Kit barked a laugh. She lowered the handkerchief, waited a moment to see if the blood would resume, then tossed the soiled fabric over the edge. It fluttered down into the Pit, drifting lazily on the updrafts.

“So now what?” Gyre said.

“Now I have a proposition for you,” Kit said. “I’ll be in touch, the same way as last time. It won’t be long.”

“But—”

“Thank you, sir, for a very informative evening.” She bowed again. “Good luck with the scar!”

Before Gyre could say another word, she was gone, trotting past the lamp and vanishing into the shadows. Gyre prodded the torn edge of his paste scar with one finger, then tore the whole thing off and tossed it over the cliff. He scratched the real scar underneath, which was a blessed relief.

Okay. What in the name of all the Chosen was that?

Chapter 5

This time, Maya arrived at Baselanthus’ office early.

She knocked on his door, shifting uncomfortably in her rarely used formal tunic and trousers. It felt like a long time before anyone answered, and she fancied she could hear the low buzz of conversation.

Finally, Basel said, “Maya? Come in, please.” Maya opened the door, her posture stiffly correct, and gave him a precise bow.

She and Jaedia had always maintained a friendly, informal relationship. But she had no idea if the same would be true in this new assignment, and after what her mentor had told her, Maya was determined to give the Council no cause to criticize her performance. If they think they’re going to be able to use me against her, they’ve got another thing coming.

When she straightened up, Maya saw that Basel was not alone behind his huge, cluttered desk. On one side of the old man sat Kyriliarch Nicomidi, whom she’d met on her last visit. He cut a dashing figure, well-groomed dark hair swept back from a sharp widow’s peak, pale skin, and sharp blue eyes. His chair was angled slightly away from Baselanthus’, and something in his tight features and the way he sat spoke volumes about the tension between them.

At the other end of the desk was another centarch, even older than Basel. He sported a long, bushy beard and fiery orange-red hair a few shades lighter than Maya’s own crimson. The rest of his face was nearly lost in the tangle, leaving his eyes as bright points of purple. As far as Maya could see, he wasn’t wearing any identifying colors, but he leaned back in his chair, completely at ease, and she guessed he had to be another Council member.

“Kyriliarchs,” Maya said. “I am reporting as ordered.”

“Indeed you are,” Basel said. “Kyriliarch Nicomidi tells me you’ve met?”

“Only briefly.” Maya directed a bow in his direction.

“And this,” Basel went on, “is Kyriliarch Prodominus.”