She had changed outfits, replacing the tattered nightgown with a maroon off-the-shoulder kirtle. It was a decent fit, if a little tight across the bosom. High, buttoned boots peeked from beneath the hem of the flaring skirt. He marveled at the spoiled aristocrat's daughter, who probably spent more on shoes in a sennight than most people scraped together in a year, sitting in a whore's bedchamber in a borrowed dress and looking absolutely gorgeous. Though he wasn't partial to red, the color brought out the glow in her cheeks. He couldn't look away, and didn't say a word for fear he might lose this moment. He felt her beauty tightening around his soul like a web of steel. Then, he thrust it away before the spell could settle over him for good. It was harder than he expected.

His good feelings faded under her fierce glare.

"You brought me to a… a bordello!"

Kit dropped from the ceiling and plopped on his bed without disturbing the covers. "Hey, look who's finally awake! You gave me a good scare, Caim. Don't do it again."

He cleared his throat and started to sit up, but stopped himself. He was naked. Worse, he couldn't remember how he'd gotten that way. Kit couldn't touch him and Josey… He banished the thought. Surely, she hadn't…

"You look, um, very nice," he said, and meant it for both of them.

"Don't say a word about the dress."

Kit snickered.

"I was just-"

"Not a word!"

"Fine."

"Good!"

He was glad to hear the fire in her voice. The things she had seen in the past couple days would have broken many people, especially a young woman from the fair streets of High Town. But Josey had responded with good instincts and poise. Unfortunately, those fine attributes wouldn't count for much if they were found. Twice now the Sacred Brotherhood had come for Josey, and had risked a great deal to see her dead. Twice he had saved her. Laid up with a hole in his gut, he didn't want to find out if three was his unlucky number.

"Actually," he said, "you brought me here. I was in no condition-"

"You gave me the directions!"

A knock at the door broke off whatever he was going to say next. A cold wave of dread washed over him as he tried to sit up again, and he clenched his jaws as a ripple of pain tore through his side. Where were his knives? He spied a familiar strap hanging from the bedpost by his head and grabbed for it just as the door opened. A familiar face peeked in. Caim suppressed the urge to groan again. Instead, he pulled the bedsheets up to his chest. Of course, it had to be Kira. He should have known.

Kira beamed at him as she swept into the room with a wooden tray and set it on the nightstand beside the bed. Caim returned a small smile, not wanting to appear impolite. After all, he and Kira had spent more than one night together in this very room on the few occasions he had felt the need for companionship.

Kira ignored Josey as she stood over him. "How are you feeling, Caim?"

Josey's mouth tightened in a way that made Caim glad to have his knives close at hand. Kit grinned like a cat with cream on her whiskers as she reclined beside him and watched the exchange.

The door opened again to admit the lady of the house. The panels of her lavender gown were wide to accommodate Madam Sanya's exceedingly ample bosom, which threatened to spill out of the low-plunged collar at any moment. It was widely whispered that she had been a great beauty in her youth, the most sought-after courtesan in Othir. Caim could almost believe it. A striking woman still lurked in the depths of her apple-shaped face, but she had been concealed under too many layers of makeup.

"All right, Kira." Madam Sanya made with a shooing motion. "Out now. Leave them to their rest."

The girl departed, after shooting another heated glance at Caim that earned him further mouth-tightening from Josey.

"I'm sorry about that," Madam Sanya said. "That girl can be a proper pain in the backside, but she's popular with the men."

"No." Josey came to her feet. "She's been very generous, as have you all."

Madam Sanya gave a lovely chuckle that could have come from a much younger and slighter lady. "It's no problem, darling. Caim is a good friend of the house. We're glad to help."

Josey leveled a bemused gaze at him. "Oh? Is he a regular at your establishment?"

Caim cleared his throat, ready to defend his reputation, but Madam Sanya didn't give him the chance. "Not quite a regular, but he's helped us out of some unpleasant situations. Not every man is a gentleman like Caim. Some have to be convinced to behave themselves, but it's just me and my girls here. I've never kept a bruiser at the door, and I never will if I have my way."

Arms crossed over her chest, Josey studied him with a mysterious expression like she was weighing him on some invisible scale. He didn't like the look one bit, but naked and abed there wasn't much he could do about it.

"Once," Madam Sanya continued, "we had a real hard case in the house, a Hvekish sellsword with more muscles than brains. Well, he hadn't been upstairs with Abilene for more than ten minutes when I hear an awful commotion. He was beating the vinegar out of the girl. Some men are just like that, mean to the core. Anyways, I sent Suri to fetch help, and she came back with Caim just as quick as you please. Without a word, he goes upstairs. We heard a mighty ruckus, but I was too scared to go up and look myself, not till afterward. There was Abilene, all busted up and bleeding like a lamb at market, but alive. The sellsword was stretched out with enough holes in his gullet to sink a man-o'-war. We threw the body out back with the garbage. Since then, everyone knows to keep civil in my house."

Caim changed the subject. "What's the latest, Sanya? Anyone looking for us?"

"Well, most tongues are flapping about the murders up in High Town."

"My father," Josey said.

Caim saw the pain written on her face and felt a stab of remorse. He hadn't killed her father, but he would have, and the knowledge of that made him feel just as guilty as if he had been the one holding the knife. Not for the first time, he reconsidered the direction his life had taken. Was it too late to give it all up? Would anyone ever see him as anything but a killer? Would he?

"You said murders, Sanya. There's been more than one?"

"Three all told," the madam replied. "Two was members of the Elector Council, killed in their own homes and no one's seen nothing. The whole city is buzzing about it. Personally, I think it's one of them southern death-cults at work. Did you hear about how that high priest got his head cut off down in Belastire? And by one of his own servants, mores the worse."

Belastire? That rang a bell in Calm's head. Someone had mentioned that city to him lately. Then he remembered who-Ral. Rotten bastard, what are you up to?

"I tell you," Madam Sanya said. "People are crazy these days, worshipping snakes and cats. Anyway, there's more tinmen on the street than I've seen in twenty years on the Lane. Someone will be hanging in Chirron's Square come sunset, mark my words."

"You didn't answer my question, Sanya," Caim said. "Is anyone looking for us?"

The mistress of the house gazed down into her generous chest. "Some say it's you behind all those killings, Caim. They say you've gone mad. But I don't believe it. You've been nothing but a gentleman to my girls and me."

"Thank you," Caim said. "For everything."

This time it was the big woman's turn to blush. She did it with grace and left, closing the door behind her.

"What does it mean?" Josey asked.

"It means someone is making their move."

"What kind of move?"

Thoughts tumbled around in Calm's head like pieces of a giant puzzle, each obscure on its own, but all of them hinting at a bigger picture. Othir had always been a hotbed of backroom dealings and political intrigue. Unrest had been the watchword since the day the Church deposed the last legitimate emperor and installed itself as the new regime. It was one of the reasons Caim had chosen here for his base of operations. Turmoil was lucrative in his line of business. Now it worked against him. With the rumors flying about, he couldn't go anyplace he was known. Madam Sanya had taken a big chance letting them stay here.