The sword academy looked as it always did. A large mansion abandoned during the long-ago flight of the gentry, it remained in remarkably good shape (for Doskvol) thanks to the Red Sashes’ ministrations. When Mylera Klev took over as head of the academy, she had elaborately embroidered, ornamental silk sashes imported from Iruvia and hung around the marble foyer. Functional crimson sashes were draped over the balustrade that ran up both sides of a grand staircase and all around the second floor. Along the hallways, massive oil paintings of famous Iruvian battles alternated with giant scarlet draperies and electroplasmic lights. Naturally, with all this fancy décor, the gang enforced strict rules against fighting outside practice rooms. Urban legend had it that if you started a conflict out of bounds, the nearest Red Sash or swordmaster would snatch a sash off the balustrade and summarily strangle you.

I strode straight through the foyer to one of the beginner classrooms, a former ballroom on the ground floor, where I found my students busily stretching and warming up. Last week, I’d divided them into two lines to practice attacking and retreating, and now a third of the class was working on these drills. At my entrance, all of them stood to attention.

“Today I have a treat for you,” I proclaimed. With a slow, dramatic motion, I drew Grandfather and rotated it gently in the air so the bluish-white lights glinted and danced along the length of the blade.

At the sight, the Iruvians in the class gasped. Even if they didn’t recognize the sword itself, they could tell that it was a precious heirloom. Urgent whispers erupted among the students.

I waited patiently. When I had their full attention once more, I announced, “You may each face me today. Who wants to be first?”

Dead silence. The students writhed, torn between their desire to test themselves against such a fine sword, and their fear of getting demolished before their peers.

Mercilessly, I prowled through their ranks, meeting their eyes and daring them to volunteer. “Phin Strathmill,” I said at last, pointing Grandfather at a dark-haired boy, the fifth son of Lord Strathmill. “En garde.”

Swallowing nervously, Phin stepped forward and clumsily raised his blunt practice sword.

I saluted with Grandfather – and stabbed at his chest without warning.

Eyes wide, the boy jumped back a step – but when his sword flashed up to block Grandfather, his movements suddenly turned smooth and polished, and with sure steps, he drove me ever backward across the ballroom. Through the double doors I retreated, fighting grimly to keep his practice sword from my throat.

Right before my eyes, Phin’s dark brown hair lightened into pale blond, his grey eyes shifted towards blue, and then he was before me, wearing the ceremonial robes in which I’d seen him last. With a familiar smile, he scythed at me with a curved blade.

“Surrender,” he advised calmly, forcing me down the hallway. “You’ve never won a match against me. Even Grandfather can’t save you.”

I had no breath left to respond. Barely blocking his strikes, I stumbled and stumbled again. All of a sudden, my boot heel caught on the edge of one of those Iruvian rugs Mylera insisted on keeping everywhere, and I tumbled backwards onto the floor, losing my grip on Grandfather. It clattered once on the floorboards and melted into blackness.

Paralyzed with terror, I stared up at him as he raised that curved blade.

Behind him, a foot-high statue of She Who Slays in Darkness bared her teeth at me. “Run, little one,” she hissed – but I couldn’t move.

The blade came down.

I woke with a gasp, heart pounding.

After a moment, I realized that my clothing was soaked through with sweat and my fingers were clenched around Grandfather’s hilt. Forcing myself to release it, I lay flat on my back, staring blindly at the dark ceiling and drawing one deep breath after another. It was just a dream, I told myself, just a dream.

And yet.

And yet – I’d made a mistake, a terrible mistake.

Yesterday afternoon, I really had brought Grandfather to the academy, and I really had used it to teach my students. They’d been working so hard and advancing so quickly that I thought they deserved a reward…. But if any of them mentioned the sword to their families or friends, and they mentioned it to their families or friends, then word would eventually filter through to Elstera and he would know exactly where and when to find me. Hadn’t I just criticized Kamilin for keeping a regular schedule? Hadn’t I dismissed him as an amateur who deserved to be assassinated? Hubris. The gods detested it.

But quitting my job wasn’t an option. For one thing, I’d signed a contract with Mylera, and she wasn’t the sort to take contract breaking with equanimity. For another, Bazso relied on my reports to keep abreast of Red Sash plots. And for a third, there was my pet project, the one neither Bazso nor Mylera suspected. I’d gotten this far already. I couldn’t just abandon it.

I’d monitor the situation, I promised myself. Crow’s Foot might not be big, but it was twisty and incredibly densely packed, and I had my allies. He probably couldn’t ever find me. And if anything ever felt off, I’d disappear from the district, maybe even flee the city.

“Morning, Ash.”

When I trudged out into the parlor after a few more hours of tossing and turning, Ash had colonized every square inch of table with tidy stacks of silver slugs. With his notebook open and pen at the ready, he was busily counting out more slugs from Irimina’s purse. Then, with ritualistic formality, he swept all the little stacks together, toppling them and letting the coins clink and tumble into one big pile, which he reverently counted back into the purse one slug at a time.

That done, he nodded at me. “Morning, Glass.”

In his notebook, I saw columns and columns of tidy numbers calculating the future values of two coin invested at different rates of compound interest.

“What are you up to?” I asked curiously, sliding into the chair to his left. “Are you planning to invest the crew savings or your own?” By consensus, we’d divided Irimina’s fee into four equal portions – two coin for each of us, and the last two for the crew coffers.

“No…well, maybe sometime, but not right now.” Ash drew the purse strings tight and closed his notebook. “This is a ritual to honor my family’s god, That Which Hungers,” he explained. “I don’t know though…. Maybe I’m doing it wrong, because it all feels a little empty, somehow.” Sounding frustrated, he said, “I wish I understood more about the deeper meaning of these rituals!” He frowned in my direction without really seeing me.

Theology was no strength of mine. “Well,” I told him drily. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Not unless you need to stab something.”

His eyes lit up. “Actually, I do!”

I cocked my head, wondering if he planned to assassinate his way up through the ranks of the cult of That Which Hungers. The strategy did seem appropriate, somehow.

At my expression, he hastily added, “Not literally! In a metaphorical sense, of course. That Which Hungers is jealous of the Golden Stag. That’s the god of wealth.”

I knew that already, thanks to his book, but I affected otherwise. “Aaaah, I see.”

Ash, naturally, saw right through the pretense but let it stand. “A lot of merchants in Nightmarket worship the Stag,” he explained. “I believe it would be pleasing to my god if I bought out or financially ruined one of the Stag’s major donors.”

That did seem like a job for a Slide. “Do you have a target in mind?”

“What do you think of gambling and casinos, Glass?”

I’d seen too many families from all social classes ruined by gambling addictions. “They’re a blight on society,” I replied promptly. “The odds are always in the house’s favor.”

Ash nodded approvingly, as if he’d hoped for this answer. “Well, Helene, the proprietress of the Silver Stag Casino, is a great devotee of the Golden Stag. I’ve already scoped out her business – ”

From the walkway drifted Faith’s enthusiastic voice, “Gambling is a mortal sin!”

The rest of her emerged into the parlor, and she skipped – a little stiffly – across the room to plunk herself on the table next to Ash’s notebook. Picking it up, she riffled haphazardly through the pages. “Soooo – what are we doing to this shameless purveyor of vice and sin? Are we lynching her? Are we feeding her to the fishes? Are we chasing her into the marshes?”

“What marshes?” I muttered.

“Actually,” said Ash patiently, “I was wondering whether we can convince Irimina to put her on the list.”

“Well, Irimina isn’t exactly running out of targets for us,” Faith remarked. She laid the notebook back on the table, wincing very slightly at the motion. As soon as she noticed me watching her, she grinned and declaimed, “Such a vicious woman is a lady after my own heart! Oh, and her money too, of course!”

Calmly, Ash pointed out, “She will run out of money eventually. I’ve already checked her finances.”

“If my beloved, beautiful lady is going to run out of money, then it’s better if you pay us,” retorted Faith with more shrewdness than I’d given her credit for.

Evidently having no intention of hiring his own crewmates for a score, Ash turned to me inquiringly. “How about you, Glass? Are you in?”

Did I want more intelligence on a potential target – and Ash himself? Did he even need to ask? I gave him a curt nod. “How do the Silver Stag Casino patrons typically dress? Do I need to change?”

With a practiced eye, Ash assessed my default outfit of collared shirt, dark coat, and straight-leg trousers. “No, that will do. Just act more arrogant and you’ll fit right in.”

As we left the railcar, Faith called out merrily after us, “Have fun, kids! I won’t wait up for you!”

During the entire walk through Coalridge and half of Nightmarket, Ash harangued me about how ruthlessly the evil Helene preyed on those entangled in the coils of impulse and addiction. I nodded along and took mental notes, both on the proprietress herself and on my crewmate. Personally, I thought Ash was much more offended by Helene’s religious than business practices.

In the casino, we split up. Exchanging a handful of silver slugs for chips, I tried out the various card games on offer: whist, euchre, and the aptly-named beggar-my-neighbor. Playing just well enough to stay in the games, I observed the staff and clientele. The Silver Stag Casino obviously catered to a mix of nouveaux riches and nobility on the decline, with all the social tension that that particular blend entailed. Catering to the snobbery of both groups, Helene provided elegant furnishings, sumptuous food, and attractive staff in sharp uniforms. Pretending to be an impoverished minor noble, I joined a group of aristocrats making side bets on card games while hoping that an heir or heiress to a mercantile fortune would fall for their titles.

Meanwhile, Ash played a couple rounds of five-card stud, made a show of losing badly, wailed about how his family was going to disown him, and then trudged dejectedly to the bar. There, other patrons betrayed by Lady Luck welcomed him and comforted him with many a tale of woe. A couple even featured Irimina’s younger brother Roethe, which certainly explained more than it didn’t about the state of the Kinclaith finances and Irimina’s investment in removing impediments, so to speak.

For supper, we feasted on Helene’s underpriced buffet and considered ourselves well remunerated for our losses at the gambling tables.

Contrary to her assurance, when we returned to the railcar late that night, Faith greeted us from her favorite perch on the parlor table. With an impish smile that definitely looked forced, she asked brightly, “Does either of my adorable comrades have a doctor friend?”

“Oh my!” Ash gasped, hurrying to her side. “Are you all right? What’s the matter?”

“Well, you see, some of my bones aren’t quite in the right place.” Gingerly, Faith flattened out her puffed sleeve to show us a deformed right shoulder.

“That’s dislocated! Has it been like that since the score?” Ash demanded. “You haven’t seen anyone about it?”

He made as if to examine it, but Faith twisted out of the way with a dimpled smile.

“Why, yes! Yes, in fact it has been like this since the score! I just noticed!”

I sighed. “I know someone,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll take you first thing tomorrow morning.”