“No.”

She looked up at Monza. “How did you get these?”

“I was shaving my cunt and the razor slipped.”

The woman spluttered with laughter. “I like that. That’s funny.”

Pello was laughing too. “That is funny.”

“Good thing you’ve got a sense of humour.” Langrier stood up, brushing dust from her knees. “You’ll need that later.” She thumped Monza on the side of the head with an open hand and sent her tumbling down the stairs. She fell on her shoulder with a jarring impact, the steps battered her back, skinned her knees, her legs went flying over. She squealed and grunted as the wood drove the air out of her, then the wall cracked her in the nose and knocked her sprawling, one leg buckled against the plaster. She lifted her head, groggy as a drunkard, the stairway still reeling. Her mouth tasted of blood. She spat it out. It filled up again.

“Fuh,” she grunted.

“No more jokes? We’ve got a few more flights if you’re still feeling witty.”

She wasn’t. She let herself be dragged up, grunting as pain ground at her battered shoulder-joint.

“What’s this?” She felt the ring pulled roughly off her middle finger, saw Langrier smiling as she held her hand up to the light, ruby glinting.

“Looks good on you,” said Pello. Monza kept her silence. If the worst she lost out of this was Benna’s ring, she’d count herself lucky indeed.

There were more soldiers on the floors below, rooting through the tower, dragging gear from the chests and boxes. Glass crunched and tinkled as they upended one of Morveer’s cases onto the floor. Day was sitting on a bed nearby, yellow hair hanging over her face, hands bound behind her. Monza met her eye for a moment, and they stared at each other, but there wasn’t much pity to spare. At least she’d been lucky enough to have her shift on when they came.

They shoved Monza down into the kitchen and she leaned against the wall, breathing fast, stark naked but past caring. Furli was down there, and his brother too. Langrier walked over to them and pulled a purse from her back pocket.

“Looks like you were right. Spies.” She counted coins out into the farmer’s waiting palm. “Five scales for each of them. Duke Salier thanks you for your diligence, citizen. You say there were more?”

“Four others.”

“We’ll keep a watch on the tower and pick them up later. You’d better find somewhere else for your family.”

Monza watched Furli take the money, licking at the blood running out of her nose and thinking this was where charity got you. Sold for five scales. Benna would probably have been upset by the size of the bounty, but she had far bigger worries. The farmer gave her a last look as they dragged her stumbling out through the door. There was no guilt in his eyes. Maybe he felt he’d done the best thing for his family, in the midst of a war. Maybe he was proud that he’d had the courage to do it. Maybe he was right to be.