As the grey confines of the bar grew defined, he saw that its denizens had turned their backs to him and were watching a man standing behind his table at the far end of the room. The lantern light reflected dully from a sword thrust through the table, and the man had closed one hand around its grip. He seemed oblivious to every one else in the bar.

Kalam took a half-dozen steps, coming to the near end of the counter. His dark eyes remained on the man with the sword, and a frown deepened the lines on his broad, flat forehead. The assassin stopped. Was it a trick of this damn light? he wondered. 'No,' he said, startling the innkeeper behind the counter, 'it isn't.' He pushed himself back from the counter, ran his eyes over the others in the chamber – all locals. He'd have to take the risk.

A band of tension tightened around Kalam's neck and shoulders as he strode directly for the man, who looked to be but moments away from snapping his sword's blade. The assassin plucked an empty chair from a table in his path and slammed it down one-handed opposite the man. Startled eyes fixed on Kalam.

'Your god-given luck's holding, Captain,' the assassin rumbled, in low, close tones. 'Sit down.'

His expression confused and frightened, Paran released his grip on the weapon and sank back into his seat.

Kalam followed suit and leaned forward over the table. 'What's all this drama anyway?' he asked, in a whisper.

The captain frowned. 'Who are you?'

Behind them conversations resumed, loud with rattled nerves.

'Ain't you guessed?' Kalam wagged his head. 'Corporal Kalam, Ninth Squad, Bridgeburners. The last time I saw you, you was recovering from two fatal knife wounds—'

Paran's hands shot out and gripped Kalam's shirt. The assassin was too surprised to react, and the captain's words confused him all the more. 'Is your squad's healer still alive, Corporal?'

'What? Alive? Yeah, sure, why not? What's—?'

'Shut up,' Paran snapped. 'Just listen, soldier. Bring him here. Now! No questions. I'm giving you a direct order, Corporal.' He released his grip on the assassin's shirt. 'Now, move!'

Kalam almost saluted, but caught himself in time. 'As you command, sir,' he whispered.

Paran glared at the corporal's back until the man disappeared through the front door. Then he surged to his feet. 'Innkeeper!' he called, stepping around the table. 'The black man will be showing up in a few minutes with company. Send them up to Coil's room on the double. Understood?'

Scurve nodded.

Paran strode to the stairs. As he reached them he glanced back at the sword. 'And nobody touch that sword,' he ordered, swinging a glare across everyone in the room. Nobody seemed inclined to challenge him. With a sharp, satisfied nod, the captain ascended the stairs.