Tevis, however, looked anything but scared. “You worthless shit,” he snarled, hand groping for the rapier at his belt. Gabril started to slide in front of Kaden, but Kaden waved him away, stepping forward to meet the Nishan’s advance. Tevis’s hand closed around his throat, cutting off the air. Kaden slowed his heart, forced his muscles to relax, glanced over the man’s shoulder to lock eyes with Kegellen. Her gaze had gone hard at the revelation, but after a moment she waved a glittering hand.

“Set him down, Tevis,” she said. “We had best learn the full extent of this foolishness. You can always tear his throat out later.”

The nobleman pulled Kaden close to him, his eyes wide with fury, tendons in his neck strained to bursting, then tossed him to the floor. Kaden picked himself up slowly, surreptitiously testing the muscles of his neck. They were bruised, but he’d had worse dozens of times over at the hands of various umials. When he finally straightened, he found all eyes fixed on him, gazes sharp as spearpoints.

“Now,” Kegellen continued, her voice deceptively mild, “why don’t you explain to us just what sort of mischief you’ve been up to.” She smiled.

Kaden gathered his thoughts. “I’ve made sure that Adiv knows I’ve returned to the city, made sure he knows your names and our intention of overthrowing the empire, our desire to install a republic in its place.”

“It is hardly ‘our’ intention,” said Azurtazine, tapping her long, painted nails against the surface of the table, “if I recall our last meeting correctly.”

Kaden smiled. “I omitted that detail. Adiv believes we are of one mind, unified and ready to move against him.”

“I knew I should have cut your throat in the warehouse,” Tevis spat. “I don’t intend to repeat the lapse.”

“Cutting my throat now will do little to alleviate the problem,” Kaden observed. “Adiv has your names already. He is unlikely to forget them.”

“May I assume,” Kegellen cut in, “that you’ve engaged in this little . . . stunt for some purpose other than your own amusement?”

“My purpose,” Kaden replied evenly, “is to show you the truth.”

Kegellen pouted. “Truth. Such a tricky word.”

As though punctuating her remark, a great gong rang out, shivering the air, echoed across the rooftops by dozens more, all of them tolling the noon hour. Kaden turned to the window, gesturing toward the small square and the Shin chapterhouse beyond. It was time to see if his own quiet fight would play out as he’d hoped.

“Watch,” he said, gesturing to the sunbaked plaza.

For a few heartbeats there was silence. On the cobbles below, men and women went about their midday chores and errands, calling out to one another in greeting or irritation.

“And what,” Kegellen asked finally, “are we watching?”