The room was silent.

“When Tom Bellamy told you to acquire that document, you thought it was going to have my signature, did you not? Or one of my family’s? I took the original out of your pocket. But when it did not, you had a forgery made. You thought you were doing what Tom would want, protecting her from me. You think you still are. But now she has taken the firelighter and gone on her own. She is hurt, and reckless. I do not think she will be coming out of the prison with the others. And now the execution bells have rung, Hammond.”

Spear shook his head, running his hands through hair that was usually so perfectly in place. “I don’t believe you. Only that sounds so much like Sophie that I almost do.”

“But that is not all. Enzo has seen LeBlanc tell his secretary that Sophia is the Red Rook. He knows she is coming …”

“Because you told him!” Spear yelled.

“I told LeBlanc nothing!” René’s voice dropped low. “Are you certain that you did not? Because she rejected you?”

Madame Hasard’s warning went unheard because Spear’s chair had pushed back, René already on his feet. Then there was a knock at the door. Benoit answered and Enzo appeared.

“What is happening?” Enzo said, running an eye over René’s wet shirt and the fight that was about to erupt. “You are all doing something strange every time I enter. Whatever it is, put it aside. LeBlanc is drugged, but not drugged enough. He does not seem to prefer our wine.”

“Then give him one he does prefer,” said Madame Hasard reasonably.

“And Émile needs you, Andre,” Enzo went on. “He wants you to steal LeBlanc’s pendant, I have no idea why, and he wants to tell you all that Tom Bellamy does not die at dawn. He dies at highmoon.”

Claude dropped his gaze from the middlemoon, stroking his tiny mustache. The Seine Gate had opened and he was making his way up the cliff road and out of the Lower City with a seething, raucous mass of humanity, his gendarme’s jacket stuffed into his bag. It did not do to wander about in uniform on your own. Especially in this crowd. But he could not get the sound of the execution bells out of his head. He stopped, letting the people roll by him.

LeBlanc always allowed the gendarmes to come to the executions, even if they were on duty, as long as a replacement could be found. But today he had been sent away. And he’d seen other guards going as well, running off to the wine and women of La Toussaint. Or the Festival of Fate, whatever they were calling it now. Then he thought of Gerard, standing behind his desk with his bandaged finger, sweating face, and that nervous tic.

Claude turned and pushed his way back down the clogged cliff road, alongside some others who had changed direction at the call of the bells. A row of landovers with the Allemande seal were coming fast through the gate, down into the Lower City. He followed them, found a clear path, and broke into a run to the Tombs.

The twins carried an insensible Jennifer quickly past Gerard’s closed office, past the lift and to the prison yard door.

“Are the landovers arriving?” Sophia asked.

“Not yet, but they will be here soon because …”

“… the Seine Gate has just been opened.”

“Do you know how many?”

“No.”

“The boy knows.”

They meant Cartier. She had no idea who was speaking anymore. The twins seemed to share most thoughts, and divide up the duty of conveying them. She peeked out the doors into an empty prison yard that, thanks to the execution bells, would not be empty for much longer. She wondered if those bells were for Tom, or Jennifer, or for her. “How many prisoners do we have?”

“The boy has counted two hundred and fifty-eight.”

She glanced at Jennifer’s lolling head. Perhaps it was no wonder there were only two hundred and fifty-eight left.

“Do either of you know where Tom Bellamy is?”

“Wasn’t he down there?”

“Those cells were empty. Where is Gerard?”

“Shaking like a leaf in his office. He thinks you’re going to …”

“… pop up out of nowhere and cut his throat.”

“Right. The yard looks clear. Hurry and get her to the warehouse and see if anyone there has any medical training. I’ll be coming with Tom Bellamy. Tom and Jennifer get into a landover first, or if Tom’s not there … They must get away first, and Gerard gets on the last. The very last. And then you need to disappear, everyone gone well before highmoon. Do you understand?”

“And you?”

She wondered where Cartier had found these two, what they were doing in such a horrible place as the Tombs, and how they had ever gotten drawn into the machinations of the Red Rook. “I’ll come soon.”

And Cartier would know what to do if she didn’t. She refused to consider what would happen if Spear did not get out of the flat with the passes. With any luck they would be out of the city and on their way to the coast by nethermoon.

Or maybe luck served only LeBlanc tonight.

LeBlanc swayed just slightly on the settee, trying to explain the workings of Luck. Émile grinned, enjoying himself while Renaud wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“But have you no faith, Cousin Albert?” Émile said, tossing a coin up and down in one hand. It landed on face every time. “Show me how your Goddess works. I want to see it with my own eyes.” He watched Andre and Peter slip in, skirting around the violinists.

“Fate,” said LeBlanc, his voice thick, “is not … a game. They began it when … the machines fell … out of the sky. The survivors … they knew when the satellites fell … that only Fate was in control. Not a game.”

“I am not playing a game, Albert. I am learning about your Goddess. She is real, isn’t she?”

LeBlanc stretched out a hand and took the coin. Peter was not far away, his arm around the woman with the turban, and Andre had just picked up a glass from a tray.

“The tradition of the Goddess states that when … when using the coin the … facade …” He turned the coin over, to show the facade of the premier’s building. “… means … no. Face means … is …” LeBlanc held the coin between his palms without finishing his sentence, fingers lifted to rest just below his odd eyes. Émile leaned in, Renaud watching closely, Peter and the woman with the turban laughing as they danced. Andre had moved behind LeBlanc, bending to observe the proceedings.

“Goddess, does … does …”

“Émile,” Émile supplied.

“Does Émile … truly … want to learn of you?”

LeBlanc flipped the coin into the air, and at the same time Peter and the woman with the turban bumped into Andre, knocking him into LeBlanc, then spinning into Renaud, spilling a goblet of wine between them. LeBlanc caught himself on the tabletop as the coin hit the glass and rolled, settling with a clink that was almost unheard in the aftermath.

“Oh, I am sorry, Albert, let me fetch a man to clean you up …”

LeBlanc looked around to see Peter brushing the red liquid from Renaud’s front, and with a smooth, unseen movement, Émile flipped the coin to face. LeBlanc turned back to check the will of Fate, his face lighting up at the sight of “yes.” He didn’t seem to be aware that the pendant with its hidden clock was no longer around his neck.

Sophia slipped the sword up to Gerard’s neck without him realizing she was there. He’d had his back turned, examining the window, but he went still at the chill of steel. Gerard sighed, and slowly raised his hands.