Brys needed to warn Tehol.

The Rat Catchers’ Guild Chief Investigator sat at a courtyard table beneath torchlight. A small heap of delicate bones sat in the centre of the large plate before her. Within reach was a crystal carafe of white wine. An extra goblet waited in front of the empty chair opposite her.

‘You’re not Tehol,’ she said as Bugg arrived and sat down. ‘Where’s Tehol and his immodest trousers?’

‘Not here, alas, Chief Investigator, but you can be certain that, wherever they are, they are together.’

‘Ah, so he has meetings with people more important than me? After all, were he sleeping, he would not be wearing the trousers, would he?’

‘I wouldn’t know, Rucket. Now, you requested this meeting?’

‘With Tehol.’

‘Ah, so this was to be romantic?’

She sniffed and took a moment to glare at the only other occupants of this midnight restaurant, a husband and wife clearly not married to each other who were casting suspicious glances their way, punctuated with close leaning heads and heated whispers. ‘This place serves a specific clientele, damn you. What’s your name again?’

‘Bugg.’

‘Oh yes. I recall being unsurprised the first time it was mentioned. Well, you kept me waiting, you little worm, and what’s that smell?’

Bugg withdrew a blackened, wrinkled strip, flat and slightly longer than his hand. ‘I found an eel in the fish market. Thought I’d make soup for myself and the master.’

‘Our financial adviser eats discarded eels?’

‘Frugality is a virtue among financiers, Chief Investigator.’ He tucked the dried strip back into his shirt. ‘How is the wine? May I?’

‘Well, why not? Here, care to pick the bones?’

‘Possibly. What was it originally?’

‘Cat, of course.’

‘Cat. Oh yes, of course. Well, I never liked cats anyway. All those hair balls.’ He drew the plate over and perused it to see what was left.

‘You have a fascination for feline genitalia? That’s disgusting, although I’ve heard worse. One of our minor catchers once tried to marry a rat. I myself possess peculiar interests, I freely admit.’

‘That’s nice,’ Bugg said, popping a vertebra into his mouth to suck out the marrow.

‘Well, aren’t you curious?’

‘No,’ he said around the bone. ‘Should I be?’

Rucket slowly leaned forward, as if seeing Bugg for the first time. ‘You… interest me now. I freely admit it. Do you want to know why?’

‘Why you freely admit it? All right.’

‘I’m a very open person, all things considered.’

‘Well, I am considering those things, and so consequently admit to being somewhat surprised.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me in the least, Bugg. What are you doing later tonight, and what’s that insect? There, on your shoulder?’

He pulled the vertebra out and reached for another. ‘It’s of the two-headed variety. Very rare, for what I imagine are obvious reasons. I thought my master would like to see it.’

‘So you permit it to crawl all over you?’

‘That would take days. It’s managed to climb from halfway up my arm to my shoulder and that’s taken over a bell.’

‘What a pathetic creature.’

‘I suspect it has difficulty making up its minds.’

‘You’re being funny, aren’t you? I have a thing for funny people. Why don’t you come home with me after you’ve finished there.’

‘Are you sure you don’t have any business to discuss with me? Perhaps some news for Tehol?’

‘Well, there’s a murderous little girl who’s undead, and she’s been killing lots of people, although less so lately. And Gerun Eberict has been far busier than it would outwardly seem.’

‘Indeed? But why would he hide that fact?’

‘Because the killings do not appear to be politically motivated.’

‘Oh? Then what are his motivations?’

‘Hard to tell. We think he just likes killing people.’

‘Well, how many has he killed this past year?’

‘Somewhere between two and three thousand, we think.’

Bugg reached with haste for his goblet. He drank the wine down, then coughed. ‘Errant take us!’

‘So, are you coming home with me or not? I have this cat-fur rug-’

‘Alas, my dear, I have taken a vow of celibacy.’

‘Since when?’

‘Oh, thousands of years… it seems.’

‘I am not surprised. But even more intrigued.’

‘Ah, it’s the lure of the unattainable.’

‘Are you truly unattainable?’

‘Extraordinary, but yes, I am.’

‘What a terrible loss for womanhood.’

‘Now you are being funny.’

‘No, I am being serious, Bugg. I think you are probably a wonderful lover.’

‘Aye,’ he drawled, ‘the very oceans heaved. Can we move on to some other subject? You want any more wine? No? Great.’ He collected the carafe, then drew a flask from under his shirt and began the delicate task of pouring the wine into it.

‘Is that for your eel soup?’

‘Indeed.’

‘What happens now that I’ve decided to like you? Not just like you, I freely admit, but lust after you, Bugg.’

‘I have no idea, Rucket. May I take the rest of these bones?’

‘You certainly may. Would you like me to regurgitate my meal for you as well? I will, you know, for the thought that you will take into you what was previously in me-’

Bugg was waving both hands in the negative. ‘Please, don’t put yourself out for me.’

‘No need to look so alarmed. Bodily functions are a wonderful, indeed sensual, thing. Why, the mere blowing clear of a nose is a potential source of ecstasy, once you grasp its phlegmatic allure.’

‘I’d best be going, Rucket.’ He quickly rose. ‘Have a nice night, Chief Investigator.’ And was gone.

Alone once more, Rucket sighed and leaned back in her chair. ‘Well,’ she sighed contentedly, ‘it’s always been a sure-fire way of getting rid of unwanted company.’ She raised her voice. ‘Servant! More wine, please!’ That bit about clearing the nose was especially good, she decided. She was proud of that one, especially the way she disguised the sudden nausea generated by her own suggestion.

Any man who’d cook that… eel had surely earned eternal celibacy.

Outside the restaurant, Bugg paused to check the contents of his shirt’s many hidden pockets. Flask, eel, cat bones. A successful meeting, after all. Moreover, he was appreciative of her performance. Tehol might well and truly like this one, I think. It was worth considering.

He stood for a moment longer, then allowed himself a soft laugh.

In any case, time to head home.

Tehol Beddict studied the three sad, pathetic women positioned variously in the chamber before him: Shand slumped behind the desk, her shaved pate looking dull and smudged; Rissarh lying down on a hard bench as if meditating on discomfort, her red hair spilled out and hanging almost to the floor; and Hejun, sprawled in a padded chair, refilling her pipe’s bowl, her face looking sickly and wan. ‘My,’ Tehol said with a sigh, his hands on his hips, ‘this is a tragic scene indeed.’

Shand looked up, bleary-eyed. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

‘Hardly the greeting I was anticipating.’ He strode into the room.

‘He’s gone,’ Hejun said, face twisting as she jabbed a taper into the coals of the three-legged brazier at her side. ‘And it’s Shand’s fault.’

‘As much yours as mine,’ Shand retorted. ‘And don’t forget Rissarh! “Oh, Ublala! Carry me around! Carry me around!” Talk about excess!’

‘Ublala’s departure is the cause for all this despond?’ Tehol shook his head. ‘My dears, you did indeed drive him away.’ He paused, then added with great pleasure, ‘Because none of you was willing to make a commitment. A disgusting display of self-serving objectification. Atrocious behaviour by each and every one of you.’

‘All right all right, Tehol,’ Shand muttered. ‘We could have been more… compassionate.’

‘Respectful,’ Rissarh said.

‘Yes,’ Hejun said. ‘How could one not respect Ublala’s-’