Good morning, Markhat. Her tone was tinged with amusement. I am glad to see you vigilant.

The other Stitches, a good sixty feet away, continued poking at the ring with her glowing metal stick.

“Nice trick,” I said, just mouthing the words behind my empty cup. “You’ll have to teach it to me, some day.”

I have completed the adjustments to the device. But I wanted to speak with you. When I leave, an object will be left behind. Take it. Keep it on your person at all times. And speak of it to no one. Not your wife. Not Evis. No one.

“If I ask what it is, are you going to answer or just vanish?”

It will appear to be a tortoise shell, sealed with black wax.

I damn nearly jumped out of my chair and into the Brown. I did put down my cup so no one would see my hand begin to shake.

“You found one? A huldra?”

No. This is only a crude replica. It will not withstand intense or prolonged scrutiny.

“You said you lacked the skill to even create a simulacrum.”

I did and I do. As I said, it will not withstand scrutiny. But it might buy you a few seconds. What you do with those few seconds is entirely up to you.

“Stitches, what the hell are you trying to say?”

But she was gone.

And there, in the chair, was a small brown tortoise shell, sealed with old black wax.

I didn’t pick it up. Fake or not, it was a perfect physical replica of the thing I’d grasped when I thought Darla dead. I’d taken it up, and I’d told it my true name, and it had burrowed its way down deep into my soul.

I remembered the nights I’d walked with it. I’d grown, until I looked down upon Rannit, until clouds had literally soaked my face and hair. I’d seen things, on those night walks-seen the magic that Stitches and her kin wielded, hidden in folds of shadow that had been right there, all the time.

I’d seen things, and heard things, and most of all, I’d felt the power.

I’d killed while I walked with the huldra. I’d loosed my rage upon the guilty, and I’d torn them limb from limb, without pity or remorse or hesitation. I’d taken what I thought was my vengeance, and I’d loved it. Though in the end I’d crushed the huldra and walked away, a part of me had never forgotten the power, or the sweet, sweet taste of revenge, justly extracted, and furiously applied.

The huldra had taken my name. It had nearly taken my soul. Darla alone brought me back from that dark abyss.

As I recalled those walks, recalled the blood on my hands, I wondered if perhaps some brief shadows born of that abyss now dwelt in me.

I wasn’t allowed to watch the Regent board.

No one was, save perhaps Evis and Stitches and anyone they deemed necessary to the boarding process. Instead, all aboard were all asked to gather on the casino deck for a grand welcome. Free libations were mentioned, and within moments the stampede commenced, and the Queen’s outer decks were clear.

I kept hold of Darla and allowed myself to be herded along. A band started playing, waiters and waitresses dispersed throughout the crowd, and Rannit’s Minister of Commerce harrumphed and mumbled his way through a magnificently dull speech.

I knew when the Regent set foot on the Queen, though. The air rushed for a moment as a subtle but potent spell took hold. I saw a few faces turn this way and that, searching for the source of the sudden brief breeze.

Darla squeezed my arm.

“Was that?”

“It was.” I grabbed a pair of long-stemmed wine glasses from a passing waiter. “Here. Might as well have a drink while we wait.”

Darla took a sip. “Wait for what?”

“Best time to cause trouble would be right now. Before everyone gets settled in, gets all their goodies unpacked.”

She knew who “everyone” was.

Half an hour crept by, second by agonizing second. The Minister of Commerce shuffled off the stage.

The Queen’s stained glass windows went black. The casino was plunged into sudden darkness. Squeals and laughter rang out-none from me.

Candles flared to life on every table. Above us, the massive hanging lights flickered, and a burst of music sounded. As the music swelled, the lights came quickly to life, and the Queen was filled with ethereal, dancing starlight.

Evis himself took the stage, blinking in the sudden glare.

“Lords and ladies, sirs and madams, captains of industry, heroes of the War,” he began, and his voice sounded easily over the music. “I welcome you aboard the jewel in Avalante’s crown-the Brown River Queen!”

Applause drowned out even the most strident notes of the song.

Darla was clapping, her display of enthusiasm somewhat hindered by the gun in her right hand and the wary look in her eyes.

“As we welcome you to a new era of entertainment and luxury, I am proud to reveal that we are accompanied by a very special guest. For you travel with none other than the Regent himself, who has graciously agreed to make the Queen’s maiden voyage truly historic by lending us his presence.”

The crowd clapped louder and faster, even as they exchanged shocked glances.

“On behalf of House Avalante and the crew of the Queen, I bid you all welcome. And now, by order of the Regent himself, let us be underway, and let the celebration begin!”

Trumpets blew. The crowd, well-fueled by equal parts booze, surprise, and in many cases, terror, roared like the host of Hell.

Beneath my feet, the Queen’s deck began to vibrate, and even though I couldn’t hear a thing over the din, I could feel her pistons wake and begin to move.

Within moments we were underway. I couldn’t see the big red wheel turn. Some sorcery prevented us from hearing it churn the Brown’s muddy face, but I could see the metronomic splashes of water on the aft glass, and as these increased in volume and frequency I knew we were on the move and picking up speed.

Give her this-she was a graceful lady, the Queen. Not a single wine glass fell. The deck never swayed. We might as well have been sitting in my office rather than thrashing our way to the middle of the Brown.

Evis motioned with his hands. Bright red balloons fell from the Queen’s ceiling and exploded just as they neared the tops of our heads. A tiny shrieking dragon, glowing like an ember, flew from each balloon, darting to and fro overhead as the crowd shouted and cheered.

The diminutive dragons vanished, one by one, with a loud pop and a puff of radiant vapor. Evis bowed and left the stage as a line of musicians took their places in chairs at the rear.

Music sounded, loud and clear, though the musicians hadn’t sorted out their horns and harps, much less started playing. The music was strange, unearthly, and I couldn’t begin to even name the instruments, much less the melody.

Around us, the crowd began to move. Most made their way to the gambling tables, eager to line Avalante’s pockets by betting on dice or wheels. A surprising number of couples took to the dance floor in front of the stage.

I set off in that direction myself, Darla at my side. I found us a spot in the dim wash of light that crept from the stage and put my back to it before bowing and formally offering Darla my hand.

She didn’t laugh. “I’d be honored,” she said as she slipped into my arms.

“Keep an eye on the musicians,” I whispered into her ear.

Around us, couples bowed and curtseyed and stepped and spun, all moving according to some ages-old custom that demanded all the precision of a military drill corps and promised roughly the equivalent measure of intimate contact with congenial womenfolk. I reflected upon the probability of imminent mayhem, put my arms around Darla’s waist, and just started swaying.

She pretended to gasp. “Why, Mr. Markhat! The scandal!”