Sapphire smiled with the wide, glassy eyes of a cat spotting a mouse. "What can you devise for my amusement?" she asked.

Chane wondered if snapping her neck would qualify as a suitable diversion.

"I'm bored," she said. "And my ribs hurt, and Toret promised to bring me a pretty girl to satisfy me. You make sure he remembers that."

"Yes, some nobleman's daughter. A trifle, I'm sure. Where should we look for such a treat, my lady?" He bit off the last two words. "Young people from proper families are safely ensconced in their homes at night."

"Toret and I found you, didn't we?" Her smile widened. "Not so proper then, are you?"

Her bright eyes dropped to his half-open shirt. When the message arrived, he'd been alone in his cellar room, preparing to change clothes for Toret's errand later this evening.

"And not proper at all tonight," Sapphire added.

Revulsion turned to mild fear. If he walked out, she would begin screeching. Toret would come up and simply order him to stay-or worse if he suspected something illicit had occurred. It would be his fault either way.

"What about a game of cards?" he suggested quickly.

She blinked, honest surprise washing over her round features.

"You would play cards with me? Really? I haven't played cards in a long time." She pointed at something in the corner. "We can use that little white tray if you set it on the bed."

"I must find a deck," he said. "Unless you have one?"

This was a gamble, but the chance of Sapphire's having a deck of cards in her room was minimal.

"No, I… don't think I do," she answered.

"I have one in my room that I use for scrying experiments. It is old, but will do. If you give me a moment-"

"How long will you be?" she asked, slightly suspicious now.

"Not long, but it may take me a few moments to find my cards." He handed her a pewter comb and picked up the small mirror next to her. "Best comb your hair and put it up. Fallen curls do not become you."

At those words, she grabbed the mirror and gazed into it with serious concern. "Oh, my. Go find those cards."

Chane slipped quietly out as Sapphire fussed with her curls.

He could not use the main stairs for fear Toret might hear him, so he walked quietly to the hall's end and the staircase landing. He pressed down with his booted toe against the corner of the floor, and the wall pivoted outward just enough to grab its edge. He opened it and slipped inside the wall. At times he wondered why the original owner had wanted this parallel passage between all four levels of the house. Closing the hidden door behind him, he crept downward. There wasn't enough light even for his eyes in this narrow space. At the bottom of three steep flights, he pressed against the wall until it grated open, and he stepped into the cellar.

He liked to keep this outer area sparse. Slim long swords, small bucklers and shields, and one short sword lined the opposite wall. This was where he and Toret did most of their training, and he practiced by himself if time allowed. A sharp mind with a dull body was useless. He hurried to his own room.

"Sparse" would hardly describe it. Rows of books lined the walls inside of old shelves. The narrow iron bed with a thin mattress and no blankets seemed to be an afterthought. The focal point of the room was his desk, covered in feather quills, faded parchments, crystal orbs, tiny wooden boxes, and whatever tome he happened to be studying. At the back of the desk was a cage with a large rat.

Chane opened the cage, hoping Sapphire still worked on her second or third curl. Whisking up the rat, he carried it to the bottom of the main stairs and focused his mind, absently touching the small urn around his neck as he did so.

He felt the animal's scattered thoughts at the edge of his awareness. He would need to guide it, but it would not hurt to implant an impression in its thoughts first. The small creature wriggled its long whiskers and stretched. Chane took it to the top of the cellar stairs, pushed the door slightly ajar, and set it down. The sleek rat slipped out.

Chane shut out his awareness until only the rat's senses filled his mind. It scurried past the kitchen and dining room, along the short hallway toward the edge of the parlor. Two sets of booted feet stood in the room. The rat darted quickly under and to the forward edge of a divan.

"She drove a stake through my mate's heart! I will take this fight to her."

Toret's voice was the first that Chane heard through the rat's ears. But to whom was he speaking?

Chane turned the small creature's attention upward.

A stranger stood across from Toret. Middle-aged, dressed like a gentleman in well-fitted clothes, the man had a dignified bearing, except that his crafted high boots were dull and scuffed as if well traveled. Dark brown hair, combed carefully back, was marked with a stark white patch at each temple.

"Of course," the stranger agreed. "That is why I warned you."

"Why would you care?" Toret retorted.

"It's merely fortunate-for you-that our objectives are compatible. How would this play out if you were unaware she was even here?"

Toret stepped closer, and Chane now saw both men through his familiar's eyes. How ridiculous Toret appeared next to his visitor. He was small and lowborn, and his deep purple tunic and black polished boots made him look like a houseboy playing dress-up.

"Very well, what do you suggest?" Toret asked finally, relenting.

"She and her partner stay at the Burdock in the southern merchant district. You know she can stand against a swordsman. Rashed was skilled and strong, but to no avail. She's never fought magic, and she dealt with Rashed one-on-one. Force her to deal with your conjuror. Increase your numbers. Give her more than one opponent to face."

Toret nodded. "I've already been preparing for this."

Chane wasn't sure how he felt about greater numbers in the household. He wanted to be free of Toret but remembered how weak his master had been in Chane's early nights as an undead. Making more than one new minion might weaken or disorient Toret enough for Chane to take advantage.

It appeared the conversation would soon come to a close. As much as Chane wished to hear all that was said, he needed time to reach the third floor before Toret returned there. He pulled his awareness back and summoned the rat. When it reached the cellar door, he carried it back to his room and its cage.

He rummaged through his belongings, opening small boxes and satchels until he found a deck of cards. Once back at the cellar's hidden entry, he slipped into the wall and up the narrow hidden passage to the third floor.

Why did Toret not further question this stranger's willing assistance? The man had hinted at an agenda. Were Chane in his master's place, he would take no advice, follow no suggestions, until he was certain what this man stood to gain. Toret behaved as if he were more accustomed to taking orders than giving them.

Chane slipped out onto the third floor and moved down the hall to Sapphire's room. As he entered and closed the door, she was still combing out her curls and looked at him expectantly.

"Did you find some?"

He held up the deck, and she clapped her hands.

"What should we play?" she asked.

"Two Kings. And I deal."

Welstiel sped by coach from Toret's house directly to a modest but respectable inn called Calabar's inside the second ring wall. Lanjov had sent for him, and he did not wish to keep his acquaintance waiting. He found the councilman sitting at their usual table, but Lanjov's face had changed much in recent weeks. Lines around the man's eyes made him appear weary.

But more seemed to weigh upon the councilman tonight, for Welstiel noted a strange apprehension in the man. He fidgeted, glancing about as if not wishing to be discovered. Then his eyes focused on Welstiel.