"An old friend, eh? Of course."

Caim looked around as he followed the wine mistress. Nothing had changed in the Vine. He had half expected to see the place in shambles after his last visit, but whatever he released from the shadows hadn't caused as much damage as he feared. Except for some new holes in the grimy wattle, the place looked the same as ever.

Then he noticed the empty tables. It was past midday, a time when the Vine would normally be filling up. Yet there were only a handful of patrons scattered through the common room. Caim hid a grimace of discomfort as he slid into a hard wooden chair.

"Some wine?" Mother asked. "I got a good Calamian in stock this week."

"Just a small beer. And Mother?"

"Yes?"

"Don't hassle the chit in the red dress."

"What?"

Caim nodded in the direction of the front door, where Josey stood. With shutters over the windows and smoky hanging lamps, the Vine was kept dim. Everyone who entered paused for a moment on the stoop to let their eyes adjust. It was an effective way to size up newcomers, which was one of the reasons Caim liked the place. That, and Mother never watered down the drinks.

As he'd said at Madam Sanya's, the dress hadn't been enough of a disguise, but now even her own father, had he been alive, wouldn't recognize her. Her jet black locks had been dyed with henna and chamomile. The resulting hue was a peculiar shade of reddish gold that was actually rather fetching. The whole coiffure had been pulled up into a gravity-defying design that drew eyes away from her face, the only change to which was a sassy beauty mark nestled in her left dimple.

"As you say, sweetling," Mother said as she eyed Josey. "I'll just go fetch your beer."

While Mistress Henninger waddled off to the bar, Caim watched Josey survey the room. Kira and Madam Sanya had tried to give her some pointers on how to act like a lady of the streets, which Caim observed with much amusement until they booted him from the room. When Josey emerged an hour later, all dolled up like a courtesan, he was genuinely surprised. She strutted ahead of him on the way to the wineshop and looked every bit the part.

Of course, Kit had been furious. She argued every step of the way, rattling off the many reasons Caim should cut his losses now while his head was still attached to his neck and flee the city for greener pastures.

"Don't let that pretty face fool you," Kit said. "And don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been watching her! She's just using you. She'll leave you high and dry the first good chance she gets."

He listened to her tirade all the way to the Merchant Quarter before he lost his temper and muttered some very pointed things about meddling spirits and the ugly head of jealousy.

"Fine!" she said. "I guess you've made up your mind."

With that, she left in a puff of sparkling silver dust and he hadn't seen her since. Now he regretted his words. He didn't have enough friends that he could afford to lose one, but Kit would be back once her temper cooled. Sooner, he hoped, rather than later.

As he watched Josey saunter around the room, lingering at the occupied tables, Caim began to think she was enjoying the charade. That is, until she turned in his direction and transfixed him with a venomous glare. Thankfully, Mother arrived in time to save him. While he handed her twice the price of the drink, plus a sizable tip for the inconvenience, Caim caught Josey's gaze and jerked his head to a nearby table.

She stalked across the taproom and alighted gracefully into a chair. She started to sit up like a proper lady until she saw his expression and slouched, hips thrust forward and legs dangling askew, the perfect picture of a bored streetwalker taking her ease. Mother avoided looking in her direction, but every other eye in the place was plastered to her every move. That was exactly what he wanted. If they salivated over the lusty whore, they wouldn't notice the noblewoman behind the act.

The sound of the door swinging drew Calm's gaze back to the entrance. He breathed a little easier at the sight of Hubert. After the way they had been forced to flee the last time they'd met, Caim had feared the young man wouldn't show. He signaled.

Hubert came over. He grinned as he took in the disguise. "Going back to your roots, Caim?" He helped himself to a seat at the table. "Or shouldn't I be using your real name?"

Caim set down his half-empty cup. "It's safe enough here, but I'm trying to cover my tracks."

"I was a little surprised to get your message. I thought you were done with us. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mathias is dead."

Hubert's smile vanished. "What happened?"

"Someone dealt me a poisoned job, and then went back to make sure I couldn't get more details from Mat. Now they're after me. And my friend."

"Friend?"

Caim gave a slight nod in Josey's direction. Her seat was close enough to overhear their conversation without appearing obvious. She looked Hubert up and down before turning away with a bored yawn.

"Hubert," Caim said, "meet Josephine."

"She's lovely." Hubert's eyebrows rose. "A friend or a friend?"

Josey's smile curled up into a feral smirk as she pretended to examine her nails.

"Careful," Caim said. "She bites."

Hubert tipped his hat in a way that included Josey, or perhaps he saluted the entire room. "Charmed, milady. Hubert Vassili."

Josey frowned. Out of the side of her mouth, she whispered, "Vassili?"

Hubert nodded. "No doubt you've heard of my father, the archpriest."

Josey inhaled sharply. Caim glanced around the taproom. Few in Othir dared to talk openly of the Elector Council these days. People had been known to disappear for voicing opposition to their edicts.

"Do not be alarmed, milady." Hubert touched the blue feather in his hat. "Despite my father's office, I am a sworn enemy of the theocracy that holds our fair city in bondage."

He called for a drink as he turned back to Caim. "Say, are you behind those funerals up in High Town?"

Caim gave the young man his best deadpan face. "No."

"Ah, just as well. So I gather you've got a problem that you need my help to solve. Let me guess. The lady has a jealous husband?"

"Not exactly."

"A jealous pimp?"

Josey's smile became a strained grimace as a patron approached her with a lecherous smile and a cocky swagger. Caim slipped a hand behind his back, but Josey rejected the fellow with a dismissive flick of her fingers. Not precisely in character, but it worked. The man turned around and went back to his table with a glum frown. Mother shot Caim a frown of her own as she hustled over to soothe the jilted lover with a fresh flagon of ale. Message received. She didn't want any more trouble in her place. He needed to hurry this up.

"I'm trying to find someone. A city official, maybe high up." Caim gave a brief description of the man Josey had seen in her father's study, complete with the sigil stitched into his clothing.

"Crossed keys?" Hubert asked as a decanter of wine arrived with a semiclean glass. "That would mean a minister of the Church treasury. From what you've told me, I'd guess you're talking about Ozmond Parmian. He's the assistant to the keeper of the Holy Coffers."

Caim digested that for a moment. "Any idea why he would be meeting with a retired exarch just hours before that respected man should be killed?"

Hubert tasted his wine and made an unpleasant face. "You're talking about Earl Frenig."

Calm's nod was so slight as to be almost imperceptible.

"Oh ho! Caim, you've gotten yourself into a real wasps' nest, haven't you? Old Frenig had his hand in all sorts of interesting business."

Josey spun around on her chair. "If you're insinuating he had anything to do with underhanded dealings, you're severely mistaken, sir! He was a-