Radimir was thoroughly disappointed by the lack of the evils of the flesh, in actual fact. Despite Della’s presence in the Children of the Serpent, and her relationship to the owner, Nansi – visible behind the actual bar itself, taking orders and serving drinks while addressing every customer by name, yet somehow never losing the ever-present lho-stick from the corner of her mouth as she did so – there was no sign that anything in the Star Lounge paid homage to the Great Powers. Radimir had developed a nose for finding his fellow worshippers, and none of his senses were tingling. The booze, the sex, the low-level corruption, extortion and violence being plotted all around him – even the concealed narcotics lounge – none of it was the result of anything more than human nature, petty mewlings that were oblivious to the glorious possibilities of Chaos. It was almost enough to make him weep.

It wasn’t helped by the fact that this was his third time here, and there had still been no sign of the alleged Navigators. Della had been around on the first two nights, waiting tables and standing ready to draw his attention to them, but she wasn’t here this evening. Radimir wondered whether she hadn’t dared come, given that her tip-off had failed to deliver the goods so far.

He was wasting his time. This had sounded like a good way to get two kills at once, on top of the three he’d already managed. He had no doubt that two of them had been found by House Brobantis. He’d dropped the third into the river, after harvesting their warp eye, and he was fairly certain that the chemicals and currents in that body of fluid would combine to ensure that they wouldn’t surface again, or at least wouldn’t be identifiable when they did. However, the names Mamzel Bettan had supplied of House Brobantis Navigators with a tendency to regularly venture outside of their palaces with little or no security had been exhausted. The careless, rebellious or overly bold had been eliminated, and the house itself must surely have realised that someone was targeting them. They would take counter-measures. There would be no easy Brobantis kills from now on, and this lead on incautious Navigators from houses unknown had proved worthless. Radimir would achieve nothing by sitting in this sinkhole of substandard depravity.

He finished his drink, grimaced at the after-taste and was about to stand up, when movement caught his eye at the door. A tall, thin person had entered, probably a woman judging by their build, draped in light, figure-hugging robes of saffron and a veil that was nearly opaque in the bar’s lighting. Gloves disappeared into the figure’s sleeves, and their feet were shod in finely made boots of leather. Not a scrap of skin was directly visible to an observer.