Faust crossed his arms. “Don’t give Madame all the credit. Some of us cultivated excellent perversions on our own.”

Perry smiled. “I know you did, Felix, but Bryar Kosala? The Emperor? The King of Spain is the most morally upright person I’ve ever met, but even Spain—”

“That didn’t stop you hiring Ziven Racer to knock Spain out of the election,” Faust tested.

Perry went white. “I…”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t discussed it with the others, and I won’t without good cause.”

“How… how did you know?”

“I’m Brillist Headmaster, Casimir, how do I know anything? Don’t worry, I won’t blackmail you. I couldn’t really—body language isn’t proof enough for court.”

“I… thank you.”

“My point was, you took advantage of Spain’s honorability, knowing they’d resign if someone tried to fix the vote on their behalf. You know in Spain’s case conscience is a weakness.”

Again Perry’s eyes escaped into the amber ocean of his drink. “I never said I wasn’t the worst of us, Felix. I shudder to list the things I’ve done to get to this room today. I think I was a good person when I was young, I really do.”

Faust stretched back. “Think of our perversions as topiary. We all had the seeds in us, but it’s Madame who made them art. Now, shall I have Mycroft fetch you something to fuck while we wait? The others are so set in their configurations, the two threesomes and the pair, that usually our debauches aren’t very debauched, I’m afraid. I’ve been looking forward to you changing that.”

“Is that Mycroft Canner?” Perry spotted me now in Jehovah’s empty corner, my dull Franciscan habit anticamouflage against the sparkle of the house.

Faust’s eyes rarely grow wide. “You haven’t met?”

“I heard about Canner turning up as a Servicer a couple days ago, and stalking Tully Mardi. I guessed Madame must be connected to it somehow. That’s Mycroft Canner, isn’t it? I recognize the notch out of their ear.”

Faust summoned me with a flick of his fingers. “Poor Outsider, the only one who’s had to make do without Mycroft’s services all these years. To be strict, though, it isn’t through Madame’s good offices that we have Mycroft, it’s thanks to our excellent and unique Prince, Jehovah Epicurus Donatien D’Arouet Mason.” His eyes glittered. “Which name will you use for our dear scion now, Perry? As one of Madame’s elite, you’re entitled to use something more personal than ‘the Prince D’Arouet,’ but you must pick carefully—everyone is judged by which they use. Dibs on Donatien.”

“Dibs?” Perry frowned. “Why do you get dibs on one?”

“As one of the candidates in the initial debate over who the child’s father was, I got to contribute a name. But you weren’t around twenty-one years ago. Tough luck.”

Perry did not answer, for I had drawn close enough to be inspected. His face grew slack before me, a distanced awe, like a child gaping at a cobra in a zoo. “Incredible. Madame really does collect the worst of us.” More words were on his lips, but others snuffed them.