It was good stuff. Smashing Todd’s, twenty-one years. Put into barrels near the end of one of the worst periods of fighting between F&L and H&S. Better than what he had in the apartment. So smooth it only burned a little on the back end. Tasted of Morrow peat. The River Moth.

“No, Finch,” Bliss said. “A celebration. A kind of christening, even.”

“What do you want?” Snapped it out. No patience left.

“Bellum omnium contra omnes,” Bliss said in a thin, reedy voice.

“You’re my contact?” Rathven saying “Everyone works for the rebels.”

“You’re supposed to say, ‘Never lost.’ Then I’m supposed to give you what you need.”

“I thought you worked for Morrow.”

A quizzical look from Bliss. “I do? Did I ever say I did? There are no Morrow interests in this city anymore. Only Ambergrisian interests.”

“What’s your real name, Bliss? Is it Graansvoort? Or maybe it’s Dar Sardice?”

“You must believe everything you’re told.” Said almost without scorn.

“Why were you really in my apartment?”

Bliss’s head tilted to the left. Considering Finch. “Checking you out. Seeing how you checked out. I found a lot of familiar books on those shelves. Familiar to me, at least. A curious lack of photographs. That’s what really gave you away.”

“Me catching you wasn’t part of the plan.”

“No. I’ll never tell you.”

“So what do you think you found out?”

A bit of the old facile cleverness shone in his eyes. “Familiar books. No photos. I told her, ‘He’s changed his look. Shaved the beard. The hair is lighter. He’s older, but still him. James. The son John helped hide.”

“How did you know my father?”

Bliss sidestepped the question. “Your father knew how to keep a secret. I always admired that about him. He had his head on straight. He knew what was impor- tant. And what wasn’t. I think you do, too. Your father would have agreed to this mission without a second thought.”

“My father is dead,” Finch said through gritted teeth. Put down his whiskey. Bliss knowing didn’t shock him. It was the rest. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I trusted your father,” Bliss said. “And he trusted me. If that wasn’t the case, I’d have suggested one of the others. Blakely. Maybe even Wyte. But your boss did make you the lead on the case. Much easier for you to get in there.”

“Dar Sardice,” Finch said. Didn’t know if he pursued it because he really believed it was important.

Bliss nodded. Didn’t seem surprised. “I met your father while using that name. Out in the desert. It was a complicated time. Many conflicting allegiances.” Seemed ready to say more. Stopped himself. Head tilted down. Eyes still on Finch. “But I’m telling tales when we don’t have much time. You need to focus on the present.”