He trotted off down the narrow stone slot. Baru chased him into a domed cave easily as large as Execarne’s house, lit from above by a mirrored shaft, furnished with card tables, shelves, a gallery of landscape paintings, even a rack of bottles.

There were corpses everywhere. Dead men and women in plain Falcresti dress scattered across chairs and tables. Mouths and noses red with poison foam. Hands spidered. Faces contorted in agony. Baru had seen that agony before, at Haraerod, when Purity Cartone used war gas on Nayauru.

“You gassed them,” Baru said, numbly. “You gassed the Morrow Ministry station.”

“I certainly did.” Execarne hopped across a cluster of bowel-stained dead and made for the far door. “Slowly at first, mind. By the time I dispersed the good stuff I don’t think they could even move. Come on.”

Baru smashed a bottle from the alcohol rack and washed her hands. The corpses were fresh. Xe had implied she’d been here for weeks, at least. Therefore, Execarne had gassed them recently, much more recently than he’d arrived here—therefore he’d probably worked with these people before killing them—so why would Execarne have gassed his own station?

Because he had good relations with the Oriati spymaster Tau-indi Bosoka.

Baru snatched up her best theory. “This isn’t your station. Or, at least, you’re not usually here. You came here from Falcrest.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“To handle vital work. The interrogation of these prisoners?”

“Might be.”

“Tau-indi came here for the same work, but from the Oriati side. You two knew each other; you conspired to keep the peace. And they told you someone in your station was a mole. A mole for who? Who were you afraid would learn about the prisoners?”

“Does it matter?” He beckoned from the corridor’s mouth. “I ran out of time to flush the mole from Execarne’s station, so I just burnt the entire asset. They deserved it anyway.” He spat on the nearest corpse: a woman in a sundress, convulsed by mortis across her reading desk. “They tested war gas down here. On living Sydani. People are always dying and vanishing on these islands. What’s a few more? I don’t like that. So I tested their own war gas on them.”

“And you left the bodies to rot?” Baru howled.

“Sure. You think I was going to risk coming down here to clean up?”

She had to admit a certain bleak sense there. “Do I call you Execarne, still?”

“That’s as good a legend as any. Do you mind if we move on? Someone else is in here.”

“What?” Baru hissed.

Execarne raised his crossbow. “Someone beat us down here.”

“Yes, Yawa and Iscend were ahead of us—”

“No. There’s someone else.” He tapped the snout of his mask, where the sponge filter must obscure all scent. “I can smell them.”

“You can’t smell anything.”