“Sort of,” Magnut said. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“But basically,” Kiva said. “If they have travel documents and they just happen to turn out to be fake, but we weren’t able to tell, then the house can probably get those fines dismissed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kiva raised her eyebrows, signaling to Magnut without incriminating words ever being spoken that he should find and procure the services of someone who could make passable faked travel documents on an expedited basis, to make sure these forgers charged an outrageous amount for them, of which the House of Lagos would take a “finder’s fee” cut, and that, of course, if the forged documents were ever to be traced back to them, Magnut himself would take the fall rather than implicate Kiva and by extension the House of Lagos.

Magnut’s heavy sigh and curt nod signaled that he understood this perfectly well.

“Then send out the word that we’re accepting exiles. If they want on the ship they better hurry. And they better bring cash.”

* * *

A lot of exiles did want on the ship. And they were happy to bring cash.

Not all of them were the financial windfall of Sivouren Donher, of course. Not everyone was planning to bring a family of five with hangers-on. But they added up: the single exiles, the couples and occasional families of three or four, all at half a million marks a head, plus cargo charges, plus documents, plus additional sums if the refugees were Lagos franchisees or business associates, which many were because Kiva told Magnut to screen for those and to give them preferential treatment.

Within two days, Kiva was within five million marks of going into the black for the trip. “I’m a fucking financial genius,” she said, to Captain Blinnikka, back on the Yes, Sir.

“Or you’re war profiteering,” Blinnikka said.

“I’m not selling anything to the combatants,” Kiva said, taken aback, but then trying to shrug it off with some light snark. “I’m offering a service to those who wish to leave the theater of combat. That makes me a humanitarian, actually. I’m saving people.”

“For half a million marks each.”

“I didn’t say I was a bleeding heart about it.”

“Whatever you say.”

“We might finish this trip making a profit,” Kiva pointed out. “You don’t object to that.”

“No,” Blinnikka admitted. “Even a small loss will be a win for us given the circumstances. I won’t lose my command. You won’t lose face in front of your mother and the House of Lagos. What you’re doing makes sound financial sense.”

“But.”

“There’s no but. You’re right. It’s just a reminder that war favors the rich. The ones who can leave, do. The ones who can’t, suffer.”

Kiva was silent for a moment. Then, “Fuck you for having a conscience, Tomi.”

“Yes, ma’am.”