Jemson poured for him, anyway. “They found two more bodies this morning,” he said.

“Southies?” Han asked.

Jemson nodded.

Han licked his lips, his dinner sitting heavily in his stomach now. “Same as before?”

Jemson nodded again. “They’d been tortured. Burned in different places. It was kind of hard to tell what actually killed them. Maybe they died of fright.”

“You saw the bodies?”

Jemson turned his mug in his hand. “They brought them here, hoping we could identify them. I knew both of them. Josua and Jenny Marfan. A brother and sister. They used to come to temple before I lost them to the streets. I always hoped they’d leave that life. Like you have.”

The speaker gave him a long significant look, and Han knew he was waiting for him to volunteer something. Jemson could make a person confess any crime with his silences. Han often thought the Guard would do better if they’d hire him for interrogations in place of beatings.

“Like I told you before, I don’t know anything about it,” Han said. “You know I had no personal hand in it, since I was here all night. The Guard will blame the Raggers, but it doesn’t make sense to me. Whatever point they were trying to make, six dead Southies would do fine. No reason to kill two more. Unless they mean to clean the Southies right out of Southbridge.”

Jemson lifted an eyebrow. “Is that a possibility?”

Han shrugged. “Unlikely. Ragmarket is the better territory. Closer to Fellsmarch Castle, more money passing through, more easy marks with fat purses. Over here they got Mac Gillen wringing them dry. He’s been on the dawb for years. Gillen claims to be buyable, but he’ll double-cross you in a heartbeat if he needs a scapegoat. He has high-up connections, I hear, so I’m guessing he’ll never get the sack. So what I’m saying is, it’s just not worth the aggravation of trying to take Southbridge over.”

Han blew on his tea and took a cautious sip. “Over in Ragmarket, the Guard’s workable. They’re mostly locals, and they’d rather sit in their garrison houses and dice and play cards. Nobody’s trying to make a name for himself. If you make a deal with them, they honor it. If they’re on the dawb, they won’t come after you, unless you do something they can’t ignore. Which is why all these murders are stupid.”

“Stupid.” Jemson stared at Han as if he’d been speaking a foreign language.

“Well, yeah. There’s no swag in it except bragging rights, and it brings out the bluejackets. You got to play it smart. When I ran the Raggers, we’d never…” His voice trailed off as he took in Jemson’s expression. “Say it,” he growled. “Whatever you’re thinking.”