“One question,” Irv began. “The numbers certainly aren’t good, but they never have been, and the dens have managed so far.” He fanned the papers out in front of him. “Maybe I’ve missed something? Why so short a predicted time frame till crisis?”

Empire Will’s glance to Red Katja said: at last, someone who speaks our language.

She nodded. “Exactly why we need real data. Different dens work differently, but some basics are true for all of us.” She ticked off points, nails flashing red in the lamplight. “One: we’re consuming more than we’re producing, some dens more than others, but we averaged it out. Two: our relative comfort so far has been sustained by reserves, especially in dens such as yours, Mr. Rousseau. You saw what was coming and secured substantial stores of basic provisions you wouldn’t be able to produce in house.”

Tom Doyle stretched in his chair, yawning noisily. Mitsuko nudged him to attention, which made me sit up. I’d been drifting a bit, distracted by the chance to observe Daniel when he wasn’t observing back.

“At Empire,” Will noted, “we focused on tech and its essential supplies, and socked away extra cash to get us through.”

“That was when cash was still worth something and we assumed order would be restored,” Katja continued wryly. “At least to the extent it has been after past big blows. But here we are, four months after Abel—downtown has been totally abandoned, uptown is more than ever a sanctuary for the rich, the climate is still on the downswing, with no global will for a fix. And we in the dens have pretty much run through our food reserves.”

“Or had them stolen from us,” Maxine added.

“With more of that expected,” Katja agreed. “And with this disruption at the Souk . . .”

“Disruption?” Doyle growled. “A fucking all-out, if he’s telling us true!”

“It’ll happen a lot faster,” Rousseau supplied grimly.

“Right.” Will looked to Daniel. “Any chance the Souk problem will blow over?”

Daniel spread his hands. “If you want to play by the new rules . . .”

“And submit to the latest tyranny . . .” Zuleika murmured.

Daniel’s nod to her was a fond greeting. To Katja, he said, “Hold on to that cash. The Merchants’ Association is threatening a return to cash or credit only.” The sooty rose of his T-shirt flared as he stepped into the light of a nearby lantern. His gaze circled the room. “But the real concern is, what does it mean? Why this sudden crackdown on indie vendors like me? Because the Association members are scared. They’re the wholesalers, the black marketers, the major pipeline for goods from the Mainland—or anywhere. They supply Uptown, and it’s made them rich. But word is, the flow is drying up.”

Will’s frown seemed out of place on his reserved face. “How do you mean, drying up?”

“As in, stopping.”