Finch turned away from a thought that truly terrified him. That Bliss didn’t work for the Kalif at all. That Dar Sardice was just the first of the masks he knew about. That the “long game” was beyond comprehension.

The sounds of oars from beyond the open doors. Of a boat thudding up against the steps.

“That’ll be Rathven,” Bliss said. “Do you really want to involve her in this?”

No, he didn’t.

“I don’t have it. Sintra took it from me in the apartment,” Finch said. Almost triumphant. Almost proud of Sintra. “There was nothing I could do. The Dogghe have it now. I couldn’t stop her.”

Bliss erupted from his seat. Suddenly seemed twice as tall. Mouth open in an expression of rage beyond any caricature Finch had ever seen.

Flinched before it. Pushed back in his chair. Waited for the blow, but couldn’t look away.

Bliss’s eyes were dead. Something else shone through. Something hostile. Something alien. Like a mask had slipped. Peering out through the urbane little man’s face was something other.

Then it was gone. Bliss was just Bliss. “No matter,” he said, with a smile that cut. “A complication soon solved.” But Finch didn’t think it would be that easy. Hoped it wouldn’t.

Footsteps walking up the stairs.

A reptilian smile from Bliss.

“You’re just a spectator now, Finch. Just another pawn. But I’ll leave you with this: Did you ever stop to think that maybe Wyte represents the future of this city? That maybe you’re the past. Still living, but the past nonetheless. There will be a day you’ll remember this conversation in a much different light.”

Then he was walking into the bookshelves. Which turned into a door fringed with green and gold.

Which he stepped into.

And was gone.

Rathven came in, holding her gun and a disgruntled Feral.

“Was someone in here with you, Finch?” She let Feral down. The cat ran to him, rubbed up against his legs.

Finch shook his head. “Talking to myself.” Leaned over to pet Feral. Felt like he’d escaped some great danger. Had come across the edge, the outline, of something that his map could not encompass. That neither Finch nor Crossley could ever understand.

Somewhere out there the Lady in Blue was readying for invasion. Somewhere Sintra was bringing the strange piece of metal to her superiors.

Somewhere Shriek was trying to come home.

And he was in a secret room surrounded by books, petting a cat.

From far above, he heard the mutter of mighty engines coming to life. A groaning, rending roar. A rising hum behind it. A metallic scream like the cry of a raptor.

The ceiling vibrated. The floor rumbled. A plume of dust. Feral looked up, concerned.

“I was coming to tell you, John,” Rathven said. “The towers are changing. The electricity is out. Everywhere.”