“Damn it! I forgot my spare blowpipe! What if—”

“I brought two extra, just in case.”

Morveer pressed one hand to his chest. “Thank the Fates. No! Damn the Fates. Thank your prudent planning. Where would I be without you?”

Day grinned her innocent little grin. “About where you are now, but with less charming company. Caution first, always.”

“So true.” He dropped his voice back to a whisper. “And here they come.” Murcatto and Vitari appeared, both masked, powdered and dressed, or rather undressed, like the many female employees of the establishment. Vitari opened the door beneath the crown and entered. Murcatto glanced briefly up at the ceiling, nodded, then followed her. “They are within. So far all proceeds according to plan.” But there was ample time yet for disasters. “The yard?”

Day wriggled on her stomach to the far edge of the attic where roof met rafters, and peered through the holes they had drilled overlooking the building’s central courtyard. “Looks as if they’re ready to welcome our guests. What now?”

Morveer crept to the minuscule, grubby window and brushed some cobwebs away with the side of one hand. The sun was sinking behind the ragged rooftops, casting a muddy flare over the City of Whispers. “The masked ball should soon be under way at Sotorius’ palace.” On the far side of the canal, behind Cardotti’s House of Leisure, the torches were being lit, lamplight spilling from the windows in the black residences and into the blue evening. Morveer flicked the cobwebs from his fingers with some distaste. “Now we sit here in this mouldering attic, and wait for his Highness Prince Ario to arrive.”

Sex and Death

By darkness, Cardotti’s House of Leisure was a different world. A fantasy land, as far removed from drab reality as the moon. The gaming hall was lit by three hundred and seventeen flickering candles. Friendly had counted them as they were hoisted up on tinkling chandeliers, bracketed to gleaming sconces, twisted into glittering candlesticks.

The sheets had been flung back from the gaming tables. One of the dealers was shuffling his cards, another was sitting, staring into space, a third carefully stacking up his counters. Friendly counted silently along with him. At the far end of the room an old man was oiling the lucky wheel. Not too lucky for those that played it, by Friendly’s assessment of the odds. That was the strange thing about games of chance. The chances were always against the player. You might beat the numbers for a day, but you could never beat them in the end.

Everything shone like hidden treasure, and the women most of all. They were dressed now, and masked, transformed by warm candlelight into things barely human. Long, thin limbs oiled and powdered and dusted with glitter, eyes shining darkly through the eyeholes of gilded masks, lips and nails painted black-red like blood from a fatal wound.

The air was full of strange, frightening smells. There had been no women in Safety, and Friendly felt greatly on edge. He calmed himself by rolling the dice over and over, and adding the scores one upon another. He had reached already four thousand two hundred and…