Ral palmed the throwing blade. It would be an easy toss from this close, and his sword leaned against the armoire if he missed. He started the motion when his gaze rose to the shadowed depths of the stranger's cowl. A weird sensation rolled over him as he tried to penetrate the darkness inside the hood, like looking up at the night sky, into a darkness that went on forever and forever. The icy feeling returned. He lowered the weapon. He had seen this man before, in the shadowed chambers of the palace. Vassili's pet sorcerer. A cold dread washed over him.

"You work for the archpriest."

"I am Levictus."

Ral shifted in the chair and forced his lips to form a small smile. Many men had trembled to see that smile just moments before their deaths.

"Tell your master I am doing everything I can. We'll find Caim and the girl. Don't wor-"

"I come on my own behalf. With an offer."

What was this? Ral sat up.

"For many years," the sorcerer continued, "I have worked tirelessly in the archpriest's service, but in recent days I have come to discover that his aims no longer reflect my own."

That was interesting. Yes, very interesting indeed. "You mentioned an offer."

"I seek a new partner, one whose goals are more closely aligned with my own."

"So what brings you to me?"

The cowl dipped slightly. "You are ambitious. You chafe under the yoke of servitude, just as I do. Separate we are formidable, but together… there would be nothing to stop us."

"There's Vassili and the Church. And the Sacred Brotherhood. Even without a grand master, they aren't going to sit idle and let us take over."

Levictus drew up straighter and the room suddenly felt too small for the both of them. Ral squeezed himself farther into the chair.

"The Church is not as unified as it appears," the sorcerer said. "The prelate's gaze is turned across the sea. The electors are divided by their lusts. As for the Brotherhood, you already possess the leverage you need."

"Markus."

Ral worked his tongue around his mouth to drum up some moisture. He didn't like feeling small. He hated it, in fact, worse than anything else he could think of. Yet there was something to this figure standing before him, an awful power he could not deny, and one he dared not ignore. "And His Sublime Radiance?"

"All men die, the small and the great alike."

Ral tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. Despite the theatrics, this man meant business. The deadly serious sort. The kind of business he enjoyed best.

"Sounds like you have it all figured out. What do you need me for?"

The sorcerer loomed closer. "The archpriest's plan was too timid. We will eliminate the Elector Council, down to the last priest. Then, as the only powers left in the city, we collect all the spoils."

"Is that all? Do you want me to knife the Holy Father himself while I'm at it?"

The intruder said nothing.

"God's balls, you're serious! Listen. I didn't mind working for Vassili. He made me certain assurances, but what's my end of this grand scheme?"

The other leaned forward. Despite his best efforts, Ral pressed back against the chair to keep the distance between them as a sibilant whisper issued from the dark cowl.

"I will deal with the prelate, but it is time for Nimea to regain her soul. For that, the realm needs a strong hand on the reins. You were content to accept the scraps from Vassili's table. Would you pass up the chance to hold this entire city in the palm of your hands? Unfettered. Answerable to no man. For once, your own master."

Ral sucked in a deep breath. "How-?"

Levictus extended a scroll sealed with a dollop of black wax. Ral reached for it as though it were a serpent. The parchment was stiff and strangely textured as he unrolled it, like cowhide but much smoother. With a start he realized it must be human skin. He held it aside so he could watch the man while he read.

"These are your new targets. Complete this task and all that you desire will come to pass."

Ral read through the list and appreciated the straightforwardness of the plan. Yes, it could work. With these individuals out of the way, there would be no one left to defy them. If this man could be trusted to do his part. Ral wished he could see the sorcerer's eyes. This was a risky gambit, but the rewards were beyond anything he had previously dreamed. Governorship of the greatest city in the world. He would have everything he had ever wanted: respectability, money, prestige.

"What about funding? An operation such as this-"

The sorcerer opened his other pale hand, and a stream of coins spewed forth like a fountain. "Do we have an accord, Lord Governor Pendarich?"

Ral gaped at the fortune in gold and silver rolling across his carpet, and up to the sleeve from which it had come. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled. Lord Governor Pendarich. I can live with that.

"I accept."

Heat flared in Ral's hand and he dropped the scroll, which had erupted into sizzling flame. He coughed and waved his hands. When the smoke cleared, the scroll and Levictus were gone.

Ral stood up. Long shadows filled the corners of the room despite the bright sunlight that shone through the windows. Thirteen square boxes rested on the table beside his armoire. Identical in appearance, each was constructed of a creamy wood, beach or maybe white pine, bound with brass fittings.

Ral went over to investigate. Fearing some trap, he abstained from touching them at first, but then his impatience got the better of him and he lifted one of the lids to peek inside.

He swallowed as he shut the box. An unsightly business, but necessary. He looked at his hand. A black smudge marred the smooth patch of skin between ridged calluses. He rubbed it on his shirt, but the mark remained. With a frown, he held it up to the light.

In the center of his palm gleamed a silhouette of an ominous black tower.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

aim awoke on his side with one hand tucked under a pillow. Thoughts drifted through his mind like clouds through a murky gray sky, memories of his wild days riding with Jame's band of marauders. The brawls, the comrades, the sultry nights in Brevenna where every woman was a beauty and the wine never stopped flowing. Sometimes he missed those days. They were a more innocent time in his life, a time when he'd never had to watch over his shoulder unless it was for an angry husband or a suspicious lawman, and either could be dealt with by coin or blade. He wondered what had happened to the fiery-tempered rogue he had once been.

He rolled onto his back and stretched, fully believing he was home in his cot until the shifting of the soft mattress beneath his frame made him sit up in alarm. The piercing agony that ripped through his side drove away the last vestiges of sleep. He groaned and settled back on the mattress. His stomach did a little flip when he opened his eyes. The pink walls, the frilly lace canopy, tin ornaments on the shelves polished to resemble silver. The smells of rose petals and talcum. There was only one place he could be.

Madam Sanya's Pleasure House on Paradise Lane.

It was a bolt hole he had used a few times in the past to recover from arduous jobs or just to clear his head. By the slant of the sunbeams filtering through the window slats, it was early morning. Sounds drifted in from the street-people talking, bartering, and arguing over the hum of the city. A familiar scent floated in the air. Another look around confirmed it. He was in Kira's room, and he wasn't alone.

Josey sat in a chair beside the bed. Part of him was amazed to see her. He would have wagered she'd come to her senses before now and taken off. Another part of him was irked. He was losing his edge if he could sleep soundly with someone else in the room.