“Who’s there?” Mr. Malikum looked up to see two men dressed in leather tabards branded with the image of a peregrine falcon. The holstered knives in their belts were not there for ceremony. The larger one, with a scar that ran from side to side over his scalp, was also wearing a smirk that he was not quite able to hide.

“Are you Mr. Malikum, father of Arktorious, the plumber’s boy?”

“Yes. I am. What is this about?” Ark’s father tried to sit up in his cot to face the unwelcome visitors, but the effort proved too much and he collapsed back.

“We’ve come with some unfortunate news,” said the first, as if he was reading from a script.

“It appears that your son has met with an accident,” said the second.

“He tripped and … fell off the edge.”

Mr. Malikum played his part well. “Oh my word. No! You mean he’s …?”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

The sir was delivered with a curl of the guard’s lip, and to add further insult, the other guard pulled out a few bronze coins and chucked them casually onto the bed.

“Naturally, there’ll be an inquiry. Pretty straightforward, though. It appears that the stress of work became too much. He jumped!” And to emphasize the point, the guard jumped suddenly on the spot, thumping down forcefully on the thin boards.

Mr. Malikum didn’t disappoint. His shoulders shook as he huddled forward, scrabbling at the sheet covering his legs to wipe away nonexistent tears.

“Councillor Grasp is most sorry for your loss.” Speech over, the guards swung around and marched straight out of the house without so much as a backward look at the whimpering man. Outside, they nearly tripped over a young girl playing with a stick figure made out of twigs. She had tied a bit of string to it and was pushing it along the edge of the branch.

“Wheee!” she said over and over again, pushing the figure off the edge and then pulling it back up again.

“Poor kid,” said Alnus, the younger of the guards, as he rubbed his mustache.

“Squit me! Alnus going soppy over a sewer rat! Whatever next? We’ve got more serious matters to attend to.”

“Like what?”

“Like drinking ourselves stupid!”

“Yeah. Suppose so.”

“No ‘suppose’ about it. Come on! Let’s leave this Diana-forsaken heap of hovels. Job done.” The guards fell into step together and sauntered off into the gathering gloom.

“Father. I’m sorry.” Ark rose slowly from behind the worn curtains.

“Sorry? Why? You’re alive. That’s what counts. Now get yourself changed and stick the kettle on. Once we’re warmed up with a brew, you can tell me how you died!” There was a flicker of the old spirit in his father’s eyes.