Lapis wished Diz had left the wine; she needed something to fiddle with while she waited for the confrontation—and something to slam into a Beryl’s head if things went wrong. Remembering her last thoughtful distraction ended with her and Patch in the Black Hats’ care, and that Diz’s info had initiated that trip to Underville, irritated her. She suffered from his loose lips twice.

“Them Beryl thinkin’ they’s crafty,” Rin muttered. “They ain’t.” He leaned on the table with his elbows, pretending to watch the actors, but she knew he did not follow the play.

“No more than the average shank,” she agreed, though she did not feel the words. Klow had taken over the syndicate, and she had no reason to think he did not craft them in his image of hunter. Worrying that they would harm Rin, in keeping with their ‘kill first, ask questions later’ mentality, kept her antsy. Her snap judgment to whisk Diz out of danger because his potential info was worth more than the risk needled her. Too many things could go wrong.

She pretended to watch the show while keeping a covert eye on the side door and the men who must have caught her apprentice’s attention.

They stood by curtains drawn back to reveal a painting of a bonfire celebration, half-hidden behind a cluster of Dentherions in fine dining attire. The tourists held wineglasses that they swung about, and by their ugly grimaces and motions to the stage, they spluttered indignantly about the performance. Lapis wondered who they thought to impress at the Night Market with such fancy clothing and snobbery. No one there, be it customers or staff, would care about their wealth unless some of that coin made it into their pockets.

The men huddled their heads together and kept glancing at the table, then to the stage-left area, though they did not approach. She waited, expecting them to melt into the crowd and follow Lykas, Diz and Nolin out the side door, but they did not move.

“Lookin’ likes they’s discussin’ what t’ do,” Rin said.

“Every moment of delay is one step further away Lykas, Diz and Nolin get,” she said.

“Yeah, but they’s distracted by someone else. They keeps glancin’ over, but I can’t tell who they’s interested in.”

Compatriots? Normal hunts had one hunter, but she did not think Klow cared much about precedent, especially if Danaea’s papers reflected reality. She trusted Wrethe’s translations, but the assassin’s truthfulness was shady at best.

Lapis leaned closer to Rin, which gave her a reason to idly stare in the direction that caught the Beryls’ attention. “Diz better have the finest info for this,” she grumbled.

Rin flashed a dazzling smile. “He’s a bit snappy, but he pays his debts.”

She shuddered as her neck hair prickled, but not in warning. Her eyes danced across back after back, noticed nothing odd, and wondered if another chaser worked the crowd. Then she glimpsed a shadow slipping behind the guests, the gait too familiar.

Oh. Good luck to the Beryl hunters.

“Have a seat,” she said. Rin’s confusion lasted as long as it took Dagby to dump himself in a chair, a lopsided grin giving him a boy-with-hand-in-sweets-jar wryness. He slid a bottle of Dentheria fizzy drink to Rin and set a wine bottle and two glasses on the table. Had she seemed that needy? Or did he just want a drink?

“Lykas is good,” he said as he uncorked the wine. “I nearly lost them on the roofs—and it’s been years since that’s happened.”

“They’re alright?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. Thought Diz might piss himself, but that’s his guilty conscious comin’ back to haunt him.”

“I daresay his ghosts will keep him company for days to come,” she said.

“I daresay you’re right.”

“And what brings you to this high-class entertainment venue?”

“Coincidence. Diz got a message to Shara, with enough juicy bits to pique her interest. Granna Cup had . . . well, a few things to say, and her words pricked Faelan’s curiosity enough, he decided to help. That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Hmm. A certain special code’s unlocked,” she said. “And Diz, the busy gossip bunny he is, has a few extra keys.”

“Gossip bunny?” Dagby asked as Rin snickered.

“His nose is always twitching to find a way to make more bits.”

Dagby laughed and poured the wine. “I need to remember to tell Granna that. She finds more exasperatin’ about him than pleasant, but she also supports his organizin’ work because some of their worker successes spill over into other venues, like Candycakes.”

He held his glass between his middle and index finger, lounged back, and looked up at the tall figure who slipped to the table. The nondescript cloak and dark clothing were typical enough of chasers, Lapis doubted the staff had second thoughts about letting them into the room. He took a sip and smiled, arrogant rather than friendly. “You waitin’ for a seat, too?”

“For a retired shank, you seem to visit many interesting places,” the figure said. Her husky voice reminded Lapis uncomfortably of Danaea, who seduced men and then ended them when they were in no position to fight back. Had Klow trained more than one hunter in the art of seduction and death?

“Do I?” He shrugged, rocking the wineglass back and forth. “Isn’t travel supposed to be the reward for a long life of work?”

While the cloak hid most of her reaction, curling her fingers into a fist indicated how much she hated the response. “True hunters never retire,” she hissed.

“Poor lads and lasses,” Dagby said. “Stabbin’ til the day they die. Good thing I was a mere chaser.”

Lapis wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the claim, and her willpower nearly failed her. Dagby was no more a mere chaser than a fifteen-layer berry cake with thick frosting and icing flowers was a snack. The woman stiffened at the teasing.

“If it weren’t for Granna Cup, you’d have died face down in a puddle of your own piss long ago.” She spoke through clenched teeth, and Lapis wondered if they had a history. Nothing he said should have angered her so thoroughly.

He chuckled with true amusement, not sarcasm. “Granna Cup was stout enough for the both of us. She made me see sense when I most wished to tie a cloth over my eyes. It took me a bit, but she never gave up on me.” He took a sip. “She’s the vicious one when she needs to be. If she had thought me truly unsalvageable, she’d never have let me near her fire.”

“Was there something you wanted?” Lapis asked. “You’re blocking the show.”

The woman focused on her, and she well imagined her fiery glare, even if it hid in a hood’s shadows. “And what’s a bitty chaser doing with a hunter?”

“Conducting a stake.”

The woman’s knuckles cracked. Too obvious? She told nothing but the truth. Stakes took many forms, and prying info from a shank’s lips was part of the job. If she needed to see that shank to safety before she got the goods, then so be it.

“I heard that you had your . . . trainees ask him questions about chasing.”

Definitely some history scraped between them. “Yeah, I did. And he answered, even providing age-appropriate responses.” She sipped her wine. “They’re street rats, not innocent merchant kids who know nothing of life’s hardship. They’ve seen too much corruption and death in their short lives for a chaser’s tales to shock them, though there is far more to Dagby’s instruction than stabby stabby.”

“Lies fall from hunter’s lips as easily as breath.”

“True enough, but Dagby isn’t a hunter.”

“He is,” she insisted.

Lapis tipped back the glass and rose. “Sorry to disappoint, but he’s retired from his previous life. I’m grateful he’s willing to show my apprentices a few tips on successful chasing, even if that means sitting with us on a cold night watching a stake fumble about.”

The woman leaned over the table. “Where is he, bitty chaser.”

“My stake? Leaving. Thanks for the enlightening conversation, but we’ve got to slip away.”

Dagby guzzled his wine and Rin sucked down his fizzy drink.

“You think I’m just going to let you walk away?” she asked, reaching for something—probably a weapon—at her waist.

“Yes.” Lapis smiled and nodded before stepping away.

She paused, as if startled. “You really think that.”

“I’m a bitty chaser with a bitty apprentice and an ex-chaser for support. What could we possibly do to garner your attention? Whomever you stalk, I doubt it’s the shank we need to chat with.”

She hmphed, raising her head slightly. “I’m not that stupid, bitty chaser.”

“Debateable.”

The woman jolted as Lapis caught the bag Patch tossed at her, secured it under her cloak, and slipped into the crowd. Rin followed, a jittery bounce to his step that told her the sugar in the drink already caught him. Hopefully the down would hit when he was snug in his room, rather than still in the streets with her.

“She weren’t ‘spectin’ that,” Rin whispered as they reached the quieter stairwell of the exit.

“Oh, Patch isn’t her worst surprise.”

No, that lay in the still figures of her compatriots, who slumped against one another as if snoozing. Would she cause a scene or leave them? Who was at the rebel House that could ‘keep in a crowded room without other patrons the wiser? Good thing enough rats enjoyed the warmth downstairs, they should easily find a courier among them to carry a message to Ciaran and Sherridan.

Both Patch and Dagby chuckled in malicious delight, and she thanked the non-existent gods, she would never be their target.

For all the circles that Diz forced her to walk before he grudgingly parted with a tad of info, he deserved to suffer the shock and dismay when she waltzed into the Eaves, Rin, Dagby and Patch steps behind. The few remaining customers took note of who entered, waved at them, and returned to their discussions and laughter and final dregs. Nolin, who leaned against the wall next to the reading table, ducked to hide his grin, his brown eyes dancing with merriness. She, apparently, was not the only one who thought Diz’s past behavior merited a bit of consternation.

“Welcome back!” Dachs bellowed, in a far better mood than she left him in. What had transpired while she was gone? She would need to ask later. She nodded and smiled, which disappeared when she stopped at the table.

Lykas, Jandra and Lyet sat with Diz, drinking what looked like wake juice from glass cups; she jerked her head, and they immediately rose and headed for the stairs.

“Lady—”

She just looked at Rin. He sighed and followed, but she knew he would wait a moment in his room, then hustle to hers and press his ear against the door, holding his breath until he had to gasp for air. And he would probably have three companions in eavesdropping. She swept her hand to the stairwell while eyeing Diz, who had sunk into a sullen glower, and nodded to Nolin before climbing to her second-story room.

She glanced down the hallway; no one else around. Good. The six doors to tenet rooms were closed, no lights beneath except for the suite. She unlocked hers, slipped inside, and turned on the fake fruit oil lamp Patch demanded they use, because he was damned to the Pit if he had to light candles to see. Then she secured the bag in a drawer; the contents would have to wait until after their illuminating chat.

Diz frowned as he took in her table, chairs, bed, wardrobe, drawers with books piled on top, as if he expected something grander. She supposed some might assume she and Patch had a richer accommodation, but their decorated room was at the rebel House—and she was not carting Diz there, loose-lipped as he was.

She needed a nicer interrogation area that did not expose stakes to her more intimate abode. The sudden thought of questioning shanks among Phialla and Ness’s pottery amused and depressed her.

“Have a seat,” she said, motioning to the chairs. Not enough for all of them, but Patch was fine with sitting on the bed with her.

“Didn’t take you long,” Diz said. Resentful? He should thank them for throwing the Beryl off his ass.

“Sometimes chases end quick.” She sat down and leaned over on her knees. “I don’t want you to stammer and try to weasel out of this. I want to know what you know about Mibi, Klow and Masaalle Kez.”

Dagby raised an eyebrow as he folded his arms and remained standing, but Patch only smiled as he settled near her.

Nolin hooked his blond bangs behind his ears before sitting at the table, and Diz, with a sigh, took a chair. He kicked at the legs, then slumped, as if realizing he could not talk his way out of the conversation. Even if she had a soft spot for those in trouble, her need for info outweighed any leniency she might give.

“Lady, somma it’s conjecture on my part. Comes from my line ‘o work, gettin’ to read shit no other’s privy to. Y’know Mibi’s some Pit-eatin’ money lender?” She nodded. “Well, he’s got more ‘n just a few shanks danglin’ from his moneybags. Hoyt, yeah, but Klow, too.”

“Klow borrowed money from Mibi?” Dagby asked, skeptical.

“Know how it sounds, Dagby, but ‘tis the truth. He needed to pay off Targ for sanctuary with the Beryl, ‘n Targ made it ‘spensive. He mighta been a synboss, but he weren’t too keen on Shara’s attention, wanted compensation for the risk. Klow didn’t have it, had to borrow it from Mibi. Mibi’s held it over his head, made him do shit he didn’t wanna do. Klow got Danaea to slog through somma it, ‘cause she’d gotten into debt, too, only worse, ‘cause she owed more’n one shank. When Targ ended up in the Pit, Klow thought he’d take over the Beryl ‘n threaten Mibi to leave him alone. Didn’t work, ‘cause this Kez person sent an envoy. Rumor at the deepest undermarket counter’s been sayin’ her shanks roughed Klow up, threatened him with the Pit iffen he didn’t keep workin’ for her interests in Jilvayna.” He sucked in a breath. “They’s been here awhile. Them shanks that carted off Siward when the Lady smote him? They’s workin’ for Kez, 'n he ain't been seen since.”

Lapis did not want to hear that. It put the rebels in a bad light, that they had no clue a foreign entity had sunk their fingers in Jiy, and played synbosses to her benefit. Why had Faelan let Baldur retain the House leader position for so long? His terrible management proved too detrimental to the cause.

“So the Beryl’s now Kez’s,” Patch said.

“Yeah. Don’t know how they’s gettin’ to a man like Klow. He trained all them hunters, shoulda been safe with them as bodyguards. Weren’t. Other terrbosses know somethin’s up. Double Catch ‘n Shara ‘r especially suspicious, ‘cause Beryl’s now dippin’ into the smugglin’ business with that court shank Diros Mayventhel.”

Patch twitched at the mention of his father. Lapis placed a hand on his leg, and he covered it with his own. He deserved better than to be reminded of the man who sanctioned his attempted murder by royal command.

“Remember Predi? Stupid shank, he was workin’ to get some tech from Kez to Diros, not for him, but to pass it on to someone more important. Died on the stake, ‘n tech got confiscated by the guard. That’s part ‘o the reason the guard got disbanded. Armarandos wouldn’t send the thing on to the palace. Wanted to investigate it first. His replacement, Seeza, she shipped it off to Gall despite the knight superiors’ objections, ‘n he put some scientists into pokin’ at it. His people don’t know how to shit, let alone figure out advanced tech.”

Diz sounded so peeved about that, Lapis had the gut-punch urge to laugh, but her uneasy astonishment that Predi was involved with Kez stomped all over her amusement. Was the list of addresses on him connected to her and not the Jiy underground, as they assumed?

“They’s not figured out what it is. Thought ‘twere an energy somethin’ ‘r other, but wouldn’t power nuthin’. That loon on the throne’s desperate; undermarket’s sayin’ he ran outta power for his tech, ‘n has to rely on empty threats to keep the nobles in line.” He hmphed, folded his arms, and glared at the tips of his shiny boots. “Diros is fakin’ unwaverin’ support ‘cause he’s supposed to steal the tech back ‘n get it to the original receiver. Someone the Beryl calls Big Man. Don’t know who.” Diz sucked in his breath and sat a little straighter. “Beryl showed up at my door. They’s wantin’ me to forge transfer papers to replace a legit palace writ. Told ‘m to take a hike. Why accept, when Gall’s lookin’ for a way to prove he’s still in charge? He’s never had a problem, murderin’ us little folk from the Grey Streets. Plus, I don’t trust the Beryl under Klow not to use it as blackmail against me.”

“I don’t blame you for wanting to be cautious,” Patch said. “What’s happening in Dentheria isn’t going to sit well with the more paranoid puppet kings, like Gall. Do you know if Klow hired Predi to deliver the tech, or if he was doing so because he owed Mibi?”

“Think Klow hired Predi ‘cause he was one o’ his. Don’t know for certain, but never heard that Predi owed Mibi anythin’.”

“What else do you know about Kez?” Dagby asked.

“Not much. She’s some rich lady outta Taangis. Beryl threatened me, sayin’ she’d curse me because the Stars favor her, so she’s some religious nut.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t believe in no Stars, don’t believe in curses. Do believe in Beryl ‘n Diros holdin’ grudges, ‘specially if this delivery’ll pay off their debts to Mibi and I ain’t obligin’.”

“Do you know where Mibi’s at?” Lapis asked.

Diz wobbled his head back and forth. “Not for sure, but the Beryl’s thinkin’ he skipped town, ‘n I think they’re right. Only bright thing he’s done since pissin’ Shara off.”

“Why did he think she wouldn’t stake him for being that much of an ass? He busted up and looted stalls in the undermarket after she banned him. Did he really expect her to shrug and ignore his behavior?”

Diz’s face drew down in an unhappy frown. “Mibi just assumed Shara’d get scared of potentially upsettin’ him ‘n back off. He forgot the Minq ain’t a syndicate in the modern sense—and Shara’s got her head facin’ front ‘stead of back, with a powerful family standin’ behind her. Stupid shank, shoulda kept his fists to himself.” He sank back, shaking his head at the folly.

“Sounds like Shara’s been effective in cleaning things up,” Patch said with a smirk.

Diz glowered at him. “Been affectin’ my work,” he muttered. “But mayhap I need a different career. This one’s gettin’ a little too hot.”

“We can help with that, if you keep talking,” Patch said.

Diz stroked his beard, then smiled, not happy, but not annoyed, either. “Well now, can’t turn that down. I knows your word’s gold, so I’ll keep talkin’.” He leaned forward, jabbing his index finger into the air. “Now, I mayn’t know for sure, but I’s bettin’ Mibi went into hidin' in Coriy. He’s got another business there that he calls the Peers’ Hideaway. It’s just that—a place nobles go to have themselves a bit ‘o underground, uncouth fun. Hoyt paid me to fix the docs so Mibi could buy the property, and he visits on the regular. Since the Beryl wanted me to change the writ ‘n have the tech transported to Coriy, I’s thinkin’ he’s there waitin’ for it. Convenient, since his safe spaces in Jiy’re gettin’ sparse.” He glanced about the room. “Gots a bit more, but it’s pure conjecture, nothin’ solid, mayhap bringin’ more questions than answers.”

Lapis glanced at Nolin. “Diz said you had something for me.”

He nodded. “It has to do with Gods' Hands and Diros.”

Well, now, he had Patch’s undivided attention. Had Faelan spoken to the Minq about why they let Gods’ Hands go? If not, she would remind him. She did not relish confronting the hunter again, especially since he did not seem averse to harming uninvolved others—a lack of concern he shared with Patch’s father.

“I was on a small-time chase where I needed to get a family ring back from an ex-lover named Benner. Trailed the stake to some tunnels on the border with the Bells and Reeds. He met with Diros, Gods’ Hands and a bunch of non-locals. They wore some strange golden robes, and I think they had Stars stitched on their shoulders.” He cleared his throat. “But I knew I had to tell you about this when my stake gave them a bag. They opened it and it had a khentauree head in it.”

Rage, followed by fear, ripped through her. Patch’s hand tightened on hers, and she struggled to keep her reaction bottled. None of the people in the room were her targets in this.

“While I didn’t speak with them, I saw the khentauree at the Fools and Ghouls Day celebration at the Lells. Their dance was beautiful.” He rubbed at his stomach. “Turned my gut, to see the head and rememberin' how vibrant they are in life, though, by the look of it, it’d been rustin’ for a good while. There was an argument about it, couldn’t tell you what, and Gods’ Hands tried to knife my stake. He took off, and the others left.” He tapped at his right arm. “Gods’ Hands doesn’t have a cast any longer, but he had one of those short cloaks over his arm, like the rich wear to the theater when they’re pretendin’ to be from an old family. He used his other one to strike, and if he’d faced a real shank, he’d have ended up in the dirt, maybe dead. His slicing was pretty awkward. I’m bettin’ his break didn’t heal right, and he’s compensatin’.”

Mairin did more lasting damage than Lapis thought. Good. She did not feel sorry for the man; if he had not bullied the Eaves by pretending to be a skyshroud soldier, it never would have happened, and he would have two working arms instead of one.

That, she supposed, was the least important part of the info. She knew khentauree remains littered the above-ground ruins of Ambercaast, creating mounds of rusting metal in the spot where they went to silence. Someone was looting the place, but who? Nolin’s target behaved like a courier, not a perpetrator, but he would know who hired him to deliver the bag.

“Rin, get in here,” Patch called.

Silence, then the door slowly squeaked open. Rin held it, and the other three remained crouched at his feet, looking as sheepish as caught rats could look. The chorus of laughter from Dagby, Diz and Nolin did not help their shame; Rin’s cheeks turned the same shade as his hair. He did not get detected often, but he should have known, between Dagby and Patch, at least one of them would have noticed shadows and noise outside her door.

They expected assassins, after all.

“All four of you are going to make a report before you go to bed,” Patch said. “And then you get to tell Ciaran why you know all this stuff.”

“Yer actin’ like Faelan,” Rin said, resentful and annoyed.

“No, I’m acting like a chaser training his apprentices in the fine art of not getting caught.”

“Do NOT look at me,” Lapis said, annoyed at the round, pleading eyes. Just because she guessed they would attempt sneaky listening did not mean she approved. Besides, she knew Patch’s training regimen—and this punishment was a walk along the river compared to what he had put her through when she screwed up.

“I think you’re lucky,” Nolin said, eyeing the rats. “You have chasers interested in your well-bein’ and willin’ to teach. Most of us had to suffer through hard mistakes, and not all of us lived to learn from them.”

“Jandra and I aren’t apprentices,” Lyet pointed out.

“You listened all the same.” Patch jerked his chin. “Get going.”

The rats’ grumbling grew in conjunction with their distance away from her room and towards Rin’s suite, and did not stop until they slammed the door shut. Dagby, chuckling, trotted down the stairs and returned after a moment, closing the door with a soft click.

“Was expectin’ Ginya by now,” he said. “Room’s clear downstairs, Dachs is cleanin’ up.”

“Depends on the stake,” Patch said. “If she thinks she’s in danger of death, she’ll skip out—and I know, because I picked up a few of her failures. She’s abandoned metgal to protect her skin, and left Sewri to explain why a stake was picked up but not finished.”

“Is she someone else who owes Mibi?” Lapis asked. How odd, so many shanks with reputations borrowed from the man. What did he offer others didn’t?

“No.” Dagby pulled his mouth to the side, a sentimentality to his expression that made Lapis curious. “She has enough money. She’s dada’s little girl, and her hunter’s work is on the side.”

“Bored and rich.” Patch hmphed. Dagby raised a shoulder but did not contradict him.

Her partner focused on Diz, and he squirmed as if anticipating terrible news despite hope. “If you’re looking to get out, we can give you a path. Don’t think we won’t remember if you decide to spit on our goodwill.”

The fixer shook his head. “When I was young, foolish looked excitin’. Not so young now, not so excitin’ to have a synboss wantin’ you to risk your life for his mistakes.”

“Expect to have your memories picked clean.”

“Can handle it.”

“Does Tana know you’re asking for rebel help?”

He nodded glumly, sinking into himself. “’Twas her idea. Can’t say she’s wrong. ‘Tis hard, though, seein’ my life’s work all sunk.”

“Your work with her at the docks is still viable. You’re tenacious in fighting for the little folk, and you’ve provided an example that’s impacted the Grey and Stone Streets bit merchants. Focus on that, you’ll be alright.”

Diz stroked his beard, nodding. “It’s hard-won successes, there, but more satisfyin’.”

“I expect Ciaran will send someone over to escort you to a Minq safehouse. What have you got left at the shack?”

“Nuthin’. Carted it all to Granna Cup. She secured it ‘n told me if Dagby could get his head outta his ass, so could I.”

“A ringing endorsement,” Patch said. Dagby looked like he desperately wished to say something, but smashed his lips together and prudently withheld. “Nolin, the Beryl saw you speaking with Diz. They might try to contact you to find him. Safehouse’s open to you, too.”

Nolin nodded, then leaned on his knees, intent. “Word spread like fire through the chasers, about the Dentheria trouble,” he said. “No one feels safe right now. But if I have the opportunity, I’d . . . like to join the rebels. I think Jilvayna’s future is with someone other than Gall.” He clasped his hands, his thumbs playing with each other, before continuing in a softer tone. “I listened that day at the Lells, when Armarandos and Lord Krios and Deathknell Jarosa and the magistrates spoke with the Grey Streets about the community centers. They seemed more interested in helping Jiy than Gall has ever shown. I mean, he ended the guard, just another harm in a long line. They created something to take its place to benefit people rather than hurt them, and the rebels supported the effort. I don’t know what I need to do—”

“Showing interest is the first step,” Patch said. “Then you need someone to vouch for you.”

“He takes the small stakes, like I do,” Lapis said quietly. “And it’s as profitable. I haven’t heard a word about him mistreating his targets.”

“Alright. Ask the person who guides you to the safehouse about the next steps. Tell them the Lady vouches for you.” He half-smiled. “I’d say welcome, but you might regret asking, because the near future is going to fill the Pit.”

Nolan nodded, somber yet hopeful. Lapis could tell him the rebel life was not the salvation he sought, but the coming days would strain Jilvayna and Jiy in a way not seen since Dentheria invaded. Rebels under Midir and Faelan were the more moral, if less safe, option. She settled her head on her partner’s shoulder, and he slipped his arm around her, clutched her close, and kissed the top of her head. She would do everything she could, to make certain the upcoming fight was not their last.