Jean-Claude winced at the extravagant vision. “Sedgwick, or should I say Lord Mistwaithe.” He was a Goldentongue from Brathon, a master of illusions and a go-between for rich folk who liked their improprieties freshly laundered. This vision of perfection was his gloriole, the blazon of his sorcery. When Jean-Claude shifted his gaze away, he caught a glimpse of Sedgwick’s true appearance, a slightly shabby little man with a lopsided face. The coin, however, still spun in the greasy vision of Jean-Claude’s wounded eye.

“Sedgwick will do for now,” he said. “Though if I am ever hanged, let it be under my family’s name so they may enjoy the embarrassment of it.”

Jean-Claude said, “I never pictured you as a pirate.”

“I never pictured you as a pincushion, but here we both are.”

“I put you on a ship to Brathon; how’d you end up here?” Jean-Claude asked. How deeply was he involved with Czensos’s scheme? The last time Jean-Claude had seen him, he’d been grieving the death of his lover, but grief could take a person in strange directions. Jean-Claude had seen people walk away from house and hold rather than endure a profound emptiness.

“I made it about halfway to Brathon before my ship was waylaid by pirates.” He made a sweeping gesture to indicate the Dame Formue. “Being short on coin for ransom and in need of gainful employment, I signed up. He pays me to keep the ship hidden.”

“I didn’t think you could hide yourself with glamour,” Jean-Claude said.

“All I have to do is stay inside and make the ship look like a galvatross,” Sedgwick said. “And then it turned out our old friend Lael discovered the Conquest, and Capitaine Thirdeye had a plan for getting a share of that treasure without putting our necks out.”

“Nothing about Czensos is safe,” Jean-Claude said. “Or are you not aware of his plan?”

Sedgwick’s glamorous eyebrows arched elegantly. “I’m sure you’re dying to tell me.”

Jean-Claude desperately wanted someone to be on his side, but that very need must make him wary. Sedgwick was not a particularly evil man, but whatever nobility he might have once possessed had been blunted by rejection and corroded by cynicism. He might be concealing Ivar and Czensos behind a veil of illusion at that moment, and Jean-Claude would never be able to tell.

“The Conquest wasn’t the only thing Lael found up there. He also found the Vault of Ages, or at least Czensos and Hasdrubal think he did.”

“Hasdrubal?” Sedgwick asked.

“He was Lael’s lieutenant, a Skaladin Seelenjäger agent provocateur. After Lael died, Hasdrubal took up with the Last Men, which I would guess is how he met Czensos. That ring Czensos is wearing is a relic of Saint Cynessus. It’s supposed to be the key to the Vault. Hasdrubal plans on opening it and heralding in the end of the world.”