"What, test your loyalty? In what court, under what oath, before what law? Same question as before, this time in relation to the idiotic conjecture that I actually do Stragos's bidding — why aren't I murdering you, then?" "As to that… a fair point."

"Here," said Locke, moving around the bed to sit beside Cordo. "Have a dagger." He tossed his blade into the old man's lap. At that moment, there was a pounding on the door.

"Father! Father, one of the servants is injured! Are you well? Father, I'm coming in!"

"My son has a key," said the elder Cordo as the click of it sounded in the door mechanism.

"Ah," said Locke, "I'll be needing this back, then." He snatched up his dagger again, stood beside Cordo and pointed it at the old man in a vaguely threatening fashion. "Hold still. This won't take but a minute."

A well-built man in his mid-thirties burst into the room, an ornate rapier in his hands. Lyonis Cordo, second-tier Priori, his father's only heir and a widower for several years. Perhaps the most eligible bachelor in all of Tal Verrar, all the more notable in that he rarely visited the Sinspire.

"Father! Alacyn!" Lyonis took a step into the room, brandishing his weapon with a flourish and spreading his arms to block the door. "Release them, you bastards! The household guards are roused, and you'll never make it down to the—"

"Oh, for Perelandro's sake, I'm not even going to pretend," said Locke. He passed the dagger back to the elder Cordo, who held it between two fingers like some sort of captured insect. "Look. There. What sort of whimsical assassin am I, then? Sheathe your sword, shut the door and open your ears. We have a lot of business to discuss." "I… but—"

"Lyonis," said the elder Cordo, "this man may be out of his mind, but as he says, neither he nor his partner are assassins. Put up your weapon and tell the guards to…" He turned to Locke suspiciously. "Did you badly injure any of my people breaking in, Kosta?"

"One slight bump on the head," said Locke. "Do it all the time. He'll be fine, whoever he is."

"Very well." Marius sighed and passed the dagger fussily back to Locke, who tucked it back into his belt. "Lyonis, tell the guards to stand down. Then lock the door again and be seated."

"May I go, if nobody's going to be doing any assassinating in these chambers?" asked Alacyn.

"No. Sorry. You" ve already heard too much. Take a seat and get comfortable while you listen to the rest." Locke turned to the elder Cordo. "Look, for obvious reasons, she cannot leave this house until our business is done tonight, right?" "Of all the—"

"No, Alacyn, he's right." The elder Cordo waved his hands pla-catingly. "Too much rides on this, and if you're loyal to me you know it. If, forgive me, you're not, you know it all the more. I'll have you confined to the study, where you'll be comfortable. And I'll compensate you very, very handsomely for this, I promise."

Released by Jean, she sat down in a corner and folded her arms grumpily. Lyonis, looking as though he doubted his own sanity, briskly dismissed the squad of tough-looking brutes that pounded into the library a moment later, sheathed his rapier and pulled the bedchamber door closed. He leaned back against it, his scowl matching Alacyn's.

"Now," said Locke, "as I was saying, by the end of this night, come hell or Eldren-fire, my partner and I will be in close physical proximity to Maxilan Stragos. One way or another, we are removing him from power. Possibly from life itself, if we have no choice. But in order to get there our way, we're going to need to demand some things of you. And you must understand, going in, that this is it. This is for real. Whatever your plans are to take the city from Stragos, have them ready to spring. Whatever your measures are to keep his army and navy tied down until you can remind them who pays their salaries, activate them."

"Remove Stragos?" Lyonis looked simultaneously awed and alarmed. "Father, these men are mad—"

"Quiet, Lyo." The elder Cordo raised his hand. "These men claim to be in a unique position to effect our desired change. And they have… declined to harm me for certain actions already taken against them. We will hear them out."

"Good," said Locke. "Here's what you need to understand. In a couple of hours, Master de Ferra and I are going to be arrested by the Eyes of the Archon as we leave the Sinspire—" "Arrested?" said Lyonis. "How can you know—"

"Because I'm going to set an appointment," said Locke. "And I'm going to ask Stragos to have us arrested."

4

"The Protector will not see you, nor will the waiting lady. Those are our orders."

Locke was sure he could feel the Eye officer's disdainful glare even through his mask.

"He will now," said Locke, as he and Jean pulled alongside the Archon's landing in the smaller, more nimble boat they had talked out of the elder Cordo. "Tell him that we've done as he requested when we last met, and we really need to speak about it."

The officer took a few seconds to consider, then went for the signal-chain. While they waited for a decision, Locke and Jean removed all of their weapons and gear, stashed it in their bags and left those in the bottom of the boat. Eventually, Merrain appeared at the top of the landing stairs and beckoned; they were patted down with the usual thoroughness and escorted up to the Archon's study. Jean trembled at the sight of Stragos, who was standing behind his desk. Locke noticed Jean clenching and unclenching his fists, so he squeezed his arm hard. "Is this happy news?" asked the Archon.

"Has anyone come in to report a fire at sea yesterday, around noon, anywhere west of the city?" asked Locke.

"Two merchant ships reported a large pillar of smoke on the western horizon," said Stragos. "No further news that I'm aware of, and no syndicate claiming any loss."

"They will soon enough," said Locke. "One ship, burned and sunk. Not a survivor aboard. It was headed for the city and it was wallowing with cargo, so I'm sure it will be missed eventually."

"Eventually," said Stragos. "So what do you want now, a kiss on the cheek and a plate of sweetmeats? I told you not to trifle with me again until—"

"Think of our first sinking as earnest money," said Locke. "We've decided that we want to show our wine and drink it, too." "Meaning what, exactly?"

"We want the fruit of our efforts at the Sinspire," said Locke. "We want what we spent two years working for. And we want it tonight, before we do anything else."

"Well, you can't necessarily have it tonight. What, did you imagine I could give you some sort of writ, a polite request to Requin to allow you to carry out whatever your game is?"

"No," said Locke, "but we're going over there right now to pull it on him, and until we're safely away with our swag, not another ship gets sunk in your waters at the hands of the Poison Orchid? "You do not dictate the terms of your employment to me—"

T do, actually. Even if we are trusting you to give us our lives back when our enslavement to you is complete, we're no longer confident that the conditions in this city will allow us to pull our Sinspire scheme after you get your way. Think, Stragos. We certainly have been. If you mean to put the Priori squarely under your thumb, there could be chaos. Bloodshed and arrests. Requin's in bed with the Priori; his fortune needs to be intact if we're going to relieve him of any of it. So we want what's ours safely in our hands first, before we finish this affair for you." "You arrogant—"

"Yes," Locke shouted. "Me. Arrogant. We still need our fucking antidote, Stragos. We still need it from your hands. And we demand another extension, if nothing else. Tonight. I want to see your alchemist standing beside you when we return here in a couple of hours." "Of all the bloody— What do you mean, "when you return here"?"