"Doneto's party must have the upper hand, now. That can't last. But I've had a thought about the ring business. Suppose those are places where someone liberated scattered bits of the Old Gods?"

"Deliberately?" Hecht asked.

"Deliberately."

"Why would anyone do that? The Night is bad enough now. Who'd want to bring back the Old Ones?"

"That would be the question, wouldn't it? Who and why. And is it real? Is it just a partisan campaign using fragments to create terror? Are the fragments themselves genuine? I could pull together an artificial monster able to ape the more blatant traits of one of the Old Gods."

"There was a god in the north. Who predated the Old Gods, even. Kharoulke the Windwalker. Who couldn't come past the edge of the ice. There's a Windwalker supposedly loose, now. Almost as bad as the original. That couldn't be a modern re-creation, could it?"

'Today's Kharoulke the Windwalker is an example of an unforeseen consequence."

"Your Grace?"

"Certain fading Old Gods sent soultaken to destroy someone they called the Godslayer. Because they did, several unwittingly positioned themselves to be slain. One of the soultaken, connected too intimately to divinity, ascended to become a Great Demon himself. The ascendant, lusting after revenge on those who conscripted him, went after those still surviving. He confined them in a pocket world he created inside the pocket universe they had created for themselves as their realm of the gods. That isolated them so completely that they couldn't constrain the monsters they put down in the dawn of their time. So things like the Windwalker can now come back."

Hecht stared. He realized his mouth was open. "Uh… How did you put all that together?"

"I pay attention. You can pick the trick up if you want."

Titus Consent rematerialized. "Here's the journal, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Are we in imminent danger from a ferocious Connecten horde?"

"There may be ferocious Connectens, Your Grace, but those people couldn't put together a horde if they promised twenty gold pieces to every man who showed up."

"Then you can afford to take time to relax, Piper. That would be good for your soul."

Pinkus Ghort returned. In his train were prisoners, plus hostages given by the Three Families of Sonsa. The Captain-General arranged a meeting as soon as he could.

Ghort came in saying, "Shit, Pipe, that was exhilarating. Ain't nothing better than catching your target with his pants down."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I'll let you try your luck on Antieux next."

"I'll hang back and take notes on that one, you don't mind. Them folks won't get caught napping or stupid again in this lifetime."

"So what did you get?"

"I got Bit and Tiny but the Witchfinders was long gone. Bit thought they ran off to the Durandanti but we didn't find them there. It does look like they made that one gold shipment disappear, though. What's this I hear about Bronte Doneto running off to Viscesment?"

"We surprised them, too. He went to take charge of Immaculate."

"He didn't do so good, eh?"

"One wonders."

"Meaning?"

"Let's talk to Bit."

"Figured you wouldn't want to give her no more time to think. She's downstairs."

"Good. Two more Principates turned up. They haven't come to see me yet. They're very interested in Sonsa, I hear. One is from Aparion. Keep him away from our newfound friends. If you can. Bring her up."

Ghort bellowed down the stairs.

Two men brought the woman. Titus Consent trailed them. Principate Delari came along behind Consent.

Ghort whispered, "You all right with them?"

"They may be useful."

Bit remained uncowed. Not defiant, though. Just accepting. Fate had overtaken her. That happened in life.

She had chosen a hard profession.

She recognized Hecht immediately. "Mathis Schlink. I thought you were more than you seemed. Why drag an old whore all the way up here?"

"I have questions. I'm too busy to come to you."

She forced a smile. "Of course."

"Be seated, if you like."

The old woman settled into a canvas chair. She glanced around. Principate Delari examined her intently, moving several times to get a different view. That troubled her, clearly. Maybe she feared recognition.

Hecht said, "You know Buck Fantil. The youngster is Titus. He's more dangerous than he looks. The other gentleman is an eye for the Collegium."

Bit was a practical sort. "What do you want to know?"

"You were involved with men from the Special Office of the Brotherhood. What were they up to?"

"Special Office? They didn't mention that. Some had been hiding at the Ten Galleons since the Deve riots."

Principate Delari positioned himself behind Bit, out of her sight. He nodded. She was telling the truth.

"You had to think they were up to something, working out of your place all that time."

"Yes. But they paid well for the privilege."

"I'll turn you over to Titus eventually. Tell him the story from the beginning. Name any names you heard. And anything you overheard that seemed unusual."

"I… Of course."

"The reason being, those Witchfinders were working against the Patriarch and the rest of the Brotherhood. They may have been seduced by the Adversary."

Bit did not buy that.

Neither did Hecht. But it was a hypothesis fit to make people think.

"Tell me about Vali Dumaine, Bit."

The old woman frowned. "Give me more to go on. I don't know the name."

One of the staff assistants showed himself long enough to beckon Titus Consent, who went over, whispered, then followed the man downstairs.

"Buck and I came to the Ten Galleons. We did our business. You helped us disguise ourselves to get back out. So you wouldn't get burned out by the thugs then closing in. Women and children were part of our disguise."

"You're asking about the one who wouldn't come back."

"I am."

"What did she tell you?"

"That isn't the subject. The subject would be, who is she?"

"A natural-born liar. She convinced the other girls that she'd been kidnapped…"

Bit was a hard woman who had survived in a difficult trade for a long time. It took a lot to intimidate her.

Principate Muniero Delari was a lot, however.

She stammered.

"Bit, cut through it. I want to know who the girl is."

"I said. A natural-born liar. A natural-born actor. I bought her from her mother. Doing the woman a favor. She needed the money. And I've been sorry ever since, haven't I?"

Hecht glanced at Delari, who shook his head. Bit hadn't gotten up close with the truth yet. Hecht said, "Real name, Bit. Mother's name."

This line of questioning was not what the old madam had prepared for. "I think it was Erika Xan."

Titus Consent came back to the head of the stairs. He waved for attention. Hecht nodded, held up a finger. "Your Grace, this woman is incapable of telling the truth. Why don't you work on her for a few days?" He went to see what Consent wanted.

Titus said, "Colonel Smolens wants to know if you want to keep control of the Viscesment bridges."

Surprised that Consent would interrupt with that, he said, "Yes. Even if we don't need them ourselves, we decide who does use them. Has he dealt with those assassins?"

"Three. He sent us the fourth. Who wants to buy his life by spinning tall tales."

"We can see about that after we're done here. Is that it?"

"No. There's news out of the Connec. Duke Tormond's uncle, who rules Castreresone on Tormond's behalf, has died."

"And that's important because?"

"Castreresone passes to Tormond's sister Isabeth. Who is the wife of Peter of Navaya. Meaning Peter now has cause to take offense if we attack Castreresone."

"I don't like it. That sounds contrived. Report as soon as you know anything for sure."