Lemuel glared at him.

“Well, thanks for your concern ’Zaac,” he said, his face twisting. “Tell you what, though—” his voice turned hard “—you may be out of your depth. I, however, have spent my professional life evading the law. Don’t you worry about me, mate. I’ll be cushty.” He did not sound sure.

I’m not telling him anything he doesn’t know, thought Isaac. He just doesn’t want to think about it right now. Isaac shook his head contemptuously.

“Dammit, man, you aren’t thinking straight. There’s a whole godsdamn universe of difference between being a go-between and being a militia-murdering criminal . . . Don’t you get it? They don’t know what you know or don’t know . . . unfortunately for you, old son, you’re implicated. You have to stick with us. You have to see this through. They’re after you, right? And right now, you’re running from them. Better to stay in front, even if you’re running, than fucking well turn round and let them catch up.”

Lemuel stood still in the silence, glowering at Isaac. He said nothing, but neither did he leave.

Isaac took a step towards him.

“Look,” Isaac said. “The other thing is . . . we . . . I . . . need you.” Behind him Derkhan sniffed sulkily and Isaac shot her an irritated glance. “Godspit, Lem . . . you’re our best chance. You know everyone, you’ve got a finger in all the right pies . . .” Isaac raised his hands helplessly. “I can’t see a way out of this. One of those . . . things is after me, the militia can’t help us, they don’t know how to catch the damn things, and anyway, I don’t know if you’re keeping track but those fuckers are hunting us too . . . I can’t see a way, even assuming we get the slake-moths, where I don’t end up dead.” The words chilled him as he spoke them. He talked rapidly, pushed the thoughts away. “But if I keep at it, maybe I can figure one out. And the same goes for you. And without you, Derkhan and me are dead for sure.” Lemuel’s eyes were hard. Isaac felt a chill. Never forget who you’re dealing with, he thought. You and he are not friends . . . don’t forget that.

“You know my credit’s good,” Isaac said suddenly. “You know that. Now, I’m not going to pretend I’ve got a massive bank account, I’ve got a bit, there’s a few guineas left, all of it yours . . . but help me, Lemuel, and I’m yours. I’ll work for you. I’ll be your man. I’ll be your fucking pet. Any jobs you want done, I do them. Any money I make, it’s yours. I’ll sign my fucking life to you, Lemuel. Just help us now.”