“I hardly need an escort.” The woman sniffed as the barkeep ambled over and lowered a foamy mug to the table. He’d feigned disinterest for the duration of their play, seeing to other customers and checking in on the trio now and then. Now, with the denizens of this poor excuse for a town turned in for the night, he seemed more inclined to watch.

“You might listen to him, Tela,” said the barkeep, his wattled chin bobbing up and down. “Dark times to be wandering the streets by yourself.” He stuffed the tray under one arm and glanced at the latticed window. “Quite literally dark.”

Jom exhaled another plume of smoke. “Roff still hasn’t turned up?”

The barkeep shook his head.

The woman, Tela, furrowed her brow. “The lamplighter?”

“Not seen in days,” said the barkeep. “And Alma Woodward came in yesterday raving about a Dredger prowling about, keeping to the shadows.”

Tela gaped. “You don’t think Roff…”

“The change comes on fast,” said the barkeep, picking at his chin. “Man has no wife, no family to speak of. Lonely sort of life. Nine know folk are struggling enough these days with what little they have, and he didn’t have much.”

“But even so, resorting to snorting that awful stuff,” the woman’seyes widened, “knowing what becomes of you. I’ll never understand it. Then again, lamp lighting isn’t much work, is it? He should have found himself more to keep his hands busy.” She sighed. “That’s the trouble with young people these days. Laziness. This will happen when you don’t have a proper job.”

“And no telling the damage a Dredger will do,” said the bartender, frowning. “I hear they’ll dig right through cobblestone looking for Rail. More places for my taxes to go.”

Anji flicked her eyes briefly from her cards to the pair as Jom screwed up his face in concentration. He dragged at his cigar, the exhaled smoke sailing straight into Anji’s nose. She breathed in the fume and wished she had the stomach to ask for one of her own. Somehow looking at Jom she didn’t think he’d offer.

Jom dropped two of his own coins into the pile, metal clinking. He slid another card off the deck (Ravens) and slipped it into his hand, glowering at Anji as she glanced once more to the pair.

Tela wrinkled her nose. “Vermin,” she said. “The whole lot should be rounded up.”

“Shut it, you two,” grumbled Jom. “Trying to think here.”

A shutter outside slapped against the window and the woman jumped in her seat, one hand to her chest. She raked her fingers through graying wisps of hair. “Darkness and drugs and everything in between,” she said, eyes fixed on the window and the black streets beyond. “Plague in Kardisa. And now King Rolandrian murdered in his bed.”