Waxillium tucked the gun into his empty holster. The other holster held Vindication. Marasi had searched through the hideout after Miles was taken and had recovered it for him. That was good. It would have been sad to survive this night, only to have Ranette kill him.

“So,” Marasi said, “you traded a dead man’s scarf for another dead man’s gun. But… the gun itself belonged to someone dead, so by the same logic—”

“Don’t try,” Waxillium said. “Logic doesn’t work on Wayne.”

“I bought a ward against it off a traveling fortune-teller,” Wayne explained. “It lets me add two ’n’ two and get a pickle.”

“I… have no response to that,” Marasi said.

“Technically that was a response,” Wayne said.

“Looks like they fished that gunsmith outta the canal for you, Wax, and he’s alive. Not real happy, but alive.”

“Has anyone found anything regarding the other women who were kidnapped?” Waxillium asked.

Wayne glanced at Marasi, who shook her head. “Nothing. Maybe Miles will know where they are.”

If he’ll talk, Waxillium thought. Miles had stopped feeling pain long ago. Waxillium wasn’t certain how anyone would go about interrogating him.

Waxillium felt that by not rescuing the other women, he had failed in large measure. He’d vowed to get Steris back, and he had. But a greater evil had been done.

He sighed as the door to the captain’s office opened, and Steris stepped out. A pair of senior constables had taken her statement, after taking that of Waxillium and Wayne. The two constables waved for Marasi next, and she went, glancing over her shoulder at Waxillium. He’d told her to be frank and straightforward with them, and to not hide anything he or Wayne had done. Though, if she could, she was to obscure Ranette’s role.

Wayne wandered over to where some constables were eating morning sandwiches. They regarded him with suspicion, but—by experience—Waxillium knew that Wayne would soon have them laughing and asking him to join them. Does he even understand what he does? Waxillium wondered as Wayne launched into an explanation of the fight for the constables. Or does he just do it all by instinct?

Waxillium watched for a moment before realizing that Steris had approached him. She sat down in the chair directly across from him, maintaining good posture. She had fixed her hair, and while her dress was rumpled from her day of captivity, she looked relatively composed.

“Lord Waxillium,” she said. “I find it necessary to offer you my thanks.”

“I hope the necessity isn’t too onerous,” Waxillium said with a grunt.

“Only in that it comes… is required… after an onerous captivity. You should know that I was not touched indecently by my captors. I remain pure.”

“Rust and Ruin, Steris! I’m glad, but I didn’t need to know that.”

“You did,” she said, face impassive. “Assuming you still wish to proceed with our nuptials.”

“It wouldn’t matter either way. Besides, I thought we weren’t to that point yet. We haven’t even announced that we are seeing one another.”