thir's gates were barred when Caim returned, their wardens replaced by soldiers in the hunter green livery of the Nimean army.

So he entered by the underground tunnel. After snuffing the lantern inside Pieter's mausoleum, he stood for a moment with his hand on the crypt's bronze door. If he failed, it was only a matter of time before they got to Josey. The girl was lovely, smart, charming, but she was also haughty and headstrong. She wouldn't be content to wait with Kas for long. And where had Kit gotten off to?

Taking her own sweet time getting over being mad at me just when I need her the most.

Caim shook his head as he slipped through the cemetery gate, and wondered how he had acquired so many responsibilities.

A wild wind whipped through his hair as he navigated the cemetery. With Mathias dead, there was only one person who knew he'd be at the earl's mansion that night.

The streets bordering the boneyard were quiet, but only a block away the clamor of fighting resounded. Though muted by the fog from the river, it sounded like a full-scale war. He turned onto Acacia Avenue and found the way blocked by a pair of overturned wagons. Beyond the barrier, soldiers clashed with angry citizens. Bodies clogged the street. The ululation of rage long denied, now suddenly unleashed, filled the humid air.

An explosion lit up the night as a firebomb landed amid a cluster of soldiers. Orange flames engulfed them. Their screams made an inchoate chorus to the cheers of their attackers. The citizens pressed harder, eager to get at the men who had previously protected their homes and property. Sparks swirled in the air and were caught by the wind until the bombers were forced to scramble to avoid getting singed by their own handiwork.

Caim stayed in the shadows and bypassed the brawl. After several minutes of skulking, he arrived in the merchants' district. The fighting hadn't reached this part of the city yet, but it was only a matter of time; the fires of Low Town would spread quickly.

On Silk Street, the Golden Wheel stood between a chirash den and a brothel to form a triumvirate of earthly pleasures. The confirmation linking Ral to the plot behind the earl's assassination stared Caim in the face: a squad of Sacred Brothers slouched on the stoop of the front entrance like they were paying rent on the place.

Caim avoided the street's tall lampposts as he slipped around to the back. A narrow wooden gate gave entrance to an alley behind the gaming house. Dim light reflected in the windows overhead. Three located on the top floor were secured with stout shutters. Those would be Ral's rooms.

Caim started his ascent with slow movements, conscious of the wound in his side as he pulled himself up. The amulet dangling from his wrist was an unfamiliar hindrance, but he didn't remove it. He focused on the task one hold at a time until he reached the center window. There, he clung onto the narrow ledge and listened. No sounds issued from inside. He boosted himself higher to peek over the sill. The room on the other side of the rose-colored pane was spacious and well appointed. Light shined from a tiny lamp above the bed. A large four-poster bed of varnished oak rested in the near corner to his right, a tall wardrobe against the opposite wall, one of its doors partway open. Upon a sideboard next to the wardrobe sat a row of wooden boxes. Boots, capes, shirts, and other articles of clothing were strewn across the floor and draped over furniture.

Caim counted thirty heartbeats, until his hands and toes began to cramp. Nothing moved inside.

He yanked open the shutter and pulled. A jolt of pain seared his side as he heaved himself over the ledge. He fell forward, onto a thick piled carpet. In the scramble to sit upright, his elbow collided with a wooden stand. The hollow scrape of sliding metal triggered his reflexes. He caught a heavy object wrapped in silk before it hit the floor. As he let out a long breath, he regarded the item in his hands, a brass icon of St. Jules, patron of the chaste and good-hearted, wrapped in a lady's undergarment.

Caim set the statuette back on the stand and stood up. There were two exits: an archway to another room to his left and a narrow door on the other side of the bed, which was probably a closet. Except for the wooden boxes lined up on the sideboard, there was nothing unusual. He was about to check the boxes when footsteps approached from the archway. Caim flattened against the wall and drew his suete knives.

Ral stepped into the room. Steel glittered between the fingers of his left hand. The arm was whipping back to throw when Caim stepped into the light.

Ral lowered his arm. "Caim. I wondered when you might turn up."

Caim adopted a relaxed pose, but his muscles were as tight as iron cables under his clothes. He held his knives by his sides to keep his hands from trembling. He needed answers, not more deaths.

"Why is that, Ral? Didn't you expect your pet tinmen to finish the job?"

Ral walked over to the sideboard and set down the stiletto to pour himself a drink from a tall decanter. "Not really. Brandy? It's imported."

Caim didn't reply, but he watched every move.

Ral shrugged and lifted the crystal tumbler to his lips. "It wasn't personal. You didn't need to get involved. You should have left the girl to my men."

"You're the one who got me involved. You set me up with that job from the start. Thought you'd bag a nobleman and pin it on me."

"No harm in a little gamesmanship between friends, eh? I thought you'd make your escape and leave town, hopefully for good. Either way, I get what I want and you're out of the picture."

"Who's behind the murder of Josey's father? Who are you working for?"

Ral put a hand on the sideboard. "Josey is it, eh? I'm disappointed, Caim. I always figured you for a smart guy. I'm done with serving others. I've taken matters into my own hands."

"And you killed Mathias because he knew too much."

"Actually, that wasn't me, although I'll admit I didn't shed any tears. But it makes no difference. There's no one to stop me now."

"There's me."

"Don't be an imbecile, Caim. Think of this as an opportunity. Yes, I wanted you out of the way, but now I see a better way. We can work together. We can both be free to live how we want with no one to tell us otherwise."

Caim had trouble keeping his knives from leaping into Ral's chest as anger flared in his belly. "You think you can buy me off?"

"Think of the team we would make."

"I'd rather think of you lying in your own blood."

Ral set down his glass and faced Caim. "That's not going to happen. Even if you could kill me, you're still a wanted man sought by the entire nation. You've been implicated in the murders of several government officials, including a retired exarch and half the Elector Council."

"All lies-"

Ral flashed a humorless smile. "Articles of a personal nature were found at the scenes, all of them leading back to you."

Caim suspected the fire that burned down his apartment building had been no accident, and now he knew. "You stole those things from my place before you torched it."

"You're out of control, Caim. A blood thirsty animal. The Sacred Brotherhood has orders to kill you on sight."

"Then maybe I'll just kill you. One more murder attached to my name wouldn't make any more difference."

"I just want the girl."

"You'll never set eyes on her. I'll make sure of that."

Ral laughed. It was an ugly sound. "Caim, did you really think she'd be safe in that little cabin in the woods?"

Josey laughed as Kas filled her cup with another round of his homemade wine. Crickets chirped outside the window while they ate and drank and talked. Kas kept a modest home, but he was an enthusiastic host. They dined on wild pig with squash and tomatoes from his garden.