Rainy didn’t even recognize me. He ran past me and grabbed his father’s waist and hung on.

“Now git.”

Mama spoke those words, and they were the only words spoken the whole time.

They got. The Hoogas watched the wagon roll out of sight, and then they sagged a bit. Mama gave them hash and I gave them coin. Then they shambled away, heading back to whatever it is ogres do when they have a pawful of money.

“You’re sure the Sprangs are heading home?”

“That they is, boy. Ain’t nobody could hex them back here again. Not today, anyways. They’s beat, and they’s hurt, and they is stupid but they ain’t crazy. Go on and do your business. We’ll be safe.” Mama looked suddenly grim. “’Leastways ’til I knows what I’m dealing with.”

A bath did wonders for my aroma, if not my spirits.

I lingered a long time in that hot copper tub. Steam wafted off me. Soap worked its homespun magic. Mr. Waters doesn’t allow clients to bring in beer, but one must have followed me from home because there it was, in my right hand.

I bathed and sipped beer and allowed myself the luxury of not pondering the events of the night and the day. I’d been assaulted. I’d had myself arrested for the murder of a little man with four legs. I’d been freed.

And someone in Pot Lockney might be hexing the whole village to come after my head while I lay there bathing.

I had no doubt Hisvin could not only discern the identity of the person who had hexed the Sprangs but probably also make them appear with a flash, caught up struggling in whatever dead hand Hisvin happened to be wearing at the moment.

Which would leave me even further in Hisvin’s debt.

I took a long draught of beer. No. That wasn’t going to happen. The moment I let the Corpsemaster fight my battles, that was the moment I became just another shuffling body in her legion of shuffling bodies.

I put my beer down on the floor and sank beneath the water. I could hear muffled sounds, under there-the tap of blind Mr. Waters’ stick, the sound of distant voices, a peal of sudden thunder. But it was muffled and distant and, best of all, no problem of mine.

I stayed down there in the warm, wet deep until I needed air. When I rose, sputtering and dripping, Mr. Waters was there.

“You got company, Mr. Markhat.” He tapped my tub with his stick. “Fancy carriage. Driver’s name is Halbert. Something about a meetin’ up to Avalante.”

I pushed back my hair and found my beer and drained it.

“Tell him I’ll be right there. And thanks. The water was extra hot, just like I like it.”

“Well, Mr. Markhat, you was extra fragrant.” He laughed. “I knows the smell of a jailhouse, I do. Thought you might appreciate a true hot bath.”

“It’s a perilous life I lead.” I stood and a towel was placed in my hand.

“Your clothes are hangin’ up,” said Mr. Waters. He tapped his way toward another customer. “I’ll tell the cab-man directly.”

I dried and dressed. My stomach reminded me I’d skipped Mama’s offer of supper. I consoled myself with the thought that I’d soon be dining, even if it was with the dead.

“I still cannot believe you had yourself arrested.” Evis took in a long draw of his freshly lit cigar. “You’re a piece of work, Markhat.”

“Not to split hairs, but Gertriss swore out the warrant.” I leaned back in Evis’s good leather chair and didn’t quite dare to put my boots on the edge of his desk. “I stood right there and listened to her do it. Even signed as a witness.”

“They didn’t catch on that their witness was also their murderer?”

I shrugged. “It was late in the day. I knew I could rely on the never failing vigilance of our officers of the Court.”

“What would you have done if Lethway hadn’t tried to carve you up? What if he’d had things to say?”

“If he’d had things to say he had plenty of time to say them. Too, I checked downtown and found out he pays the taxes on the Troll’s Den. Meet after Curfew, alone, in a place he controls? I knew he was planning something inhospitable.”

Evis chuckled. We had dined-or at least I had, while Evis had sipped something dark and thick from a crystal goblet. I’d opted for the chicken and the peas and the muffins, and I’d cleared two full plates. Avalante’s kitchens might belong to the halfdead, but there was no denying their skill with poultry.

My cigar was smooth and soothing. Evis’s office was dark and deliciously cool. The only light came from a few distant candles and the sporadic glimmering of the sorcerous doo-dads he collected and kept behind glass in the enormous curio cabinets that lined two walls of his inner sanctum.

I emulated Evis’s puffing and we let the silence linger for a bit.

“So, how much was the fine?”

“Two crowns.” I winced at the memory. “The Court is loathe to be made a fool of.”

Evis shook his head. “It was six crowns before we intervened, you know.”

“You intervened? When?”

“You think someone wearing an Avalante brooch can get pulled in for murder and we don’t know it? Tsk, tsk. I wasn’t even surprised when they told me it was you.”

“So why did I spend the night in Number 19, then?”

“For all I knew you wanted to be in there. Relax. I was coming down myself, had Gertriss not sprung you.”

“I’m touched.”

“You should be.” Evis produced a match and scratched it and made a flame. The end of his cigar glowed red, and he pulled air through it. “So. You’ve made an enemy of the Lethways. You’re sure he meant to kill you?”

“He wasn’t going to lift a finger, himself. But yes. His associates were out for blood, never mind the new rugs. They didn’t intend for me to leave there alive.”

Evis clasped his pale fingers behind the back of his head and frowned.

“Why, I wonder? You don’t know where this Carris is, or who took him. Odds are you won’t ever know. Seems a bit heavy-handed. ”

“Thanks for your confidence in my deductive abilities.”

“You’re welcome. But kill you, for daring to ask questions? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Nothing about this makes any sense.” I told Evis about the Sprangs and the Old Ruth. He puffed away, his white eyes closed, while I laid it out.

“I don’t believe in coincidences, pal. Are you sure there’s no connection between these hillbillies and the Lethways and the Fields?”

“Let’s see. A rich mining magnate from Rannit. A bunch of hick pig farmers from a village so poor they can’t afford dirt for their floors. A middling-successful baker with a headstrong daughter who hasn’t been any farther East than Grant Avenue. No. I don’t think there’s any way all that is part of the same mess.”

Evis shrugged.

“You should have had the hicks tailed,” said Evis after a while. “In case their wand-waving friend met them on the road out of town.”

“Ha. I did in fact do that very thing. The Sprangs spoke to no one. No one spoke to them. They were last seen hauling Polter aboard a leather convoy, bound for Vicks.”

Mama had actually arranged that, without my knowledge, using her ragtag army of street urchins as tails. They’d followed the Sprangs well out of town before turning back to report to Mama and claim their bounty of biscuits and ham.

“You know you could always call on certain persons of high rank and standing for help,” Evis said. “She isn’t going to like hearing that renegade spell-casters are taking swipes at her officers.”

“No. Not yet.” I thought about that. “Not ever.”

Evis smiled a toothy smile. “Always the optimist,” he said. “But you might as well face it. We’re in deep with Hisvin, whether we like it or not.”

“I don’t like it one bit.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re officers in her army now. Why not take advantage of the privileges of rank, since we’re forced to endure the burdens?”

“Have you asked her for favors?”

“Nope. Doesn’t mean I won’t. More beer?”