She shook her head. “After Raskos fled the city, a bunch of Order people turned up and started going through his records. Whatever they found must have been pretty bad, because they declared a general amnesty. That’s why I’m here instead of rotting in some cell in the Spike.” She scratched idly at the gauze on her stump. “There’s a Legionary commander in charge now, until the Senate appoints a new dux. Some of Yora’s people have been petitioning for more rights for the manufactory workers, and it sounds like something might come of it.”

“That’s a start, anyway. Yora would have been glad to hear it.”

“Probably.” Sarah regarded him curiously. “So why are you here, Gyre? You know it isn’t safe, amnesty or not.”

“I need your help.”

“My help? What are you doing that a one-armed arcanist would be so useful?”

“One-armed or not, there’s no one better that I trust. I have a job to do, and I need some equipment.”

She made a pained sound. “I could give you a few names—”

“I think it’s got to be a custom build,” he said. “A tricky one.”

“I’m listening,” Sarah said.

“Explosives,” Gyre said. “Big ones. Lynnia can provide that part, but the timing is very sensitive.”

“Her fuses are the best, you know that. Accurate to maybe a quarter of a second. You’re not going to do any better.”

“I need something more … flexible. A bomb I can set off remotely. Three of them, actually.”

“Ah.” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Which means the triggers have to be arcana.”

“Is it possible?”

“Probably,” she admitted. “There are plenty of arcana devices that send a signal from one place to another. It’s just a matter of modifying some so they’ll set off the bomb.”

“Then you can do it.”

“Maybe.” She looked at her right hand, then at her stump. “I can try. But getting the devices is going to be expensive.”

“I figured.” Gyre lifted his satchel onto his lap and opened it. Stacks of neatly wrapped thaler notes were piled inside. Sarah’s eyebrows went up even farther. “Will ten thousand be enough to buy what you need?”

“It should be,” Sarah said.

“Good. The rest is for you.” Gyre closed the satchel and set it at her feet. “Fifty thousand thalers.”

There was a long pause.

“If I asked where you got that kind of money—” Sarah began.

“I would say that I can’t tell you,” Gyre said, smiling slightly.

“Though I can’t help but think of Kit’s mysterious client, who also seemed to have cash to burn.” Sarah nudged the satchel with her foot. “I told you I don’t blame you, Gyre. You don’t have to buy my forgiveness.”

“What about Yora’s?” Gyre said quietly.

“Yora would … understand.” Sarah looked uncomfortable. “Probably.”