“That’s la reine, is it,” Rebecca said low enough so as not to be overheard. “Nasty mouth on her.”

“What did she say?” Bitterlich asked.

“She told me standards had fallen.”

“Ah,” Bitterlich said. Sireen had been known to be dry and acerbic, and Rebecca was aggressively defensive when it came to being accused of things, even in jest. Still, he had an uncomfortable feeling about la reine’s presence here. What did she want to tell Isabelle that she didn’t want Bitterlich to know? He signaled Rebecca for silence and put on his owl ears, listening back down the corridor.

Sireen said, “… spymaster informs me that Hasdrubal failed his mission. He stole the reliquary from the temple, but the prize was already gone.”

“How did she find that out?” Isabelle asked.

“Questioning the orator and the Last Men,” Sireen said.

“Do we know who took it?” Isabelle asked.

Sireen’s voice got even lower. “The only other person who knew of the relic’s importance is Sagax Quill. He inspected the reliquary when it arrived in Rocher Royale before handing it off to the orator for safekeeping. He probably took the relic at that point. We suspect he took it with him on the expedition. I decided to tell you personally because I don’t want this information dispersed. I charge you with collecting the relic, and above all else, keeping it safe. The Vault of Ages belongs to l’Empire.”

“I understand,” Isabelle said, and then there was silence.

After a moment Isabelle said, “You two can come out now.”

Bitterlich exchanged a look with Rebecca. She tried to look chagrined, but couldn’t quite pull it off. He sighed, stood, and adjusted his hat.

“I didn’t think we made that much noise,” he said, stepping into the corridor.

Isabelle stared at the now-inert bloodhollow, and it was hard to say which one looked more lifeless.

“It was the noise I didn’t hear. No boots on the stairs.” Isabelle finally dragged her attention away from the empty bloodhollow.

Rebecca said, “What’s she talking about, the Vault of Ages?” Belatedly she saluted. “Capitaine.”

Isabelle looked on Rebecca and frowned. “As your capitaine, I must swear you to secrecy. None of what you have witnessed tonight is to be shared or even hinted at with anyone else without my explicit permission. You may talk to me about it when we are alone.”

“What about him?” Rebecca said.

Isabelle’s gaze twitched to the side, looking at the crates … or focused on something that wasn’t there. Her ghosts had risen. She shot Bitterlich a questioning look. He shook his head: nothing there. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting with the vision.

Bitterlich touched Rebecca on the shoulder to divert her and said, “I’ve already been sworn to secrecy.”

“Didn’t say that,” Isabelle muttered.

“Beg pardon, Capitaine,” Bitterlich said, hoping his voice could guide her home.