The picture that took shape was practically a fortress. Raskos had spent years skimming off the scavengers, keeping the best finds to sell under the table for his own benefit. Gyre had known that, but he hadn’t realized that the dux had also been grabbing every nasty trap dug out of the ghoul warrens—often at considerable cost in blood—and installing them around his own private safe house. What in the name of the Chosen is he keeping in there?

Well. The Core Analytica, apparently. Whatever that is. He glanced at Kit. She sat at one end of the table, watching the preparations with hooded eyes, apparently bored. Yora, on the other hand, seemed to grow more restless with each passing moment, walking back and forth with her spear in her hand, tapping the butt against the ground. She tried not to show it, but Gyre knew Harrow’s death had hit her hard, as had Ibb’s defection.

Sarah was the only one who seemed immune to the oppressive atmosphere. She worked away on her own notes, writing as fast as Nevin could sketch. If anything, the prospect of tackling the dux’s trap-laden storehouse seemed to excite her.

With Harrow and Ibb gone, Yora had pulled in a few hands from outside her core team to act as security. A couple of broad-shouldered manufactory workers leaned against one wall, carrying cudgels and knives, and she’d posted lookouts in the approach tunnels to their secret meeting room. The newcomers seemed competent enough, but Gyre had to admit that he would have rather had Ibb with his blaster and rapier.

“I think that’s it,” Nevin said. “That we know of, anyway. None of our people have been past the anteroom, so there could be more inside.”

“Which leaves us with a whole set of contingencies,” Sarah said, scribbling rapidly. “We wouldn’t want to get past all the outer defenses and get stuck—”

“Can you do it?” Kit said. “Or not?”

Sarah blinked and looked at Yora, who gave a quick nod. The arcanist shrugged.

“We can do it,” she said. “We’ll need time and a fair bit of cash to line up the appropriate countermeasures. Lynnia can make some of what we need, but the rest we’re going to have to buy from the black market, and we don’t want to attract attention.”

“Cash I can manage,” Kit said. “Time may be in shorter supply. Raskos is trying to find a buyer for this thing. If he does, he may move it out of our reach.”

Sarah spread her hands. Nevin laced his fingers together, looking down at the table, and said, “If we run into a screamer and don’t have a way to shut it down, we’ll all end up buried under the Spike.”

“Every job has risks,” Kit said, waving a hand.

“She told you what we need,” Yora said. “We’ve already risked enough for this project.”