The railcar was empty when my porters and I arrived, but two sleeping compartments had already been claimed, as evidenced by their shut doors. Without hesitation, I picked a vacant one at the far end of the car, which afforded the most freedom of movement, and directed the Lampblacks to set down my trunk on the bare floor. Once they’d trundled off to report to Bazso, I set about exploring my new home by lamplight.

About two-thirds of the railcar consisted of a narrow, windowless walkway lined with squeaky sliding doors that opened onto sleeping compartments. Electroplasmic lamps mounted opposite the doors once lit the way, but their glass bulbs had long since shattered and the fine filaments disintegrated. That was just fine with me. I approved of darkness. In each narrow compartment, the skeletons of upper and lower bunks jutted out from one wall, along with a rusty ladder. A grimy, weather-warped window provided a blurry view of derelict passenger coaches, deserted freight cars, and row after row of corroded train tracks.

Both Faith and Ash had already begun to customize their rooms. Faith had chosen her lower bunk for a bed and covered it with a cheery pink bedspread. The upper bunk she used as storage space for items of no particular interest, as well as a frame for gauzy pink bed curtains that fluttered in the draft. In the back corner, she’d wedged a battered wardrobe overflowing with dresses. Most were pink, of course, but I spotted blue and bright yellow ones here and there, and even a supremely scandalous, slinky black gown. On a once-elegant writing desk sat a small, slightly wilted posy of flowers in a chipped vase, with a card in front of it that read, “Welcome home, Isha!”

I left it.

Ash, on the other hand, had chosen his upper bunk for a bed. With the aid of an old wooden door scavenged from one of the Coalridge junkyards, he’d converted the lower bunk into a desk. Tidy stacks of papers and books waited in precisely arranged rows. Leafing through them rapidly, I found detailed accounts of finances, both his own and other people’s, plus a volume on the forgotten gods that fell open to the chapter on That Which Hungers. “A jealous, acquisitive deity,” warned the entry. Bazso’s god, The Empty Vessel, was featured as well, but I didn’t have time to read just then.

Past the sleeping compartments, the walkway led into a parlor area with what used to be a bar running along the back wall. The wood was scratched and dull and had suffered some water damage, but I thought a good polish could restore it to respectability (or what passed for respectability in Coalridge, anyway). In the center of the parlor, someone had installed a large, utilitarian table plus one chair, a set that matched only in their collection of chips and scuffmarks. Someone else – almost certainly Faith, unless I’d seriously misjudged Ash – had already tied a big bow on the back of the chair.

Throughout the railcar, raggedy remnants of thin carpeting clung to the floor, threatening to trip anyone unfamiliar with their layout. I’d have to enhance them when I had time.

Later that afternoon, I was combing through a dump in Brickston for furniture, tripwires, and anything else that might make my compartment more habitable when young Bug came puffing up to me. Scowling in an excellent Pickett impersonation, he brandished a crumpled piece of paper.

“This came for you at your old flat,” he wheezed, as if it were my fault that he’d had to run so far. “Bazso said to give it to you.”

The note, written in Irimina’s familiar copperplate handwriting and sealed with her signet ring, contained an invitation to Faith, Ash, and me for a business tea the next morning. Leaving homemaking for another day, I set about tracking down my crewmates.

In complete defiance of the part about “urgent crew business” and “a possible commission,” the very first thing Faith did when she returned to the railcar was pop into her compartment. Then she walked slowly into the parlor, wearing a crestfallen expression and shaking her head reproachfully. “Isha, when someone goes to all the trouble of buying you flowers, you can at least accept them. Is this how you treat all your boyfriends?”

I gave her a carefully confused look. “What flowers?”

Waiting impatiently to hear about a potential financial venture, poor Ash sighed. “Glass said something about a commission?” he prompted, casting a meaningful glance around the threadbare parlor with its single chair. In deference to my delicate nerves, he kept his ungloved hands clasped behind his back.

“What a gentleman!” Faith plopped into the chair and beamed up at him, deliberately interpreting his look as an invitation to sit.

Both Ash and I adopted our tested and somewhat effective dealing-with-Faith strategy, which was to say that we ignored her. Keeping a careful distance from him, I flattened out Irimina’s note on the table and let the others read it for themselves.

“Ah, this is most excellent!” pronounced Ash with some satisfaction after he scanned the terse lines. “We’re already attracting patrons.”

Faith, being Faith, signaled approval in her own inimitable way. Tipping her head to a side, she sang, “I’ve heard Lady Irimina has excellent taste in tea. I would never turn it down.”

Remembering the lady’s reaction to her the last time, I urged, “Wear an appropriate dress.”

“Why, Isha, I only own appropriate dresses!”

She didn’t, of course.

She went to the crew’s first official business meeting with a prospective patron in a calamitously inappropriate dress that – despite its many tiers of pink gauze – barely covered her kneecaps, plus a cream-colored coat that didn’t even extend as far down as the dress hem. Oh, and it sported little cream-colored bows on the sleeves. Just because.

Even in the darkness, she shone like an electroplasmic lantern and attracted so many scandalized looks that I had to lead us down the darkest backstreets I could find – no small feat in Brightstone! – so we weren’t arrested. Ash, at least, almost passed for nobility in his crisp black suit, top hat, and white gloves, while I donned a high-necked, long-sleeved day dress, hid Grandfather under a long cloak, and fit in perfectly.

As a sign of his quality, Irimina’s butler didn’t bat an eye when he saw us on his front porch. He simply greeted us politely and ushered us into a parlor where the tea had already been set. Irimina herself was draped dramatically over a sofa, but as soon as she saw us, she sat up straight and picked up the teapot in a matter-of-fact manner. After a spot of perfunctory small talk about the weather, she got down to business.

“I’ve thought a great deal about the gentleman,” she began.

Faith interrupted at once. “Ah, you mean our dear departed companion? What a tragic loss!”

Caught off guard, Irimina had to take a minute to recollect her thoughts. “Yes, him.” Regaining her flow, she declared in her lofty, upper-class accent, “I have come to the conclusion that you can be trusted to take care of problems in a permanent sort of way. I have a lot of problems that need to be taken care of in a permanent sort of way. Perhaps we can come to a continuing arrangement? What are your rates?”

Ash’s eyes lit up. The devotee of That Which Hungers pretended to ponder the question: “Well, in addition to the base fee, there are certain cleanup expenses to be paid, of course, what with a body to dispose of and all….”

Irimina, who’d probably already researched the going rates, cut in bluntly, “I will offer you six coin. Does that sound reasonable?”

Ash looked at the two of us, silently asking for our opinions. Taking a sip of tea to disguise the motion, I gave a minute nod and made a mental note to teach my crewmates hand signals. “That is acceptable,” he answered for us, “although we may renegotiate the rate after the first one.”

Setting down her teacup with a clatter, Faith glared at him and declaimed theatrically in Irimina’s direction, “Why, a proper assassination takes years of experience! The time and services of a beautiful maiden like myself – ” one languid hand rose to her breast – “don’t come cheap! Perhaps we can negotiate something extra, say, a favor on the side?” Tilting her head charmingly, she fluttered her eyelashes at the lady, who actually looked intrigued.

While Faith flirted, Ash elaborated on his earlier argument. “While six coin is a sufficient personal rate,” he explained earnestly, “it would be remiss of us to risk underpaying the, ahem, appropriate greased palms that helped us along.”

Clearly amused by Faith, Irimina leaned back and smiled tolerantly before admitting, “No, you’re right. I value discretion greatly. As long as you keep it as quiet as possible – and my name as far away as possible – that could be worth a little extra.”

With a naughty expression, Faith riposted, “I keep all of my affairs secret.”

Between the two of them, she and Ash succeeded in extracting a promise of eight coin, to be paid on completion of the score. “The target is Merrick Dillingham, the stationmaster at Gaddoc Rail in Nightmarket,” Irimina told us. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she said severely, “He has been an impediment to certain business dealings of mine. I would prefer for it to look like an accident – but I’d settle for removal.”

Ash empathized wholeheartedly. “We certainly wouldn’t want any mercantile dealings to be impeded. Is there anyone else he’s impeded who might want him removed?”

After a moment of consideration, Irimina shook her head regretfully. “Not that I can think of. But I wouldn’t mind if Elstera Avrathi takes the fall,” she offered.

Nor I.

Elstera Avrathi was the Iruvian consul to Doskvol and, if not an actual agent of House Anixis, at the very least an enthusiastic ally. It was at her behest that a gang of cutthroats had ambushed me shortly after I arrived and sent me fleeing into Crow’s Foot and Pickett’s gentle arms. But for Elstera, I might have made a comfortable living as a clerk in one of the Nightmarket merchant houses, instead of skulking through the criminal underworld as an assassin-for-hire. While I understood the need for Iruvia to maintain a closely coordinated, highly efficient spy network throughout the Shattered Isles in order to keep abreast of Imperial ambitions, I objected when said resources were misallocated towards hunting down me.

Also, if the consul were neutralized, he would lose a critical ally.

“That can be arranged.” My voice colder than I’d intended, I inclined my head to Irimina and spoke formally, “We will report to you on completion of the task.”

She lifted her teacup in a grim toast.