Still. In his way, he was a capable soldier, wasn’t he? More capable than his own. It’s then Candlefly feels a tiny sting of remorse: did he back the wrong horse? The inhabitance rite would have been better spent on Pearl. Certainly Pearl could have been manipulated into killing his own daughter just as the Boss was nudged into murdering his own grandson? Blood from one’s line must be spilled – and Mookie and Nora were already at each other’s throats.

Well. Too late now. He can’t put this monster back in the cage.

Or, rather, can’t take the monster out of the cage.

And though the Boss technically failed to put Mookie down, it all worked out in the end, didn’t it?

“Anything else?” Sorago asks.

“Yes, my old friend. Tomorrow is the big day, and I’d like to take out as many birds as possible with the stone we throw. Now that Nora Pearl isn’t out there stirring the pot, let’s bring the gangs together. At a single location near the dig – it will be more convenient that way. Down by the docks. Makes the most sense.” He blows a plume of smoke. Before Sorago can confirm, Ernesto holds up a finger. “Never mind. Zoladski should call. They fear him. They’ll listen.”

“They will fear me, too.”

“Don’t be dramatic, old friend. Dispose of the body.”

Sorago hesitates, and nods. The tension is palpable. Relegated to a common corpse-dumper? Ah. The envy. Good.

He calls up the steps: “Konrad. Come down here, please.”

Nothing.

Hm.

“Konrad! Your presence is… requested.”

There. The Boss appears from within the study. He has returned to his human guise. Jawbone fused back together. Body shrunken into the little old man. He begins to descend the steps, scowling.

“You don’t command me,” Zoladski says. “You are not my master. I am the master here. Until my brothers and sisters come to this world and claim it for themselves, I am the only god of this place. You don’t command me. I command you.”

Candlefly shrugs one shoulder. “Not so much, no. When you wanted to leap into the gate and follow after Pearl and his daughter, what happened, exactly?”

“I chose not to leap.”

“Yes, see, I remember it a bit differently? I remember yelling for you to stop a hair’s breadth of a moment before you leapt into the hole. And what did you do?”

“I chose–”

“You chose nothing,” Candlefly barks. “You did as I commanded.”

The little man bristles. His jaw twists – the skin and bone separate for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the leech-mouth within. “You dare speak to me this way?”