awful power he could not deny, and one he dared not ignore. 'And His Sublime Radiance?'
'All men die, the small and the great alike.'
Ral tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. Despite the theatrics, this man meant business. The deadly serious sort. The kind of business he enjoyed best.
'Sounds like you have it all figured out. What do you need me for?'
The sorcerer loomed closer. 'The archpriest's plan was too timid. We will eliminate the Elector Council, down to the last priest. Then, as the only powers left in the city, we collect all the spoils.'
'Is that all? Do you want me to knife the Holy Father himself while I'm at it?'
The intruder said nothing.
'God's balls, you're serious! Listen. I didn't mind working for Vassili. He made me certain assurances, but what's my end of this grand scheme?'
The other leaned forward. Despite his best efforts, Ral pressed back against the chair to keep the distance between them as a sibilant whisper issued from the dark cowl.
'I will deal with the prelate, but it is time for Nimea to regain her soul. For that, the realm needs a strong hand on the reins. You were content to accept the scraps from Vassili's table. Would you pass up the chance to hold this entire city in the palm of your hands? Unfettered. Answerable to no man. For once, your own master.'
Ral sucked in a deep breath. 'How-?'
Levictus extended a scroll sealed with a dollop of black wax. Ral reached for it as though it were a serpent. The parchment was stiff and strangely textured as he unrolled it, like cowhide but much smoother. With a start he realized it must be human skin. He held it aside so he could watch the man while he read.
'These are your new targets. Complete this task and all that you desire will come to pass.'
Ral read through the list and appreciated the straightforwardness of the plan. Yes, it could work. With these individuals out of the way, there would be no one left to defy them. If this man could be trusted to do his part. Ral wished he could see the sorcerer's eyes. This was a risky gambit, but the rewards were beyond anything he had previously dreamed. Governorship of the greatest city in the world. He would have everything he had ever wanted: respectability, money, prestige.
'What about funding? An operation such as this-'
The sorcerer opened his other pale hand, and a stream of coins spewed forth like a fountain. 'Do we have an accord, Lord Governor Pendarich?'
Ral gaped at the fortune in gold and silver rolling across his carpet, and up to the sleeve from which it had come. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled. Lord Governor Pendarich. I can live with that.
'I accept.'
Heat flared in Ral's hand and he dropped the scroll, which had erupted into sizzling flame. He coughed and waved his hands. When the smoke cleared, the scroll and Levictus were gone.
Ral stood up. Long shadows filled the corners of the room despite the bright sunlight that shone through the windows. Thirteen square boxes rested on the table beside his armoire. Identical in appearance, each was constructed of a creamy wood, beach or maybe white pine, bound with brass fittings.
Ral went over to investigate. Fearing some trap, he abstained from touching them at first, but then his impatience got the better of him and he lifted one of the lids to peek inside.
He swallowed as he shut the box. An unsightly business, but necessary. He looked at his hand. A black smudge marred the smooth patch of skin between ridged calluses. He rubbed it on his shirt, but the mark remained. With a frown, he held it up to the light.
In the center of his palm gleamed a silhouette of an ominous black tower.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
aim awoke on his side with one hand tucked under a pillow. Thoughts drifted through his mind like clouds through a murky gray sky, memories of his wild days riding with Jame's band of marauders. The brawls, the comrades, the sultry nights in Brevenna where every woman was a beauty and the wine never stopped flowing. Sometimes he missed those days. They were a more innocent time in his life, a time when he'd never had to watch over his shoulder unless it was for an angry husband or a suspicious lawman, and either could be dealt with by coin or blade. He wondered what had happened to the fiery-tempered rogue he had once been.
He rolled onto his back and stretched, fully believing he was home in his cot until the shifting of the soft mattress beneath his frame made him sit up in alarm. The piercing agony that ripped through his side drove away the last vestiges of sleep. He groaned and settled back on the mattress. His stomach did a little flip when he opened his eyes. The pink walls, the frilly lace canopy, tin ornaments on the shelves polished to resemble silver. The smells of rose petals and talcum. There was only one place he could be.
Madam Sanya's Pleasure House on Paradise Lane.
It was a bolt hole he had used a few times in the past to recover from arduous jobs or just to clear his head. By the slant of the sunbeams filtering through the window slats, it was early morning. Sounds drifted in from the street-people talking, bartering, and arguing over the hum of the city. A familiar scent floated in the air. Another look around confirmed it. He was in Kira's room, and he wasn't alone.
Josey sat in a chair beside the bed. Part of him was amazed to see her. He would have wagered she'd come to her senses before now and taken off. Another part of him was irked. He was losing his edge if he could sleep soundly with someone else in the room.
She had changed outfits, replacing the tattered nightgown with a maroon off-the-shoulder kirtle. It was a decent fit, if a little tight across the bosom. High, buttoned boots peeked from beneath the hem of the flaring skirt. He marveled at the spoiled aristocrat's daughter, who probably spent more on shoes in a sennight than most people scraped together in a year, sitting in a whore's bedchamber in a borrowed dress and looking absolutely gorgeous. Though he wasn't partial to red, the color brought out the glow in her cheeks. He couldn't look away, and didn't say a word for fear he might lose this moment. He felt her beauty tightening around his soul like a web of steel. Then, he thrust it away before the spell could settle over him for good. It was harder than he expected.
His good feelings faded under her fierce glare.
'You brought me to a… a bordello!'
Kit dropped from the ceiling and plopped on his bed without disturbing the covers. 'Hey, look who's finally awake! You gave me a good scare, Caim. Don't do it again.'
He cleared his throat and started to sit up, but stopped himself. He was naked. Worse, he couldn't remember how he'd gotten that way. Kit couldn't touch him and Josey… He banished the thought. Surely, she hadn't…
'You look, um, very nice,' he said, and meant it for both of them.
'Don't say a word about the dress.'
Kit snickered.
'I was just-'
'Not a word!'
'Fine.'
'Good!'
He was glad to hear the fire in her voice. The things she had seen in the past couple days would have broken many people, especially a young woman from the fair streets of High Town. But Josey had responded with good instincts and poise. Unfortunately, those fine attributes wouldn't count for much if they were found. Twice now the Sacred Brotherhood had come for Josey, and had risked a great deal to see her dead. Twice he had saved her. Laid up with a hole in his gut, he didn't want to find out if three was his unlucky number.
'Actually,' he said, 'you brought me here. I was in no condition-'
'You gave me the directions!'
A knock at the door broke off whatever he was going to say next. A cold wave of dread washed over him as he tried to sit up again, and he clenched his jaws as a ripple of pain tore through his side. Where were his knives? He spied a familiar strap hanging from the bedpost by his head and grabbed for it just as the door opened. A familiar face peeked in. Caim suppressed the urge to groan again. Instead, he pulled the bedsheets up to his
