“No,” Travers said. “I expect base trickery. Take it out, lop its head off, and stick it on a pike outside the gates. Let the wind witch know that we are not to be trifled with.”

Jean-Claude began to consider the notion that he might be in slightly more trouble than he had originally anticipated. Fortunately, his hands were tied in front of him rather than behind, so he was able to pull a slip of paper from the seam of his coat and extend it out where someone might see.

“It appears our captive has a note,” Hasdrubal said, his voice a bray. “Bring it here.”

A guard stooped and reached for the paper, but Travers snapped, “Do not.”

“Well, I want to see what it says,” said the cousin, stepping forward and kneeling.

“Eulalie, do not!” Travers snapped.

Jean-Claude knew that name. Comtesse Eulalie was one of Sireen’s confidantes, a founding member of the Order of the Succoring Shadow.

“Mind your tongue,” said Eulalie. “I’m your cousin, not your slave.” She took the paper from Jean-Claude’s hands and read it, “Solo Aria is willing to exchange the reliquary of Saint Cynessus for her husband. I have been sent as her emissary to arrange time and place so that all further violence may be prevented. If I am not returned safely within the hour, Solo Aria will toss the reliquary into the Gloom.”

Eulalie said to Travers, “Useful to know, don’t you think.”

“It is a lie,” Travers said. “She will not endanger her husband.”

Hasdrubal said, “Is that a chance you need to take? The reliquary is the only important thing. It matters not how we obtain it, only that we do, and barter is less fraught with danger.”

Jean-Claude took the opportunity of their infighting to rise as far as a kneeling position. Though his hands were bound, he tried signing to Hasdrubal, “Aria talk you.” He hadn’t any idea if Hasdrubal could understand hand speech, but it was worth a try.

Hasdrubal nodded and said, “Yes, I see.”

Travers caught the exchange and glowered. “What did he say?”

“Restore his voice if you want to find out,” Hasdrubal said, which suggested to Jean-Claude that he hadn’t really understood the hand speech but knew how to roll with an opportunity.

“It is clayborn,” Travers said. “It will only lie.”

“And you think we can learn nothing from lies?” Eulalie asked. “Let him talk.”

Travers glowered at her. “You will regret this, I guarantee it.”