“And then what?”

An impassive gaze. “The woman died. Brutalized and killed by Ambergrisian soldiers, apparently. Her body burned in a fire.” A kind of triumphant smile. “But you, Finch. You were saved from that fire. You were less than a year old at the time.”

A shifting feeling in his stomach. A distant sense of confusion. Stared at Bliss across the maps. “That’s a lie. My mother died in childbirth. She was from Stockton. She had no family.”

Bliss shrugged. “Believe what you like. Hoegbotton, Frankwrithe—both right. Both wrong. Does it matter in the long run? Your father worked for the Kalif. As for why, look around you, Finch. This is a city founded on an attempted genocide, and everything that came out of that. The Silence. The Wars of the Houses. The Rising. This place is dangerous, Finch. Its people are dangerous. Ambergris will always need a counterweight. First through Morrow and Frankwrithe & Lewden. Now through the rebels, because the gray caps are in control. Either that, or Ambergris tries to take over the world. One way or the other. That’s what the Kalif learned repulsing your offensive.”

“Is that what my father believed?”

“That’s what I believe. Your father believed that by playing both sides against each other he was serving a greater good. I’ve never been under that delusion.”

Searching Bliss’s guarded face for what was true. Trying to reject the idea of further treacheries.

“You abandoned him, then. You let him take the fall when Hoegbotton and Frankwrithe joined forces. I was there. He died alone. Except for me.”

Bliss shrugged. “I couldn’t stop him from being found out. Just from being found. Too many people on each side were talking, suddenly. But, Finch, he wouldn’t let me help him. Wouldn’t let me take him out of Ambergris. Because of you. And because he was dying.”

“But you made sure nobody got to him so he wouldn’t talk.”

“I did what I could.”

Something clicked. Even on the run, when his father was dying, he hadn’t wanted Finch to contact anyone. No help from anyone. Because he didn’t trust anyone.

“He didn’t want you getting near me,” Finch said.

“I could’ve found you at any time, James Crossley,” Bliss said, leaning back.

“I wouldn’t have worked for you. You couldn’t have recruited me.”

“Haven’t I already?” Then shrugged. “But this is all beside the point. Where’s the piece of metal, Finch?”

A gun had appeared in Bliss’s hand. His regretful look said, Just in case.

“Maybe I left it in the apartment. Maybe you should look there.”

“Maybe you should just give it to me,” Bliss said. “It’s not the kind of thing you want to leave lying around.” Acid in his voice. A hard glitter to the eyes that chilled Finch. But it didn’t stop him.

“Mostly, though, Bliss, I keep thinking about how good you are at finding things. You never told me that you were the one who found Shriek. Gave him to the rebels. Do you want to explain that?”