The flunky’s other eyebrow shot up. ‘What did you say your name was?’

‘Rennic.’

‘I’ll add you to the list, Master Rennic. Welcome back to the Gracechurch.’

Rennic only grunted as he rolled down his sleeve, then went to step past. The flunky’s gaze shifted to Whisper and Tarfel. ‘Affiliation?’ he said.

Rennic stepped back. From Chel’s vantage, he was beginning to steam. ‘They’re with me.’

‘And as you’re no doubt aware, Master Rennic, and for obvious reasons, each recognized affiliate may send two representatives to the council, each with an assistant. Which of these is your assistant?’

Chel quickened his pace, reaching them just as Whisper was near hauling Rennic back from the man. ‘You said they’d let you in,’ Chel snapped, his tone midway between scorn and accusation.

‘And they will, little man. That’s not the fucking problem. Me and one more does us no good.’

Tarfel raised a nervous hand. ‘I could declare myself? Under the Treaty of Kelsuus, they—’

Loveless had joined them. ‘Won’t matter a perfumed shit, your highness – they’re an armoured risk pool, not a sovereign power. And declaring yourself out here might be inviting unhealthy scrutiny of the bladed variety.’

Chel shot her an anxious glance. ‘And declaring himself at the council won’t?’

She returned his look with a disarming grin. ‘Different rules. Once he’s across the bridge, he’s a guest of the council. They’re bound by both the black flag and professional etiquette, for as long as the council lasts.’

‘So he’s safe across the bridge.’

She nodded.

‘But not here.’

The prince met his gaze with watery eyes. ‘I’m willing to take the risk, Vedren. I’ll have to present myself to potential hostility before long, and it might as well be at a time that I can do some good.’

‘Then we’d better get you across that bridge, Tarf. You may have to be Rennic’s assistance.’

Whisper signed something to the others, her eyes upon them patient but insistent. Chel missed most of it, and didn’t dare request a repetition.

‘She’s right,’ Loveless murmured. ‘The two of you can qualify under former affiliations. The Gracechurch remembers its own.’

‘That only gets four of us in,’ Rennic replied. He shot frequent looks toward the flunky, who was conspicuously studying his list a few paces away. Chel estimated the big man’s mood at only one or two notches above wanton bloodshed.

‘What about you, Foss and Lemon?’ he asked Loveless. ‘You’re all professionals, right? Don’t you count for this affiliation thing?’

This time, her smile was sad. ‘I’m afraid my professional affiliations have been less than public, cub. I won’t be on any list of theirs, and my arms are bare. I can’t speak for the other two, but four is all they’ll permit, so four will have to do.’