“My people and I were asleep.” Falise pointed around at the dome’s interior. “None of us have left this hovel, though we’re about to. That slop left in the refrigeration unit might have been fit to dump into the hydroponics, but not for two meals in a row.”

Talina Perez, standing with feet braced, wearing one of the quetzal-hide cloaks and a shoddy black-fabric uniform, was studying Falise with those unsettling oversized black eyes. The way the woman watched her, it was as though she was seeing more of Falise than she cared to betray.

“So, you don’t know anything about Chad Grunnel’s death? None of your people could have been involved? Even the ones who bunk down next door?”

“Was the body found outside our door?”

“No.”

“If it wasn’t on our doorstep, where was it? And why would you think we had anything to do with it?”

“Behind the foundry.” Perez glanced behind Falise at Clarice and Ednund. “No one went out last night?”

“I told you, Security Officer,” Falise said coldly. “We were asleep. You might, however, try Cinque Suharto.”

“Cinque? Why?” If the revelation was in any way interesting, the Perez woman seemed to miss it.

“Perhaps Chad discovered that Cinque and Charlotte were involved? And Cinque has always been rather envious of Charlotte’s skills. Particularly since he’s availed himself of the woman’s charms on occasion.”

Behind her, Ednund and Clarice stood to either side, watching, silent.

“Funny,” Perez murmured. “It was my understanding that the families shared, what did you call them? Charms? Yes, that’s it. I’ve heard you all swap charms without a second thought.”

Falise endured that building cold rage in the pit of her stomach. It was enough of a shock to learn that Chad’s body was in the hospital being examined for clues. As if these bucolic savages had the capacity for such a thing. Let alone the new calculus for how power would be distributed between her, Cinque, and Bartolome.

Now we’re down to three.

New rules. Beyond Corporate scrutiny. Though the Inspector General was never to be underestimated.

“I have also heard,” Perez continued, “that you are familiar with the arts of assassination, that you have employed those skills on behalf of your family in the past.”

Falise allowed only the slight tilt of a shoulder. “There are many silly and absurd rumors floating around out there. Pay attention to all of them and you would assume I could fly or scry the secrets out of the dead.”

“So, no truth to that?”

“Dear God, do I look like an assassin to you, woman? Ignorance is the greatest conjuror of imagination, and those who know the least spin the most fantastic of tales.”