As the sergeant went on, more and more of what the man said gathered in the captain's mind, and he sensed a pattern emerging. He broke his hour-long silence and addressed Whiskeyjack. 'You still intend to cripple Darujhistan. And I keep thinking about that, and now I think I've worked out why.' He studied Whiskeyjack's blank expression. 'What you seek is to crack this city wide open. Chaos in the streets, a headless government. Everybody who matters shows up and they kill each other. What does that leave?' Paran leaned forward, his eyes hard. 'Dujek's got an army ten thousand strong, about to become outlaws of the Empire. Maintaining ten thousand soldiers is an expensive business. Housing them is even tougher. Dujek knows Pale's days are numbered. Caladan Brood's on the march down the Rhivi Plain right now. Are the Moranth about to pull out of the alliance? Maybe make a move of their own? Tayschrenn's in Pale – maybe old Onearm can handle him, maybe not. How am I so far, Sergeant?'

Whiskeyjack glanced over at Kalam, then shrugged. 'Go on,' he said to Paran.

'Darujhistan's filled with panic. No one knows anything. In marches Dujek, rebel army at his heels. He'll set things aright. Wealth beyond measure falls into his lap – and he'll need all of it if he's to oppose what the Empress sends after him. So, the city gets conquered after all. Fancy that.' He sat back.

'Not bad,' Whiskeyjack admitted, grinning at the surprise on the faces of Mallet and Kalam. 'With one piece missing. Something,' he eyed Paran, 'that might relieve the captain's sense of betrayal, if not his outrage.'

Paran's smile was cold. 'Surprise me.'

'All right, Captain. We don't give a damn if the Empress wants to come after us. She won't have much to do it with, since Seven Cities is days away from reclaiming its independence. It's coming down, Captain. On all sides. So why do we maintain our army? Look to the south. Something's growing there, so ugly it makes the Imass look like kittens. When I say we're in trouble, I don't mean just Genabackis, I mean the world. We're all in for a fight, Captain. And that's why we need Darujhistan.'

'What's to the south?' Paran asked sceptically.

Kalam answered, his words a breath of fear, 'The Pannion Seer. So the rumours are true, then. The Seer's proclaimed a holy war. The genocide's begun.'

Whiskeyjack got to his feet. 'Explain it to the man,' he said to Kalam. 'That Guild still needs contacting, if possible. Hood knows, we've made a show of ourselves at this bar. Might be what's needed, though.' He looked to Paran. 'Captain, I don't think Adjunct Lorn should know you're alive, do you?'

'No.'

'Can you stay here until I call for you?'

Paran glanced at Kalam, then nodded.

'Good. Mallet, let's move.'