‘It was no duel, Murillio. Turban Orr was provoked. He was set up. He was assassinated, in plain view. Murder, not a duel-do you even comprehend the difference?’

The foreman was staring back and forth between them with all the dumb bewilderment of an ox.

‘I do, sir, but as I said, I was not there to witness the event-’

‘You call me a liar, then?’

‘Excuse me?’ Gods below, ten years past and he would have handled this with perfect grace and mocking equanimity, and all that was ruffled would be smoothed over, certain debts accepted, promises of honouring those debts not even needing explicit enunciation. Ten years past and-

‘You are calling me a liar.’

‘No, I do not recall doing so, Councillor. If you say Turban Orr was assassinated, then so be it. As for my somehow conspiring to bring it about, well, that is itself a very dangerous accusation.’ Oh, he knew where this was leading. He had known for some time, in fact. It was all there in Gorlas Vidikas’s eyes-and Murillio now recalled where he had last seen this man, and heard of him. Gorlas enjoyed duelling. He enjoyed killing his opponents. Yes, he had attended one of this bastard’s duels, and he had seen-

‘It seems,’ said Gorlas, ‘we have ourselves a challenge to honour here.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘When you retracted your accusation, well, I admit I thought you were about to tuck your tail between your legs and scuttle off down the road. And perhaps I would’ve let you go at that-it’s Hanut’s obsession, after all. Not mine.’

Murillio said nothing, understanding how he had trapped himself, with the foreman to witness the fact that the demand for a duel had come from him, not Gorlas Vidikas. He also understood that there had been no chance, none at all, that Gorlas would have let him go. Naturally,’ continued the councillor, ‘I have no intention of withdrawing my accusation-so either accept it or call me out, Murillio. I have vague recollections that yon were one judged a decent duellist.’ He scanned the track to either side. ‘This place seems well suited. Now, a miserable enough audience, granted, but-’

‘Excuse me,’ cut in the foreman, ‘but the day’s shift bell is about to sound. The crews can get a perfect view, what with you two on the ridgeline-if you’d like.’

Gorlas winked over at Murillio as he said, ‘By all means we shall wait, then.’

The foreman trundled down the path into the pit, to ensure that the crew captains were told what was going on. They’d enjoy the treat after a long day’s work in the tunnels.

As soon as the foreman was out of earshot, Gorlas grinned at Murillio. ‘Now, anything more we should talk about, now that we’ve got no witness?’

‘Thank you for the invitation,’ Murillio said, tightening the straps of his glove. ‘Turban Orr didn’t deserve an honourable death. Hanut is your friend? Tell me, do you enjoy sleeping with vipers, or are you just stupid?’

‘If that was an attempt to bring me to a boil, it was pathetic. You truly think I don’t know all the tricks leading up to a duel? Gods below, old man. Still, I am pleased by your admission-Hanut will be delighted to hear that his suspicions were accurate. More important, he will find himself in my debt.’ And then he cocked his head. ‘Of course, the debt will be all the greater if I let you live. A duel unto wounding-leaving your fate in Hanut’s hands. Yes, that would be perfect. Well, Murillio, shall it be wounding?’

‘If you like,’ Murillio said.

‘Are your boots pinching?’

‘No.’

‘You seem in discomfort, Murillio, or is that just nerves?’

Bells clanged in the pit below. Distant shouts, and out from the tunnel mouths spewed filthy figures looking barely human at this distance. Runners raced down the lines. Word was getting out.

‘What’s this Harllo boy to you, anyway?’

Murillio glanced back to Gorlas. ‘You married Estraysian D’Arle’s daughter, didn’t you? She’s made herself very… popular, of late, hasn’t she? Alas, I am starting to understand why-you’re not much of a man, are you, Gorlas?’

For all the councillor’s previous bravado, he paled in the late afternoon light.

‘It’s terrible, isn’t it,’ Murillio went on, ‘how every sordid detail, no matter how private and personal, so easily leaves the barricaded world of the wellborn and races like windblown seeds among all us common folk, us lowborn. Why, whatever happened to decency?’

The rapier rasped its way out of the sheath and the point lifted towards Murillio. ‘Draw your weapon, old man.’

Krute of Talient stepped inside. He saw Rallick Nom standing by the window, but it was shuttered closed. The man might as well be standing facing a wall. Oh, he was a strange one indeed, stranger now than he’d ever been before. All that si-lence, all that sense of something being very much… wrong. In his head? Maybe, And that was a worrying thought-that Rallick Nom might not be right any more,

‘It’s confirmed,’ said Krute, setting down the burlap sack filled with the makings for supper. ‘One contract dissolved, a new one accepted. Stinks of desperation, doesn’t it? Gods, Seba’s even called me back and that’s an invitation no sane man would refuse.’ He paused, eyeing his friend, and then said, ‘So you may not be seeing much of me from now on. From what I’ve gathered, this new one’s pretty straightforward, but it’s the kind that’ll shake up the precious bloods.’

‘Is it now?’ Rallick asked, expressionless.

‘Listen,’ said Krute, knowing he was betraying his nerves, ‘I couldn’t say no, could I? It’s fine enough living off your coin, but that’s hard on a man’s pride. I’ve got a chance to get back into the middle of things again. I’ve got a chance to walk with the Guild again. Rallick, I got to take it, you understand?’

‘Is it that important to you, Krute?’

Krute nodded.

‘Then,’ said Rallick, ‘I had best leave your company.’

‘I’m sorry about that-it’s my being… what’s that word again?’

‘Compromised.’

‘Exactly. Now, if you’d made your move on Seba, well, we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we? It’s the waiting that’s been so hard.’

‘There are no plans to replace Seba Krafar,’ said Rallick. ‘I am sorry if I have unintentionally misled you on that count. This is not to say we’re uninterested in the Guild.’ He hesitated. ‘Krute, listen carefully. I can leave you some coin-enough for a while, a half-year’s worth, in fact. Just decline Seba’s invitation-you don’t know what you’re getting into-’

‘And you do? No, Rallick, the point is, if I don’t know it’s because I’ve been pushed out of things.’

‘You should be thankful for that.’

‘I don’t need any patronizing shit from you, Rallick Nom. You’re all secrets now, nothing but secrets. But you’ll live here, with me, and eat what I cook, and what about me? Oh, right, on the outside again, this time with you. Well, I can’t live like that, so you’d better go. Don’t think ill of me-I won’t tell Seba about you.’

‘Can I not buy your retirement, Krute?’

‘No.’

Rallick nodded and then walked to the door. ‘Guard yourself well, Krute.’

‘You too, Rallick.’

Emerging from the tenement building’s narrow back door, Rallick Nom stepped out into the rank, rubbish-filled alley. His last venture into the world had seen him very nearly killed by Crokus Younghand, and of his time spent recovering at the Phoenix Inn, it was clear that no one who’d known of his presence had said a thing-not Kruppe, nor Coll, nor Murillio, nor Meese or Irilta; the Guild had notsniffed out his ignominious return. Even that wayward cousin of his, Torvald, had said nothing-although why that man had so vigorously avoided him was both baffling and somewhat hurtful.

Anyway, in a sense, Rallick remained invisible.

He paused in the alley. Still light, a ribbon of brightness directly above. It felt odd, to be outside in the day, and he knew it would not be long before someone caught sight of him, recognizing his face-eyes widening with astonishment-and word would race back to Seba Krafar. And then?