‘A fair point,’ Chetta conceded. ‘Did anyone plant you in my household, Tekoa?’

‘I… What…? I…’

‘It’s a simple enough question, Tekoa,’ Chetta said mildly, ‘and I assure you that it is not a trick. If the answer is “yes”, and you say so now, then you can go and collect your husband and your possessions, and you can go to the hangar, and I will instruct a flyer to take you anywhere you like in Ascension City. You helped us catch Radimir Niklau – that was a worthy achievement. If you are honest with me, I will ignore the deception and thank you for the valuable contribution you made.’

Tekoa continued to be unable to form words.

‘If your answer is “no”, but I later find out that it was actually “yes” and you lied to me, then I will personally see to it that both you and your husband suffer quite the most exquisitely painful tortures that I can devise,’ Chetta continued conversationally. She hadn’t been able to take her frustrations out on Alyssana Nero: the girl was now keeping a low profile on board Ngiri’s ship, given that there was no way she was going to continue as Chetta’s aide, and for her to serve the same role for Ngiri would have instantly put Sen Uru Dukarr onto the defensive. So far as anyone else was aware, DeShelle DuVoir had died in action in the Smog Deeps, and her body had been lost to scavengers.

However, Chetta was going to try to avoid making the same mistake again.

‘My lady,’ Tekoa said carefully. ‘No one planted me. I was a humble Administratum scribe, nothing more, and nothing less. I swear this by the Emperor and all His saints. If you wish me to leave your employ, then–’

‘Do you wish to leave my employ?’ Chetta interrupted him.

‘No,’ Tekoa said flatly. ‘I… like it here. So long as I’m not going to be tortured.’

Chetta studied him. He seemed truthful. She could be wrong, of course. A foolish old woman, making the same mistake for a second time.

But she could also make the mistake of never trusting anyone again. Of relying only on herself, until she either burned out or simply missed something that someone else, someone she could have trusted, would have seen before it was too late.

‘Then you shall stay,’ she told him. ‘And you shall be my new aide.’

Tekoa’s hands flew to his mouth. ‘High lady! I…’ He dropped to one knee. ‘I do not deserve this honour!’

‘Oh, get up,’ Chetta grunted, nudging him with her left foot. ‘It’s not an honour, it’s a bloody hard job. But I think you could do it well.’

‘I am still honoured,’ Tekoa replied, rising with a big, stupid-looking grin plastered over his face. ‘What is my first task?’