“What possible out do you think you have in this situation?”

“I know my rights.”

“We caught you in a dreamglass factory. You ran, resisted arrest, assaulted a civilian.”

“Civilian? You mean Raz?” She laughed. “Tackled me first. I grabbed him in self-defense.”

“You cut his throat. I don’t think those wings will fly you far.”

“He pushed into the knife. Which he wouldn’t have done if he thought there was a chance it would harm him.”

“Not necessarily true.”

“You know him better than I do? After what, Officer Elle, a few weeks all told on portside visits?” She shook her head. “He’s a mystery to you. You suckered me in here, fine. You seized my ship. You want to play the do-gooder by strangling legitimate commerce, that’s your damage. But you got what you got on false grounds, and I’ll drag you and Justice into court to prove it.”

“False grounds? You brought enough soul into that house to buy a full dreamglass shipment.”

“An agent hired me to make a trade. She told me where to go and when to get there and what to do once I was there. I’d just realized what was happening—I was about to leave before you jumped in.”

“You set your briefcase on the table and picked up theirs.”

“They looked similar. Either way, this stinks. I do business in Alt Coulumb. If I was buying dreamglass, why would I buy from a local supplier? I can just weigh anchor and sail somewhere it’s legal. You set me up, and I want a Craftsman.”

“You’ll get one, don’t worry,” Cat said. “And when you do, I’ll see you go down for a kidnapper, a smuggler, and a slaver.”

“All that just ’cause I cut the guy you want to ride.”

Cat stood. “What did you say?”

“He’s dropped by Alt Coulumb more in the last year than in the forty previous, but I didn’t expect he’d go through all that trouble for someone like you. He didn’t used to care for girls with habits. Maybe he’s slipping. They do, you know, when they’re long in the tooth.”

Cat had grown in the last year. There was a time, not long past, when she would have leaned across the table and broken Varg’s jaw. When she wouldn’t have stopped with the jaw.

Time was past. That was good, she told herself.

Still felt like hells that all she could do was say, “Fuck you,” and walk away.

*   *   *

“I don’t know how you stand it here,” Daphne said to Tara as they walked down the stone paths of the Sacred Precinct, full from a Business District lunch for which Daphne’d paid. Which was only rational: Daphne was the one making a firm salary.