Jean-Claude grunted. “He did not provide me with detailed plans as to what he meant by it. Isabelle is the only person I know who’s actually talked to him, beyond the ritual exchange of insults and improbable threats. I was hoping you might have some insight.”

Isabelle shook her head carefully so as not to upset the woman with the needle. “I only spoke to him the one time, and not at great length. All he did was tell me how Lael rescued him from a cruel master in Skaladin, a story which was almost certainly a lie.”

She paused, considering her recent audience. “It may be just a coincidence, but I met Hasdrubal at the same place I met Sagax Quill. They were both at Lael’s soiree, dithering over his research notes, and Madame just put Quill on my ship.”

Jean-Claude’s brow furrowed. “Does Madame know about that connection?”

“It was in my report,” Isabelle said. “She believes that Lael was trying to recruit Quill into his coup just as he tried to recruit me, and with as much success.”

Jean-Claude cast a glance at Coquetta. “Have your people heard anything?” Coquetta was Sireen’s social adviser and gossipmonger. The high nobility kept her very busy sifting through a constant churn of scandal, sedition, and conspiracy.

“Hasdrubal doesn’t get invited to many dinner parties,” Coquetta said. “And Quill seems to be something of an ascetic. I’ll see what I can find out, put on a small salon to raise funds to help those faithful who lost family in the fire, ask my clerical friends, chat them up about Quill and see what comes up. It will take time though.”

“Thank you,” Jean-Claude said. “Just pass the gleanings on to Impervia, and you might want to add Quaestor Czensos to your list of invitees.”

“He’s a snake, that one, but it would be rude not to invite him,” Coquetta said.

Isabelle asked, “A snake how?”

“Cold-blooded, venomous, slithers into any hole,” Coquetta said. “He’s never met a non-pedigreed sorcerer he doesn’t think is Breaker-touched, and his path is lined with gravestones. ‘Better to slay a thousand innocents than risk a single abomination running free.’”

“Lovely man,” Isabelle said dryly.

Coquetta said, “Poor Saint Cynessus. I always thought he got a bad deal.” This got her a curious look from Jean-Claude. She continued, “Well, think about it. Iav betrayed the Builder and stole his power. The Breaker entered the world. The Primus Mundi shattered. The saints ran for the Vault of Ages. Saint Cynessus held the door for them. He looked out to see if there was anyone else coming and got blinded for his trouble. And after all that, now some wretched heretic has stolen his hand.”