“I’ll be happy to, as soon as you tell me why the Deputy Chief of Civil Obligations is posing as a member of the Enforcement Department.”

This time I did surprise her. She blinked, and her smile slipped. Then she laughed.

“Hah! I hadn’t counted on you recognising me. Bit of a miscalculation there.”

I said nothing.

“Oh, sit down.” She waved at the chair. “And stop scowling.”

“You set this up.”

“Yes, of course I did.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to test a few things. And I needed a private conversation with you.”

“You could have asked for one.”

“Well, I also needed collateral.”

“Excuse me?”

Rhyanon looked pointedly at my chair. I hesitated, then sat.

“I’ll sketch you a picture,” she said. “A troubled Acolyte with a history of instability attacks a civilian in the Gardens. When questioned about the incident, she raves that the man wielded lace against her. Then her story changes. Suddenly there is a grand conspiracy at play. She starts talking about secret meetings with Heralds from other Departments. Heralds who possess irrefutable alibis.”

I kept my voice even. “There were witnesses in the Gardens.”

“Were there? When called upon to give testimony, they all present a rather different and consistent account of what happened. They say that the man did nothing to provoke you.”

Her smugness was infuriating.

“So sad,” she continued, “when a promising young Acolyte is martyred for—”

“What do you want?”

She grinned. Her teeth were straight and white. “I have a proposition for you. If you say no, I want you to forget this meeting took place. In return for your discretion, your preliminary incident report will get lost in the Enforcement filing cabinets.”

“I would prefer it burned.”

“Then how could I be sure of your ongoing silence? I’m sure you understand.”

I nodded stiffly.

“Good,” she said. “In that case, what are you doing tomorrow evening?”

“Herald, if you wanted a date…”

“Funny, but no. I need you to attend Reverend Olwen Kisme’s party.”

That caught me off-guard. “I’m not invited.”

“I can get you onto the guest list.” Her eyes glinted. “While you’re there, I want you to take a look at some papers in Kisme’s office. Nothing too delicate, but I need a bank account number.”

Alarm bells were going off in my head. “Why?”

“Because I want to check the transactions listed against it.”

“And you couldn’t do this yourself?”

“Well, no. I would be a reasonably high-profile guest. You are more, um, obscure.”

I rubbed my forehead. “You set this up so you could ask me to break into a Reverend’s office?”

“Actually, I set this up with the hopes of forming a long-term arrangement. But for now, yes. That will do.”

She smiled genially, and I found myself smiling back. Then I recognised the faint numbing sensation that had been seeping outwards from my temples since the start of the meeting.

Rhyanon was compulsing me. To do so to a citizen was taboo; to compulse a fellow Sister was unthinkable.