I had Fields dead if not buried when a quarter of an hour later the same black carriage rolled back around and halted briefly in front of the Fields’s house. When the carriage rolled away, Fields was halfway to his door, legs pumping, robes flapping.

“I’ll be damned.”

He didn’t bother with his hidden door, but walked right up to the front door, opened it with a key, and darted inside. He didn’t light a lamp.

I doubted Mrs. Fields or anyone else realized he’d been gone.

I’d have to keep a closer eye on my sneaky baker man.

“What was that all about?”

I shrugged. My back popped. Half the windows in the home were still lit.

“Why don’t we go ask?” I checked the street for halfdead, not really expecting any, but not wanting Mills to think me a man devoid of due caution. “We might even snare a leftover donut.”

“Both of us?”

An hour earlier I’d have insisted on going alone. Secret doors and midnight meetings left me less willing to take the risk.

“I’ll introduce you as Mr. Smith, if you prefer. Claim you’re new in town, from Horn or Latter or anywhere you please.”

He chuckled. “No need.”

We stepped out of our concealing shadow and made for the door.

A pair of butlers armed with crossbows greeted us. I could see another pair of worthies lurking behind various corners, ready to join the welcome should festivities be declared.

It took a bit of talking, but Mills and I were eventually frisked and allowed inside and gruffly seated at one end of a formal sitting room while half a dozen male staffers glared at us from the other. It was Mrs. Mills who made the first appearance, all smiles and welcomes, but even that didn’t reduce the number of men watching us or soften a single one of their expressions.

We did manage a pair of donuts. I’ve never been observed with such suspicion while consuming a glazed pastry.

Mr. Fields made us wait half an hour before he deigned to join us in a library. He surprised me by dismissing his staff and closing the door firmly behind them.

He left the door, crossed the room and settled back into a well-worn leather chair. That put a desk between us. Knowing the kinds of things I keep in, under and around my desk didn’t help my digestion.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon, Mr. Markhat.” He did not smile. “Who is your friend?”

“Mills,” replied Mills. “I’m just here to keep things civil. Don’t mind me.”

“I won’t.” Fields turned his gaze to me. “Well?”

“So, how is Pratt tonight?” I was guessing, but he flinched, just a bit, and I knew I’d landed the first blow.

“I don’t know any Pratt. I haven’t had any visitors, either.”

I smiled. “No need to receive visitors when you have a handy secret door you can slip out of whenever you like. You must have a paid a small fortune for that one. One way, isn’t it? Invisible from the outside, probably hidden in the back of a coat closet on the inside-”

He glared. I shut up. I’d made my point.

Better to leave them wondering just how much you know than to keep talking and stumble.

“I’ve made the acquaintance of Mr. Pratt myself, Mr. Fields. Funny, he never mentioned that you and he were friends.”

“We are not friends. I only met the man recently. And it was he who insisted we meet, Mr. Markhat. He said he had information about the men who tried to take Tamar.”

It was my turn to suppress a flinch. But I’m better at it than Fields, so I just turned it into a knowing sort of nod.

“Did he now.”

Fields cussed. “I didn’t need Pratt to tell me it was Lethway who arranged for those animals to invade my home and lay hands on my daughter, Markhat. I knew it from the start. All his man Pratt did was provide me with the proof.” He rummaged in his desk and pulled out a parcel wrapped in plain brown paper and thrust it on the desk.

“Here. As if you don’t already know.”

Mills saved me the trouble of formulating a reply by unwrapping the parcel himself.

Inside was the bloodied head of the walking stick that Tamar had used to kill her attacker. The Lethway Mining crest was engraved on it and covered in blood.

I nodded, as if I’d wrapped the thing myself.

“So now you know.”

“No thanks to you.”

“I wasn’t asking for any thanks. I’m going to pull Lethway’s teeth for you. You can thank me for that, when I’m done.”

Something in Fields’s eyes went cold.

“How much would you charge to just kill the bastard?”

I stood. Mills followed suit.

“Not my line, Mr. Fields. Believe me when I tell you this. You can’t afford the kind of muscle that would take.”

“I’m not a poor man.”

“And I’m not a stupid one. Good night, Mr. Fields. I suggest you get some sleep, and forget all about hiring a killing. All you’ll be buying is trouble.”

He had no reply. We showed ourselves out.

The street was quiet. A few carriages rattled past in the distance, barely audible above the crickets. I patted my Avalante pin and set a brisk pace, Mills at my side. If he was concerned about breaking Curfew he didn’t show it.

I thought about the bloody walking stick. I’d pinned that on the same people who had grabbed Carris. Now Pratt had seemingly laid that at Lethway’s door.

Why, though?

Maybe Lethway was worried that Fields might be tempted to turn on him, and wanted Tamar as leverage. Maybe Fields had never really written himself out of the Lethway payroll, and was bucking for a raise, and Tamar was Lethway’s way of saying ‘no.’

“My line of work is a lot simpler.” Mills must have guessed the nature of my thoughts. “Very little ambiguity.”

“Ambiguity pays my bills. Speaking of which. I need to head up to Avalante. I won’t dock you any pay if you decide you’d rather call it a night.”

Mills shrugged. “I’m not worried if you’re not. That pin ever actually turned any halfdead away?”

I thought back to the pair that had killed the little pig herder down on the docks.

“It has. They bow and doff their hats, and then it’s heels and toes and flapping capes.”

He laughed. “I’d like to see that, I think. I’ll come along.”

“We’ll be hoofing it.” A ghost of an idea presented itself. “Or not. Keep a sharp eye out for Army wagons. We might catch a ride after all.”

He lifted an eyebrow, but if he thought I was crazy he kept it to himself.

We set our sights on the tops of the crematorium smokestacks and headed for the Brown.

Evis was right.

I’d flagged down an army tallboy at the corner of Wesson and Grade. It was driven by a sergeant and conveying a pair of sleepy lieutenants.

I only had to say my name once, and Mills and I were welcomed aboard while the pair of lieutenants took to the street with barely a muttered curse and murderous glare.

The sergeant snapped his reins and we were off, headed for Avalante, courtesy of the Army of the Regency.

Mills ogled.

“How in the Hell?”

I shrugged. “Friends in high places. You really don’t want to know more than that.”

He closed his mouth. I turned away before my grin got any wider.

Bridge clowns avoid the black carriages of the halfdead, but they have no such respect for the weathered vehicles of the army. I was glad only a few clowns were present, since they took to throwing broken bricks and chunks of mortar. The driver raced across at breakneck speed, and I was doubly glad we weren’t meeting any traffic.

The driver, it turned out, had never been across the Brown, so he took several wrong turns before we found Avalante. I bade him pull to the curb and wait, and spent a few minutes reassuring him he was safer here in the heart of the halfdead district than he’d ever been in neighborhoods like mine-as long as he remained in uniform and atop an army troop wagon.

Mills and I left him there and made for Avalante’s tall, dark doors. They opened well before we arrived, and we were immediately surrounded by half a dozen pale, fluid figures dressed in Avalante black.