Since Burning Night, all the rest of the conspirators had been captured, killed, or chased away, but Hasdrubal remained at large. Spymaster Impervia wanted him interrogated for his knowledge of the Skaladin spy network, and la reine herself wanted to mount his head as a trophy and send it to his master, the Tyrant of Skaladin, as a warning.

Jean-Claude levered himself to his feet, his knees creaking. “Thank you for your help.”

“Where are we going?” Rebecca asked.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Jean-Claude said. “I’m going to fetch allies. You are going about your business.” Not that he liked the idea of sending her back to the orphanage. Children deserved to be raised, not just trained to fetch like dogs, but at least she had a roof over her head and some measure of protection.

According to his hunter’s eye, the Last Men seemed to be gathering well outside their normal territory, and given their garb he thought he could guess where. It was time to muster his reinforcements, set an ambush, and hope Hasdrubal put in an appearance. Jean-Claude must catch him today.

Rebecca folded her arms and said, “I don’t have to follow the marks. I just have to follow you. So you either have to waste time trying to lose me, which I’m betting you can’t, or you can let me help.”

Jean-Claude glowered at her. “I appreciate your courage, but these people are dangerous. Hasdrubal especially.”

“Which means you need all the eyes you can get.”

Jean-Claude bit his tongue on another rebuff. She’d already dug her heels in, he didn’t technically have any authority over her, and there wasn’t anything he could do short of stuffing her in a barrel that would keep her from following him.

“One question,” he said. “Why?”

“Because they turned me inside out last week and I means to get my own back. Besides, maybe la reine needs a pickpocket.”

Jean-Claude snorted at her audacity, but in truth l’Empire did need its share of sanctioned smugglers, thieves, spies, and other scofflaws. Perhaps he could find a place for her in Impervia’s service.

“Very well,” he said. “You can come with, but you’re in the army now, and I’m your sergeant. You do as I say and no buts about it. Deal?”

Her eyes narrowed, “You’re not just going to tell me to go away.”

“Where we’re going, I need someone who can stay out of sight and scout for me.”

“Where’s that?”

“The Uptown Temple,” he said. Today was the Feast of Saint Cynessus and all the Last Men had been wearing feast-day robes. Given that they generally despised the Temple and defaced all ritual objects, it seemed a strange choice of raiment unless they meant to blend into the worship crowd and stir up trouble.

“Deal,” Rebecca said.