“Quite the pair we make,” Kit breathed beside her. “A lame regicide and a decrepit drug addict—bested by stairs.”

“Handled that Scorphice just fine,” Anji said, waving the comment away. She looked around. “You’re sure we’re on the last floor? Any attics I should know about?”

“We’re nearly there,” said Kit, watching a flabby, silver-haired man saunter past, naked save for a small towel slung around his ample waist and an assortment of gold chains thick as Anji’s fingers. He trailed an attendant waving a censer billowing clouds of thick green smoke.

“How can anyone afford all this?” Anji said as the man turned a far corner.

Kit opened her mouth to speak when two figures emerged from the door across the hall, their eyes glassy, tranquility writ on their faces. One of the figures, a lithe man no older than Anji, wore a purple robe hanging loose over his chiseled stomach. He sniffed and tittered as a bare-chested man in pale yellow trousers ambled out behind him.

Anji recognized the old man’s face.

“That’s Esca—”

Kit cuffed Anji’s ear with the palm of one gloved hand.

The door clapped shut behind the couple, the bang of its closing reverberating off the wooden floor and walls. The pair wandered off arm in arm as Kit straightened and motioned for Anji to do the same.

“Don’t act so shocked,” said the Hawk. “You’ll give us away if you look like you’ve never been to a place like this.” She pointed to the door Escadora and his escort had just vacated. “Not a word while we’re in there. I’m not used to buying like this.”

Anji narrowed her eyes. “Like what? Aren’t all deals the same?”

“I don’t know which Spur operates in this neighborhood.”

“You mean you don’t know how—”

A scream issued from behind the door, sharp and breathless. Anji winced and stepped back.

“You can’t wait out here,” Kit said, one hand on her knife. Her face was drawn, sweating. Anji wondered for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few days whether she could take the woman right there on this landing. The Hawk seemed to be dying right before her eyes. But deep down, Anji knew better. She’d been bested on the tundra, with and without a sword, and she didn’t much like her odds no matter what Kit looked like now. Even in her worst state, even this close to succumbing to her addiction, Kit was a hardened warrior, and she would do whatever she could to keep herself alive until Anji was locked up on a ship bound for Linura. No, she’d go along with this, if only to avoid a beating and, most of all, for her possessions. She glanced once more at the bag around Kit’s shoulder.

Another screech sounded behind the door, followed by harsh, raised voices.