“Of course. And I expect you, or Mara, or one of the others, to pick up for me once I’m gone.”

“You really convinced her.”

“I convinced her. She is being convinced.”

Kai blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well.” Someone had once told him what an apologetic smile looked like, and he tried and failed to imitate it now. “There are many ways to remind someone of their duty.”

He held out one hand, palm up, and crooked his fingers.

Kai braced—for what, she did not know. A wave of compulsion, a weight settling against her mind, a blow. She felt nothing. Wind whistled through the floor exchanges. “You’re no Craftsman, Jace.”

“No.” He chuckled. “No, of course not. But it’s interesting, you know. I redecorated this office years ago, and everyone was so happy I got rid of the clutter that they didn’t ask why I kept the statues.”

She remembered, then, that there were no floor exchanges in Jace’s office. What she’d taken for their whistle had been a long, high, human whimper. As if from someone Penitent.

Heavy footsteps shivered through the stone floor behind her. A massive hand caught her arm, lifted, and twisted. She rose to the tips of her toes, straining against the statue’s grip. The Penitent’s grip.

“I’m so sorry,” Jace said. “I hope it goes easy for you. I hope you wake up two days from now and tell me you understand. You’re a delicate instrument, and the Penitents aren’t made for delicacy. But you’re strong, too, strong enough I hope not to break completely. You’re worth so much more than a simple watchwoman.”

She could barely think through the pain, but still she recognized the voice with which the Penitent screamed. She recognized this Penitent’s voice. “You put her in here.”

Jace contemplated the space between his shoes. “Solved a few problems at once: Mara, and the poet. These Penitents barely deserve the name. Prototypes. The first ones Makawe made, before we hired a Craftsman to improve the design. They don’t answer to the Watch, or to the Council of Families. They serve the priesthood. Me.”

“The poet,” she said. “You had her kill Margot.”

“Thank you for finding him, by the way. I sent Mara to resolve that particular issue. Claude must have told you that Penitents work best through action: forced through the motions of justice, body and mind grow used to them. Soon it all seems second nature.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Classic projection. My motives are clear; yours, deranged.”

“You’re killing people.”