to the mildly amusing sight of Song staring at thin air and precipitously having to put up her hands in apology at having doubted the unseen goddess. Well, she might as well twist that knife.

    ¡°I would never doubt you so, Lady Fortuna,¡± Maryam lied to thin air. ¡°I trust you implicitly.¡±

    She felt a brush against her nav, almost like an exhale, and swallowed a grin. It was always a good idea to get on the right side of gods. Especially those as consistently petty as Tristan¡¯s patron.

    ¡°That¡¯s the second part of the puzzle,¡± Tristan mused, ignoring the byy. ¡°Look, Angharad told us that her buddy Cleon mentioned the Odyssean going<em> strange</em> a while back. But evidently the god still exists enough that the contract exists, because Song read his off Cleon that first night at the feast.¡±

    Song frowned.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ true,¡± she slowly said.

    ¡°And when Maryam cracked open the Odyssean¡¯s old books, she found out that he used to <em>be</em> Oduromai before Asphodel decided their titr god needed a nice coat of paint,¡± Tristan said, jutting his thumb at her. ¡°The Odyssean still exists, but he¡¯s hardly even the stories now and he¡¯s got exactly <em>one </em>contract that you saw in the entire royal court ¨C with a second-rate country noble who¡¯s got an old shrine to him on hisnds. That god is more than halfway into the grave: he still has a story, but no one is praying to him anymore.¡±

    ¡°Enter the Hated One,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Who has the opposite problem. If it is the Sickle ¨C and it must, by its use of the artifact ¨C then even centuries after it was sealed people still swear by its existence. Yet it no longer has a name to consolidate its power under, because the aether seal did exactly what it is meant to: it killed the old name.¡±

    ¡°Every time I heard it mentioned, it¡¯s as a nameless god,¡± Tristan confirmed.

    ¡°Cleon held to its ways and considered them superior to current practices, but still could not name the spirit,¡± Angharad noted. ¡°And he believed it was killed by the Second Empire, to boot.¡±

    ¡°Thest two dynasties of Asphodel have been cleaning up their history,¡± Song said. ¡°Evander admitted as much to me. I expect Hector Lissenos himself rewrote the histories to make the Sickle some ancient dead god. One there would be little gain in worshipping.¡±

    And given that thetter years of the Ataxia had been spent exterminating the priesthood and temples of the Hated One, after a hundred years who would have been left to contradict those histories? Small pockets of faithful, but as their sealed god remained silent the temple would have be a cult and then withered on the vine. One did not long sacrifice to gods that gave nothing back.

    ¡°Prayer without a name,¡± Maryam muttered. ¡°A name without prayer. It¡¯s not a puppet, they¡¯re <em>fusing</em>. That exins what¡¯s happening with the Asphodel crowns.¡±

    She got odd looks from everyone save for Song. Admittedly, it would have sounded strange without knowing what the Asphodel crowns were.

    ¡°They¡¯re flowers, tied symbolically to Oduromai and the crown of Asphodel,¡± she exined. ¡°They¡¯ve been having strange effect on the local aether. I didn¡¯t think it would be rted to the Odyssean, considering it¡¯s a symbol of Oduromai, but it makes sense. Oduromai became the patron god of the isle by recing the Odyssean.¡±

    ¡°And now the Odyssean, or something close, tries to steal back that presence in the aether,¡± Song mattered.

    And the flowers were a logical symptom of that struggle, Maryam thought. Tied to Oduromai but not the Odyssean, they were as a fault line where one god began and the other ended. Their strange emanations were the metaphysical equivalent of the sound a loaf of bread made when being ripped in two. <em>And it exins why Oduromai gave Song a hint when the Obsidian Order came for the Lord Rector</em>, Maryam mused. He was aware enough of what was happening to try to check the plots of the cult of the somewhat-Odyssean.

    ¡°There is some clear ovep between the two deities,¡± Tristan mused. ¡°The Sickle¡¯s some sort of death god and the Odyssean wasn¡¯t short on corpses in his legends, the way you tell it.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°The Odyssean¡¯s worshippers don¡¯t know about this, though, not even the contractors ¨C else Cleon Eirenos would have been aware enough he shouldn¡¯t talk about it even to pretty girls. That tells me this entire plot should be the doing of a cult of the Hated One.¡±

    ¡°Your point?¡± Angharad asked.

    Tristan cleared his throat.

    ¡°Now, I¡¯m no theologist but I figure it¡¯s probably not as easy as rubbing idols together to make gods be one. It probably takes a ritual.¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t,¡± Maryam agreed.

    Captain Traore¡¯s words from this morning came to mind: it wouldn¡¯t be as simple as a few human sacrifices to wake up the Hated One in its prison, much less amalgamate him with the Odyssean. This sort of theology was hardly Maryam¡¯s area of expertise, but if she had to guess? Sacrificing <em>gods</em> would be the easiest way to get those horses running, in particr gods whose aether taint was simr to the result you were trying to achieve. Force-feeding the nascent new god, essentially.

    That would have taken decades anywhere else she could think of, but here on Asphodel? The furious aether currents made it doable in mere years instead.

    ¡°The four contracts the Scholomance brigades took on are connected,¡± Song said. ¡°They must be, it all fits together.¡±

    She stepped up to the te, taking the chalk from Angharad.<em> 4</em>, she wrote.

    ¡°Tupoc¡¯s brigade discovered an old temple out east, one with sickle symbols inside that has traces of being forcefully shut down in the past,¡± she said. ¡°More recently, an expedition takes from its altar a sacred artifact, in the process expelling a Ladonite dragon from itsir and setting it on the countryside.¡±

    <em>11</em>, Song wrote.

    ¡°The bloody rituals out in the hills that Imani Langa has been investigating,¡± Maryam said. ¡°They said that six people were buried alive at the sites. That number doesn¡¯t mean anything to the sickle god, but it¡¯s the number of wives the Odyssean had imprisoned to follow him into death.¡±

    Burial for the Sickle, six living souls for the Odyssean. A ritual stitching the gods together, one bloody summons at a time.

    ¡°A marriage of the concepts, ritually sealed by murder,¡± Song unknowingly echoed. ¡°And what does it achieve?¡±

    <em>19</em>, she wrote.

    ¡°The murders investigated by the Neenth Brigade,¡± Angharad said. ¡°The cult collects names from both the magnates and the ministers, then sends the bound god to kill them. Given the sometimes-contradictory interests this represents, the murders appear without reason.¡±

    ¡°Toziined that some of the murders seemed without any possible political reason,¡± Song noted. ¡°That likely springs from the personal deaths requested by cult members at ceremonies like the one Doukas led.¡±

    Maryam frowned, not yet sold on that. Song had told her simple shopkeepers had been murdered the same as nobles, so she did not believe it so simple. There had been <em>something </em>important about those seeming nobodies, it simply was not yet apparent. That was instinct talking instead of reason, though, so she held her tongue. Tristan had risen while she was lost in thought, rapping his knuckle above the written 4.

    "Here''s my curiosity,¡± he said. ¡°So some cultist of the Hated One gets his hands on the sacred sickle after finding the temple, likely our not-yet-lesiast. Odds are that¡¯s the same artifact the cult cuts up the Golden Ram with, and maybe even the one the bound god uses to kill people.¡±

    He paused, leaving room for others to disagree, but no one did.

    ¡°Now, no matter how many people get cut with that sickle it won¡¯t change anything, because the Hated One is still under the aether seal,¡± he continued. ¡°So the lesiast gets the bright idea to connect his patron to another god and use that name to sidestep the seal, doing the religious equivalent of fencing the goods through the Odyssean. All the while, the sickle stays front and center in all the rites to ensure that his god stays the big dog in that kennel, that the final result is more Hated One than Odyssean. Which would work?¡±

    Eyes went to her.

    ¡°Which would work,¡± Maryam confirmed.

    Using an artifact soaked in the Hated One¡¯s particr aether taint would seed it through the coalescing entity in the aether like grain in a field. It was not a guarantee, but it should strongly tip the bnce the way of the Hated One. Tristan nodded sharply.

    ¡°All right, good. So as I said here¡¯s my curiosity: if the Hated One gobbles up the Odyssean more than the other way around, won¡¯t the Odyssean get sucked into Hated One and thus the prisonyer? If the whole point of this is to get the Hated One out, it seems a ring w in the n.¡±

    ¡°Fusion would mean they be a different god than either, strictly speaking,¡± Maryam said, then bit her lip. ¡°But I think you¡¯re right ¨C if the Hated One wins out, then the resulting entity should still be stuck inside the prisonyer. Like two weights at the opposite end of a rope, the heavier of the two will move the other.¡±

    ¡°With a new name and dominion, the aether seal might no longer apply,¡± Angharad noted. ¡°It could be a measure to enable the empowering of the Hated One so the spirit might break free of its prison on its own.¡±

    ¡°All <em>this</em> just to get around the seal?¡± Tristan challenged. ¡°There had to have been easier ways.¡±

    He had a point. For such a massive plot to culminate in a chance to free the Hated One after several years more of sacrificing to him would be absurd.

    ¡°And it leaves a question: what is it bing a god <em>of</em>?¡± Maryam wondered.

    ¡°Killing for gain,¡± Angharad absent-mindedly said.

    Every other gaze in the room went on the Pereduri, to her visible surprise.

    ¡°Well,¡± she said, startled by their startlement, ¡°who has it been killing? Those who would advance the cause of one coup or another, or the personal ambitions of cultists. If the cause does not matter, then it must be the very act of killing that matters.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Maryam said.

    Song cocked an eyebrow at her.

    ¡°No, no,¡± Maryam said. ¡°That holds up. The Odyssean murdered for ambition constantly, in his story, and from what we know of the Sickle it¡¯s a god of death empowered by the corpses in the ground. There¡¯s a working intersection there.¡±

    ¡°But the new deity would still be imprisoned in theyer,¡± Song slowly said. ¡°Unless, of course, it were to suddenly be fed a sacrifice beyondpare. Strength enough to break free.¡±

    ¡°A sacrifice like two failed coups resulting in a civil war, everyone killing everyone else to grab the empty throne,¡± Tristan finished. ¡°Killing for gain on a scale not seen in centuries.¡±

    There was a moment of shivering silence, as they realized what they might just have unearthed. With a slightly trembling hand, Song wrote ¡®13¡¯ on her te. Thest piece of the puzzle, the exnation for the incoherent maze of contradictory conspiracies their brigade had uncovered one after another.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Maryam said, and by the looks on their faces they all agreed.

 Chapter 69

    Chapter 69

    Their informal council broke up hastily. Song needed to write down her a report and seek another meeting with Wen and Brigadier Chca to share their fresh suspicions, while Angharad had to prepare for the banquet she would be attending tonight. Possibly the very same banquet where Ambassador Gule would be arrested. She took Tristan aside to pass him a slip of paper, however, under Maryam¡¯s curious gaze/

    The thief looked bewildered after reading the contents.

    ¡°How did you learn all of this?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I asked,¡± Angharad Tredegar replied without batting an eye.

    Maryam suppressed her amusement as she watched him open his mouth, think again and close it.

    ¡°Many thanks,¡± he tried.

    ¡°It was my pleasure,¡± Angharad beamed at him.

    He was left standing in her wake, poleaxed.

    ¡°What¡¯s on the paper?¡± Maryam asked.Tristan scratched his chin.

    ¡°A few facts about friends I¡¯ll soon need to pay a visit to,¡± he said. ¡°Which are not nearly interesting as the fact that she got her hands on them in the first ce.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Maryam assured him. ¡°She has a contract so she can¡¯t signify. If she wants to beat you lot at everything else I don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°As always, your unconditional support is afort in these trying times,¡± he drily replied.

    Song was rolling her eyes at them as she tidied up her notes, so they left her to it. Now that the business of the Thirteenth was handled they could see to their own.

    They ended up in the kitchens.

    Tristan suggested the roof garden, openly worried and watching her like a hawk, but Maryam had no interest in revisiting the green. She had spent long enough there today, and in her current state the running water and grass did not help anywhere as much as they usually would have. The cooks needed little prompting to put them in a corner away from the bustle. Large bowls of soup, bread and cheese were pressed insistently into their hands and no argument otherwise was epted.

    Tristan tore into his portion with enthusiasm, feeding Maryam¡¯s suspicion about how he had been treated when a hostage. She picked at her broth without enthusiasm, which did not go unnoticed. He cocked an eyebrow at her as he swallowed a mouthful.

    ¡°Too much lemon for you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It is fine,¡± Maryam shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m simply not all that hungry.¡±

    Or thirsty, even though she could feel her lips were dry. She knew why. Earlier Maryam had been starving, but that was only the beginning of the process. They were deeper in now.

    Naming the entity had empowered her and Hooks was gnawing at her very self through the nav to which they were both bound. Physical urges would be sapped first but it was only a matter of time before Hooks started nibbling away at memories too. After that woulde thoughts, and by then it would be toote. Even knowing that she would be strongest when beginning the ritual at the exact time she had named the entity, Maryam felt the urge to start it early.

    It was harder to ignore the rats in therder when you¡¯d opened the door for them yourself.

    ¡°Lack of sleep does that, sometimes,¡± Tristan said. ¡°But abstaining does not help.¡±

    He pointedly broke off a piece from the loaf, thickly spread that wet goat cheese Asphodelians were all wild about over the bread and plopped it down on her te. He then gave her a charming, unmoving smile she could tell would not break until she had actually taken a bite. Rolling her eyes, Maryam took a nibble. She methodically chewed through his offering, swallowed, then cocked an expectant eyebrow at him.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather you polished off the soup as well,¡± Tristan said, ¡°but I know a lost cause when I see one.¡±

    ¡°Lots of that going around,¡± Maryam mused. ¡°It has been a rough few weeks for the Thirteenth.¡±

    ¡°Like how you and Song refuse to make eye contact, or that Tredegar now looks like she wants to apologize every time one of us offers her simple courtesy?¡±

    ¡°You got yourself abducted and cut up, only narrowly avoiding being eaten by devils,¡± Maryam tly replied. ¡°Don¡¯t try to remove yourself from the list, Abrascal.¡±

    ¡°My mistake,¡± he drawled. ¡°I am trying to get in the habit of crossing names off these, but it has been slow going.¡±

    ¡°Do you think putting on the charm and implications of murder is going to get you out of that?¡± she asked.

    Tristan smiled winningly at her, breaking off another chunk of bread and thering cheese all over. Maryam grunted in displeasure. Fine, so maybe it would.

    ¡°You are on thin ice,¡± she lied.

    ¡°A good thing I¡¯ve been eating light, then,¡± heughed.

    She hummed, studying him. He was all smiles and agreeableness, moments away from spinning up a tale for her entertainment, but there was something about it¡­ The cast of his shoulders, the way his feet under the table touched the floor as if they itched to begin tapping. The way his eyes avoided looking to the left of her, above her shoulders ¨C ah, no, she knew what<em> that</em> was. Maryam broke off a piece of bread, raised it high and cleared her throat.

    ¡°This offering I dedicate to the great goddess Fortuna, may her patient forbearancest forever,¡± Maryam announced.

    She leaned past the edge of the table, getting a look at one of the hearths, and tossed the bread piece into the mes. She got an odd look from the cook stoking them, but withdrew to the table just in time to behold Tristan getting verbally bodied by his own patron deity.

    ¡°-every time I use the contract it¡¯s a prayer, if you think about it,¡± Tristan defended. ¡°And she offered you a piece of bread, not a head of cattle, it¡¯s not exactly-¡±

    Maryam smiled like the cat that had dipped the canary in fresh ajvar.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the Festival of Giftse early, is all I¡¯m saying,¡± Tristan defended to thin air, hands raised, then winced. ¡°Ohe on, you know I can¡¯t just walk into an Orthodoxy temple and make an offering to you. The priests would-¡±

    Maryam cleared her throat.

    ¡°Familiarity breeds contempt, I fear,¡± she said.

    Tristan shot her a intive look, silently asking what he had done to deserve this. He sagged a momentter, rubbing at his forehead.

    ¡°Now she¡¯s going to be in a snit for hours,¡± he said. ¡°Was that truly necessary?¡±

    ¡°I did this mostly because I enjoy seeing you bullied,¡± Maryam noted, ¡°but to be honest it <em>is </em>unusual that you make your patrons so few offerings. The only other contractor I know who behaves that way is Song.¡±

    And Song was not nearly as subtle about how she despised her patron god as the Tianxi thought she was. It was not truly fear, either, but the seething anger of a matron who knew that blood ties would force to keep inviting to the new year feast that one cousin who shat on the table andined the whole time about the spread.

    ¡°They way I hear it our gods have a few things inmon,¡± Tristan said, then grimaced. ¡°And I don¡¯t mean it as a disrespect to Fortuna, it¡¯s just we never¡­¡±

    ¡°Settled into that groove?¡± Maryam suggested.

    He nodded.

    ¡°I was too destitute to offer much of anything when we first contracted,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And afterwards there never seemed to be a point.¡±

    ¡°Most contractors offer sacrifices to draw the attention of their god to them,¡± she said. ¡°I supposed given that she is constantly with you there is no need.¡±

    He hesitated, then grimaced.

    ¡°I know there are things off about our contract,¡± Tristan admitted. ¡°It¡¯s been made clear to me that visitations as frequent as hers are¡­ unusual, as you say, but there are a few more details. The Odyssean could not feel me until I acted, and on the Dominion when I encountered the Red Maw ¨C¡±

    ¡°You what?¡± Maryam hissed.

    It was good he recognized the oddity for what it was, but that second part? He blinked.

    ¡°Did I never tell you?¡±

    Her answer stare was distinctly unimpressed. Out of reflex she tried to feel him out with her nav, but it barely twitched an inch forward before Hooks yanked twice as hard the other way. Maryam mastered her anger, knowing that getting into it with her enemy early would do more harm than good.

    ¡°Well,¡± he said. ¡°I ran into it, Fortuna mouthed off and I got treated to a lovely moment of its full attention. When we came back to the Old Fort, after, the sniffer said-¡±

    ¡°Never mind what the sniffer said,¡± Maryam bit out. ¡°The god <em>focused</em> on you?¡±

    He slowly nodded.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± she feelingly said. ¡°Tristan, that should have shredded your mind. The Red Maw wasn¡¯t some middling street god or even a temple deity, it was firmly on the upper end of third order. It ate <em>other gods</em> for centuries.¡±

    Gray eyes looked around, as if seeking his goddess to interrogate, but they kept moving without pause. She must still be gone. Tristan swallowed.

    ¡°As part of my test to get a Mask instructor,¡± he quietly said, ¡°I had to get into Wen¡¯s house and have a look at some of our records.¡±

    Maryam stiffened, but he waved his hand.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t look at yours,¡± he said. ¡°Though I caught what might be your mother¡¯s name in passing.¡±

    That would be enough, Maryam thought, if he thought to ask anyone passingly familiar with the Mni upation of Juska. Izolda Cernik hade closest to driving them off the shores of the continent than anyone before her. That he evidently had not thought to do so ¨C or more likely that he had decided not to ¨C was afort. It was not that she wanted to hide it, at least not entirely.

    But she liked it better, not having that weight on her shoulders when she sat with him.

    ¡°The part that matters,¡± he said, ¡°is that for some reason the Watch both suspected and then firmly ruled out that Fortuna could be a second order entity.¡±

    ¡°Visitation draws from a god,¡± Maryam said. ¡°It does imply she has power, to be there so often. Yet you im she has no other worshipper?¡±

    ¡°That I know of,¡± he shrugged. ¡°And she¡¯s nearly always around.¡±

    ¡°Existing simultaneously is not particrly difficult for a god, or even an Akrre at the peak of their power,¡± Maryam cautioned him. ¡°But I see your point.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°When we return to Port Azei I could ask Captain Yue-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not nearly good enough a swimmer to survive that,¡± Tristan firmly declined. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out, she and I. For all that she keeps iming entire kingdoms worshipped her in a showering orgy of golden gifts-¡±

    Maryam¡¯s brow raised.

    ¡°- her words,¡± Tristan specified, ¡°and beyond the boasts she does seem to be lost a lot of the time. I think that on asion she avoids answering me not because she keeps secrets but because she genuinely doesn¡¯t know.¡±

    And since Fortuna was proud and vain as a cat, Maryam thought, the goddess would rather pass as scheming than admit ignorance. The gray-eyed man cleared his throat.

    ¡°And that¡¯s my interrogation done, I think. Are you going to tell me what actually has you irritated now?¡± he asked.

    She sniffed.

    ¡°You just came back,¡± Maryam said. ¡°What has you already itching to leave?¡±

    He leaned back into his seat.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. ¡°Why were Song and Tredegar convinced you would be headed up to the pceter? You should no longer have a reason to go there.¡±

    ¡°She told you something,¡± Maryam said, eyes narrowed.

    Which ¡®she¡¯ hardly mattered.

    ¡°Tredegar mentioned it¡¯d be sensible for you two to share a carriage since the streets will be packed closer to the Collegium,¡± he easily replied.

    Her eyes narrowed even more. He sighed.

    ¡°And Song might have mentioned a concern or two in passing, before she went to fetch you earlier,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Something about your using the Thirteenth¡¯s name to conduct a Gloam ritual on pce grounds. A dangerous ritual, at that.¡±

    ¡°It goes both ways, Tristan,¡± she reminded him. ¡°Answers for answers.¡±

    The Sacromontan clenched his teeth.

    ¡°I have a time and ce for where the Neenth will be,¡± he said. ¡°I am looking to wrap up those loose ends.¡±

    ¡°Song has done that for you,¡± Maryam told him.

    ¡°Has she?¡± he skeptically asked. ¡°I don¡¯t see them pped in chains.¡±

    A telling choice of words, she thought. Betraying his exact fear.

    ¡°She has done hard work on your behalf,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Evenmandeered Angharad to do some of it. At least sit down with her first.¡±

    ¡°I was going to do that anyway,¡± he irritatedly replied. ¡°I won¡¯t go haring off in the night just yet, Maryam, it¡¯s the middle of the bloody day.¡±

    She studied him for a long moment, then her brow creased.

    ¡°You actually mean that,¡± she said, sounding surprised.

    ¡°She¡¯s grown on me some,¡± Tristan conceded.

    Maryam grinned at him, but he cleared his throat before she could say anything.

    ¡°<em>Angharad</em>, is it now?¡± he said. ¡°ss houses, darling.¡±

    ¡°We have an ord of sorts,¡± Maryam grunted back.

    The spoilsport.

    ¡°And so do we,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Tell me about your ritual.¡±

    ¡°It will fix my signifying,¡± she told him. ¡°Permanently.¡±

    He straightened.

    ¡°Good news,¡± he said, and her heart twinged a bit. ¡°It has been gnawing at you since we first got off the docks on Azei.¡±

    The second part wiped out the unease of the first, to her mute relief. He¡¯d befriended her without knowing she was a signifier, she could not forget. He had no expectations to betray.

    ¡°Song wouldn¡¯t begrudge you that,¡± he noted. ¡°So what¡¯s the part that concerns her?¡±

    ¡°It involves killing and eating my parasite,¡± Maryam said. ¡°That is what the ritual was for.¡±

    ¡°I still don¡¯t see the problem,¡± Tristan admitted. ¡°That¡¯s what Yue gave you those rake-rings for, isn¡¯t it? To bleed and eat the creature one cut at a time. If you have a method to hurry up the process what¡¯s the trouble?¡±

    ¡°<em>Exactly</em>,¡± Maryam hissed. ¡°I will not lie, consuming the entity all at once will be more dangerous than taking my time, but what I receive from it will be qualitatively better.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still using our contract with the throne as a pretext to conduct a shady ritual in one of the most heavily restricted rooms within the rectors¡¯ pce on false pretenses,¡± Tristan pointed out. ¡°So Song is absolutely correct to be concerned, Maryam. It¡¯s not like there¡¯s no Gloam users on Asphodel, if the Lord Rector figures out you lied so you could have a spot of witchcraft in his private archives-¡±

    ¡°I have a usible excuse for it, and tonight is thest time I¡¯ll need to visit the archives,¡± she said. ¡°The room makes a difference, Tristan. It serves a filter between myself and what I consume, a strong one.¡±

    He leaned forward.

    ¡°To prevent a fit of mania, like the one I saw,¡± Tristan said.

    She nodded.

    ¡°And I¡¯m guessing an equivalent won¡¯t be easy to find abroad,¡± he continued, eyes narrowing.

    She nodded again, beginning to feel like a hen pecking at grain.

    ¡°It sounds like a calcted risk,¡± he muttered. ¡°And the ritual itself¡­¡±

    He trailed off, looking at her expectantly. And for a moment, Maryam hesitated. Thought about staying seated here and telling him everything, all the things even Song had not been able to put together. About how she had made a thing into a person to better murder her, how she was afraid that even if everything went perfectly taking so much of the Cauldron would¡­ but then she felt it, on the tip of her fingers. That gnawing, nibbling sensation.

    Hooks was trying to eat her too. <em>Right now</em>. It was kill or be killed, toote for doubts. And if Tristan wanted to be part of this then he should have been <em>there</em>.

    ¡°I have limited the risks as much as I can,¡± Maryam said, which was true.

    If she lied, she fancied he¡¯d be able to tell.

    ¡°If it goes wrong, the entity could take things from me as I will take from her,¡± Maryam acknowledged. ¡°And I can¡¯t promise everything will be fine, but¡­¡±

    ¡°When can we ever?¡± Tristan rhetorically asked.

    Yet he was frowning, as if troubled. Whatever it was he¡¯d sniffed out, though he didn¡¯t ask about it. He reached for her hand, and she was surprised enough she let him thread his fingers with hers.

    ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll be a coward,¡± the rat asked. ¡°That you won¡¯t double down if it looks bad, that you¡¯ll cut your losses. I know it matters to you, the Signs, but it¡¯s not worth<em> you</em>.¡±

    He squeezed, and even knowing he was doing it to rein her in ¨C love was lovely but a bridle all the same ¨C she squeezed back. It was a heady thing, knowing Tristan would always be on her side. Even if that sometimes meant he¡¯d get in her way.

    Heady enough she could forget all the rest.

    --

    Maryam hadn¡¯t noticed it, but at the end she tipped her hand: she¡¯d called the entity <em>her</em> instead of it.

    That warranted a visit to Song, though Tristan found the captain was otherwise upied. By the time he got to her room she was in Brigadier Chca¡¯s office, presumably informing him that while Tratheke was still going to shit the Thirteenth had done some work in unpicking the particr manner of the sewer¡¯s overflow, which had him at loose ends. He checked on his gear, took a proper bath and tempted as he was to take a nap he instead saw off Maryam and Angharad when they boarded their carriage.

    Apparently Lord Menander had mentioned on his invitation that Angharad should head out very early, given a new rash of precautions at Fort Archelean ¨C a sign the Lord Rector knew enough to fear attack, that, given that the fort guarded the only material way into the pce. Either way, for guests heading up that meant hours in line while inspections happened and arrivals through the lifts were staggered to ease cordoning them off. Easy enough for the lictors to justify, given that there had been two attempts on Evander Palliades¡¯ life mere weeks apart.

    Anyhow, there was no guarantee that Maryam would be spared the wait even if she came in ck so off she went as well. Feeling oddly slighted by the way everyone was gone what felt mere moments after he¡¯d arrived, Tristan headed back up straight into an ambush. Song Ren, in full array of war with journals and formal reports and bookmarks, was waiting to bring him into her investigation of the Ivory Library and all that entailed. The Maryam business could wait until the end of that, he supposed.

    Now, Song was telling him important information and he <em>was </em>paying this the attention that was due. But Tristan was also noting how she had ced the paper sheets in a particr order, which perfectly matched what she was saying at the right time. He waited for a lull in the presentation to clear his throat.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Did you rehearse this?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°I just informed you that two members of the Ivory Library have been unmasked, that one turned and the other is under effective house arrest,¡± Song Ren tly replied, ¡°and the only question you can think of is whether or not I <em>rehearsed</em> this?¡±

    Tristan cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°Did you, though?¡±

    ¡°Obviously yes,¡± she bit out. ¡°Don¡¯t let it go to your head, I prepared it for Brigadier Chca.¡±

    ¡°I would never dare,¡± he said, hand over heart.

    He plopped a pair from a new bowl grapes in his mouth afterwards, enjoying the savor of fresh fruit. How quickly these littleforts became expected ¨C there was no poison so insidious as luxury. Still, better than leaving the second bowl he¡¯d asked for go to waste. Sakkas had waddled away having doubled his body weight in fruit from the first and the magpie was unlikely to reappear until he felt like it again, which left these a loose end for him to tie up.

    ¡°First off,¡± he said after swallowing, ¡°it was a good use of my marker with Bait, so you¡¯ll get no talkback from me on the matter."

    Song sighed, standing across the table with her arms folded behind her back.

    ¡°I almost wish you would leave the man alone,¡± she admitted.

    And that almost was why her judgment had risen in his esteem: sentiment tempered by practicality. Maybe she would prefer Adarsh Hebbar not be dragged back onto the hook at the first opportunity, but having someone in the Fourth to hit up for information ranked higher in her priorities than pity.

    ¡°There¡¯s no one else in the Fourth I¡¯d risk leveraging,¡± Tristan said.

    Alejandra Torrero would burn his face off at the first sign of ckmail and even if Expendable were not a Skiritai capable of savaging him in singlebat with the use of only half his toes the Mni did, you know, suck lemures into his soul. Then turn into them and eat a concerning amount of fresh meat duringmunal meals.

    ¡°As an aside,¡± the thief mused. ¡°Considering Expendable ¨C Vphi ¨C does not seem to control the shape when he turns into that horrifying Mni hyena monster do you figure he¡­¡±

    He spun his finger suggestively.

    ¡°Ate someone before the Watch recruited him?¡± Song grimly said. ¡°Very likely. Between that and hisck of control over a dangerous contract it would exin why someone with his potential ended up in the Fourth Brigade in the first ce.¡±

    ¡°Best to continue avoiding eye contact, then,¡± Tristan drily said. ¡°I already got out of being supper once this week, I¡¯ll not roll the dice on it again.¡±

    ¡°Locke and Keys,¡± Song grunted. ¡°You did well to escape their grasp, but I fear they remain a potential problem. The Stheno¡¯s Peak garrison sent investigators to look in on the harpoon those two took an interest in and I find it difficult to predict how they will react should they consider this interference.¡±

    ¡°I suspect if they wanted that harpoon they would already have it,¡± Tristan replied. ¡°It is whoever gave that artifact to the cult that¡¯s their quarry. That points them straight at the lesiast, and with a little luck their digging the man out will make an exploitable mess for us.¡±

    ¡°Luck is a fickle thing,¡± Song unhappily said, then nced behind him.

    She cleared her throat.

    ¡°No offense intended, Lady Fortuna.¡±

    ¡°Taken,¡± the Lady of Long Odds darkly replied. ¡°To be so insulted by mere ckcloaks when prayers sung in my honor once silenced a storm, why-¡±

    ¡°Never apologize for saying the truth, Song,¡± he solemnly interrupted.

    The silver-eyed captain cleared her throat again, visibly choosing not to read the lips of a loudly squawking Fortuna.

    ¡°Regardless,¡± Song said, valiantly pressing on, ¡°I struck a deal to cover your execution of Lieutenant Apurva. When a formal report is made of this entire incident, you will be able to admit to it without consequence."

    Tristan drummed his fingers against the tabletop. He kept his thoughts off his face long enough to sort them out. Song had cleaned up after him. Song had cleaned up after him and she was telling him of it as a report, a statement of fact, instead of¡­ a bargain, maybe, or simply talking of it as a debt he would need to repay. She had said she would, that it was her role as his captain, and he had acknowledged her as that.

    Still. He might have struggled to swallow that for a while longer, if not for the realization that he had been silent for too long and she was beginning to look concerned.

    ¡°For which I am grateful,¡± he said, coughing into his fist. ¡°And the Neenth?¡±

    ¡°Brigadier Chca agreed for them to be arrested the moment he has on hand a cabal to take on their contract with the throne,¡± Song said. ¡°Their patron has not been informed but the Watch officer who holdsmand in the Lordsport has orders not to allow them to leave the ind if they attempt to board a ship.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t stop them,¡± Tristan replied without batting an eye. ¡°Not unless the Grinning Madcap¡¯s been seized.¡±

    ¡°As it is not a Watch ship, the brigadier decided we cannot,¡± Song admitted. ¡°The ensuing ruckus would be sure to bring in the lictors and thus the Lord Rector, which is exactly what Chca wants to avoid.¡±

    ¡°Pretending nothing¡¯s gone wrong until we wring the throne out of every possible concession,¡± Tristan said, fingers clenching as he forced a calm smile. ¡°Fair enough. When does Chca believe there will be a cabal on hand?¡±

    Her lips thinned.

    ¡°Stheno¡¯s Peak is sending men, as I mentioned earlier,¡± Song told him. ¡°Once they are done with their assigned duty, Chca will have the authority to reassign them.¡±

    ¡°The same who are meant to investigate the harpoon,¡± he said. ¡°When are they arriving?¡±

    ¡°Within days,¡± Song said.

    ¡°When will they be done?¡± he pressed.

    There she grimaced, and did not answer. She did not know.

    ¡°So we have a stretch of days, perhaps as much as a week, where there is nothing at all keeping the Neenth from grabbing me,¡± Tristan mildly said.

    ¡°If you went missing-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d know, it was them¡± he bit out. ¡°You¡¯de for me. I am aware, Song. But all it takes is them smellingplications and deciding to make a run for the ship, or other means of passage, then to trade me in to the Ivory Library for a fresh start somewhere else.¡±

    ¡°It cuts both ways, Tristan,¡± she said. ¡°If they suddenly die, all fingers will point to you.¡±

    ¡°But you secured protection, you said,¡± he pressed.

    ¡°For the lieutenant, not a <em>killing spree</em>,¡± she bit back. ¡°There would be no hiding that, Tristan, or burying it.¡±

    ¡°There would not,¡± he evenly agreed. ¡°If Asphodel were not about to be plunged into chaos, anyway.¡±

    She caught onto his implication immediately.

    ¡°The coup,¡± Song said. ¡°Or at least the throne putting down the coups. You want to use that as cover. They remain gone for their investigation andter the corpses turn up during the chaos. Nothing to do with you, they were just in the wrong ce at the wrong time.¡±

    They both knew the restoration of order was unlikely to happen without bloodshed. Who was to say that a few souls might not go missing during the mess? He would prefer to be entirely off Asphodel when it all happened, but the odds of that were looking increasingly low.

    ¡°No loose ends,¡± Tristan told her. ¡°No knives left at my back. How many times do you expect me to spare those who would put me in a box and sell me, Song? I can live with one cabal. Knowing there will be watchmen out there who know my face and would put a bullet in my skull given the chance.¡±

    His fingers tightened.

    ¡°But I will not sow a garden¡¯s worth of enemies and let them ripen out of my sight,¡± he said. ¡°Much less allow them to scheme against me unimpeded.¡±

    ¡°I am not asking-¡± Song began heatedly, then bit off the words.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    He watched her, the way she mastered her breath and counted down. Kept herself calm.

    ¡°I am not asking that,¡± Song finished. ¡°But there are only so many bodies I can bury for you, Tristan, before the grave grows full.¡±

    Part of him wondered if it was testing her, that he genuinely told her what he intended instead of simply agreeing, smiling and doing whatever he wanted. If he was passing his hand over the candle to see if it burned him this time. And as the silence stretched out, as his implicit refusal hung loud in the air and with every additional breath Song Ren did not order or threaten or twist his arm, Tristan was forced to look a fact in the eye.

    It <em>was </em>a test. And she had passed it without even knowing there were stakes.

    He breathed out slowly.

    ¡°It is more urgent a situation than I implied,¡± he admitted. ¡°When Hage gave me their location and a time they will be at their safehouse he also gave me a list of aetheric devices and materials they requested for some sort of ritual with the Odyssean.¡±

    Song¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°You think it¡¯ll be turned on you,¡± she said.

    ¡°I think Izel Coyac is a tinker on the Deuteronomicon track and if they are going to trap a god they are sure to make<em> some</em> use of that entity.¡±

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t kill you,¡± Song said. ¡°But if they asked for an arm instead, or just a broken leg¡­¡±

    ¡°I was thinking more along the lines of my location,¡± he said, ¡°considering the gods¡¯ aptitude for finding strangers to y them by surprise. If they have the boon and a trapped god, what is left but to grab me and leave Asphodel as quickly as possible?¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t know the Odyssean is the Hated One,¡± Song pointed out. ¡°This could blow up in the face quite violently.¡±

    ¡°Or they could get exactly what they need and go on a hunt for me that very night,¡± Tristan said. ¡°Tozi¡¯s contract should prevent them making the worst kind of mistakes.¡±

    Song mulled that over for a moment.

    ¡°Officer Hage gave you that information?¡±

    The thief nodded.

    ¡°And you think he knows¡­¡±

    ¡°He knows too much for myfort, that included,¡± Tristan said. ¡°But he did give me, well, a warning of sorts.¡±

    He cleared his throat.

    ¡°That the Krypteia does not deal inws but in necessity.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s testing you,¡± Song said.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Tristan grunted. ¡°But I¡¯m not sure what the test is ¨C or if cleaning up the Neenth would mean failing it.¡±

    He smiled mirthlessly.

    ¡°And it is a Mask who taught me how to deal with loose ends in the first ce, Song. Hage is a teacher, but his are not the only lessons taught by the Krypteia.¡±

    ¡°But he will be watching,¡± Song said.

    He nodded. <em>But will that be watching the decision or the execution of it?</em> That was yet uncertain. Song¡¯s chin set.

    ¡°What time?¡± she asked.

    He blinked.

    ¡°What does it matter?¡±

    ¡°Because I will need to clear my schedule,¡± Song said. ¡°If it proves necessary to kill them all, I will not let you at it alone.¡±

    He swallowed, mouth dry. It¡¯d been easy with Maryam. Like falling, the current of the world pushing him into it. And looking at Song Ren¡¯s expectant face he could still remember thinking about how to kill her, being ufortable standing in the same room. The disgust on her face after they fed the traitor to Scholomance. And now she was offering to kill for him. Another gift with no strings in sight.

    Madness.

    ¡°Six,¡± he croaked out. ¡°Tonight.¡±

    Her face fell and his stomach tightened.

    ¡°Shit,¡± she said. ¡°I need to be on the other side of the city at the same hour.¡±

    What an ugly thought, to be relieved she would take it back. It still burrowed in him like a hungry worm. Only a momentter did the calm part of him, the thinking one, catch up to the words. ¡®Need¡¯ was not a word that Song Ren would use lightly and he could not think of many who would be able to twist her arm against her will.

    ¡°The Yellow Earth¡¯s calling in its dues,¡± he said.

    Her face tightened. After a moment she nodded.

    ¡°Hao Yu was killed this morning,¡± Song said. ¡°Ai now leads the sect. She is¡­ less patient.¡±

    Tristan slipped into the boots of someone who saw Song Ren as a disposable tool, for a moment. What would they ask, how would they spend her? Not as a ckcloak, even as a brigade captain. It was too little, she gave them nothing a skilled spy could not in her ce.

    ¡°They want you to kill Palliades,¡± he said.

    There was a moment of stillness, then sheughed. It was a bitter sound.

    ¡°Close enough,¡± Song said. ¡°They want me draw him down into the city, where they will be waiting.¡±

    Probably to kill him, Tristan though, though if they were clever they would keep him alive instead. So long as he remained breathing Palliades loyalists would not easily consolidate behind another noble, which would keep the aristoi split into multiple sides. Mind you, Ai had not struck him as the most strategic of thinkers. He eyed Song curiously.

    ¡°What<em> do</em> they have on you, that¡¯d you even consider it?¡±

    She raised her brow.

    ¡°Why did you murder Cozme Aflor on the Dominion?¡±

    He did not hide his surprise quite quickly enough. Or his concern. He had not thought Maryam had told her of that.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t give anything away,¡± Song reassured him. ¡°It was what Zenzele <em>didn¡¯t</em> talk about that let me put it together.¡±

    He acknowledged it with a nod and she looked away. Considered the matter closed, the question she had asked more a reminder that they all had their secrets than something she expected him to answer. And yet.

    ¡°He killed my father,¡± Tristan said.

    Silver eyes whipped back to him, wide open.

    ¡°It was a mercy by then,¡± the rat said. ¡°Sparing him worse. But if you guide a man down a dead end and then put him out of his misery when he reaches the wall, the only word for it is murder. So that is what I dealt him out in return.¡±

    ¡°The Cerdan,¡± she guessed. ¡°They were involved.¡±

    ¡°It was their enterprise,¡± Tristan said. ¡°The matter is not yet finished. I have names, Song. A list.¡±

    ¡°Revenge, huh,¡± Song muttered, leaning back into her seat.

    ¡°I prefer to think of it as spring cleaning,¡± he replied with a charming smile.

    If she were Maryam, she would have yed off that. Made some pun about springing a few murders for cleaning, maybe, or used him of having never held a broom. Not Song. The Tianxi simply sat there, staring off at the wall.

    ¡°I wanted revenge, too, when I was a child,¡± Song finally said.

    ¡°On who?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the question, isn¡¯t it?¡± Song mused. ¡°On my grandfather, the face of the Dimming?¡±

    She snorted.

    ¡°Theyshed him to death.¡±

    Tristan considered himself hard to trouble. The t, matter-of-fact way Song spoke of her own grandfather being publicly whipped to death still had him wincing.

    "Those who me us?¡± she wondered. ¡°Jigong is a ghost town, itsnds overrun by lemures and hollows. Those who fled abroad were ruined, if they were even allowed through the border. There is no revenge to take there.¡±

    ¡°Those who decided the republic could no longer be graced with a Luminary,¡± he suggested.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have kings, Tristan,¡± she tiredly said. ¡°A decision like that would not be trusted to a republic¡¯s chancellery alone ¨C their Secretariat would vote on it before giving instructions to the envoys, maybe even the general assembly. Hundreds of people for every republic, maybe thousands.¡±

    She smiled mirthlessly.

    ¡°No one is to me,¡± Song said. ¡°Everyone is to me. A little of both, I think. But that isn¡¯t aforting thought, when children point at you in the streets. When men leave the rooms you enter, when you are refused entry to shrines. That anger, it wants something to aim at.¡±

    ¡°A trigger to squeeze,¡± he murmured.

    She nodded.

    ¡°So I understand it, why my brother went over to the royalists,¡± Song said. ¡°He decided it was the republics that were our enemy, and that he could put the hate to rest by burying them.¡±

    From there, the angle was not hard to figure out.

    ¡°They caught him going over,¡± Tristan said. ¡°And your royalists are in bed with the Someshwar, everyone knows it. If a Ren, any Ren, is seen to sp hands with the rajas then your family is finished.¡±

    Because Tianxia hated the Imperial Someshwar to the bone. When the Izcalli attacked Tianxia nowadays, it was not to conquer ¨C the Sunflower Lords came for serfs and plunder, to blood themselves in the Calendar Court¡¯s name. It was different with the Someshwar, because it had never quite given up its ambitions to restore its conquests from the peak of the Cathayan Wars. The maharajas had held two thirds of the penins, once, all but the three southernmost republics.

    Izcalli¡¯s raids were a passing gue, while the Someshwar had no intention of ever leaving if it got its foot past the door. For a family as reviled as Song¡¯s to going over to them would be¡­

    ¡°I took the ck to beat the curse,¡± Song exhaled. ¡°To bring about so great a good it would blot out my grandfather¡¯s mistake. But Ai can end all that before it begins with a single letter and she has sworn to, if I do not do what she asked.¡±

    Tristan reached inside his coat for Vanesa¡¯s watch, clicked it open. Nearly three.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have long to decide if you¡¯re going to send a letter back,¡± he noted.

    ¡°I am aware,¡± Song tiredly said. ¡°As it is I will be bound to send it straight to the pce as Watch correspondence for it to be on time, which there is no way the Yellow Earth will miss.¡±

    He let out a low whistle.

    ¡°They really have you over a barrel,¡± he said.

    ¡°Do they?¡± she bit out. ¡°I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±

    He let silence stretch out.

    ¡°Will you go?¡±

    He carefully did not ask if a letter would be sent first.

    ¡°I have no choice,¡± Song said.

    ¡°You should take someone with you,¡± he advised.

    ¡°Angharad is needed in the pce,¡± she said. ¡°Maryam is bound to return there by ritual. And you¡­¡±

    ¡°Their ritual will take ce at six, for some arcane reason,¡± he said.

    Silence again.

    ¡°You have a n,¡± Song said. ¡°To kill them all.¡±

    He nodded. Weeks in the making.

    ¡°It will work?¡±

    ¡°Two out of three chances, I¡¯d wager,¡± he said. ¡°I could not have done it without you giving me the details of Tozi¡¯s contract.¡±

    ¡°I cannot help but feel the entire Thirteenth is standing on a rope bridge,¡± Song murmured, ¡°each of us four sawing through a different rope.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s Tredegar up to?¡± he frowned.

    ¡°Nothing she would want me to tell you,¡± Song honestly replied. ¡°I notice you are not asking about Maryam.¡±

    ¡°I was getting to that. The ritual she¡¯s up to is shady as fuck,¡± he bluntly said. ¡°I don¡¯t need schooling about the Gloam to know that.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°But as it happens we <em>have</em> had a Theology ss, and if Artigas drilled one thing into our heads it¡¯s that the universal across all metaphysical rtionships is that to gain something you first have to put skin in the game. Maryam¡¯s been suspiciously vague about the stakes on her end of the bet, for this ritual of hers.¡±

    ¡°It could kill her.¡±

    Tristan twitched, turned.

    ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡± he asked. ¡°I thought it would be a limb or a soul wound like Angharad¡¯s at most, and I¡¯m not enough of a hypocrite to reproach her rolling those dice. She could <em>die</em>?¡±

    Song grimaced.

    ¡°She¡¯s forgotten I read ahead for our sses,¡± she said. ¡°I know what her logos ¨C her nav ¨C is. It¡¯s a part of her soul, ritually separated from the rest so it can be used to trace Signs. Twice she told me that devouring the entity would fix her Grasp and Command, Tristan. That it would improve her nav. She¡¯s not getting rid of an uninvited guest, she is absorbing it into her soul.¡±

    ¡°Which is a little eerie,¡± Tristan conceded, ¡°and probably dangerous, but if all it does is get back the memories the shade stole from her and fix her nav then-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a shade,¡± Song said. ¡°Whatever it is, it has a soul.¡±

    ¡°Surely-¡±n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    ¡°She based the ritual on that knowledge,¡± the Tianxi gently said. ¡°It is not a guess on my part. And she¡¯s after a lot more than just a few of her memories, Tristan. Do you know what the Cauldron is?¡±

    He shook his head, blood running cold when Song exined the nature of it. Some sort of Izvorica bundle of knowledge, umted for centuries and meant to be crammed into the head of willing bearers. His eyes narrowed.

    ¡°But she won¡¯t be a cup being filled with the knowledge, like those Keepers you mentioned,¡± Tristan slowly said. ¡°She¡¯s <em>eating </em>the contents. Shoving them directly into her soul.¡±

    Song nodded.

    ¡°Will she able to tell those memories apart from hers?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I do not know,¡± Song said. ¡°And, I think, neither does she.¡±

    ¡°So even if everything goes perfectly,¡± he trailed off.

    His fingers clenched.

    ¡°But we don¡¯t know that,¡± he said. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t take that risk if she thought it¡¯d do that to her, Song. Not Maryam.¡±

    ¡°Not even if it permanently fixed her signifying? And not with rake-rings, either, truly<em> fixed</em>,¡± Song said. ¡°What if it gave her back a kernel of her home she thought lost forever?¡±

    He swallowed.

    ¡°Why would you let her go back tonight, then?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°Stakes,¡± Song reminded him. ¡°She put up something to lose if she does not go through with the ritual.¡±

    ¡°Why let her start it in the first ce?¡± he barked. ¡°Of all the times to stop meddling-¡±

    ¡°You think I didn¡¯t try?¡± Song asked.

    ¡°Then you should have ordered her,¡± Tristan said through gritted teeth.

    ¡°We both know that would have made no difference,¡± Song said. ¡°Except that she would have gone about it secretly and I would know nothing of the how or when.¡±

    ¡°What does it matter that you know anything if nothing is done about it?¡± he hissed. ¡°Song, this has to be stopped.¡±

    ¡°Can you?¡± she asked. ¡°Can you keep an eye on her every hour of every day, preventing her from doing this? Because that is what it will take, Tristan.¡±

    ¡°Or I convince her it¡¯s a terrible fucking idea and she should stop,¡± he said. ¡°There must still be <em>some </em>way she can back out.¡±

    ¡°I tried that,¡± Song said. ¡°I failed. But then she and I are not the two of you.¡±

    His stomach clenched. That was phrased as apliment but echoed to his ear of me. He¡¯d not been there.

    ¡°When is she doing it?¡± Tristan asked.

    ¡°During the banquet,¡± Song said. ¡°The private archives will be empty during.¡±

    And the banquet was at six. He gritted his teeth.

    ¡°So either I handle the Neenth,¡± he said. ¡°Or I go up to the pce.¡±

    Song¡¯s finger traced the table.

    ¡°All four of us, sawing away at our rope,¡± she softly said.

    His jaw clenched.

    ¡°It¡¯s not fair, asking me that,¡± he said.

    ¡°I ask nothing,¡± Song said. ¡°I could be up there too, Tristan. Lending my eyes and my musket, trying to help her change her mind.¡±

    His shoulders slumped.

    ¡°But you¡¯ll be sawing at your rope instead,¡± he said.

    Angharad, he almost began, then stopped. She and Maryam had found a cordial ground to stand on, now, but they were not friends. And a woman of Mni looks trying to talk Maryam Khaimov out of taking back her people¡¯s inheritance was certain to set the opposite in stone.

    It was him or no one else, Tristan realized as his fingers closed around Vanesa¡¯s watch.

    ¡°They just left,¡± he said. ¡°Not even an hour ago. I could catch up to Maryam and still have time to return to the safehouse in time.¡±

    Gray eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Even better if you had told me this before she was gone and spared me running after her.¡±

    The implied usation stood stark between there: that Song had held it back so he would have to make a choice. Which was unfair, given that she had been reporting to the brigadier, but not necessarily untr-

    ¡°I only learned of your time constraint moments ago,¡± she reminded him.

    He winced. Yes, that was true. He was off his game, to have missed that.

    ¡°I need to go,¡± he said.

    Silently she nodded. She looked, he thought, almost sad. Defeated. As if she knew she had no choice but to keep sawing at her rope. That gave pause to his feet. He licked his lips. It was unpleasant, seeing that look on her face.

    ¡°Is Palliades really worth your family?¡± he asked.

    She snorted.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t about Evander,¡± she said. ¡°It is about the act, Tristan. Being a tool of the Yellow Earth, betraying the Watch. They will own me after that.¡±

    Enabling regicide was admittedly something of a breach in the Watch¡¯s practice of not taking sides. Song would be killed for it if it came out, though like her Tristan would be more worried about the Yellow Earth continuing to wield that leverage going forward. Even if she spent her career avoiding them, they would find her. Everything she built from there on out would be built on foundation of sand, apt to be snatched away from her in a moment.

    Damned if she did, damned if she didn¡¯t. Which was the better bet to take ¨C that she could beat the Yellow Earth¡¯s final ckening of her reputation, or that her secret would keep? Neither of them had good odds.

    ¡°This city, it¡¯s about to go mad,¡± he finally said. ¡°I mean to use that, Song, one way or another. There is no reason you should not.¡±

    She almostughed.

    ¡°So I should murder my way through an entire local Yellow Earth sect to silence them?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± he said. ¡°Maybe not. But I can tell you this: the only words that matter are those that leave this ce. The tale that gets spread. And if you can¡¯t bury the man, it is best to bury the grudge.¡±

    ¡°Is that what you¡¯ll do, Tristan Abrascal?¡± she asked with a thin smile. ¡°Bury your grudge?¡±

    <em>Not if I can bury the man</em>, he thought. You could dig up corpses and grudges both, but only of them served fine after a little cleaning.

    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll find out,¡± Tristan said, putting away his watch. ¡°Draw first, Song.¡±

    She met his eyes, inclined her head.

    ¡°A hundred years of luck, Tristan,¡± she replied.

    Wouldn¡¯t that be the day?

    --

    There were only so many unmarked carriages in ck House, so it <em>was</em> sensible for Maryam to share one with Angharad. They were both headed to the rector¡¯s pce, and though they would have to split ways at Antheia¡¯s Ring - therge roundabout near the edge of Collegium serving as a massive open-air market for hiring carriages ¨C to avoid suspicion there was no good reason for them not to share the ride there.

    Only it had been a minute since they left ck House, rocking onto one of the roads, and Angharad had not said a word.

    Finely dressed in her Asphodel best, the Pereduri gripped her walking stick as if it was the only thing keeping her from drowning while staring at the closed window of the carriage. There had been a time where silence between them was counted a boon by Maryam, but tonight she¡­ There was a feverish energy to the pale woman¡¯s limbs. Nerves regarding the fight ahead of her, yes, but there was more to it than that.

    Between Song¡¯s hard-nosed concern and Tristan¡¯s extracted promise, she could not help but feel uneasy. Two were harder to dismiss than one. A conversation would be a wee distraction. She just needed tinder for the me, surely. Maryam cleared her throat, Angharad¡¯s gaze turning to her.

    ¡°Did you know,¡± she said, ¡°that Antheia¡¯s Ring is named after Antheia Pgid, the first rector of the Pgid dynasty?¡±

    Angharad looked baffled.

    ¡°I did not know this,¡± the other woman said.

    ¡°Only she did not build it, not really,¡± Maryam borated. ¡°The work began two rectors earlier, under the early Archeleans, but it was only finished after she seized the throne so she named it after herself.¡±

    Angharad frowned in disapproval. The Izvorica almost patted herself on the back. Interesting history and an act that would tickle the Pereduri sense of honor? That ought to get her talking.

    ¡°There is no honor in iming the work of others,¡± she said. ¡°Though this Antheia rose against her liege lords and usurped her throne, so perhaps I should expect nothing more.¡±

    ¡°Mn has had rebellions against the Queen Perpetual,¡± Maryam pointed out.

    Goading, just a little. Not that itnded.

    ¡°Shameful things,¡± Angharad somberly agreed, ¡°and also ancient ones. Only when her reign was young and her honor not yet beyond doubt did such foolishness take ce.¡±

    The noblewoman hesitated.

    ¡°That I know of,¡± she added, reluctantly.

    Maryam hid her surprise. Considering that the vast majority of Mni learned their history through the isikole, even the nobles, it was widely suspected outside the Isles that their undying ruler allowed onto the record only the parts most ttering to her. That Angharad would even obliquely acknowledge such a possibility, though, was rather unexpected. Maryam suspected her uncle¡¯s hand at work, though she suspected Osian Tredegar would not need to do much.

    Angharad¡¯s own code would bind her to begin coaching hernguage like she had if she even suspected what she¡¯d been told might not be true, and that was a circle that closed itself. Doubt stated repeatedly grew, whether you liked it or not. It was not fundamentally unlike the way the practitioners of the Craft taught their ways to pupils, using thought-paths that incited the correct beliefs in the student without them ever being stated.

    ¡°History¡¯s a tricky thing,¡± Maryam said, offering an olive branch. ¡°Back home, all three peoples of the Triu agree that it was a bloody quarrel that saw us part ways but none of the stories agree on who exactly fought whom.¡±

    And honestypelled her to admit, atst inside her own mind, that her people¡¯s own version ¨C that the peaceful, virtuous Izvoric had settled furthest to avoid being dragged into the petty quarrels of the Toranjic and the Skrivenic ¨C was the least usible. The Toranjic probably had the truest telling, she figured, since they proudly boasted of having drawn des first.

    ¡°It is a matter of some debate among our schrs which parts of the Great Works are imagery and which are genuine chronicles,¡± Angharad said. ¡°Though I never had much of an appetite for those books, I¡¯ll admit. I found even the most exciting of them rather dry.¡±

    ¡°I liked the teaching stories passed down by the Ninefold Nine, but my father¡¯s attempts to have me learn the histories of Volcesta sunk into a swamp of disinterest,¡± Maryam admitted. ¡°I wish I had listened, now. Some of those tales might be lost forever.¡±

    Mood soured by the reminder ¨C both of the loss and of who she was sitting across from ¨C she looked away, staring at the closed window the same way Angharad had. Much had been lost but tonight she would get some of it back, she told herself. It was cleaning a wound on a corpse but still better than nothing.

    ¡°You are afraid.¡±

    Blue eyes swiveled back to the woman facing her.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Maryam coldly said.

    ¡°You have been bouncing your knee,¡± Angharad clinically said. ¡°They way you often do before you use Signs.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Twice you reached for the pocket where you keep your rake-rings,¡± the other woman informed her. ¡°Something is weighing on you, and that something has you afraid.¡±

    ¡°Nervous maybe,¡± Maryam grunted, full of ill grace but reluctant to lie outright. ¡°It¡¯s a signifying matter, anyway.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s lips twitched.

    ¡°Did that work with them?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°Saying that to Song and Tristan,¡± she borated. ¡°Putting them off with the technicalities of the act, as if those were the important part and not your reasons for it.¡±

    Maryam swallowed. Opened her mouth, then closed it. Her cheeks burned at the realization that she was simply too taken aback to think up a believable lie.

    ¡°I do not want to talk about it,¡± she said.

    ¡°Then why are we talking?¡± Angharad gently asked.

    Maryam¡¯s fingers clenched. She almost reached for her rings ¨C for the <em>third</em> time, apparently ¨C and had to swallow a curse.

    ¡°The ritual I will be doing,¡± she let slip. ¡°It has risks.¡±

    ¡°I was under the impression,¡± Angharad delicately said, ¡°that<em> all</em> signifying bears risks.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Maryam exploded out. ¡°Song has been on me about them, but she doesn¡¯t seem to understand that nothing about being a Navigator can be tidy. Not the way she likes things to be. The Akrre manage risk, they don¡¯t avoid it. It simply cannot be avoided.¡±

    Angharad opened her mouth but Maryam cut in before she could start.

    ¡°I know she does it out of concern,¡± she said. ¡°I know. But she¡¯s decided in her head that my doing this is somehow the same thing as fucking a king when already in bed with the Yellow Earth. Some decision made in the heat of the moment. It isn¡¯t, Angharad. This will <em>fix my signifying</em>.¡±

    The Pereduri started in surprise.

    ¡°Fully?¡± she asked.

    Maryam nodded.

    ¡°Maybe even improve it,¡± she said. ¡°Captain Yue was convinced it would improve my nav at least ¨C my sixth sense ¨C but she hadn¡¯t discovered the whole of it. I will, at least, retrieve a great many of my people¡¯s Gloam rites.¡±

    She grimaced.

    ¡°Tristan got it,¡± Maryamined. ¡°He trusts me to handle it.¡±

    ¡°He did not express concern?¡± Angharad asked.

    Brow creased. She was surprised. Maybe not without reason, considering her viper had been more nagging about her signifying than anyone else since they came to Asphodel.

    ¡°He made me promise not to be reckless,¡± Maryam conceded. ¡°But he trusted me to discern that on my own.¡±

    She looked at the Pereduri, whose lips were set in the fine line of someone who had something to say but was not sure she should say it.

    ¡°I know he¡¯s trying to guilt me into being careful by offering trust,¡± Maryam sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not a fool, Tredegar. And he¡¯s not that subtle, either, he¡¯s just good at running distractions.¡±

    ¡°Then it sounds as if you have a full grasp of the situation,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°I do.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°What is there to fear, then?¡± Angharad asked.

    Maryam narrowed her eyes at the Pereduri.

    ¡°You are being unusually slick,¡± she used.

    Angharad half-smiled.

    ¡°Happenstance,¡± she said. ¡°We might be standing on the edge of a different cliff, but I fancy I recognize the wind at your back. I feel it against mine.¡±

    Maryam folded her arms around her chest.

    ¡°Your mess with the Lefthand House,¡± she said.

    She hesitated a moment.

    ¡°I am surprised you would mention it to me.¡±

    It was one thing for Angharad to suspect Song would have told her of it, another to bring it up herself.

    ¡°Do you know,¡± Angharad chuckled, looking up at the ceiling, ¡°I think you might just be the person I can most easily trust in the Thirteenth, at the moment.¡±

    Ouch. It was a rare thing, feeling sorry for Tredegar.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want anything from me,¡± Angharad continued. ¡°And I do not think you truly want me gone, at least not enough to go out of your way to get me arrested.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not much to go on,¡± Maryam said.

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know about that,¡± Angharad murmured. ¡°Indifference is, I think, somewhat underrated. I havee to learn that even care can feel like a burden.¡±

    Maryam said nothing, for a moment, and silence stayed. But curiosity burned.

    ¡°Your uncle,¡± she finally asked, ¡°or Song?¡±

    ¡°Both, in different ways,¡± Angharad frankly replied. ¡°My uncle has put everything he is and has built on the line for me. I love him, of course, but I cannot help but remember we have spent more time together since leaving Port Azei than we did in all the years preceding.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t feel like you deserve it,¡± Maryam tried.

    ¡°I know I do not,¡± Angharad simply said. ¡°And I still used it to drag him into this wreckage, knowing that for love of my mother he would not refuse.¡±

    She stared down at her hands.

    ¡°It was not dishonorable,¡± the Pereduri muttered. ¡°There are even some who would praise me for the maneuver.¡±

    ¡°But,¡± Maryam said.

    ¡°But it was wrong,¡± Angharad said. ¡°I knew it<em> while</em> I was doing it, Maryam. That it was wrong. But I did it anyway, because I could tell myself that it did not breach honor. It followed the rules.¡±

    She clenched her fingers.

    ¡°And now Song, who it was so easy to be angry with, Song does it too,¡± Angharad bit out. ¡°Hands me rope already tied around her neck and tells me she trusts me not to hang her.¡±

    ¡°And it¡¯s a lovely thing to be trusted,¡± Maryam quietly said, ¡°but then you have to carry it.¡±

    ¡°<em>Yes</em>,¡± Angharad fervently said. ¡°Exactly. If I had done something to earn it, maybe, but I-¡±

    She bit her lip.

    ¡°I took every measure I could to keep the Thirteenth away from what I did,¡± Angharad said. ¡°But I cannot know, cannot promise, that nothing will reach you.¡±

    Maryam met her gaze straight.

    ¡°I will sell you out even if it¡¯s just to keep the slightest bit of mud off my shoes,¡± she honestly said. ¡°Know this.¡±

    To her mild horror, the words set Angharad Tredegar to<em> giggling</em>. And Maryam couldn¡¯t even be angry about it, because Angharad wasn¡¯t disbelieving her, or mocking her. It was just¡­ relief of sorts. Of a sort she could understand.

    ¡°It would be easier,¡± Angharad said after calming, ¡°if it were all like that. If I could move towards what I know needs to be done with¡­ clean breaks. But instead it all grows more tangled by the day.¡±

    She smiled bitterly.

    ¡°It is toote for clean breaks, I fear,¡± she said. ¡°Now no matter what I do someone ends up bleeding who isn¡¯t me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what a sacrifice is, Angharad,¡± Maryam told her. ¡°Children who begin to learn the Craft, they often tell themselves ¡®I would be different¡¯. If the gods offered me a bitter bargain, I would not bleed my brother on the altar for power. I would offer my own arm instead. Or this, or that.¡±

    She rolled her eyes.

    ¡°They miss the point,¡± Maryam said. ¡°It isn¡¯t a sacrifice if you are willing to give it. It has to bleed you, the trade. It has to <em>cost</em> you something, to stay with you, otherwise all you¡¯re offering is air. And why should you get anything for air?¡±

    Dark eyes studied her.

    ¡°And what will it cost you, your ritual?¡±

    Maryam almost refused to answer. Almost.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know who I¡¯ll be, when Ie out on the other side,¡± she quietly admitted. ¡°Some parts of me that are missing will be returned, but I will be inheriting¡­ more.¡±

    She breathed out.

    ¡°It may be I am still myself, after,¡± Maryam said. ¡°I expect I¡¯ll still <em>think</em> that, whatever happens. Or¡­¡±

    <em>Or tomorrow I could look at Song, at Tristan, and think of them as people I used to know, </em>she thought. <em>People who used to know me.</em>

    ¡°Perhaps our cliffs are not so different, after all,¡± Angharad murmured.

    Blue eyes turned to her.

    ¡°When this all began,¡± the noblewoman said, ¡°I told myself that to avenge my house I would go as far as I needed to. Then that to rescue my father I would pay any cost.¡±

    She scoffed.

    ¡°And now here I am on the edge of the cliff,¡± she said. ¡°Wondering how many lives I can ruin in the name of my own ruin ¨C my uncle, Song, Cleon, even Theofania! - before I be the man I am sworn to kill. Before I am to others what those butchers are to me.¡±

    She sucked in a breath.

    ¡°Before I find myself on the same end of the pistol he was that night, pulling that trigger,¡± Angharad said. ¡°It¡¯s what the Fisher wants from me, I think. To take the best of what my parents gave me and put it to the service of the worst in what I am.¡±

    The Pereduri looked at the floor.

    ¡°If I walk down that road, Maryam, does it end with some boy pulling a trigger at me to silence his own ghosts? An oath is an oath, but¡­¡±

    ¡°It matters, how you fulfill it,¡± Maryam quietly said.

    ¡°It does,¡± Angharad softly agreed. ¡°But then no one else can bnce those scales for us, can they?¡±

    Her stomach clenched.

    ¡°No,¡± Maryam said. ¡°Only us.¡±

    Silence kept thempany all the way to Antheia¡¯s Ring. The carriage came to a halt, the driver hammering at the wall twice to tell them to get off. They hesitated a moment, before Angharad offered her arm.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± Angharad said.

    Maryam sped it.

    ¡°And you,¡± she replied.

    And off they went, to find the truth of the weights on their scales.

    --

    Tristan¡¯s steps slowed as he approached the street corner.

    Not for need, for though Fidia Avenue ¨C whichy right ahead - was thick with people it was broad enough he could easily have slipped into the crowd. No, it was fear that slowed him. The knowledge that once he reached the corner he would be exactly at the halfway point. The crossroads.

    Down Fidia Avenue led to the southwestern district and the Neenth¡¯s safehouse. Up it led onto the Three Dia Roads where one could catch one of the many carriages that might take him to Fort Archelean and the pce above it. He reached for the watch tucked away in his pocket, as much for the excuse to dy as because he wanted the time. Three thirty-three, he saw, and he traced the paths in his mind.

    On foot ¨C and a carriage was a trail he could not risk - it¡¯d take him the better part of an hour to get to the safehouse. When he was there he would still need to set up, to kill them, to rid himself of the evidence and prepare the bodies to be ¡®found¡¯ at ater point. If he got lucky finding a carriage afterwards, got lucky with the roads and the lictors gave him little trouble, he could make it in time to catch Maryam before she began her ritual.

    Assuming nothing went wrong and she did not start early and he did not end up a battered prisoner of the Neenth Brigade instead of their murderer.

    If he went straight for the pce¡­ He had coin and a pack containing a regr¡¯s uniform. He could change into it when on the carriage and expect wearing the ck to help him cut through some of the lines that would be forming around Fort Archelean. Odds were very good he¡¯d catch up to Maryam before she went up to the private archives, or at least before she was done setting up, and then¡­ Assuming she allowed herself to be talked out of something she badly wanted to do, that she had <em>lied</em> to him about- teeth clenched. Assuming that, and that it was done within an hour, if he hurried back down to the safehouse¡­

    It might be easier to go down than up, he figured. But that would not make the carriages clogging the streets around Fort Archelean disappear, meaning he¡¯d have to leave on foot and probably make his way to the edge of the Collegium before he could catch a ride to bring him south. No matter how he weighed the numbers, it was too long. The Neenth would be finished with their ritual, with whatever they were scheming.

    Going for them by then might well be serving himself up on a tter.

    Three thirty-five, the watch in his hand read. Vanesa¡¯s watch. A match to the pistol under his coat, Yong¡¯s old piece abandoned and returned to his hand by Maryam along with a warning about the nature of choices. <em>She lied</em>, he reminded himself. <em>To my face, barely an hour ago. </em>And even if she was not in her right mind Maryam was not a fool. She would not attempt the ritual if she did not believe it would work. How much did he owe, when it came down to it? On the table before him he saw only two maybes, neither all that better than the other.

    His hand tightened around the bronze watch, fingers paling at the knuckles. All of them.

    ¡°You should take your chances.¡±

    He did not turn. Fortuna¡¯s back was pressed against his, and for all that she should be facing the street behind them her words had been as clear as if she had whispered them in his ear.

    ¡°You always say that,¡± Tristan replied.

    ¡°And it always works out for us,¡± Fortuna said.

    ¡°Because I pick my gambles,¡± the thief said. ¡°Roll the dice only on what I can afford to lose. I don¡¯t know if¡­¡±

    If Maryam was something he could afford to lose, he did not quite dare finish. Because the rat in him knew better. It did not matter how much you cared about someone: any rope was a noose if you allowed it around your neck. And Abu, she had taught him better too. You couldn¡¯t catch a ghost, couldn¡¯t kill it. But that shelter demanded you lived like one ¨C passed through the world traceless. And what had Hage to say about it? Little, he thought. The old devil¡¯s warning was about the bnce of necessity, not anything like this.

    Three thirty-six. Hesitation was burning the wick, every wasted breath a closing door.

    ¡°This is unlike you,¡± the Lady of Long Odds said. ¡°Even when you make the wrong decisions, you still make them.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s<em> like</em> me anymore,¡± Tristan murmured, leaning his head back into hers. ¡°I am a long way from the Murk, now. The rules aren¡¯t the same.¡±

    He kept being handed priceless things. Trust and affection and help, just¡­ dropped onto hisp. As if it were nothing. And maybe that was the trap, that theck of strings was a string itself. But even for him that felt a line too far, to call s<em>incerity</em> a ploy. It wouldn¡¯t be easy, to make that choice. To go to Maryam from the start. But it¡¯d feel good, he thought. Even if he ended up regretting it, it wouldn¡¯t be the bitter kind of regret.

    But oh, that was the song of the fat and the safe. Of the well-fed rat with a hole in therder, forgetting it was not and never would be a guest. There was no such thing as a happy regret, because if you made mistakes you did not live to regret them. He owed Maryam, and debts must be paid. But survival was the only debtor that could not be bargained with, and how long was he going to keep breathing if he just kept just¡­ pardoning his enemies, like some infanzon making a show of mercy.

    Tristan Abrascal was not an untouchable prince living behind the walls of the Orchard. He was down here, where the animals ate, and he was already being hunted. Song thought that proof and reports and the rules of the Watch would settle this, but he knew better. The Obscure Committee was already aware there was a bounty on his head and their only answer had been silence. Abu had promised that he would only have to deal with students, but whatever deal had been struck the Ivory Library cared not to uphold it.

    There had been three of them in the delegation, <em>three</em>, and the only one that was truly out of this game was the one Tristan had killed himself. A signed confession, house arrest ¨C those only mattered if they made it out of Tratheke. If more officers above them cared for the truth than whatever the Ivory Library would offer to keep this whole affair quiet. So long as the Neenth were out in the streets, Tristan was one moment of inattention away from being snatched.

    Izel Coyac had done him a favor, once, at his own risk. He could have the antidote. The rest were <em>enemies</em>. And by what right should he be asked to gamble his own life for the principles of others? Principles that did not seem to matter so much, either, when they were put to the test.

    ¡°You used our contract more, when you were younger,¡± Fortuna said.

    ¡°I needed it more,¡± he replied. ¡°It filled the gap where skill had yet to grow.¡±

    ¡°Not just that,¡± she said. ¡°You used to enjoy it, flipping the coin. Taking the risk.¡±

    ¡°That was desperation, Fortuna,¡± Tristan said. ¡°It was the coin or an empty belly.¡±

    Sheughed.

    ¡°And you¡¯ll tell me you never enjoyed it, pulling on the string that unravels the impossible into the possible? That unseen upset, the long odds brought home.¡±

    His jaw clenched.

    ¡°It is easier to bet everything you have,¡± he said, ¡°when you have little.¡±

    ¡°Do you?¡± Fortuna asked.

    He frowned.

    ¡°I don¡¯t follow.¡±

    ¡°Do you have anything at all, Tristan Abrascal?¡± she asked.

    And he turned, but she was gone. Not that she had ever been there.

    Three thirty-nine, the watch read. <em>Do you have anything at all</em>, he repeated. What kind of a riddle was that? He tried to pry open the sense, but it was senseless. There were costs to either decision, it was the very reason he wrestled with it. Should he head to the safehouse he was risking that Maryam- oh. <em>Oh</em>.

    ¡°If I am willing to wager us,¡± Tristan quietly said, ¡°how much can ¡®us¡¯ truly be worth? That¡¯s your meaning.¡±

    The goddess did not reply, not even by the faintest of touches. She had said all she would. He looked down at the watch again, the fingers holding it. Maryam would have two phnges missing until the day she died, because she had bet on saving his life. It had cost her, that bet.

    And it was the reason he was alive.

    Tristan put away Vanesa¡¯s watch. Maybe it was time to-

    ¡°- see that!¡±

    Amotion on the avenue. Frowning, the thief stepped out of the alley. Dozens had stopped milling about and were pointing south at the horizon. Or, more specifically, at the massive column of smoke that could be seen there.

    ¡°The Lordsport, mark my words,¡± he heard a man say. ¡°What else is there to burn down south?¡±

    And he felt it then. The animal inside, rearing its head up. Reaching around as Tristan¡¯s mind raced down the tracks, piecing the details together. And that scared wild thing, it found out the same thing he did.

    They were in a grave again.

    Cordyles ships had pursued a merchant ship, the one carrying Song¡¯s letter, when going around the east of the ind. Greed made for a simple motive, but that still left the question of why the ships had been there in the first ce. Triton Cordyles¡¯ privateers could not trouble merchants too much without the Lord Rectoring down on them. Their piracy was practiced away from Asphodel, against the ships of Rasen and other ind-states. The answer was: they were sailing to the Lordsport. Why were they sailing to the Lordsport?

    To seize it.

    He and Song and Maryam and Angharad, they had been fools. They¡¯d known, <em>known</em> that the cult of the Odyssean was lying to both coups. That it wanted them to fail, to devolve into civil war.

    Why would they then believe the timeline given by either coup as to when they would strike?

    Tonight, gods, it was tonight. The magnates and the ministers, the whole violent mess. It was erupting right now, with noble ships making a y for the Lordsport ¨C a lifeline that the Trade Assembly could not ignore, the bottleneck through which all their wealth passed through. They would <em>have</em> to rebel, or they would be choked out.

    Tristan closed his eyes, the sounds of the uneasy crowd washing over him. Past him. The moving parts, how would they move? The magnates would go for Fort Archelean. The nobles would go for the pce ¨C and it might well be that the concert and banquet were an excuse to get the right people inside. Maryam and Angharad, assuming they were already in the pce, were now stuck in there. Only the lifts let people in or out and the fortmanding ess to them was soon to be under attack by rebels.

    Maryam and Angharad would be in the middle of the coup. A woman with hollow¡¯s coloring and a Watch cloak in the middle of a cult¡¯s bloody y for power,<em> fuck</em>. And Angharad was up to her neck in the conspiracy, but at least some of the nobles knew she was Watch. If she was outed in the middle of the coup, they might well put a bullet in her skull just to be safe.

    Song? Song would be on her way to the Yellow Earth¡¯s trap, and even if she managed not to get grabbed as a hostage by the Tianxi it¡¯d be impossible to find her unless she let herself be found. And since the capital was hours at most from utter chaos, she might well be stuck out in the northeastern ward for the rest of this entire fucking mess. ck House? No, he couldn¡¯t risk that. Everybody would keep an eye on ck House. Neither coup would tolerate the Watch getting involved, much less the cult.

    He was alone. There would be no reinforcements. And his hunters, his enemies, were waiting in their safehouse with their sharp knives and their aether machine. They would notice, sooner orter, and while the rat had thought of the chaos as an opportunity for him it was just the same for <em>them</em>. Tristan Abrascal was always underfoot, wasn¡¯t he? It wouldn¡¯t be that suspicious if he went missing during a coup. He could see it, the outline of the way out for the Neenth and their coborators.

    Song¡¯s ties to the Yellow Earth would disgrace her. Angharad was dancing oddly around the matter of the infernal forge and Maryam had no strong backer. If the signed confession went missing during the chaos, if the investigator had an ident, that left only Brigadier Chca. A demonstrably corrupt man who¡¯d been dying doing anything about the Ivory Library even when given proof. The traitors had a way out of their own grave, if they were ruthless enough.

    And some of them were.

    How to make it fit? How to do anything without that knife at this back? <em>Take stock</em>, he ordered himself. <em>Organize. Match the means and the ends, the oue to the tools.</em> And yet no matter how he shuffled it around, how he assembled it, there was only one path to a tolerable oue. One manner of eptable risk. His hand was empty, but when his fingers clenched he almost thought he could feel the coolness of a tile. There was no way through this without breaking something.

    Tristan Abrascal opened his eyes, breathed out, and began walking down Fidia Avenue.

 Chapter 70

    Four twenty-seven. Tristan closed the brass face of the watch.

    It was easy, that was the worst part. Tristan had always hated the way some philosophers wept at the difficulty of taking a life. Killing was easy, if you did it right, and often cheap. Death was nothing special: thousands died every day in the most mundane of ways without there being a plot afoot. Gods, a man could die eating soup if they were careless about it. Existence was a candle in the wind and the act of killing was nothing special, often no moreplicated or demanding than hammering a nail.

    Even those who wrote such words thinking of the moral implications, the scars on the soul¡­ Had there ever been a time where mankind did not make a trade of soldiering? If you lined up men on a field and told them to thrust a spear or to pull a trigger, that they would get paid for it, most would do it. The sacred existence of one¡¯s fellows did not weigh as much as the poets thought, when on the other side of the scales was the need to pay the rent.

    No, it wasn¡¯t hard to kill. It was easy, so fucking easy sometimes, and that was what made it dangerous because once you¡¯d hammered in that first nail you started looking around and wonder what else in your life could be held up by judicious application of a hammer blow. And there was<em></em>always <em>something</em>, wasn¡¯t there? A nail. A score to settle, a loose end to tie up.

    The Neenth Brigade was a little of both.

    Tristan had spent days putting together their death, back before he tripped headfirst into his stint as a hostage. Multiple identical deaths, that was the trick he¡¯d figured out. Tozi¡¯s contract told her the most likely reason for her death over the following three hours and in a sense the perception was absolute: indirect means did not fool it, nor could it be gotten around by killing her in her sleep when she was not conscious to perceive.

    Trying would wake her, as Tristan¡¯s first attempt had proved.

    What wasn¡¯t absolute was that the contract could only warn her about one threat at a time and the details she got about her death were somewhat limited. That was the gap Tristan had realized he could slip through: multiple instances of the same poison. In the water, in the meal, in her gloves. Tozi Poloko¡¯s contract was absolute but it was not <em>precise</em>. It¡¯d warn her of arsenic, but it wouldn¡¯t be able to warn her about all the different arsenics.

    Not that Tristan would be caught dead using arsenic, anyway. The infamous inheritance powder could pass for a bad case of cholera, but the entire Neenth Brigade developing a sudden mortal bout of that disease right after sharing a supper would perhaps strain credulity a bit when the bodies were found. Hetun venom was a sure and quick killer, but also very expensive, so if he was to kill with an extract he preferred hemlock. Slower than venom but quieter, and easy to obtain on every shore of the Trebian Sea.The supplies he slipped into the wreck besides the safehouse to check on reflected as much. It had been too risky to bring the entire poison box he bought from Hage, so he had stolen a waxed leather bag and stashed it under a broken nk away from the hole in the roof.

    It had been days, however, so despite having been careful he learned while taking stock that there had been some decay.

    First, the y pots. Of the two <em>feng chen pao </em>pots he had obtained from ck House stocks only one was still fit for use, the other¡¯s wick havinge loose, and given the delicateposition of the interior he did not dare to try and put it back in. He set the dud aside, then checked on the apanying matches and found the packet untouched. That part would still work.

    There were two small bags, one of cloth and the other leather. Thetter he dismissed, but checked on the powder within the former ¨C which was untouched, fortunately, not even humid. He checked the seal on the four vials next: two of a brown and viscous distite, the third of thick concoction of hemlock slow to dry. The fourth, an oily translucent thing worth its weight in gold, had not developed impurities and thus the six doses were still fine for use.

    He slipped on his gloves and reached for the head-sized jug next, opening the cork and wincing at what he saw inside. The emulsion had creamed. He had to sacrifice one of his three lighting sticks ¨C slender lengths of wood treated to catch fire easily - to blend it back together by energetic stirring, and even then the result was not as even as it should be. Still, it should be fit for purpose.

    After that were left only the knick-knacks: fine string on a spool, a small paintbrush, a wooden bowl, a pot of adhesive salve and a small iron container full of a particr medicinal balm. All were still in usable state.

    He had the necessary tools for the desired oue.

    Tristan began by opening the vial of hemlock concoction, coating his knife in it before sliding it back in the sheath to keep. Now came thest and trickiest part of the preparation.

    First he poured the hemlock vial in the small wooden bowl, then he emptied the small leather bag on the floor and in doing so upended about three dozen sharp iron caltrops. Furrowing his brow in concentration, Tristan began methodically dipping their points in the hemlock before putting them back away. His gloves were not so thick a fumble might not get through and prick him with poison, those particr caltrops having been made with piercing boots in mind.

    When he was done he put away the bag of poisoned caltrops into the greater sack, emptied thest of the concoction in the corner of the room and set the bowl down face against the floor. Taking the gloves off, he checked Vanesa¡¯s watch.

    Four thirty-nine. Seconds slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

    Tristan took to the roof of the ruin and crossed to the safehouse¡¯s, boots silent on the tiles. It had taken him several evenings to make his way into the Neenth¡¯s hideaway, and <em>make </em>was the correct word. He could not use the chimney to get inside again when they were sure to be near its mouth, but when he first walked the house he had noticed that they used only one of the two rooms on the second level as a bedroom. Despite there being four of them, the second bore only a chamber pot.

    Why? Because part of the roof had caved in and let the rain through, even though it was not visible from the outside because the tiles still held. So all Tristan needed to do to have a way inside the house was to pry enough of those tiles loose he would be able to remove them and slip in when the time came. The only part of any difficulty in that process had been making sure that the tiles he pried loose stayed in ce, else the Neenth would <em>know</em> there was a path in and prepare ordingly.

    The thief knelt on the roof and quietly removed a single tile, looking into the room below and finding it empty. A promising start.

    As was the absolute racket he could hear being made on the first floor. His lips thinned, for that made things almost suspicious easy ¨C the sound of a hammer on brass was loud enough even a drunken bear could have snuck into that house. He still forced himself to be patient, waiting until he was certain nobody was on the second floor, then he finished removing the tiles. After that came the first defensive measure.

    Gloves still on, he spread the caltrops along the edge of the roof. Where someone trying to climb it might grip, blindly because of the angles involved.

    Ten heartbeatster he was inside the chamber pot room, havingnded with cat¡¯s grace. He pricked his ear for any rm, but there was none. He could hear Captain Tozi and Izel shouting about something, interrupted asionally by someone hammering into brass.

    The door was open so Tristan slipped into the hall. The door to the other room was open as well, and his brow rose at what he saw. Whatever they were doing with the machinery below, it had seen them move all their affairs here - packs, rations and even the two water barrels. Near everything they might put on or imbibe just¡­ served up to him, just like that. It was almost hatefully easy to nt their deaths.

    First the ending, two of the three vials remaining emptied while thest was tucked away safely inside his uniform. The small iron container of balm joined it. Then he set the powder bag over the door, held up with the string that was kept in ce by the adhesive paste. The y pot went on the floor by the door, the lightstick besides it and the matches he kept on him. He took the jug and paintbrush, approaching the stairs careful not to make the wooden floor creak.

    The oil was spread liberally, until the jug was empty, and he made sure it covered the entire area with the paintbrush before putting both jug and brush away in the hall. Everything was ready now, he thought, and though he itched to check his watch instead he stayed near the top of stairs with his hand on his loaded pistol. Crouched, cold-eyed, to eavesdrop on the brigade below.

    Now all that he needed was a lever to make them move as he wished, and he suspected he was about to have it handed to him by the very obstacle he had crafted this method around.

    ¡°- we will need to burn the entire stock,¡± Izel Coyac was saying, tone stern. ¡°The remnant was fed with the deaths of half the priesthood of the street gods in this city, never mind the one-shrine deities. If we skimp on the fuel I cannot guarantee-"

    ¡°Tozi, just let him burn the damn culm,¡± Kiran Agrawal groused. ¡°We¡¯re going to be swimming in Library gold soon anyway, now¡¯s not the time to get cheap.¡±

    ¡°<em>If </em>thepass works,¡± Cressida noted.

    She sounded further away from the others, perhaps near the shutters.

    ¡°It will work,¡± Izel said. ¡°The remnant god was capable of finding multiple individuals across the city even through the local aether conditions. A shard of it and Abrascal¡¯s hair will make at least as effective a wayfinder as the roselesspass I dissected back on Tolomontera.¡±

    Tristan breathed out. Disappointment, however faint? He truly was getting soft. Izel Coyac had taken a risk on his behalf, once, but that was no promise to forever stick his neck out. That he¡¯d been right about the risks of leaving the Neenth unattended, that Song had been wrong, left a sickly feeling of satisfaction in his stomach.

    He¡¯d heard enough. <em>Fool</em>, Tristan told himself, hand reaching for Vanesa¡¯s watch. <em>Fool</em>. And he was losing focus: they were not moving, how could this be remedied? He looked back, finding a silent Fortuna staring back from the end of the hallway, and gritted his teeth. Tristan had no need of reminders.

    He had chosen his road.

    ¡°Stop.¡±

    Tristan froze when he heard Tozi Poloko¡¯s stern voice. Despite the shiver of fear, it was not him she was addressing.

    ¡°What is it, captain?¡± Kiran asked.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s in here,¡± Tozi said. ¡°My death just changed to hemlock.¡±

    Ah. Quicker than expected, but that would do. It was toote to change his mind now. The deeds were done. They would settle their debts tonight, one and all, and have no one to me but themselves. How had ria put it again?

    <em>Watch the dice roll and tumble</em>

    <em>To yield of glee and grumbles</em>

    <em>And if every god we do condemn</em>

    <em>Why never the hand that threw them?</em>

    --

    Maryam would have to begin the ritual early, that much was increasingly clear.

    Last night it had begun at six thirty-six of the evening and mirroring this would empower her the most, but the signifier could feel the patience of her hosts was being stretched to a breaking point. Honestypelled her to admit that she could understand why. She was, after all, making an Izvoric shrine of the Lord Rector¡¯s restricted archives and the process could not be called anything but messy. It must be particrly galling to someone used to the clean, almost simple ways of the Orthodoxy.

    From Maryam¡¯s readings into those practices, themon thread that held despite all the schisms and squabbles of the Orthodoxy was the ¡®pale threshold¡¯. A line of pale stone or some other material painted white marking the transition between the rest of the world and the temple grounds, an implicit invocation of the power of the re.

    A handful of unified practices like that were, in her opinion, why the Orthodoxy had endured the fall of the Second Empire and continued to thrive in its sessor states. You could walk into any temple from Old Liergan to the Destion and be able to expect some level of uniformity in the services andforts provided by the priests within.

    The Izvoric had never been so unified, much less the Triu as a whole. While the three peoples making up the Triu kept torgely the same gods regarding shared overarching domains like fertility, death and seasons everything beyond that was up for grabs. It was said every city-state in the hignds had its own war god, and the Izvoric londs had not been <em>that</em> different.

    Volcesta¡¯s ownnd god, the Hornhead, did not have a single temple outside the city and received more worship from the season festivals than his temple. Not that temples back home were the same sprawling affairs as here in Aurager. To the Triu as a whole, but the Izvoric most of all, the hallowed was found out in the wilds. In ces where men and gods could glimpse at the truth of each other, where the worlds seen and unseen bent to touch.

    Yet there were some ways to mark sacred grounds, if only to warn travelers off entering sacred groves and be devoured by the guardians within. It would not be enough to turn the private archives of House Palliades into a true Izvoric consecratednd, but it would¡­ lean the world the right way, so to speak. Or so Maryam hoped.

    ¡°Is that one all right, Maryam?¡±

    Roxane peered up with those big brown eyes, looking worried, and Maryam fought the urge to ruffle her hair. While the robes the girl of nine wore were still toorge, someone had since theirst encounter found the decency to rustle up a few pins to stick the folded sleeves into ce. The signifier knelt, looking down at the chalk outline iming to be a snake. It was, she conceded, broadly the right shape.

    ¡°Is that a tongue?¡± she asked.

    Roxane nodded happily.

    ¡°It¡¯s forked, see!¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Maryam lied. ¡°Well done. I need to touch up a few things here, but why don¡¯t you add a few bees by the lectern over there?¡±

    Roxane happily toddled off, the signifier waiting until she was out of sight to wipe the ¡®snake¡¯ and draw another one with her own piece of chalk. Roxane could do the bees well enough, but the snakes had her getting ¡®inventive¡¯ and that was best avoided. Maryam was going to double-check all the work anyway but it would be less trouble to keep her on bee duty for the rest.

    They were nearly done anyhow, the blue-eyed woman thought. Painting the pattern in her mind¡¯s eye, she saw only one more spot needed to close the circle of snakes going around the edge of the central enclosure of the private archives. None of the six pentagonal adjoining chambers would be of use to her tonight, all the efforts concentrated around the squat tower in the heart of the archives, the very same that sat right over the only lift in or out.

    A circle of snakes for the underworld, within it a circle of bees for thend of the living and in the middle of it all the Threefold Crowns ¨C Spring, Summer and Autumn. The empty space at the heart of the three was left without name or prayer, for Mother Winter made her own seat and to invite her in was to grant her greater im yet. Maryam finished up thest snake and rose, dusting off her hands.

    Waiting for her mere feet away, hands folded behind his back and his livery as pristine as was physically possible, Majordomo Timon shed her a polite smile. He had soft cheeks and the look of a man who had never known violence, the majordomo, but he was so well groomed it lent him a sort of severity. ordign to Roxane since Prefect Nestor¡¯s death his already considerable influence in the pce had risen to new heights.

    Nestor¡¯s recement was not anywhere as seasoned or popr, while Timon had been around the pce so long he was considered as much a part of it as the walls.

    ¡°Warrant Officer Khaimov,¡± he said, sketching a shallow bow.

    ¡°Majordomo Timon,¡± she politely replied. ¡°What might I do for you?¡±

    She kept her nervousness off her face. So far there had been no sign the Lord Rector was aware she was lying through her teeth about this ritual being necessary to ¡®purge¡¯ the ¡®aether ripples¡¯ caused by the assassin¡¯s entry into the pce, but there was always a risk. Song had tacitly allowed her to go on with this by keeping her mouth shut, but her captain would not lie to shield her from consequences that Maryam had insisted on chasing.

    ¡°Ie only to inform you that guards will have to be left at the bottom of the lift,¡± he told her. ¡°Lord Rector Palliades¡¯ attendance to the concert in the great hall is a known matter, we cannot risk the possibility that another assassin will try to slip through.¡±

    Maryam bit down on grimace. Guards meant people might overhear what she was doing up here, but somehow she doubted the majordomo would care for that objection. Her gaze turned to the wooden tower, teeth worrying at her lip. The room at the bottom of the lift was essentially a double of the central enclosure they currently stood in without any of the adjoining chambers attached, decorated as a salon of sorts - though as far as Maryam could tell no one ever used it.

    The problem was that sound might carry down to there, and her¡­ punishing the thief might be somewhat loud and afterwards difficult to exin. Purification rituals did not usually sound like brawls to evenymen¡¯s ears. Fortunately, she had a counteroffer in mind.

    ¡°Would it be possible for them to seal and guard the outer door instead?¡± she asked. ¡°It is the only way out, as far as I know.¡±

    The majordomo did not smile.

    ¡°It is an additional risk,¡± he said. ¡°Do you believe their presence would hamper your ritual?¡±N?v(el)B\\jnn

    He had sharp eyes, this white-haired old man. One did notst as long in his post as he had without having a fine nose for lies.

    ¡°A more seasoned signifier would not have that problem,¡± Maryam self-deprecatingly said. ¡°But I fear even a small distraction could¡­ cascade into consequence, so to speak.¡±

    The grimace adorning that second sentence was not feigned in the least. Risk of being caught out aside, Maryam was genuinely concerned what would happen if one of those guards got it into their heads to get involved. Would they be part of the prize fought over, or another contender in the death match? She had no idea and that worried her. The majordomo hummed.

    ¡°I am no schr in matters Akrre,¡± Majordomo Timon said, ¡°but the markings you had drawn do not resemble what little I have seen of Signs.¡±

    ¡°They are not,¡± Maryam confirmed. ¡°They rely on the lore of the Triu, the people of my birth.¡±

    A curl of distaste to the man¡¯s lips, gone so quick she thought she might have imagined it. She knew better.

    ¡°I would not want to put either you or our soldiers at risk,¡± he conceded. ¡°I can allow keeping the guards outside, though I will double the numbers to twenty lictors and have both sides of the hall barricaded.¡±

    Her brow rose. A surplus of precaution, to her eye, but then it¡¯d hardly been a month since an assassin nearly killed Evander Palliades in his own hallway. Evidently the majordomo was disinclined to allow for even the slim chance of a repeat.

    ¡°How long do you expect this ritual to take?¡±

    ¡°If there are noplications, perhaps an hour,¡± Maryam said.

    She paused.

    ¡°Should it take more than three, something will have gone catastrophically wrong.¡±

    And she would likely be dead. Hooks would not tire as she did, being half a creature of the aether. Maryam would either win quickly or she would be devoured bite by bite. <em>But win I will. I chose the fight, built the altar, fetched themb. The night is mine to lose.</em>

    ¡°Then you have your three hours,¡± Majordomo Timon said. ¡°Pray use them wisely, officer. It is the Lord Rector¡¯s intention to hire a signifier to inspect your work afterwards.¡±

    Maryam woodenly smiled. Well, best hope they would soon be done with the contract and off this ind. Any Akrre journeyman would be able to tell she was full of shit by a casual look at her report.

    ¡°Duly noted,¡± she said, maintain a veneer of confidence. ¡°Was there anything else, majordomo?¡±

    ¡°That will be all, Officer Khaimov,¡± the old man said. ¡°As you were.¡±

    He bowed again and left. Maryam watched his retreating back, biting at the inside of her cheek. He was not in the wrong here, she forced herself to admit. The Izvorica was abusing trust she had been extended by the throne of Asphodel for her own advantage, and ckcloak or not were she not a cabalist under Song Ren she expected her actions would be watched much more closely.

    Even Timon¡¯s distaste for her relying on Craft instead of Signs for her ritual was not without foundation. The maniption of Gloam ¨C or even Signs, for that matter ¨C was not the sole province of the Watch, and there were such practitioners in every nation across Vesper. The reason that crowns still hired Akrre guildsmen despite their high rates was that Navigators were <em>reliable</em>.

    That their Signs almost never went catastrophically wrong, that they had turned a thousand witch-arts into a genuine discipline. Hedge witches could do things that signifiers could not, sometimes. Even those with little training. But they often drove themselves mad doing it, or everyone around them.

    Maryam¡¯s ritual was not one that could easily cost anyone but her, but it <em>was</em> possible. Much of this was, if not exactly made from scratch, then improvised from a base pattern. So she swallowed her anger as he watched him disappear into the tower, for the truth of the matter was that she was the viin of this tale. For what she had done, and for what she was about to do. Her stomach clenched. It was necessary, Maryam reminded herself. She knew the weight of her scales.

    ¡°Done!¡±

    She was jolted out of her thoughts by a beaming Roxane, who had somehow managed to get chalk powder all the way up to her shoulder. Maryam pressed a smile onto her face.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, patting the girl¡¯s back. ¡°Thest part I need to do myself.¡±

    Roxane pouted.

    ¡°I could stay and help,¡± she offered, then pitched her voice low. ¡°Are you going to defeat an evil spirit? That¡¯s what this is all about, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Maryam snorted.

    ¡°I am,¡± she said.

    Roxane sagely nodded, as if her deeply held suspicions had only been confirmed.

    ¡°I could tell,¡± the girl said. ¡°What did it do, anyway?¡±

    Maryam started.

    ¡°Do?¡±

    ¡°To be evil,¡± Roxane borated. ¡°Did it kill someone? I bet it killed someone.¡±

    Part of Maryam wondered if she should be worried about how enthusiastic the girl sounded at the prospect. The rest was¡­ her belly clenched again.

    ¡°It was always evil,¡± Maryam exined.

    The girl frowned.

    ¡°That can¡¯t be right,¡± she said. ¡°Oduromai says it¡¯s our choices that make us, virtuous and wicked. You can¡¯t be bad from the start, it wouldn¡¯t be fair.¡±

    ¡°I do not follow your god Oduromai,¡± Maryam told her.

    ¡°Oh,¡± the girl muttered. ¡°One of your gods says people are born evil, then?¡±

    Maryam swallowed, mouth suddenly gone dry.

    ¡°We can talkter,¡± Maryam said, lightly pushing Roxane forward. ¡°I need to begin now, so you have to go.¡±

    The little archivist did not argue further. In a matter of minutes the private archives were empty of thest lingerers, not that there had been many up here in the first ce: a pair of lictors and a senior archivist too important to draw with chalk, having promptly handed over the task to Roxane.

    Maryam stood alone in silence, clenching her fist. The wood of her prosthetic scratched unpleasantly at the skin. What time was it now? Not long past six, it should be. Part of her was tempted to wait until the mirrored time, but she was wary of sparing the minutes. The majordomo had made it clear the pce¡¯s tolerance for her incursions was thinning.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Forward, she chided herself. No time to hesitate.

    She dimmed all thenterns but three then checked the room downstairs was empty by peeking down the lift shaft. It was, at least to the extent that she could see nothing moving in the dark down there. Maryam made onest round, checking on the circles, but it was all fine enough to work. She returned to the roof of the tower, chalk in hand, and traced thest of it.

    The faces of the Threefold Crowns, looking outwards. The triangle nestled within them, left empty. Maryam slowly drew the knife at her belt.

    <em>One of your gods says people are born evil, then?</em>

    She gritted her teeth. A childish question, there was no reason it should shake her so. What did Roxane know of the world beyond the safe confines of this cage? Nothing. Even in the hardest moments of her life she would have a roof over her head, food in her belly, the protection of living within the walls of a king¡¯s house.

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be fair, huh,¡± Maryam quietly said.

    What had fair ever ruled the roost? Fair was what you told the world it was, when you had the power to make it stick.

    Better the cannibal than the meal.

    Maryam Khaimov raised her hand, knife glinting, andid the sharpness against her palm. She breathed out and- the air shivered, her nav suddenly as a kite in the wind. She pulled it closed, cradled it, and Hooks didn¡¯t even fight her. It passed after a moment, but Maryam eyed her surroundings warily. It had not been from here, but there had been a¡­ current in the aether, like a sudden waterspout.

    She might well be the only person in the entire pce who felt it. The rest of the pce grounds were kept cid in the aether by the same Antediluvian works as down in the shipyard, while only this very room ¨C the cork on the Hated One¡¯s prison ¨C was packed so thick with faith to Oduromai the aether was nearly solid to the taste. Tremors could still be felt in that stone, though, unlike everywhere else.

    Maryam waited a long moment, but nothing more happened. The local aether was infamously unstable, she reminded herself. Likely it was only an unusuallyrge swell. Well, it wasn¡¯t her problem whatever happened downstairs.

    Steel cut into flesh and blood flowed: it began.

    --

    Drinks and mingling had begun at a quarter past five when guests began to arrive, which meant Angharad had been sipping at the same cup of wine for the better part of an hour now.

    She had smiled and traded courtesies through the first half hour, wondering when the lictors would being in and where the infernal forge would be right now. Uncle Osian had passed her the note just before he left, one she was careful to burn. The help she had woken Imani Langa in the middle of the night to arrange hade through, spiriting away the forge towards the Lordsport where the ship her uncle had arranged for would stow it away. Osian had been vague on how he had been able to get into Lord Menander¡¯s vault from the sewers, besides mentioning it had been hard but quiet work.

    That andpliments for the precision of the map Maryam had drawn them.

    After that first distracted stretch, however, the concert began and Angharad¡¯s curiosity for the timing of the lictors became a fervent prayer: the singing was a<em> torment.</em>

    Subjectively so, of course, but there was only so long she could stomach listening to an oily-bearded mountain man belting out wobbling tune before developing a desire to gnaw her own ears off. Some of the songs, at least, alternated between the verse being sung by the singer and by a chorus. Sadly, most did not. Where were the gourds, the string instruments, the dancing? Everyone was just¡­ standing there, having this concert inflicted upon them.

    Was this like the hollow cults that whipped themselves to be ¡®holier¡¯? Surely the whipping would be preferable, for it would be done with soon instead of stretched out by some sadist hand. Most baffling of all was that most in the room seemed not only impressed but outright <em>enthusiastic </em>about this ghastly disy. Angharad traded a horrified look with Lord Gule, who was standing mere feet to her left. The man might be a grasping cultist in the service of a death spirit but at least remained an ind of good sense regarding this matter.

    The bearded man on the dais howled onest line in Cydic, then let blessed silence reign in the room for a moment before the crowd exploded into a storm of apuse. A polite cough into a hand brought Angharad back to another situation she was hoping a round of arrests might get her out of.

    ¡°A fine rendition of a traditional western song,¡± Cleon Eirenos said. ¡°Did you enjoy it?¡±

    ¡°Traditional? I had never heard of it before,¡± Angharad precisely replied. ¡°Western Asphodel, you say?¡±

    ¡°The west is the bedrock of music on the isle,¡± Lord Cleon told her, picking at the sleeve of his wine-red doublet. ¡°Most of our finest songsmiths were westermen.¡±

    Angharad politely smiled, which had him looking soulfully at her ¨C not unlike a kicked dog. Cleon¡¯s manners had made it clear that he considered any potential suit between them ended, but his courtesies and conversation betrayed he still held an interest. Not that he struck as the sort of man to try for a mistress, Angharad thought, but rather his fondness for her was leading him to renew an acquaintance they would both have been better off cleanly cutting.

    It was somewhat ttering that even in her most practical dress, the very same red and yellow piece she hadmissioned on Tolomontera ¨C and which bore a duelists¡¯ strap, though she had not been allowed a de inside the pce ¨C he would eye her so, but also rather awkward. And somewhat inappropriate. Even had she but the slightest if interests in men, which she did not, and were she truly a courtier instead of a Watch officer, which she also was not, a dalliance between them would be socially ruinous.

    He should know better. But then his father had died when he was young, so perhaps it ought to be forgiven. Ancestors knew it was her own father who¡¯d given Angharad all the finest advice she received in matters of romance. Still, she owed Cleon Eirenos enough that she would at least force on a smile until she could make excuses.

    ¡°Ah, I should have expected to find you both together.¡±

    Angharad recognized the voice even before turning, familiar enough from their few encounters. Lord Phaedros Arkol was finely dressed tonight, wearing silken doublet and hose in the silver-and-yellow of House Arkol¡¯s heraldry. His elegant jerkin bore the weight of arge silver chain ending in a pendant whose ornamentals matched that of his spectacles. He was a slender man by build, Lord Arkol, but the attired filled him in.

    ¡°My lord Arkol,¡± Angharad greeted, curtseying. ¡°A pleasure.¡±

    ¡°Lord Phaedros,¡± Cleon wearily said. ¡°No Cordyles tonight?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s out at sea,¡± Lord Arkolughed. ¡°He bought a galleon straight out of the Sacromonte shipyards, you see, and he insists on sailing her around the ind.¡±

    Sacromonte¡¯s shipyards had once been the greatest of the Trebian Sea, before a great fire and the depredations of war diminished them enough that the rest of Trebian caught up to and even surpassed them. Nowadays it was said they mostly built galleasses while Tianxia had risen to rece them as the leading shipwright of genuine seafaring ships. Still, in these parts there was yet a certain prestige to being able to im your ship was of Sacromontan make.

    ¡°May he find some pirates to cut his teeth on,¡± Cleon amiably said, raising his cup.

    ¡°Or bar that, slow Raseni,¡± Lord Arkol toasted back.

    Out of politeness Angharad toasted with them, though she did not drink. She rather thought the constant wars between the Duchy of Rasen and the Asphodel Rectorate were a noose around both their necks, but it was not her ce to judge such feuds. Both sides seemed eager enough to pursue the enmity, no doubt egged on by Sacromonte. The City was ever fearful of any ind-nation that might rise to be a rival.

    Angharad allowed her eyes to stray, passing through the crowd ¨C a mere forty or so guests ¨C and lingering on the three exits to the hall. All nked by a pair of lictors, even the servant¡¯s gate that had liveried attendants streaming in and out with drinks and small morsels. Including a delicious spread made of fish roe, served on cut bread and paired with little goblets of cloudy anise liquor. The drink enhanced the taste, supposedly, it was unfortunate she¡¯d had to refrain.

    Anyhow, she did not find what she was looking for: any indication that the arrests would be beginning soon. That was¡­ unexpected. When Angharad had been ushered through Fort Archelean, after an hour of waiting in a padded carriage, it had been so that Majordomo Timon could take her aside and politely inform her that given the evidence offered by the Thirteenth arrests would be made at the performance tonight. Her aid was neither asked nor desired, he exined, but given her brigade¡¯s involvement in the matter it had been judged mannerly to tell her.

    Which was all well and good, but now the time was almost ten past six and a simple look to the side was enough to confirm that Lord Gule was going distinctly un-arrested.

    ¡°- surprised to find you here, Lady Angharad,¡± Lord Arkol mused. ¡°Menander must have taken to you, despite your¡­ misadventures out in the country.¡±

    Angharad turned back, putting on a nkly polite face. He had, at least, been polite enough not to mention Theofania Varochas by name. Some courtiers had not been so courteous, which at least had the silver lining of Angharad learning Lady Theofania still lives ¨C she was in the capital, and as of this morning rather displeased she had not been invited to the concert.

    Sleeping God willing, Cleon might yet take back hismission of murder.

    ¡°I cannot answer as to his thoughts,¡± Angharad simply said. ¡°Though it seems I find you wherever I dwell, Lord Arkol. Did you stay at the Eirenos manor long after my departure?¡±

    ¡°Only until the end of the evening,¡± Cleon cut in, looking pained. ¡°But let us set <em>that</em> talk aside.¡±

    He looked around, visibly grasping for a subject to seize on, and Lord Arkol took pity on him.

    ¡°Our Lord Rector seems in a dark mood tonight,¡± the older lord provided. ¡°He has hardly spoken a word.¡±

    ¡°I had noticed,¡± Angharad agreed in a murmur.

    Evander Palliades, a grim-faced lictor dogging his shadow, had sat in a corner of the room all evening sipping at his drinks. What few noble guests dared approach him had received answers hardly longer than a word before his stare enticed them to retreat, that bravery guttering out after the failed third attempt to draw him into a conversation.

    Was it refusing to meet Song that had put him in such a dark mood? Angharad suspected it might be, though that made her think less of him. Not for the refusal, but for the way he was behaving ¨C a lord should not take out their displeasure on the underserving.

    ¡°He could be sick,¡± Cleon suggested, fervently grasping the subject change.

    ¡°Or hungover,¡± Lord Arkol chuckled. ¡°Let us hope for that that rather than disease, else the city will quiver for it.¡±

    Angharad raised an eyebrow, Cleon rolled his eyes.

    ¡°He is not the sort of man to dri-¡±

    The young lord¡¯s words were cut through by the main doors of the hall swinging open, a squad of a dozen lictors marching in with hands on their swords. Ready for fighting, Angharad observed, in full war raiment with swords and muskets, with added pistols for the officers. Two at the back were carrying bundles of leather, which was odd but not what had the crowd gasping. That was the way that half the lictors drew their swords upon entering.

    ¡°Your Excellency, what is the meaning of this?¡±

    Angharad did not recognize the woman who¡¯d spoken, save for the heraldry sown on her sleeve ¨C a brown falcon on red, House Pteris ¨C but she did know several more of the outraged faces. Sour-faced Lady Kirtis, a startled Menander Drakos and most of all Minister Apollonia Floros. Whatever thetter¡¯s thoughts had been, they were wiped off her face in a moment. Now the green-eyed minister only watched the lictors with a calm mien, her back ramrod straight.

    ¡°Apologies, but you will all have to be guests of the pce for the night,¡± the lictor captain announced. ¡°A conspiracy against the throne was unearthed and Lord Triton Cordyles has risen in rebellion, mounting an attack on the Lordsport.¡±

    Gasps bloomed again. <em>Clever</em>, Angharad thought. They would separate all the guests so it was not immediately obvious they were arresting Lord Gule in particr. That ought to buy them some time before there was answer from Mn, enough they would have gathered sufficient proof to hold the upper hand.

    Apollonia Floros ignored the wave of nerves and outrage, despite many looking to her for guidance. Green eyes moved to her once-pupil Evander Palliades, then her gaze strayed to Lord Gule. What had she expected to find there, Angharad wondered? Did the smile she found there surprise her? It surprised Angharad. Did the ambassador not suspect his treason had been found out?

    Yet he seemed in a genuinely fine mood.

    ¡°Kindly move away from each other,¡± the captain continued. ¡°You will be escorted individually to guest rooms and-¡±

    Angharad almost missed the movement when the leading lictor¡¯s lieutenant slipped behind him. A word of warning was halfway to her lips when the lieutenant unloaded her pistol into the back of the captain¡¯s skull, spattering blood and brains all over the floor.

    After a beat the screaming started.

    Angharad¡¯s jaw clenched, for besides her Lord Arkol and Lord Cleon stood unmoving ¨C and unmoved. As if they had been expecting this. The Lord Rector was on his feet in a moment, his lictor on the move to shield him, but the lieutenant waved her hand and a heartbeatter two muskets had fired. Evander Palliades¡¯ escorty dead on the floor, ragged holes in the torso.

    Part of Angharad remained calm enough to note that out of the dozen lictors three seemed entirely taken aback by what was happening, one of theirrades taking them aside for a quiet talk. Of three pairs of lictors guarding doors, two had been murdered by theirrades ¨C one such attempt turning into a bloody brawl yielding two corpses.

    The rest of her slowly grew cold as Angharad realized that the conspiracy had known about the nned arrests. That they had prepared their own counterstroke ordingly. A pair of lictors moved to secure a blood-sttered Lord Rector as Angharad watched in horror, a smiling Lord Gule moving forward and silencing the panic with a simple raised hand.

    Her breath caught in her throat: Gule of Bezan had walked to the front holding his cane, but not<em> leaning</em> on it. He had been healed, the same way he once promised to secure for her.

    ¡°There is no need for rm, my friends,¡± the ambassador said. ¡°No harm wille to you. Indeed, many in this room are already wed to the cause of Asphodel¡¯s renewal.¡±

    He leaned on his cane.

    ¡°Even as we speak, troops are seizing the pce,¡± he said. ¡°We have secured the Lord Rector and our ally Lord Triton is blockading the Lorsdport. It is only a matter of time until the city is in our hands.¡±

    ¡°<em>Your</em> hands, Gule of Bezan?¡±

    Apollonia Floros stepped forward, elegant dress trailing. Angharad had been somewhat impressed, when a single raised hand by the ambassador had been enough tomand silence of the panicking herd around her. Floros demanded the same without effort, she thought, not for presence or might but simply because near everyone in the room respected her. Angharad could see it on their faces, the way half the nobles in the room had steadied simply at being reminded of her presence. As if thinking ¨C <em>oh, Apollonia Floros is here, this won¡¯t get out of hand</em>.

    Reputation was a sort of power. That had been true in Scholomance, as it was true most everywhere.

    ¡°Only in support of your im, Lady Floros,¡± the ambassador said, sketching a bow.

    ¡°Twice I declined your offers to support me into dishonor, Gule,¡± the minister said. ¡°Now I see you decided to force my hand.¡±

    She cast a look around.

    ¡°As he has all of yours,¡± Apollonia Floros said. ¡°You have a choice, now: fight to free the Lord Rector as he is seized, or by silence endorse his fate.¡±

    She flicked her arm at the crowd.

    ¡°Well?¡±

    Not a soul moved. She had presence, Angharad thought. Presence enough for a queen. No wonder so many supported her.

    ¡°Then we are all of one cause,¡± Lady Floros evenly said.

    ¡°So we are,¡± Ambassador Gule said.

    He nced at the traitor lieutenant, inclining his head, then cast a look around the crowd. He smiled at Angharad and Cleon, gestured for them to approach. Jaw tight, she obeyed. What else could she do? The lictors that had been carrying bundles came forward and unwrapped them, revealing des.

    ¡°Come,e, arm yourselves,¡± Lord Gule told them.

    They were not the only ones bid forward, another two from the crowd being passed des. More members of the cult, Angharad thought.

    ¡°Good, there is no time to waste,¡± Lady Floros said. ¡°We must now sweep the pce free of loyalists and seize the Lord Rector.¡±

    Gule frowned at her.

    ¡°We <em>have </em>seized him,¡± he slowly said.

    ¡°You have not,¡± Apollonia Floros replied, pointing at the man held down by the lictors ¡°because <em>that </em>is not Evander Palliades. It is his body double.¡±

    She inclined her head in a greeting.

    ¡°Good evening, Karpos,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve improved. I was fooled until the lictors came in.¡±

    The man that was not the Lord Rector offered a bloody smile.

    ¡°My thanks, Minister,¡± he rasped. ¡°I have been practicing.¡±

    A ripple of unease went through the crowd at the realization that the rebels did not have this as deeply in hand as it seemed. It emboldened some.

    ¡°What of the Watch, then?¡±

    That voice. Angharad turned, watching as Menander Drakos stepped out of the crowd.

    ¡°The Watch will remain neutral, Lord Drakos,¡± the ambassador told him. ¡°As they always do. Orders were given not to touch ck House or any of their properties in the city.¡±

    ¡°But they are not supporting you?¡± Lord Menander pressed.

    Angharad took a slow step back, leaning on her cane. Cleon took a curious nce at her but said nothing.

    ¡°As I said, the Watch supports no one,¡± Lord Gule frowned.

    ¡°Then why does she still have a sword?¡± Lord Menander said.

    And he was pointing at her. Ah. Unfortunate.

    ¡°Pardon?¡± Lord Gule blinked.

    <em>¡°She¡¯s a ckcloak, you fools,¡±</em> Menander Drakos hissed. ¡°The Thirteenth Brigade.¡±

    The weight of the crowd¡¯s full attention settled on her, more than a few incredulous looks among them. Gule, though, Gule looked betrayed. She felt a twinge of guilt, but not a deep one.

    ¡°Is it true?¡± he asked.

    She looked at a room around her, a spread of faces fearful and wroth. There would be no help from anyone here. Angharad straightened and unsheathed the de they had lent her.

    ¡°Warrant Officer Angharad Tredegar, Thirteenth Scholomance Brigade,¡± she introduced herself.

    ¡°A spy,¡± Gule spat.

    She did not flinch, or answer him. Instead her attention turned to the crowd around them.

    ¡°Several of you are members of a cult in breach of the Iscariot ords,¡± Angharad evenly replied. ¡°You may consider yourself under arrest. Kindly do not resist.¡±

    Some harshughter. A pistol was cocked, though she could not see whose. Best to find that out before the mess began. Angharad glimpsed ahead and-

    (The pommel of the de hit the back of her head. She only glimpsed a reflection on the wall before dropping into the ck: a man in a wine-red doublet. Cleon.)

    Angharad came out of the glimpse already turning, which made a difference.

    It took <em>two</em> hits for Cleon Eirenos to drop her unconscious after he became visible again.

    --

    Song walked down the street like a woman who did not want to bete to her execution: briskly but reluctantly, propriety fighting the urge to pull away from the dead end.

    She had put on the ck for this because anything else would have been a lie. Her decision tonight would define her career in the Watch, whatever the end, and so she put on her fighting fit. Coat buttoned up, cloak pulled tight. Jian and pistol at her hip, musket slung over her back. Between the weapons and the cloak, none of the few souls out on the streets of the ward dared look at her twice. A rook on a walk with her talons out was not someone for the toughs of Tratheke to trouble.

    The dim and distant roar of the great spinning des at the heart of the Reeking Rowspped at her ears, the ancient machine sending the stink into the sky instead of letting it spread around the northeastern ward slicing at the air. The noise was louder than usual tonight, for it to be heard out here ¨C the Amber Crescent wasn¡¯t in the Reeking Rows, strictly speaking. The brothel was well shy of the parts the ward that required one to cover their mouth and nose lest they choke.

    And she was stalling, she admitted to herself as she adjusted her cor. <em>Move, Ren.</em>

    Song turned the corner, stride crisp and clean, and her jaw tightened. Aheady the mark of the brothel to which she had summoned, the hanging sign bearing the yellow crescent. The three-story building was still tightly shuttered, but unlikest time there were lights lit behind barely a third of the windows. The front door was closed. A look around revealed again that the street was empty, nary a soul in sight, and so with no one to witness her Song allowed herself a moment of anguish. What she was about to do, what it meant¡­

    Then the moment passed and her grip firmed around the chisel.

    Face calm, she opened the door and strode into the dimly lit hall ¨C only to immediately stop. As thest time there was a hired hand lingering there, a heavyset woman with graying hair and a scarred lip holding a cudgel, but facing her was someone the owner of this ce would not be able to afford no matter how much he saved up. Despite the heavy brown cloak and having left the distinctive helmet behind, Song had seen the armor of the lictors enough to recognize the glimpse of it she got when the cloaked man pushed off the wall.

    ¡°Ren,¡± he grunted, then jabbed his thumb towards the insides of the brothel. ¡°Follow.¡±

    Song spared a look for the thug, but the woman only looked way and pretended not to have noticed. Unlikest time there was no sign of the Amber Crescent¡¯s owner at the front desk and the lictor led her directly towards one of the rooms on the first floor. The man, who ignored her attempt to catch his eye, wrenched it open. Inside waited not Evander but another lictor, a woman in a simr cloak.

    ¡°Apologies,¡± she said, ¡°but we will have to search you and your weapons will remain here afterwards.¡±

    Song met her gaze tly.

    ¡°You may search me,¡± she allowed. ¡°My weapons are going nowhere.¡±

    ¡°Then you do not get to meet him,¡± the first lictor said.

    Song flicked a nce at one, then the other. Saw the way the jaw was set, the nerves the woman was barely keeping under wraps. They were taking a risk. What risk she could not know for sure, but she could guess.

    ¡°So be it,¡± Song replied, and turned to walk away.

    She didn¡¯t get to take a full step before a hissed <em>wait!</em> had her turning back to face the lictors with an unimpressed look.

    ¡°A search will be enough,¡± the male lictor ¡®conceded¡¯ with ill grace.

    As she¡¯d thought, they were going beyond instructions. Song approved, truly, and they were right to go so far. She <em>was</em> drawing Evander Palliades into a trapid by his enemies. That was also half the reason she could not allow herself to be disarmed.

    Ai was not to be trusted, not even when Song was doing her bidding.

    The door closed and the other lictor patted her down, going through pockets. The woman tried to make idle conversation ¨C a transparent fishing attempt ¨C but eventually grimaced and ceased when Song¡¯s unblinking stare was the only answer received. When she was done, the lictor opened the door and leaned in to whisper to the other. Song read the lips. <em>Her weapons and some coin, that¡¯s all.</em> The man grimaced in displeasure but uncrossed his arm and turned to face Song.

    ¡°Upstairs, same room asst time,¡± he instructed. ¡°I¡¯ll give the signal, he will be there momentarily.¡±

    Ah, cautious of the lictors. They had kept their Lord Rector at a more defensible location nearby instead of bringing him here directly. A healthy precaution, which would be made moot by the fact Song was not the threat to Evander¡¯s life. Not directly, anyhow.

    ¡°Is this ce empty?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The proprietor had it shut for the night, we paid for the use,¡± the lictor said.

    Her brow rose. That made things simpler for her but stood out as strange.

    ¡°Why shut it down?¡±

    Song did not have a watch on her, but it could be no more than quarter past six at the moment. Likely less. This time should be the beginning of brisk business for a brothel. The lictor searched her face, then his stance loosened ever so slightly.

    ¡°There¡¯s trouble in the northwestern ward,¡± he said. ¡°Basileias are fighting each other in the streets, some using guns, and while the matter is in hand we are close enough the owner was wary of violence spilling over the ward¡¯s border.¡±

    Song kept her surprise off her face, nodding in acknowledged before she headed upstairs. Given how half the gangs in Tratheke seemed to be in bed with one of the coups, that was surprising to hear. Neither of the conspiracies being yed by the cult would want their helpers to draw attention to them. In a sense, that was reassuring. It likely meant that the violence was rted to the business of criminals and not anything more sinister.

    She did not look back, heading upstairs. Aside from a smokymp out in the hall and a bowl of cheap incense burning, the hall was empty. Song would have remembered the room even if it weren¡¯t the only open door in the hallway. The insides were the same as she remembered: brass walls and a wooden floor, a straw mattress with sheets on and a pair of oilmps. A single chair next to a small table and hooks for clients to hang their clothes on.

    Also an echo of thest time was a pair of y cups on the table and a bottle of wine with a red seal on it. The same odious vintage as thest time they had visited, when Evander had first tried to kiss her and she¡¯d had neither the wisdom to close the door nor the bravery to open it entirely. She¡¯d sought to have just enough of what she wanted it would cost her nothing, like a child licking the edge of a honeyed spoon and telling themselves it was not the same as taking a mouthful.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned. You actually did it.¡±

    Song turned, straight sword halfway out of its sheath before the hand caught her wrist. Ai chuckled, a pleased look on her face as their gazes met for a long moment. She wore a padded yellow brigandine tonight, though without the shoulders or round iron te that would have made it traditional <em>bumianjia</em>. A new development, as was the long dagger at her side. Song, teeth gritted, slid the de fully back into its sheath.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look so sorry,¡± Ai smirked. ¡°It¡¯s not like that piddly de would do anything to me anyways.¡±

    Her eyes turned cloudy green for just the barest of moments as she pulled on her contract ¨C though not long enough to begin forming the shell before she released it. Song¡¯s face went nk. Ai was not lying. A sword would do little against her contract. It would take at least three shots to crack that shell, by Song¡¯s reckoning, and with how quickly the contractor moved those three might as well be a hundred.

    ¡°Ai,¡± she curtly said. ¡°Why are you here? I expected you would grab him in the street.¡±

    ¡°The lictors are cautious,¡± she replied. ¡°Only twenty of them near the Amber Crescent, but there¡¯s another sixty nearby.¡±

    ¡°And if you miss your shot he¡¯ll escape back to them,¡± Song pleasantly smiled.

    Ai clicked her tongue.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t look so happy about that, Ren,¡± she said. ¡°If he runs, what use are you to me?¡±

    ¡°I would have upheld my part of the bargain,¡± Song coldly told her.

    Ai looked amused.

    ¡°Do I look like some Mni?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯ll snap your neck if you fail me, Song, I don¡¯t care if you find a clever wording to invoke.¡±

    Song swallowed a sharp answer, drawing back. Ai waved her hand, as if to dismiss this entire conversation.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t balk, anyway, so no need for that sort of talk,¡± Ai said. ¡°You sent your letter and the boy king¡¯s on his way, it¡¯s well done. We¡¯ll let hime all the way up, have our talk just the three of us.¡±

    Song stiffened.

    ¡°You are staying here?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Ai smiled. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t miss the look on his <em>yiwu </em>face for anything.¡±

    That, Song thought, was aplication. She had thought the contractor would move to seize the brothel after Evander entered, not stay inside the very room the Lord Rector was headed to. What could she, what must she ¨C Song stepped back, her ankle brushing against the chair. Ah, yes.

    ¡°Sadist,¡± she hissed at Ai, drawing back in disgust.

    The Yellow Earth contract seemed about tough, until Song¡¯s step back toppled the chair. The noise echoed down the hall, and downstairs there was immediately the sound of a sword drawn. Ai¡¯s eyes turned cloudy, the shell blooming, but Song moved decisively. She strode out into the hall, shouldering past Ai, and went to the head of the stairs. She found the woman lictor from earlier,ing up with a de in hand.

    ¡°It was an ident,¡± she loudly called out. ¡°I saw a cockroach and tried to step on it, toppled the chair.¡±

    The lictor eyed her warily.

    ¡°Are you certain?¡±

    ¡°Very,¡± Song replied. ¡°As you were, lictor.¡±

    She did not linger, withdrawing back to the room. Ai was leaning against the wall, arms folded, and her eyes were brown again.

    ¡°Quick thinking,¡± Ai said, then smirked. ¡°Except for the part where Asphodel does not have cockroaches.¡±

    Song gave no sign of having known as much already. She picked up the toppled chair and harshly put it back upright, only a hair shy of mming it down on the floor. That wiped the smile off the contractor¡¯s face.

    ¡°I shall remember that,¡± Song said, ¡°if I must make excuses again.¡±

    Whatever the other Tianxi had been about to reply, she swallowed it: the stepsing up the stairs saw to that. Ai hid herself behind the door, which seemed almost childish. It would be enough, though. The lictors had already searched Song and the floor itself, odds were they wouldn¡¯t sweep a bare room like this one again. Even if they did Ai must feel confident at handling a pair and Evander Palliades without help. Worse, Song did not believe she was wrong.

    She put on a face of calm even as Evander¡¯s steps approached. She recognized the sound, of all things. Soft boots, not like those the lictors wore ¨C though those were not far behind, one of them came up as well. The steps stuttered just short of the open door.

    ¡°Your Excellency,¡± the wary man from earlier began, ¡°I beg you-¡±

    ¡°I gave you an hour to set up and search the ce,¡± Evander Palliades replied in an irritated tone. ¡°I¡¯ll not further insult a woman who saved my life not once but <em>twice</em>. One I remind you serves as an officer of the Watch, Victor.¡±

    A moment of silence.

    ¡°As you say, Your Excellency,¡± Victor muttered.

    The lictor boots walked away, back towards the stairs. Song heard Evander¡¯s hesitation by hearing nothing at all: he did not move a single step despite the retreating lictor. Song herself sucked in a breath, moving towards the table with the bottle. The sound of her movement had Evander answering in kind, striding down thest of the hall, and even as Song cracked the red seal on the wine he entered the room.

    She turned to see Evander Palliades all in green and gray, his polished spectacles gleaming over a hesitant smile. He nced at the wine and offered a shrug.

    ¡°A horrid thing to be nostalgic about,¡± he said, stepping into the room, ¡°but I confess-¡±

    He was not a trained fighter, so even though he heard Ai move to close the door he did not react quite quickly enough to prevent her grabbing him ¨C covering his mouth,ying a de against throat. A flicker of fear on that handsome face. It was the heartbeat that followed, the look of utter betrayal, that burned Song like acid. The¡­ disappointment.

    ¡°Is he crying?¡± Ai eagerly asked. ¡°You have to tell me if he¡¯s crying.¡±

    Evander jolted in her arms, but she pressed her knife until the edge cut into the skin. That had him going still as a stone.

    ¡°Quiet now, Palliades,¡± Ai whispered, pressing her knife against his throat. ¡°You¡¯re almost as useful as a corpse so don¡¯t tempt me.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t supposed to happen this way, Song thought with despair. The contractor wasn¡¯t supposed to be here in the room, she was meant to attack the brothel from the outside after Evander came in! <em>You bet this on a guess,</em> Song reminded herself. And despite the recklessness it had not been proved wrong. It was, in fact, being proved truer every second Ai did not slit Evander¡¯s throat. Still, she could not resist the urge to scratch at the scab of an unconfirmed truth.

    ¡°You want to use him to force Fort Archelean lictors to open the gates,¡± she said.

    ¡°Clever girl,¡± Ai chuckled, not bothering to resist the gloat. ¡°And obedient too! That was a pleasant surprise. There might be hope for you yet, Song Ren.¡±

    Her fingers tightened around the head of the bottle. She felt Evander¡¯s brown eyes on her, narrowing. Picking up on the strangeness in the air. Ai, too pleased at getting her way, did not.

    ¡°I¡¯m inclined to hold up our bargain,¡± the Yellow Earth partisan told her. ¡°You may well have handed us the city, Song. Even as we speak the magnates are taking the streets-¡±

    The silver-eyed Tianxi froze.

    ¡°Wait, the rising is <em>tonight</em>?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Ai grinned. ¡°Finally we cast the relics into the pit. And you can still be part of the right side, Song, the <em>winning </em>side. I just need a¡­ proof of yourmitment.¡±

    Her jaw clenched, her mind spun. Damnation. If the magnates were rebelling tonight, would the cult not ensure the ministers did as well? Angharad and Maryam were up there, and Tristan¡­ <em>All four of us, sawing away at our rope, </em>she¡¯d told him. Was it a fool¡¯s hope, to have bet the way she did? Maybe. But she had done it anyway and it was toote for regrets.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Song coldly asked.

    ¡°Nothing much,¡± Ai said, gesturing at Song¡¯s jian with her chin. ¡°Just for you to sweep away the sin of fucking a king with a little royal red.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°A finger should be enough. You can even bind it afterwards if you like though, no lie, I¡¯ll make fun of you for being a soft touch.¡±

    Evander breathed in sharply at that, Ai¡¯s grin widening at the sound.

    ¡°Yeah, <em>yiwu</em>, she¡¯ll do it,¡± she said amiably, as if confiding to a friend. ¡°Because the choices before her are simple: either she does her duty as a daughter of the Republics and cuts you, or we bury her entire misbegotten line.¡±

    A glint of sympathy in Evander¡¯s eyes, though soon gone. Understandably. Song sighed, holding up the wine bottle to themplight. It shone a lusty red, a hunger for blood.

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± Song told Ai. ¡°There¡¯s a third choice.¡±

    She threw the bottle at their feet. Ai¡¯s shell was already halfway formed by the time the ss shattered, but she was looking at Song¡¯s hands ¨C at the de, the pistol, the musket.

    She was, thus, taken entirely by surprise when a burst of shrieking Gloam ate through the floor of the room and dropped all three of them into the ambush below.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 71

    Themps guttered out one after another. Like a curtain being pulled, dark fell over the private archives.

    Maryam stood alone on the roof before the face of three gods and the absence of a fourth. She did not long have to wait for her enemy to arrive ¨C Hooks formed out of the gloom almost eagerly, like a mouse so hungry it would squeeze through the cracks in the wall to w at the grain. No stolen looks tonight, neither the garb of the Watch or of a home that Hooks had never truly known save through what she took from Maryam.

    Instead her enemy wore a simple pale dress, barefoot and without jewelry. Pale skin on pale cloth, and loose hair like raven¡¯s wings. Hooks looked halfway between a corpse and a princess. A brutally fitting reflection of her nature.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to end like this,¡± the enemy said.

    A flicker of annoyance. They didn¡¯t understand, any of them, what it really meant for her to abstain from the ritual. To be forever held hostage to another¡¯s will when tracing Signs, only a single harsh tug on her nav away from disaster if tracing anything dangerous. To live with Hooks was to forever keep a knife at her throat. And toe to an agreement with her¡­

    ¡°What else is there?¡± Maryam scorned. ¡°Am I to let you swallow a third of my soul, to rob me of the Cauldron all because you think your putting on a white dress ought to make me squeamish?¡±

    Maryam had spent her life learning the arts of the Gloam ¨C Craft and Signs, art and tool. Cutting away her own nav and tossing it to Hooks would be renouncing all those years, destroying the very soul-effigy that allowed her to manipte the Gloam. <em>Never</em>.

    She reached inside her pocket and put them on one after another, her rake-rings. One, two, three ¨C all the way to ten, as she never had before. Tonight it was all on the line. She wound her nav around the rings, Hooks watching her without a word, and twitched her fingers. The strings of her soul-effigy pulled taut.

    ¡°All I want is to be whole,¡± Hooks quietly said. ¡°A person entire, no longer a force-fed collection of your scraps.¡±Maryam¡¯s heart clenched. They were so intertwined right now, connected by the ritual, that she could taste on her tongue the sincerity of those words. <em>Toote for hesitation now, Khaimov</em>, she reminded herself.<em> The circle is drawn, the gauntlet thrown. It is victory or death.</em>

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re evil, Hooks,¡± she said. ¡°Not anymore. Or even all that malicious, despite how much harm you did to my life.¡±

    Years of thinking something inside her was broken, that she would never be able to signify properly. That she had failed her mother and Captain Totec and everyone who had ever put a scrap of trust in her. It was hard not hate Hooks for that still, even knowing that she¡¯d been unaware of what she was doing. That she had been little more than a seed being watered by every dark and ugly thought Maryam could not admit to herself she was having. Every strain of weakness she knew she could not afford.

    Maryam breathed out. Pity was worth less nothing. Pity was the scraps they tossed you when they did not care enough to act, to put their weight on the scales. She would kill Hooks, tonight, but not offer her the disservice of such a hollow thing as<em> pity</em>.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t about hate,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s only that you are biting into me and I am biting into you, and at the end there¡¯s only so much of us to go around.¡±

    Her fingers clenched, her nav tensed.

    ¡°And ifes down to that, I¡¯d rather have red teeth than nothing.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to split off from your nav,¡± Hooks quietly said. ¡°I tried, when I first woke up, to go my own way into the aether. But there is something at the very root of me that is bound to you, to your soul, and I don¡¯t think I can cut it without breaking whatever lies at the heart of myself.¡±

    Her enemy swallowed, picking at her pale sleeves.

    ¡°But if you gave me your nav-¡±

    ¡°A third of my soul,¡± Maryam evenly said. ¡°My ability to use Signs. And I¡¯d be as a raw wound in the aether until the end of my days.¡±

    A meal for any entity she came across, all the sensitivity with none of the power.

    ¡°But you would save me,¡± Hooks quietly said. ¡°Free me.¡±

    ¡°And when do<em> I</em> get to be free, Hooks?¡± Maryam bit back. ¡°When do I finally get the strength I broke my back earning, that I scrabbled for in the dirt? Years of my life spent learning what seemed to be one dead end after another. And now that I can finally get what I paid for in sweat and blood I should throw it all away for what?¡±

    She looked Hooks up and down.

    ¡°You?¡±

    ¡°For a life,¡± the other woman replied.

    ¡°No,¡± Maryam replied through clenched teeth. ¡°I choose blood. I choose wing back what I can of the Cauldron, and maybe it won¡¯t be enough but it was never going to be enough because <em>they¡¯re all dead</em>. Because <em>I¡¯m what¡¯s left</em>.¡±

    Hooks¡¯ blue eyes, so much like her own, faced her unflinching.

    ¡°I could win,¡± she said.

    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Maryam said, and meant every word. ¡°Deep down, be both know that.¡±

    They both struck the second thest word passed her lips.

    Hook¡¯s hand carved through the air, leaving behind an oily trail of darkness that formed into a flock of birds and Maryam, Maryam kept it simple. She pressed her palm at the enemy and formed asrge and fast a Bay as she could, the sharp spike of Gloam cutting through Hook¡¯s borate working of Craft. Both working copsed in a heartbeat and with mirrored snarls they tugged at the nav, trying to bring it fully into them like tugging rope, and-

    The ringing sound pped them both down against the ground. Gods, the <em>noise</em>. Like a bell being rung right in their ears. Maryam, knees aching as she forced herself up, realized after a heartbeat it had not been a physical sound or even something going wrong as she fought Hooks. The aether was going mad inside the room, like a storm in a bottle. No, a bottle being shook ¨C the aether around them was battering at the boundary of the temporary shrine she had built. She caught Hook¡¯s considering look and cursed. She could not stop. Her enemy wouldn¡¯t.

    It was like slugging it out on a falling bridge.

    The fluctuations in the aether were dizzying ¨C a bursting geyser against the walls one moment, still as a grave the next and then convulsing violently. It made signifying difficult and Craft impossible. Neither Maryam nor Hooks were allowed the courtesy of tricks and ns in what ensued, or the slightest bit of elegance. They pulled at the nav thaty between them like children fighting over a piece of string, tugging and shouting and cursing the other.

    The rake-rings dug into her fingers like the nails of a crone, just shy of blood spill, but Maryam snarled and tightened her grip. She was tired and Hooks was not, but at the end of the day the entity was¡­ young. Naming her had strengthened her borders, defined her in an intangible sense, but her depths were still shallow. She could not want the win the way Maryam did. She did not have the years of fear and hatred and me that Maryam could pull on, the bitter determination to go anywhere but <em>back</em>.

    It wasn¡¯t like killing a child, Maryam told herself. It didn¡¯t count. The thought loosened her grip for a moment and that was already too much ¨C Hooks let out a cry of triumph and a length of nav sunk into her. The loss was¡­ Maryam could feel it leaving her, what had been loss. Taste it like a scent on the wind even as it was stolen out of her. Pomegranate flowers on the heights,e summer. The tremble of nerves as Captain Totec guided her through her first Sign.

    Fury strengthened her grip and she stole it back. The memories burned in her mind, searing bright, and she gulped them down. Some of it was worn down, edges frayed, but it was still <em>hers</em>. She wrapped her nav around her ring-bearing hand, like a thread around a spool, and pulled until Gloam burned at the edge of fingers.

    Hooks fought her and Hooks broke: a crack, the iceke fractured.

    Maryam greedily sucked in the power, the secrets. They flickered through her mind, sweet as honey. The art of shaping Gloam into seeds to be sown, of using it to paint like a brush-

    <em>Weeping in the dark, cold and alone, hand over mouth. What if the hounds heard? Would they even bother to catch her, or let the beasts run her down like a rabbit?</em>

    -Maryam gritted her teeth, eyes pricking with tears. She would take it all, even the bad. It was all hers, down to thest poisonous drop.

    ¡°No,¡± Hooks whispered.

    ¡°<em>Yes</em>,¡± Maryam snarled.

    The wound was in the flesh. It was all downhill for Hooks now and they both knew it. She struck again, smashing her fist on the ice, and the fissures spread. She dug in, devouring further secrets, but did not stop there. She plunged deep, to the heart of it. To take something of Hooks¡¯ as the enemy had taken so much from Maryam. She found a kernel, a foundation, and ripped it out to see whaty inside-

    <em>It strangled her. Choked the life out of her, slowly but surely.</em>

    -and croaked out augh.

    ¡°My nightmare,¡± she said. ¡°Even<em> that</em> was you?¡±

    She ripped again.

    <em>Not hands but a rope, a cord. Tightening, tightening, tightening.</em>

    Again.

    <em>It was dark and warm. She was floating even as she died. Began to fade. But something sharp bit into her, sunk into her flesh. </em>

    ¡°No,¡± Maryam whispered.

    <em>Devoured her whole, bite by bite. Kept her bound, soul to soul.</em>

    ¡°No,¡± Maryam screamed, stumbling back.

    She fell on her knees atop the tower, halfway to retching. Hooks stood across the roof, as terrified as she was.

    ¡°You¡¯re,¡± Maryam began, then swallowed bile. ¡°I killed you. In the womb. Pulling at the cord, strangling you.¡±

    Like she was killing her now, pulling at the nav.

    ¡°You¡¯re not some spirit,¡± she forced out. ¡°You¡¯re my sister.¡±

    --

    Angharad woke up tied to a chair, head throbbing.

    She was no longer in the concert hall. The room was smaller, themps too bright for her eyes, and it took a moment for the silhouettes toe into focus. They were in one of the pce salons, the walls a string of colorful mosaics, and she was not alone. Lord Gule was here, a hard-faced Cleon by his side, and eight more. Lord Arkol. Four traitor lictors. Minister Floros. And in the corner by a table, picking at stolen tes of morsels, a familiar pair. Lord Locke winked at her roguishly, Lady Keys merely pushing up her sses. What were <em>they</em> doing here?

    Fingers were snapped in front of her face, most rudely.

    ¡°Eyes here, Tredegar.¡±

    A woman¡¯s voice, Angharad thought. And when she looked up it was at the unusually stern face of Lady Doukas. The groggy part of her noted that the daring neckline was back even on the tailored priestess robes she wore. Angharad spent a moment wondering what she could possibly have told her seamstress when ordering ¨C cult standard, but don¡¯t skimp on the cleavage? One had to admire themitment.

    ¡°What are the ckcloaks up to?¡± Lady Doukas demanded. ¡°Speak, and quickly.¡±

    ¡°Lady Doukas,¡± Angharad croaked out, then frowned.

    She coughed, clearing her throat though regrettably there was nothing to do about the coppery taste against her tongue. Cleon¡¯s second blow had not been held back in the slightest.

    ¡°Lady Doukas,¡± she repeated, tone steadier now. ¡°You are found atst. I am pleased to inform you that you are also under arrest.¡±

    A snarl and the noblewoman¡¯s hand reared up for a p but a click of the tongue stilled her. Doukas turned with a frown and Phaedros Arkol sighed at her, folding the arms against this silver-and-yellow doublet.

    ¡°And what will that achieve, Petra?¡± he asked. ¡°Not a thing, I wager. One does not achieve those pretty silver lines on her arm by fearing a few ps.¡±

    Oh, Lady Doukas¡¯ first name was Petra. Angharad had never happened to learn it, having barely ever spoken with the other woman.

    ¡°If they are even true,¡± Lord Cleon Eirenos coldly said. ¡°Much else about Angharad Tredegar seems to have been a lie.¡±

    She shot him an offended look.

    ¡°I have not lied to you,¡± Angharad stiffly said. ¡°You were misled, that much is true, but at no point did I ever lie to you.¡±

    ¡°<em>You were a guest in my home</em>, rook,¡± Lord Cleon hissed, hand falling to his de. ¡°And you dare pretend you never-¡±

    ¡°Too much garlic on the meatballs, I think,¡± Lady Keys said.

    ¡°Truly? I was going to venture too much lemon, <em>mi corazon</em>,¡± her husband replied.

    Cleon red angrily at them, as much about the interruption as the implicit indifference to his anger. That had to have been done on purpose, Angharad thought. Not to help her, if anything they seemed amused at her situation, but out of some urge to throw matches at any oil patch in sight.

    ¡°Why are they even here?¡± Cleon bit out at Gule, gesturing at them. ¡°They should be in the storeroom with all the otherte hoppers.¡±

    ¡°We are waiting for someone,¡± Lady Keys informed him. ¡°That simply wouldn¡¯t do, Lord Cleon.¡±

    ¡°I am quite indifferent to what you believe wouldn¡¯t-¡±

    Lord Gule coughed into his fist. Angharad, btedly, realized that he had been listening to the conversation without his usual horn. Not just the leg, then. The ambassador caught her look of surprise and his lips thinned. He had promised her healing once, even given her a drop of the Golden Ram¡¯s blood ¨C that she had given to Officer Hage shortly before he disappeared. Evidently the cult had fulfilled their promise to Lord Gule of Bezan. The ambassador did not address her before turning to Cleon, gone beyond frost into the pretense she did not exist.

    ¡°We have an arrangement with our foreign guests,¡± Lord Gule told his protege. ¡°We are not to involve ourselves in each other¡¯s business.¡±

    An interested noise drew Angharad¡¯s eye. Minister Floros watched them all from the back wall, leaning back with her armed crossed under her chest and an unreadable expression. Her dress was the richest Angharad had seen all night, exquisite Jahamai velvet patterned in the colors of House Floros. The matching slippers she had worn earlier, however, had been traded for squat leather shoes.

    The knife and sword at her hip were also new.

    ¡°Oh, do proceed with your coup,¡± Lord Locke said with an encouraging smile. ¡°A little rough around the edges, but I can feel the enthusiasm! I¡¯m sure you will soon secure the Lord Rector¡¯s throne.¡±

    ¡°They are overthrowing the Lord Rector, darling,¡± Lady Keys loudly whispered.

    ¡°-and go he must, the base tyrant!¡± Lord Locke immediately pivoted. ¡°Good work fellows, well done.¡±

    Lord Gule sighed. Angharad found it telling that he chose not to address the mockery. He must know they were devils, or at least suspect that drawing a de on Locke and Keys would be courting disaster.

    ¡°Enough time wasted,¡± he said. ¡°The lifts need our attention. Petra, I leave the interrogation to you. If the Watch intends to move against us, it is imperative we know before they do.¡±

    Lady Doukas acknowledged his words with a nod. Not a particrly deferential one, however. Gule¡¯s earlier words, about the true power in the cult lying with the priesthood and not the heads seemed to be an urate assessment.

    ¡°The lifts are a distraction,¡± Lord Arkol calmly said. ¡°We need to secure the private archives first. Something went wrong there.¡±

    Lord Gule eyed him skeptically.

    ¡°The lifts are the key to the pce, Phaedros,¡± he said. ¡°And our man says there¡¯s only a single signifier up there, hardly a threat.¡±

    ¡°The troops were supposed to emerge in those archives, Gule,¡± Lord Arkol said. ¡°They were, instead, shunted two levels below through a significantly more difficult crossing. Whatever that signifier is doing, it needs to end.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s jaw clenched. Maryam, they were talking about Maryam.

    ¡°Loyalists still hold most of that sector, they dug in behind barricades,¡± Lord Gule pointed out. ¡°It would take more than a single squad to dig them out.¡±

    ¡°We had our reinforcements through theyer,¡± Lord Arkol said. ¡°What are they for, if not scatter Palliades¡¯st men?¡±

    Lord Gule sighed.

    ¡°I¡¯ll send two squads,¡± hepromised. ¡°We won¡¯t need more if they can get into the archives: she¡¯s a student, not full-fledged Akrre.¡±

    Part of Angharad, the one that never ceased to consider those around her, noted that Gule seemed ufortable facing Phaedros Arkol. As if uncertain where the other man rankedpared to him. The rest of Angharad had her fingers clenching, because those jackals were discussing killing her cabalmate.

    ¡°Maryam Khaimov is a ckcloak with connections to several high officers of the Watch,¡± Angharad said, stretching the bounds of truth.

    But Maryam was connected to Angharad and Song, who did have such connections. She had not spoken as to the strength of those ties, only their existence.

    ¡°Harming her could have grave consequences,¡± she added.

    A snort.

    ¡°She¡¯s a Triu,¡± Lord Gule dismissed. ¡°Even if she is someone¡¯s pet savage, that is a minor thing. The rooks know not to overy their hand, they have been taught that lesson the hard way.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not a<em> savage</em>, you traitorous shithead,¡± Angharad snarled. ¡°May you choke on that lie.¡±

    Gule looked at her as if she was some hysterical creature, like he wasn¡¯t the one who¡¯d just called a woman he had never spoken to in his life a savage.

    ¡°The Watch ruined you, I can see that now,¡± he sighed. ¡°It is a genuine shame.¡±

    Angharad would have snapped his neck if she could. Instead she struggled against the ropes, the tight knot ripping into her skin. Lord Arkol yawned.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have a look at this Triu myself, I think,¡± he mused. ¡°Lady Apollonia, would you care to apany me?¡±

    The tone was light, teasing. Angharad narrowed her eyes. But not flirtatious. It was as if Phaedros Arkol was making sport of the very woman he intended to make Lady Rector of Asphodel, though she could not find where the jesty.

    ¡°I would hear what the ckcloak has to say,¡± Apollonia Floros declined.

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± Lord Arkol shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll send some escorts to you from our reinforcement should you change your mind.¡±

    The older men made to leave, Cleon lingering to shoot her onest hateful look.

    ¡°They are lying to you,¡± Angharad told him. ¡°It is not the Odyssean they worship. You are being tricked.¡±

    His jaw clenched.

    ¡°It must be the season for it, then, <em>Lady Tredegar</em>,¡± he said.

    He followed his patron out without sparing her another nce. Angharad grit her teeth. The hate was not entirely unwarranted, but it was blinding him. Not that she was able to keep her mind on that for long, as Lady Petra Doukas soon demanded her full attention.

    Angharad almost expected her to pull out some torturer¡¯s kit, or at least smash a bottle and threaten her with the ss, but the dark-haired cultist instead came ufortably close. The Pereduri scowled at her, working on the knot with her wrist. It was looking like she¡¯d have to dislocate it to get it out, and even then it would be tricky. She did not have much practice getting out of bindings, in truth. Perhaps something to ask Tristan about should they both live through the night.

    ¡°This won¡¯t hurt,¡± Lady Doukas smiled,ying a finger on her forehead.

    It took a second for Angharad to understand what she was up to. She was a priestess of the almost-Odyssean, and thus preparing to call on its power to¡­ well, do something. Angharad felt her blood cool.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t, if I were you,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh, but I will,¡± Lady Doukas said.

    There was a ripple in the air, like a sword whistling past your ear, and Angharad felt something seep into her. Inhaled smoke, filling the inside of head with a burning haze.

    She met Doukas¡¯ dark eyes.

    ¡°I warned you,¡± she said.

    It came like a flood. A broken levee, the sea suddenly snapping up men who had thought themselves safe from the storm. A voice ripped through her, filling her veins with salt, but it was not a voice. It was a handhold slipping through your fingers, it was an oath broken in the dark, it was crabs scuttling through rotting guts.

    ¡°Carrion,¡± the Fisher mocked.

    Petra Doukas withdrew her finger from Angharad¡¯s forehead like it¡¯d been burned, rocking back as she coughed and choked. She spat something out, after a heartbeat.

    Saltwater, she knew without even having to look.

    ¡°Odyssean preserve me,¡± Lady Doukas gasped, ¡°what was¡­¡±

    She shivered, flinching away from Angharad. Whose eyes had moved from the priestess to a sight that made her shiver: across the room Locke and Keys were observing her with unblinking eyes. Heads cocked to the side a little too sharply, mirroring each other.

    ¡°Well now,¡± Lord Locke mused, sniffing at the air. ¡°<em>Someone</em>¡¯s been quite the naughty girl.¡±

    ¡°My my, Lady Tredegar,¡± Lady Keys said, pushing back her sses with an impressed look. ¡°I genuinely didn¡¯t think you had it in you, child.¡±

    Her lips thinned. Best to ignore them, there was nothing to gain from engaging. Lady Doukas had mostly calmed, anyhow, though she was still panting and wide-eyed. Two of the traitor lictors were with her, quietly talking, and one unsheathed his de before ring at Angharad.

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    ¡°Put that back in the sheath, soldier.¡±

    The t, matter-of-fact tone ripped through the room. Apollonia Floros pushed off the wall, and under her stern look the traitor faltered. He still looked at Doukas for instructions, who turned a sneer on the minister.

    ¡°They do not answer to you, Floros,¡± she said. ¡°Not yet.¡±

    Minister Floros eyed her, visibly unimpressed.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t believe you¡¯re hiding cleverness under the hedonism, Petra,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s just that there¡¯s not nearly as much of it to hide as you think.¡±

    She turned green eyes on the lictors.

    ¡°By the end of the week, you will be either dead or sworn to me,¡± she said. ¡°And I¡¯ve no use at all for disobedient hounds.¡±

    She leaned in.

    ¡°Make your choice.¡±

    They looked at Lady Doukas again, who nodded through gritted teeth.

    ¡°Take a walk, clear your head,¡± Minister Floros told the priestess. ¡°I¡¯ll talk with our friend here.¡±

    The lictors made to move and follow her, but she dismissed them with irritation. Lady Doukas, face red with anger, stormed out of the room. She tried to m the door, Angharad noted, but it was too heavy. It took a solid ten seconds to hit the threshold, though it did so quite loudly. Apollonia Floros came to stand before the prisoner, ramrod straight and with a soldier¡¯s stern bearing.

    ¡°Warrant Officer Tredegar,¡± she said. ¡°I expect you know who I am, though we have never spoken.¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Angharad agreed.

    Floros hummed.

    ¡°I was not aware of the coup,¡± she said. ¡°Save as an abstract intention in some of my allies. I did not, in fact, intend to seize the pce like this.¡±

    ¡°But you did intend to seize it, one day,¡± Angharad said.

    The minister inclined her head in agreement, not even pretending otherwise. Angharad could respect that, if not the oathbreaking.

    ¡°Evander¡¯s shipyard will make us the ything and battlefield of the great powers,¡± Minister Floros said. ¡°I¡¯ll not suffer the first and bloodiest battles of the next Session War to be fought on Asphodel¡¯s soil.¡±

    ¡°The Watch does not involve itself in matters of session,¡± Angharad said, though she did not hide her disapproval.

    A flicker of amusement passed through Apollonia Floros¡¯ green eyes, like light ying on emeralds.

    ¡°How rare it is, these days, for someone to give me such a look of censure.¡±

    She lightly moved to the side, leaning her back against the wall again and looking forward as Angharad did ¨C as if the two of them wererades, instead of a figurehead and a prisoner. Ah. Perhaps in a distant way they <em>were </em>birds of a feather.

    ¡°But then I know what those silver stripes mean,¡± she said. ¡°I expect you understand what death is better than the fools who put together this madness.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°You epted the coup¡¯s backing,¡± she noted.

    ¡°Better to be on the tiger¡¯s back than in itsrder,¡± Apollonia Floros said. ¡°But these fucking <em>children</em> seem to have missed that if I wanted to wage and win a civil war to seize the throne I already would have.¡±

    Her jaw was set with what was, Angharad thought, genuine fury.

    ¡°None of them ever fought in a war,¡± she said. ¡°Not even Cordyles, for all that he pretends ying at the pirate means he knows death.¡±

    ¡°And you have?¡± Angharad challenged.

    ¡°I was once merely third in line to inherit House Floros,¡± the older woman said. ¡°When I was thirteen I ran off to a mercenarypany just in time to serve as a raider for King Raul in what everyone figured would be a short tussle with the Izcalli.¡±

    It took a moment for Angharad to ce the name.

    ¡°King Raul of Sordan,¡± she said.

    The king who had fought the Kingdom of Izcalli and lost in the Sordan War.

    ¡°He paid us with Mni gold,¡± Minister Floros said, ¡°but the coin was good. Two years I spent in the raiding fleet, then another three on the ground. I was at the Battle of Narba, in the second of the three armies Doghead Coyac broke that day.¡±

    The older woman looked at the wall on the other side of the room, but her eyes were far away.

    ¡°When dark fell, there were so many corpses on the field that they looked like hills,¡± she said. ¡°I will not turn Asphodel into such a butcher¡¯s yard for a throne.¡±

    Her jaw clenched.

    ¡°Another year and Evander¡¯s closest allies would have turned on him,¡± she said. ¡°Either over ties to Tianxia or for fear of the wealth flooding Palliades coffers. Another year and it could have been done bloodless.¡±

    Floros looked like she wanted to spit.

    ¡°Instead now it is to be war, and with his death on my head half the nobles will stand against me,¡± she said. ¡°The worst of all worlds, and my <em>backers</em> appear to be just as bad as the rest of the tale.¡±n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    She shot Angharad a look.

    ¡°You im this cult of the Odyssean broke the Iscariot ords,¡± she said.

    ¡°Breaks,¡± Angharad corrected. ¡°On at least two counts: human sacrifice and purchase of theistic murder.¡±

    She pitched her voice high enough that the lictors would be able to hear, but none seemed moved by the usation. Zealots, or thinking her a liar.

    ¡°To rify,¡± Apollonia Floros said, ¡°would culpability apply only to direct members of the cult or also those who benefitted from their actions?¡±

    She frowned, reaching for her too-distant Mandate lessons.

    ¡°Culpability spreads through<em> knowing</em>plicity, as I recall,¡± she finally said. ¡°Though I caution you I am not a legal schr.¡±

    ¡°I am aware,¡± Minister Floros said. ¡°Evander might have thought himself subtle, but I have people in the pce still. I saw that contract the moment your Obscure Committee sent it back stamped.¡±

    Angharad¡¯s surprise did not go unnoticed. There had never been so much as a hint that Floros might be obstructing them.

    ¡°What did I have to fear of such an investigation?¡± Lady Floros shrugged. ¡°I keep to Oduromai and Ageleion, not some strange mystery cult.¡±

    She snorted.

    ¡°Though should I be Lady Rector, it seems I may have to add a third god to my prayers,¡± the minister said. ¡°The Odyssean, you said?¡±

    ¡°A scheme,¡± Angharad said. ¡°The cult seeks to free the Hated One, the-¡±

    ¡°Do not speak that name,¡± Lady Floros harshly cut in, lowering her voice. ¡°You are certain?¡±

    ¡°The evidence strongly speaks to it,¡± Angharad said.

    ¡°Mni,¡± the minister sighed at her phrasing, shaking her head. ¡°I should have known Gule was up to his neck in this. The man was never one to take no for an answer.¡±

    ¡°He approached you before,¡± Angharad hazarded.

    ¡°Offered me arms and men to seize the throne,¡± she idly said. ¡°Twice. For<em> small concessions</em>, of course. As if I were fool enough to ept.¡±

    She waved dismissively, as if scorning the idea of alliance with Mn.

    ¡°If we are to be under a great power¡¯s thumb, let it be Sacromonte. The Six are too busy squabbling to meddle much in our affairs.¡±

    That seemed, in truth, a fair assessment. Sacromonte¡¯s delegation to Asphodel had been a nonentity in all the scheming the Thirteenth had unearthed in the capital. Tristan¡¯s opinion was that the Six had not agreed on a policy yet so the diplomats could not risk venturing one of their own.

    ¡°You need not be implicated in this,¡± Angharad told her. ¡°If you-¡±

    ¡°Toote for that now,¡± she replied. ¡°Evander cannot let me live after tonight, or allow my house to stand. He would be a fool to. My side has been chosen for me.¡±

    She grimaced.

    ¡°No, I must remain on the tiger¡¯s back,¡± Minister Floros said. ¡°Though who is that beast¡¯s head remains to be seen. Not Gule, I think, despite his attempts to make it otherwise. He gives orders to the lictors, but not the priests ¨C and <em>everyone</em> listens to the priests.¡±

    She sighed.

    ¡°I expect I will find out soon,¡± she said. ¡°This supposed lesiast wille to me with a bill for handing over the throne before this is done, so I expect they are in the pce.¡±

    Apollonia¡¯s eyes dipped down and to the side, Angharad taking a moment to grasp what she was looking at. Her wrists, held together by the knot.

    ¡°I have seen such stripes with my own eyes once before,¡± the minister idly said.

    The Pereduri¡¯s brow rose.

    ¡°Have you?¡±

    ¡°When I first left Asphodel in the mercenarypany that took King Raul¡¯s gold,¡± Apollonia Floros quietly said, ¡°we came across a fat-bellied merchantman a few days away from the port of Concordia. It flew a Mni g and it was an open secret that Mn funded Sordon, but our privateering terms did not exclude Mni ships.¡±

    Angharad wrinkled her nose in distaste. She would not go as far as condemning this, for Mn had privateers of its own and they were not known for their scrupulousness, but it was nothing to boast of. To the minister¡¯s honor, she was in no way smiling.

    ¡°We caught up to her, shot ahead to make her pull the sails and prepared for boarding,¡± the minister said. ¡°Only the deck was clear of men and guns, when we went over ¨C save for two. And old man and a boy of sixteen. The old man barefoot and long-haired, barely any teeth left. They sat alone by the prow.¡±

    The older woman shook her head.

    ¡°We had near forty raiders with good steel and kills to their name,¡± she said. ¡°We boarded, of course.¡±

    She breathed out.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever forget how it looked, those two mirror-dancers killing their way through a crew like they were¡­ washing dishes. Just a chore that¡¯d wet their hands.¡±

    Apollonia Floros¡¯s gaze returned to that distant ce she had been staring at earlier, far from here and now.

    ¡°After ten deaths the raiders broke,¡± she said. ¡°But they followed them back onto the ship, going down deck by deck and killing everyone.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°It was the old man that found me inside the barrel I¡¯d hid in,¡± she said, unashamed at the admittance of cowardice. ¡°For a moment I saw death in those eyes, Tredegar, death dealt as nonchntly as biting into an apple, but then he held his hand. He asked in thick Antigua ¨C how old are you?¡±

    Floros shook her head, as if disbelieving even after all those years.

    ¡°Thirteen, I said. And without another word he walked away. By the time I had the courage to get out, I was alone on a ship of corpses save for another two deckhands. Brothers, eleven and thirteen.¡±

    Her smile was rueful.

    ¡°Killing children was beneath them, you see.¡±

    It had not been much of a mercy. Three deckhands left alone on a boat full of corpses they were too few to sail? Leviathan bait, even out in waters as peaceful as the Trebian Sea. No, this was the mercy of words exact. Pereduri to the bone. It was impressive, that Apollonia Floros has survived to tell her this tale, but not so much that Angharad would be distracted from the point of it all.

    ¡°Why tell me this?¡± she asked.

    The door facing them opened. Lady Doukas stomped back into the room, the color gone from her cheeks. Apollonia Floros eyed the cultist with some disdain, then took a step closer and leaned towards Angharad¡¯s ear.

    ¡°The only way to keep the madness from spreading beyond Tratheke is to kill the lesiast, and I cannot,¡± she whispered. ¡°But a mirror-dancer might.¡±

    A heartbeatter she withdrew, patting herself down. Her sleeve covering her side. Angharad knew why: a handle had been pressed into her grasp, when Floros leaned over. The minister had handed her a knife.

    ¡°What did you learn, Your Excellency, to seem so pleased?¡± Lady Doukas mocked.

    Apollonia Floros barely spared her a nce, stalking towards the door as if angry. She only paused at the threshold, gesturing at the traitor lictors.

    ¡°Two of you with me,¡± she ordered. ¡°We live or die by the lifts, whatever Phaedros Arkol might say.¡±

    She walked into the hall without checking if anyone was obeying. Heartbeatster, three of the four lictors in the room obeyed ¨C there was a shuffle as they decided between them on who would go, Lady Doukas looking on with increasing anger. That made it two gifts Minister Floros had handed her: a way out of her bonds and a thinning of the guard.

    Angharad, though, Angharad considered something else. <em>Who is the beast¡¯s head remains to be seen. Whatever Phaedros Arkol might say.</em> Apollonia Floros did not know who the lesiastes was, but then the minister was not of the Thirteenth Brigade. She has not hunted the cult the way Angharad¡¯s cabal had.

    And knowing what she did, details began to add up.

    When Lord Arkol had told Petra Doukas to stop, she had obeyed. As if he were of higher standing than she, when she clearly thought little of Ambassador Gule who was one of the five heads. Petra Doukas was a priestess, so who might stand above her but another priest?

    The sickle being used for everything had been found at the border of Arkolnds. Arkol household troops had followed the Fourth Brigade through their hunt of the Ladonite dragon, as if to ensure they did not find anything they shouldn¡¯t. Phaedros Arkol¡¯s closest friend was Lord Cordyles, a man even now attacking the Lordsport with his ships.

    Phaedros Arkol owned thergest grain fields outside of Tratheke Valley. He would have the entire ind by the throat, were the valley ruined by the rising of a great spirit.

    The man had been at Cleon¡¯s manor, that night when Lord Gule recruited her. And yet he had been back in the capital in time for the ceremony beneath the capital, never returning to his holdings out west. Everywhere the cult was found, Phaedros Arkol was close. The lesiast was a noble, the Thirteenth had learned. A man, and from by his tastes from a wealthy house.

    Ancestors, the Arkol heraldry was<em> a pair of sickles</em> and their ancestralnds were days away from a hidden temple to the Hated One.

    Angharad breathed out, calmed herself. She had a target now, a head to collect. Whether Apollonia Floros meant to make use of her to solidify her hold on the coup was meaningless ¨C the Watch did not take sides in such matters.

    But it was ckcloak¡¯s work to kill the lesiast, and Angharad Tredegar had put on the cloak.

    First, she must get Maryam out of the archives. Second, the two of them could put an end to the madness by putting the lesiast¡¯s head on a spike ¨C because even if this was all reading into nothing, even if Angharad had guessed all wrong, there was no way that Lord Arkol could be ignorant of the inner workings of the cult. Not when their very founding had taken ce in his backyard.

    So she straightened, watching as Lady Doukas approached, and took in her surroundings. Two lictors, the priestess and a smirking Locke and Keys. She had only a knife and still could not move without a limp. Most people would die attempting to get out, she knew. Angharad doubted she would fare all differently, gambling it all on a chance.

    But Angharad had more than one chance, so she met Petra Doukas¡¯ eyes straight and <em>glimpsed</em>.

    --

    Song hit the ground at an angle, a wheeze pped out of her lungs by the floor. Pain, but manageable. She had kept her spine and head out of the way so it was only with a dull throb that she rose into a kneel. Musket in hand, cocked, and she blinked.

    Took it all in.

    Evander belly-down on the ground, cheek carved into by Ai¡¯s knife and bleeding into the dust. Otherwise unharmed, breathing. Ai hadnded on her feet, stance wide, and the shell covered her entire front from head to toe. The painted hungry ghost mask leered back but through the eyeholes Song could see her gaze was on something to the left.

    Alejandra Torrero, ck-d and face curdled from pulling on the Gloam, dismissing thest of the Sign that had torn through the floor. By her stood Tupoc Xical, grinning, his segmented spear tipped in candlesteel already being thrust at Ai.

    As many to the right: Captain Wen Duan, aiming a blunderbuss thick as her arm with the same vaguely irritated look as always. Expendable, golden eyes gleaming beneath the rim of his hat, bringing up a spear of his own. Bait was not in the room. A cloud of dust and rotten wood had been kicked up by the impact.

    Song breathed out and chaos broke loose, too quick for even her eyes to catch it all.

    The blunderbuss thundered, spraying salt shot and iron balls as Wen¡¯s thick arms took the kickback with barely any give. Some of the spray smashed into her leg, almost tripping her, but it failed to break through the shell. Before Wen could even lower his gun Ai was gone, leaving behind a mangled wall where the rest of the shot had hit brass.

    The Yellow Earth contractor blurred, half a heartbeatter reaching for Alejandra¡¯s throat, but when the tip of Tupoc¡¯s spear sliced into her shoulder shell like it was butter she backpedaled in a panic. And panic she should, because if her shell was forced to drop by something going all the way through then she was a corpse. First weakness, Song counted as she rose to her feet with her musket at the ready: <em>candlesteel</em>.

    Blink.

    Ai was across the room, grabbing Expendable by the cor and bending her knees to toss him at Tupoc like a sack of flour ¨C Song chose her moment, eyes unblinking through the spray of dust caused by Ai¡¯s dash. She watched dark-skinned Vphi fly, biting down on a scream of rage as he wrestled down his contract, and just when his body stood between Ai¡¯s sight and Song she pulled the trigger.

    Vphi hit a table with a shout, splintering it. Song¡¯s bullet hit Ai in the throat in the fraction of a moment before, just below the chin of the leering mask. Regr munition, as salt would help little: the contract had made it clear the shell was not manifest aether but a part of Ai¡¯s body transmuted. The shot did not go through.

    But there was a <em>crack</em>.

    ¡°Tupoc, get the Lord Rector out,¡± she shouted, tossing away her musket.

    She drew her pistol.

    Blink.

    Xical, for all his ws, held up his part of the bargain. He was already moving towards Evander, but then so was Ai ¨C who looked disinclined to keep him prisoner if the alternative was losing him. Damn her for having forced Song to put him directly in the line of fire. The Watch had been meant to ambush her while she came in, not draw des with Evander in killing distance. Thank the Gods that the Fourth had understood her code ¨C cockroach, an insect with a shell, then striking the floor of the room to tell them which to burn through.

    Song aimed her pistol but the angle was off, forcing her to hold the shit, and Wen drew a gleaming butterfly sword with his right hand. Ai was forced to hurriedly drop back to the floor because a shrieking, spinning arrow of Gloam tore through where she would have been had she not stopped. And Ai could not afford to be hit by Gloam, because her shell was not manifested aether: it was entirely material, and that meant Gloam would poison it.

    Second weakness, Song counted as she aimed: <em>Signs</em>.

    Tupoc grabbed a terrified Evander by the back of his doublet, dragging him up, and even as Ai pivoted so she could fully look at them through the eyeholes Song took half a step to the right so she would be <em>just </em>outside that arc.

    ¡°Alejandra,¡± Tupoc called out, ¡°try the Ba-¡±

    Song caught the movement from the corner of her eye, the musket rising as Expendable shot at the woman who¡¯d thrown him clear across the room. And in that moment, when Ai twitched at the sound, she pulled the trigger as well. Ai moved out of Vphi¡¯s shot, letting it pass over her shoulder. Song¡¯s bullet hit her in the throat, less than an inch away from the first.

    The crack was louder this time. White patterns like spiderwebs spread across the impact. <em>One more</em>, Song thought feverishly. <em>All I need is one more.</em>

    ¡°Enough,¡± Ai snarled, voice distorted.

    So, naturally, Captain Wen finished aiming a pistol with his left hand and shot her in the forehead. That was the final straw for the Yellow Earth contractor, who instead of going for Evander a third time rammed straight past Song ¨C toppling her as she did, barely even trying, and smashed right through the door without batting an eye. No, no, no. Song ran after her, reloading her pistol as she moved.

    From the hall she saw a lictor¡¯s head get smashed into the wall hard enough it burst to pulp, but as she aimed at Ai the contractor blurred. Song pursued, lungs burning and wrist trembling. If she got out¡­ As she turned the corner of the entrance she was forced to duck back, the tough from earlier tossed at her ¨C with the handle of her cudgel rammed into her eye. She tackled aside the dying woman, stumbling into the antechamber and aiming at the front door just as Ai burst through it.

    A clear shot at the back of her head, Song thought. An expanse of ck hair with not a whit of shell in the way. She aimed, pulled and ¨C

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Song snarled as Ai mmed the door behind her and the wood ate the shot.

    Momentster she was there, kicking it open, but Ai was out in the street and Song stopped to cough. The air was thick, pungent.

    And a pale, heavy mist was thickening in the street ahead.

    In the distance Ai shouted something in what sounded like Cathayan, a man¡¯s voice replying. Wen Duna elbowed her out of the way, joining her on the threshold.

    ¡°She has reinforcements,¡± Captain Wen noted.

    ¡°It¡¯s worse than that,¡± Song said. ¡°Prick your ear - what do you hear?¡±

    Wen cocked his head to the side.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said, then his face turned grim. ¡°Shit.¡±

    He had been quick to catch on. Song was also hearing nothing, which was an issue because tonight the Antediluvian device with the spinning des was being particrly loud.

    Meaning the Yellow Earth had shut it down and the pale mist rolling down the street was about to turn this entire district into a blind shooting alley.

    --

    In a <em>picaresca</em>, the clever rogue whose adventures were the heart of the story often tossed out a line or two about how the harsh streets of Sacromonte had taught them to fight at disadvantage. Sometimes, when a hack got their hands on a printing press, it was a whole speech. Tristan had read two different takes on such an address.

    It was how you knew those books were not the work of any rat.

    Fight at a disadvantage? Gods, what pretentious idiocy. You didn¡¯t fight on bad odds, you ran. You hid. Even on <em>good </em>odds it was better not to fight, because no matter if you won getting hurt still took you off the street for a time, ate at your savings ¨C assuming you could afford a sawbones that wouldn¡¯t make a mess of things. Wound cost coin, cost time, and all it took was a little ill luck for you to be stuck with a limp or a bad eye for the rest of your life.

    The fundamental assumption behind there being some worth to heroically oveing odds in a fight was that the victory would<em> yield </em>something, that it would be respected. It was a noble¡¯s way of seeing the world, assuming that your blood and toil would mean something to others ¨C that anything besides a wall could ever have your back. Rats knew better. Or they should, at least.

    But tonight was a night for follies, so Tristan opened his bout with the Neenth Brigade by striking a match.

    The wick caught and fire snaked down into the pottery shell known as a <em>feng chen pao</em> ¨C a ¡®wind and dust bomb¡¯, to trante from Cathayan. Tristan waited for the telltale sign of the Tianxi munition having caught fully, a twitch against his hand, then tossed the y pot at the stairwell wall. There was a shout of rm from below ¨C Izel ¨C and thick white smoke billowed out in a storm. A woman¡¯s voice shouted for someone to put out the still-burning powder charge and Tristan backed away from the head of the stairs even as smoke charged out and someone fired blindly into the mess.

    ¡°-need him <em>alive</em>,¡± Captain Tozi snarled.

    Ten seconds, at most, before they moved up the stairs. Tristan counted down, ears pricked, as he pulled out a lighting stick. Little more than dry wood treated to catch me easy at the end. He pressed himself against the threshold of the bedroom, a second match pressed against the side of the lighting stick. Ready for a scratch. Whoever it was that came up, they took pains to be quiet. Tristan did not, in fact, hear them.

    Until they slipped on the oil-slick stairs anyway.

    A shout, the voice deep enough this out to be Kiran Agrawal, and Tristan waited until he heard the knock of limb on wood. And a t sound, palms hitting the floor with bare flesh. <em>One</em>.

    There was shuffling and shouting in the stairs, someone helping Kiran back up as he shouted about the stairs being slippery. Tozi would realize that oil was mixed with hemlock given enough time, so best to give her something else to think about. Tristan waited another second to be certain, then struck the match ¨C the trail caught on the lighting stick, burning bright, and without a word Tristan tossed it across the hall.

    Itnded right in the oiled-up steps the Neenth was climbing.

    Screams ensued, the sudden me bright enough that even through the smoke Tristan could make out Kiran Agrawal dropping his spear as he stumbled down the stairs, falling into someone, and Tozi Poloko desperately stamping down at the ground. He¡¯d not put enough oil for that tost long, sadly, though the fumes it emitted would be slightly poisonous if inhaled.

    ¡°-round,¡± Cressida Barboza said. ¡°Bottle him in. We don¡¯t need thepass we just need him stuck in here until he¡¯s out of tricks.¡±

    <em>Ah, Cressida. You ought to know by now that the great sin of viciousness is that it¡¯s so very predictable. </em>She meant to<em></em>nk him through the hole in the roof, the same he hade in through. Would she fall for the trap? Half and half odds. Either way, he had more pressing than her to manage ¨C he checked on the bag above the door, the salve keeping it glued to the wood and the string he¡¯d arranged. He¡¯d get one with that, if he was lucky. For thest, well¡­

    Tristan nced down at his sheathed. The concentration of hemlock in the coating he¡¯d dipped it in earlier was quite violent. It needed to be, for a simple cut to be able to kill someone.

    He pressed himself against the wall, to the left of the door, and kept his knife in one hand while the other held the end of the string.

    The first sound came not from those creeping up the stairs but from outside, through the roof. A shout of pain. Cressida had found the caltrops, it seemed, and the hard way at that. <em>Two dosed</em>, he counted. Tristan kept his breath low and focused, pricked his ear. He caught a slice of a whisper, out in the hall, and resisted the urge to pull the string. Not yet. Movement below caught his eye.

    The tip of Kiran¡¯s spear was feeling out the length of the threshold, looking for a string trap. Clever, if not quite clever enough. It withdrew and the thief breathed in shallowly.

    ¡°Now,¡± Tozi ordered.

    Forcing down his fear, he waited a full second before pulling the string. Tozi rushed in first, Izel close behind her, and it was when thetter crossed that the bag finished opening, spilling out a cloud of powdered hemlock.

    ¡°<em>Poison</em>,¡± Captain Tozi shouted, throwing herself to the floor.

    Tristan watched, eyes calm, as Izel waited a second too long. Shouted in dismay, and in doing so sucked in a streak of powder. <em>Three</em>. Now all that was left was- a blur of movement, Kiran Agrawal tearing through the doorway with cold fury on his face. Tristan caught a glimpse of light on steel, the spear blurring as the shaft caught him in the ribs and he wheezed in pain. So quick. The thief backpedaled, but making room was even worse.

    The spear tip cut into the side of his leg to a hiss of pain, and Tristan knew the fight was lost. Had been from the start, for the man was a Skiritai. But Tozi was still on the floor, covering herself with a ck cloak to keep the powder off her as she crawled away, and that was a target. The thief palmed his knife and threw it.

    It bounced off the floor, short, because Kiran Agrawal saw fit to interrupt the throw with a smack to the arm. But, Manes smiling on him, the sound of metal on wood had Tozi moving to cover her face with her hands ¨C and in doing, so, she cut herself against the de.

    <em>And that¡¯s four</em>, Tristan counted, just before Kiran¡¯s spear hammered against his shoulder and smashed him down onto the floor.

    He went down and did not fight further, but the Someshwari had a rage in him ¨C Tristan took a blow to the back, to the ribs, and then one to the head that had him seeing stars. Someone kicked him over, and as he flopped onto his back with a gasp of pain. He was held down while others shed clothes, and by the time he could focus again it was to the sight of Cressidaing into the room with a cold look and a leather bag slung over her shoulder. She had a bandage wrapped around her left hand/

    A startlingly half-naked Tozi held a de to his throat while Izel tied his wrists, the thief letting out a smallugh at how it had all gone down.

    ¡°Keep that up, Abrascal,¡± Kiran growled. ¡°See if I won¡¯t beat that smile off your face.¡±

    Dear Kiran, he now saw, had burns all over his right forearm. Bad ones, too. He must have been holding onto the stairs when they caught fire.

    ¡°That¡¯s not secure,¡± Cressida told the others, dropping her back. ¡°His legs too.¡±

    ¡°I could break them,¡± Kiran offered with an eager look.

    Tozi spat to the side.

    ¡°Enough,¡± she said. ¡°If you break whatever interests the Library then we¡¯re all in the deeps. Cressida, what do you have?¡±

    Cressida Barboza opened her back, revealing rows and rows of vials and bundled herbs. As was only to be expected, since she was a student of Hage in matters of poison.

    ¡°There is no antidote for hemlock,¡± Cressida briskly said. ¡°Which will be why he chose it. But it¡¯s only a middling contact poison and it often kills by stopping your breath.¡±

    The Mask took out a bottle of small ck balls, then another of pills.

    ¡°Three-herb pills for the lungs, charcoal pellets to dilute the poison,¡± she said, then paused. ¡°It might not be a bad idea to induce vomiting in all of us first, then take them.¡±

    ¡°Then we will,¡± Tozi croaked out.

    Kiran, who while Tristan stared in a daze had moved to one of the water barrels, paused with his burned hand held above it.

    ¡°Captain?¡±

    The Izcalli walked over, snatched up a cup from the set next to the other barrel and filled it before bringing it most of the way to her lips. She paused at thest moment.

    ¡°You¡¯re fine,¡± she said, emptying the cup back in the barrel. ¡°Still hemlock but my contract did not refresh.¡±

    Tristan cocked his head to the side. Oh, that was new. Tozi tested the other barrel to the same result, then turned to level a smirk on him.

    ¡°It was clever, using the same poison,¡± she told him. ¡°Song must be a very fine sniffer to have gotten you this far. But even if the death is the same cause, my contract thrums every time the precise manner of it changes ¨C like drinking poisoned water, for example.¡±

    Tristan closed his eyes, sighed. Ah. He¡¯d not anticipated that. There were always quirks to contracts, that was true, and they need not be put to the text.

    ¡°He would have had to empty half a forest of hemlock, to poison a barrel this size,¡± Cressida noted absent-mindedly. ¡°There are several liters in there.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t get us with your poison, Abrascal,¡± Kiran bit out as he dipped his burned arm in the water. ¡°And if I felt myself die, I assure you I¡¯d slit your misbegotten throat first.¡±

    ¡°None of that,¡± Izel coughed out.

    He was half-naked too, save for his bindings, and joined Kiran at the barrel to rinse himself. The Someshwari shot him an irritated look.

    ¡°Just because you pity-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll not see you murder an unarmed prisoner while I can still hold that,¡± Izel calmly said, tapping at the ornate roundhead mace on his belt. ¡°Poison or no. That is not an argument, I am telling you a fact.¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Tozi cut in. ¡°We don¡¯t have time to bicker ¨C first we deal with the poison, then we send him to the Lordsport.¡±

    Tristan watched, almost drowsy in the corner, as they went through the motions. First they washed themselves thoroughly, free of his powders and extracts, then made themselves vomit in the corner. They rinsed their mouths before taking Cressida¡¯s goods, the charcoal and the Tianxi breathing pills, added to her rmendation of drinking as much as possible. It must have taken more than ten minutes all in all, and only after putting on fresh clothes.

    He stayed put the whole time, staring at the wall. He made a point of not studying them, still half in a daze.

    ¡°So you found out,¡± Tozi Poloko said, suddenly standing over him with her arms crossed.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t as subtle as you thought,¡± he replied.

    ¡°Neither were you,¡± Tozi said. ¡°Else you¡¯d not be tied up.¡±

    She leaned forward, frowning down at him.

    ¡°Who else knows?¡±

    ¡°<em>Does</em> anyone else know?¡± he replied with a winning smile.

    Grim faces all around.

    ¡°I¡¯ve said before-¡± Izel began.

    It was not Kiran that cut him off this time but Tozi.

    ¡°You want to change tack <em>now</em>?¡± she asked incredulously. ¡°When we finally have him?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Izel tly replied. ¡°It is ourst chance, Tozi.¡±

    That set her off, Tristan noted. Though a head shorter than Izel, she almost loomed above the Tinker when she stalked up to him and jabbed a finger at his chest.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of you, Coyac,¡± she snarled. ¡°At every step you gainsay, like you¡¯re not in just as deep as I am. You think they won¡¯te for you, if the Library stops protecting your ungrateful hide? That the little p-¡±

    ¡°So we go to the Watch,¡± Izel interrupted. ¡°Properly, this time.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not worth the trouble we bring to the rooks, you idiot,¡± Tozi said. ¡°We pay our debts to the Ivory Library or we disappear, it¡¯s that simple.¡±

    ¡°Did you really choose to put on the ck,¡± Izel asked, ¡°so we could sell other ckcloaks as <em>specimens</em>?¡±

    Tristan eyed Cressida. Yes, about that long. Izel held up his hands, as it looked like Tozi was about to strike him, but that wasn¡¯t it at all: she was crumpling on him.

    ¡°What?¡± he said, slurring the word as he looked around.

    He found Kiran crumpled in a corner, and Cressida slumped over her own bag of poisons.

    ¡°What is this?

    ¡°That would be the Spinster¡¯s Milk,¡± Tristan said. ¡°I dumped a vial into each water barrel, you see.¡±

    It was why Kiran had fallen first even though he wasrger than Tozi and Cressida: he¡¯d dipped his burned arm in the barrel for quite some time. For the others, Tristan had been forced to ensure different wounds that would need washing on top of washing in general ¨C Spinster¡¯s Milk was a poor contact poison, it needed ingesting. But then he¡¯d chosen to use smoke and fire for that reason as well.

    People drank water, after inhaling smoke. That they¡¯d made themselves throw up and cleaned the taste out of their mouths had been an unexpected windfall. Izel took a step towards him but his legs were shaking. He tripped, fell t on his belly.

    ¡°It¡¯s not lethal, you see,¡± the thief continued. ¡°So Tozi¡¯s contract would not warn her about it, certainly not when she had just ingested a dangerous amount of hemlock.¡±

    Izel stilled,id out on the floor. A long moment passed, then Tristan allowed the tenseness in his shoulders to loosen.

    Now, to get out of these ropes.

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