“You what?”

“I tipped her off that I was on to them,” Wax said, “though I tried to act stupid. I don’t know if she bought that part. Wayne’s far better than I am at it. He’s a natural, you see.”

“You’ve ruined it then?”

“Maybe,” Wax said. “But then, if this were the Roughs and I were confronting a criminal—but had no evidence—this is what I’d do. Let it slip that I was suspicious of them, then watch where they go.”

Lady Kelesina stalked from the hall, leaving one of the other men to give apologies. Wax could almost hear them. The lady has a matter of some urgency to take care of at the moment. She will return shortly.

Steris followed his gaze.

“Ten notes says she’s gone to contact Suit,” Wax said, “and let him know that I’m on to them.”

“Ah,” Steris said.

He nodded. “I figured I couldn’t outtalk her, no matter how hard I tried. But she’s not used to being chased by the law. She will make simple mistakes, ones that even a rookie stagecoach robber would never make.”

“We’ll need to follow her somehow.”

“That would be the plan,” Wax said, drumming his fingers on the table. “I may have to start a fight and get thrown out.”

“Lord Waxillium!” Steris said, then started fishing in her purse.

“I’m sorry. I’m having trouble thinking of something else.” It was a weak plan though. Getting thrown out would likely alert Kelesina. “We need a distraction, an excuse to leave. Something believable, but not too disconcerting… What is that?”

Steris had removed a small vial of something from her purse. “Syrup of ipecac and saltroot,” she said. “To induce vomiting.”

He blinked in shock. “But why…”

“I had assumed they might try to poison us,” Steris said. “Though I considered it only a small possibility, it’s best to be prepared.” She laughed uncomfortably.

Then she downed the whole thing.

Wax reached for her arm, but too late. He watched in horror as she stoppered the empty vial and tucked it into her purse. “You might want to get out of the splash radius, so to speak.”

“But… Steris!” he said. “You’ll end up humiliating yourself.”

She closed her eyes. “Dear Lord Waxillium. Earlier, you spoke of the power of not caring about what others thought of you. Do you remember?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you see,” she said, opening her eyes and smiling, “I’m trying to practice that skill.”

She proceeded to vomit all over the table.

The digging continued, and Marasi passed the time reading inscriptions on gravestones. Wayne, for his part, had settled down on a grave with his back to the stone, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As she passed to check on the progress, she found him rummaging in his pocket. A moment later, he pulled a sandwich out and started eating. When he saw Marasi staring at him, he held it toward her, wagging it to see if she wanted a bite.