Caim sighed and concentrated on the silent house across the way. By his reckoning, they had been hunched up here for almost two hours. Dawn would come soon. If Josey was serious, they had to go now or never.

He whispered her name. When she didn't respond, he nudged her shoulder. She blinked as if coming out of a deep sleep.

"You sure you want to do this tonight?" he asked. "We could come back tomorrow."

"No." Her gaze returned to the spaces below. "Is this where you watched our house before coming to kill my father?"

Caim swallowed. He would have rather not answered, but figured he owed it to her. "Here and a couple other places." He indicated a flat-roofed brownstone down the street, and a pair of alleys with good vantage points of the mansion.

"Have you killed many people?"

"I suppose."

"Tell me how you do it. How do you kill people day after day, without regard, without feeling?"

He took in the meager offering of stars strewn through the overcast sky and the gulfs of darkness between them. "You think I like what I do? I didn't ask for this life."

"Then why-?"

"Because killing is the only thing I've ever been good at." The answer rung hollow in his ears, but damn her. He didn't owe her anything, didn't care a whit for what she thought of him.

"How old were you when you first… did it?"

A cloud passed across the moon, hiding Josey's expression, but he felt her gaze in the dark. "I'm not sure. Fifteen, maybe sixteen."

"What happened?"

"I was passing through some little thorp in Michaia. I forget the name."

He wasn't sure why he lied about that. The town had been called Freehold. It looked and smelled just like any of another score of settlements scattered across the dusty plains of Michaia, just a place to wash the road from your gullet and maybe find a woman before moving on.

"Anyway, some men started a fight in an ale hall. Things got out of hand. By the time it was over, I'd killed two of them."

"So you were defending yourself."

"I guess. I had to run after that, but I learned a lesson. There's always someone looking for trouble. You try to avoid it when you can, but-"

"But sometimes it finds you anyway," she finished for him.

"Yeah, well. Now it's just another trade to me, the same as a butcher or a carpenter."

Josey's face lifted out of the shadow. Her skin gleamed like polished ivory in the moonlight.

"But pigs and wooden beams don't have feelings," she said. "People do. Everyone you've killed had a family who cared about them, who grieved for them after they were gone."

He shifted a foot that had fallen asleep under him. "That makes no difference to me. I do a job and I get paid."

"Don't you ever want more from your life? Something bigger?"

"Like Hubert? You've seen his band in action. A bunch of shopkeeps and pot-boys spoiling for a fight they can't win. That's not me."

"Why not join the army? You're good with your hands. You could lead men."

He didn't try to hide his disdain. "Why is it that if a lord or a king sends you to kill a man, it's somehow noble? But if you do this for yourself, it's murder. Explain that to me."

Josey's eyes glistened. Was it the onset of tears, or just the way the light touched her emerald irises?

"If you asked me, I'd say you were afraid."

He recoiled as if she had stabbed him. The soles of his boots scrabbled on the hard shingles as he got his feet under him.

She kept going before he could muster a reply. "You're afraid to let people get close to you. So you keep them at a distance, pretend that they don't matter to you. But it's just a ruse."

He peered over the side of the roof. "You don't understand the least thing about me or what I do."

"Fine."

She pulled away and sank into herself like a flower folding its petals after the sun went down. For a moment, she sounded just like Kit and he realized how much he missed his friend. Where was she?

"Look," he said. "I'm-"

She reached up and pulled a something out of her collar. It shined in the muted starlight, a golden medallion in the shape of a key.

"Keep it," he said. "I don't want payment."

"It's not payment. It's the answer to the mystery."

"How's that?"

Josey told him the story of her childhood, how she had stumbled into a secret meeting in the cellar beneath her father's house, and how her father had given her the talisman years later.

"I didn't realize its significance," she said. "Not until tonight."

"So it's true. Your father was the head of a cult."

"Not a cult. A secret society aimed at restoring the empire."

"You believe Parmian now?"

She tucked the necklace away. "I knew it for truth as soon as he said it."

"And now we're here to traipse through your daddy's secrets in the basement?"

"Do you have a better idea? Someone killed my father for what he knew. He must have left some clue in that chamber. My father was a careful man. He would have foreseen the event of his death."

"All right. If we're going to do this, let's get started. I can get you inside. That shouldn't be a problem."

"So now you believe, too?"

"I believe we need to find out what's going on. After that, well, we'll just have to wait and see."

He led Josey to the corner of the roof and showed her where to put her hands and feet. She was a fast learner. Minutes later, they crept around the side of the earl's manor house, their footsteps muffled by the swirling fog. The neighborhood was quiet, almost unnaturally still. Caim wished Kit were here and damned her for her obstinacy. But neither wishing nor damning made her appear. He had to do this on his own. For some reason, the thought was more disturbing than he had anticipated.

The mansion looked the same as on the night Caim had first broken in. Its tall gables frowned in the darkness as if forbidding them entrance. The back gate was closed and secured by a new chain.

Caim jumped and caught the top of the wall, lifted himself up, and, after making sure no nasty surprises awaited them inside, reached down to hoist Josey. Caim dropped to the other side first, and then helped her descend.

Caim pulled her down into a crouch as he surveyed the yard. Everything looked clear; all the windows were dark. In all likelihood the City Watch had locked up the house and left it alone. The estate would be auctioned off eventually unless a legitimate heir turned up, and Josey's enemies were determined not to let that happen. If the Elector Council was behind the murder of Josey's father, then he was setting himself up against a host of powerful adversaries. And his list of allies was pitifully short. Without Kit or Mathias, he had Josey. And possibly Hubert. A meager force against the most influential men in the realm, and their armies. Yet despite the odds, he found himself thrilled by the prospect.

He motioned for Josey to follow, and together they crossed the grounds, which had grown over during the past few days. Weeds and tall grass brushed against their shins as they made their way to the rear wall of the mansion. He bypassed the door. He hadn't brought his line and grapnel, but he thought he could climb to the second floor easily enough. If he could find something to lower, he should be able to pull Josey up. He was studying the wall for good handholds when a faint click reached his ears. He whirled about to catch Josey opening the door.

"Wait!" he whispered too late, and jumped in front of her as the door swung open with a shuddering creak.

"What's-?" she started to ask.

He held up a finger to silence her. The door entered into an empty anteroom. An archway in the opposite wall led deeper into the interior. He drew his knives.

"What's the matter?" Josey whispered over his shoulder. "Did you expect the Third Legion to be waiting in the parlor for us to swing by?"