This was why Luc Krane was hunting down Mamzel Fortuna Bettan, who’d served all three of Tanomariel, Zulantis and Avomarr Du-Choi, with no backup except Lady Chettamandey’s personal aide and her laspistol. They’d come up with nearly two dozen possible suspects, many of them still on duty despite the celebrations, and other security duos were locating the rest. DeShelle had tried to persuade Krane to send more guards for the jobs, but he’d been loath to pull any more away from their stations. The suspected cultists weren’t their only enemies, Krane had pointed out: Dukarr had declared a trade war, and might have agents within the palace as well. It wouldn’t do for them to become aware that security’s attention was largely focused away from their primary responsibilities.

According to her rota, Fortuna Bettan was currently assigned to Savomir Tej Brobantis, an elderly Navigator with very limited personal mobility who generally shunned the social events of his kin. Savomir resided on the lower levels of the palace when he wasn’t in service to a ship, and that was where they were heading now.

‘You have the binders?’ Krane asked for the second time. A pair swung at his own belt too, but he’d insisted that DeShelle take some. Quite why, DeShelle wasn’t sure; if Krane couldn’t secure this servant for whatever reason, she didn’t feel that she’d have much hope.

‘Yes,’ she replied, instead of arguing.

‘And if you see any hint of witchcraft, shoot her,’ Krane added. DeShelle rubbed her bare neck uncomfortably as they turned onto a wide, ornate staircase leading down to the next level. She really didn’t like to think about that.

They were halfway to the bottom, and DeShelle’s weight was just coming down onto the next step, when the lights below went out.

‘That’s not supposed to happen, is it?’ she said, coming to a halt behind Krane. The light from above was still steady, and cast a long pool of colour in front of them into which their shadows stretched, broken up into zigzag shapes by the stairs. Beyond that, though, was the utter darkness of an unlit corridor with no windows.

‘These aren’t the quarters for Navigators with visual oversensitivity,’ Krane agreed.

DeShelle cursed silently. ‘Have you got a light?’

‘Of sorts.’ Krane unslung The Wolf and activated it. The power axe flared into life, casting a shimmering blue-white glow out into the darkness. It didn’t seem to illuminate so much as it did pick out shadows, but it was something.