The velvet drapes were drawn and candles had been lit. Coils of sweet smoke rose from an incense burner hanging from the ceiling to cover the smell of death.

Myrhichia had been laid out on her own bed. The women of the house had bathed her and dressed her in a white silk gown. Her hands were folded on her breast; the gold sesters on her eyes glittered like tears in the flickering light. Devoid of cosmetics, her pinched, waxen features lacked any semblance of life, and when Alec touched her hand he found it stiff and cold. The young woman who’d so sweetly ushered him into the soft give and take of real lovemaking was gone. A sob caught in his throat at the memory.

Seregil put his arm around Alec’s shoulders and pulled him close. “We did all we could, talí.”

Alec shook his head angrily. “Not enough! If we’d caught that old man—”

“I’m sorry. I swear to you, we’ll find out what happened and avenge her. But we have a duty to keep Elani and Klia safe. We can’t do anything more for Myrhichia now.”

He held Alec and let him cry for a while, then handed him his handkerchief. “Come on, talí. Work’s the best thing for us now.”

Alec wiped his face and nodded. Taking his dead friend’s hand for the last time, he whispered, “By Illior, Myrhichia, I swear I will kill the one who killed you!”

Seregil was grim as they headed back to the Orëska for their horses.

“How often has the Cat helped Eirual?” Alec asked.

“Oh, three or four times, over the years. Small jobs, except for one. I hunted down a man who murdered one of the girls. Strangled her in her own bed. It was early in Eirual’s career and she didn’t have the influence she does now, so the bluecoats didn’t waste much time trying to find him.”

“Sort of like how no one seems to care about the poor with the sleeping death.”

“Yes, very much like that. Then again, I don’t suppose the very poor care much about the doings of the rich, either. The gulf is too wide. Not many have been on both sides of it, as we have.”

They visited Thero’s Farrow Street stone dealer, but the man hadn’t had dealings with any strange folk.

“Have you had many people buying this particular kind of stone before?” asked Alec, showing him the one he’d bought from the boy in the Ring.

“Wizards, mostly, and dishonest jewelers.” The merchant examined the stone closely. “This isn’t one of mine. In fact it’s better than anything I have here. You could cut this one and pass it off as citrine or beryl. Maybe even a yellow sapphire.”

“Do you know anyone else who sells them?” asked Seregil.

“Only Mistress Elein, in Bank Street.”