Knowing that a lunch date wouldn’t last nearly long enough for both the Hollowing and ghost-shielding rituals, Ash, Faith, and Nyryx had decided to perform the latter that night. In addition to cramming romance novels, Ash had also laid a promising trail that would lead “Inspector Sarnai” to a private meeting with an informer. As for me, I’d spent as little time around either of my crewmates as I could and hoped that they wouldn’t need me for the second ritual at all.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

“Oh, Isha,” Ash had said, catching me at the orphanage one day as I searched listlessly for Ronia Helker’s battle plans, “we need your help with something. The ritual with the fragment of the Gates of Death has to be performed at a spirit well.”

Yes, well, and I had pointedly refused to learn any attunement whatsoever precisely so no one could rope me into helping with any rituals. I’d shrugged apathetically.

Ash had tried again. “No one knows why, but spirit wells tend to form at the intersections of canals.”

I’d still failed to see why that required my participation, given that I was neither a spirit well nor a canal.

Doggedly, he’d continued, “We could do it on a bridge, but that’s too risky. People might see us, plus the Gondoliers are on an unofficial mission to destroy all the spirit wells, so even if we find a good one, it might not be there when we need it. Our safest option is to arrange for the Inspector to find an exciting lead that points to a particular boat we have set up. She will interrogate the crew of this boat.”

I’d gotten a horrible feeling about where this was going and tried to stave it off. “Doesn’t Irimina have a yacht?”

Displeased that I was shirking my duties while presumably planning to collect a third of the payoff anyway, Ash had said flatly, “No, she doesn’t. But I’m sure the Red Sashes have a smugglers’ boat. A covered smugglers’ boat. And you know Mylera best.”

Unfortunately, he’d been right on all counts – especially the one where only I could convince Mylera to help us for free. I’d heaved a long, gusty sigh.

“All right. Fine. I’ll do it.”

So the same night that we Hollowed Candra Sarnai and inserted Salia into her body, I found myself dolled up in Iruvian clothes and a red sash, patrolling the deck of Mylera’s boat with four Red Sashes plus Sarnai’s useless Bluecoats. Inside the cabin, Ardashir, the Red Sash second-in-command, was supposedly imparting critical information on Lord Strangford’s murderers, while Ash, Faith, and Nyryx lurked in the cargo hold with their ritual accoutrements. The boat’s engine was humming already, and we were just about to motor towards the nearest spirit well when three people in bronze masks strode up the gangplank.

“Stop!” barked the Spirit Warden in the lead. “We need to see the hold immediately.”

Blocking their path, I declared loudly so my voice carried belowdecks, “The Inspector is having a very important conversation!”

At that, the Bluecoats suddenly remembered that it was literally their job to prevent anyone from interfering with the investigation, and officious Spirit Wardens barging into a critical meeting with an informant fell under this category. Bristling with indignation, Jol pushed me aside and snapped, “We’re in the middle of interviewing an eyewitness about the murder of Lord Strangford. So unless you’re trying to suggest that a ghost ate him, this is our jurisdiction!”

“Officer, we have reason to suspect spectral activity in the hold of this boat,” the head Spirit Warden replied, the mask distorting her voice into a mechanical caricature. “We need to see it at once.”

“No, what you need to do is wait until we finish this conversation, and then you can see it all you want.”

“Officer,” repeated the Spirit Warden in her weird, echo-y voice, “under Imperial Ordinance 21.2(b), an investigation into spectral activity takes precedence over any ordinary criminal investigation.”

On normal city business, Spirit Wardens outranked Bluecoats, and obviously that power imbalance rankled. Jol spat, “Except this isn’t any ordinary criminal investigation, Warden. This is an Imperial investigation headed by an Imperial Inspector. So I suggest that you take your Imperial Ordinance 21.2(b) and jump into the canal with it – ”

“With all due respect, Officer, you are not an Imperial Inspector. You are a member of the City Watch, and as such, you are subordinate to – ”

At that, the other Bluecoat, Lewit, roared and savagely kicked the gangplank. Into the canal it splashed, taking the two other Spirit Wardens with it. Their leader, however, leaped onto the deck. As the boat chugged away from shore, her comrades resurfaced in our wake, sputtering, with foul black water pouring out of their masks.

“Turn back at once! We have reason to believe that that isn’t really Inspector Sarnai!”” bellowed the Spirit Warden, stabbing her lightning hook at the cabin door.

Lewit gestured at the Red Sash pilot to keep going, while Jol snapped, “Ma’am, we’ve been guarding the woman for weeks now. I should think we know what she looks like!”

Just then, the death bells rang twice. Everyone flinched, and the Spirit Warden spun around. However, by now a bridge, a few gondolas, and lots of tiny fishing boats blocked our view, and she couldn’t see whether the bells had rung for her comrades or someone else. Frustrated, she turned back on the Bluecoats.

Off to the side, I monitored their fight and wondered if Setarra had eaten those two Spirit Wardens.

Meanwhile, down in the hold, Ash, Faith, and Nyryx were performing the ritual as fast as they could. Under normal circumstances, it should have taken hours, but they had to compress it into the length of time it took the boat to chug over a spirit well.

“We’re coming up on it,” Nyryx warned, tense and focused. “We have five minutes, starting…now!”

Clutching the fragment of the Gates of Death, Ash flung his mind open to the ghost field, exposing himself to the horrors that lived there. Although Faith and Nyryx threw up spectral shields around him, the field felt like a deep, yawning maw that sucked at his soul and sapped his will. Every nearby spirit showed up as a blue glow, with bright lines pointing at the ones in the real world. Dozens of these spectral wires pierced Sarnai’s body, revealing the presence of a possessing ghost. Ash seized all of them with both fists and snapped them in one single sharp gesture.

The lines exploded in a blaze of white light. They would slowly reform again over the next couple weeks, but for now, Salia was invisible to attunement.

Attracted by the magical activity, ravenous specters roared towards Faith’s and Nyryx’s shields, and Ash slammed his mind shut just in time. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a pink ribbon tied around the fragment of the Gates of Death.

He was too exhausted to object.

On the deck, the Bluecoats and the Spirit Warden were still shouting at one another about rank and jurisdiction when the cabin door opened, silencing them. Out stepped “Inspector Sarnai,” looking almost annoyed.

Ignoring Jol and Lewit’s salutes, she walked up to the Spirit Warden and inquired, “Why are the Spirit Wardens interfering with my investigation? This situation is very delicate and involves conversing with elements of society that tend not to like to converse with the authorities.” She cast an apologetic look at the Red Sashes and me.

For our part, we shuffled our feet and looked as if we regretted ever having let Ardashir talk us into coming on this boat to guard him while he conversed with said authorities.

While “Inspector Sarnai” was speaking, the Spirit Warden had been attuning at her, trying to prove that she was really an imposter. Giving up, the Spirit Warden argued, “Ma’am, you don’t understand. The arcane underground in Doskvol is a many-headed hydra. If you don’t keep lopping off heads, you will never get on top of it.”

“That may be the case,” the “Inspector” replied, “but it is not helpful to have elements of authority barge in at any given moment and disturb these people who are attempting to help us discharge a critical investigation.”

On the defensive now, the Spirit Warden protested, “If we let this slide, there will be ten more heads. Immediately. And I’m telling you, no matter how cooperative these…informants are acting, there is definitely spectral activity in the hold of this boat.”

Even as she spoke, the specter in the hold was searching desperately for an escape route. Unfortunately, there was no way for Nyryx to slip over the edge of the boat without entering the Spirit Warden’s line of sight, so she hunched behind a barrel.

“I’ll go distract them,” Ash promised. Handing the fragment of the Gates of Death to Faith, he tied a red sash around his waist.

For a moment, she turned the fragment over in her hands, admiring the pink bow. Then she dropped it into another barrel, warded it so the Spirit Warden would only notice if she actively attuned for it, and plopped down next to Nyryx. Pulling her knees up to her chest, Faith stage-whispered, “I don’t know if you should trust this one. He went on dates with three different people, one after another, in the same restaurant!”

Sordid rumors were just the diversion Nyryx needed. “I’ve done that,” she commented, amused.

Good-naturedly, Ash tossed back, “It’s okay, I can’t make up my mind.” Then he hauled himself up into the cabin.

Out on the deck, I was monitoring the authorities while waiting impatiently for a sign that the score was over and I could get off this boat.

Sidling over to join the Red Sashes and me, Ash looked anxiously between the Inspector and the Spirit Warden, as if at a loss as to whom to obey. “They must be here for something we did, but we don’t do anything arcane, so what can it possibly be?” he asked Ardashir, feigning distress. “I don’t understand!”

Stone-faced, Ardashir shook his head.

Overhearing Ash, the Spirit Warden addressed him while glaring at “Inspector Sarnai,” “Well, if you will let me inspect your boat, I will make sure of that, and then I can be on my way.”

Ash fidgeted and danced from foot to foot. “But…isn’t the Inspector in charge? Who’s in charge? I don’t understand…. We were just trying to help the Inspector….” In the course of his fluttering, he maneuvered the Spirit Warden into rotating a little, giving Nyryx a shot at escape.

All of a sudden, a bright blue glow shot at the far end of the boat. I pointed and screamed, “Specter!”

The Spirit Warden whirled, following my finger.

At the same time, Nyryx darted out of the cabin, sprinted across the deck, and dropped into the canal.

The Spirit Warden raised her lightning hook, annihilated the ghost with a casual wave – and turned back just in time to notice Faith halfway across the deck. “Hold right there!” she bellowed.

Faith plunged for the edge anyway.

The Spirit Warden shot an arc of lightning at her, but she dodged most of it, let her armor absorb the rest, and dove into the water. Then she swam noisily after Nyryx.

Before the Spirit Warden could attack her again, Ash leaped in front of the lightning hook, pretending that he was helping to chase Faith.

To deflect suspicion from the Red Sashes, I dashed to the edge of the boat and yelled, “Come back! You’re making us look bad!”

It might have been my imagination, but I thought Faith’s splashing took on an amused quality.

Watching her vanish into the distance, “Inspector Sarnai” let out a frustrated sigh and told the Spirit Warden, “She was one of the people I was trying to interview.” Turning to the pilot, she ordered, “Take us back to shore, please.”

The Red Sash was only too happy to comply. As soon as we docked, “Inspector Sarnai,” the Bluecoats, and the Spirit Warden stormed off the boat, still arguing over jurisdiction and paperwork.

Once all the elements of authorities were gone, Ash and I thanked the Red Sashes and headed back to the orphanage, where we found Faith in the conference room. She’d already changed and was drying her long, blonde hair with a rose-patterned towel.

“That was an exciting day,” Ash greeted her.

“Just another day in the life of a crew of scoundrels, jumping into the demon-infested waters with your good friends,” she replied cheerfully. Bending over and flipping all of her hair over her head, she wrapped it in the towel turban-style – then grinned at me.

I ignored her.

Placing the fragment of the Gates of Death reverently in the center of the table, Ash remarked, “I’m glad you didn’t get eaten. That seems like it might have been bad.”

(Would it have been, though, really?)

She regarded him with complete seriousness. “You’re so sweet, Ash. I will remember this.”

The deadpan tone went over his head. He was too busy goggling at the fragment. “I’ve never gotten to do the ritual with the fragment before. Do you know the whole story there? It happened a long time ago.”

“The story of…fragments? Of rituals?”

For once, I had to agree with Faith that it was a singularly ill-posed question.

Without glancing up, Ash motioned at the fragment.

Flopping down to sit cross-legged on the rug, like one of the orphans during story time, Faith said, “Why, Ash, you seem like you would be a good storyteller. Tell me, and I shall listen with rapt attention to your tale of the fragments of the Gates of Death!”

At last, Ash dragged his gaze away from the fragment. “No, no, no, you misunderstand. I don’t know the whole story, and I’m very curious.”

Well, that was unsurprising. No one knew the whole story. All that the scholars had pieced together was that the Gates of Death used to let the dead pass to the afterlife. Then, eight hundred years ago, the Cataclysm broke the sun, turned the seas black, and shattered the Gates, trapping souls on earth and denying them their final rest. However, fragments of the Gates still existed and held vestiges of their former power, which explained why ghosts were so drawn to them, and why Ash had been able to manipulate the ghost field today. To my surprise, Faith actually told Ash that story, albeit heavily dramatized and with much wild gesticulation, especially when she described the Cataclysm.

At the end, Ash mused, “What would happen if we could find all the fragments?”

Faith shrugged, uninterested. “Reassemble the Gates? End death as we know it? Oh wait – that already happened. End death as we…no longer know it? Put the Gates in our front yard as a garden ornament?”

For a split second, Ash looked hopeful. Then he scowled. “I don’t know, it just seems like the Imperium should at least try to gather the fragments. Or maybe it’s already trying.”

Talking over him, Faith continued her own train of thought: “I don’t know how big the Gates were though…. Maybe they would make a nice jungle gym for the orphans….”

This ridiculousness went on for a while – and by “a while,” I meant the next few days, over the course of which she came up with increasingly absurd suggestions. For once, though, I didn’t mind: It made a nice change from her alternately offering to keep the Inspector’s ghost sane by having it possess me, and threatening to dismantle it so she could experience reading romance novels from Sarnai’s perspective.

In that context, ludicrously implausible uses for the portals to the underworld were a vast improvement.