“He’ll be, what d’you call it? A conduit, between you and the Purity Officers. Keep everyone nice and loyal and pointed the same way.”

“No doubt he’ll be a huge help.” Leo gritted his teeth as he rocked his weight back, then shoved himself to his feet, the ache in his stump turning sharp again.

“I’ll send him along after. Once we’ve had a little word. Burners’ business, you know.”

“I’m sure he can catch me up.” Leo tapped his false leg with his cane. “I don’t walk too quickly these days.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude into the manly business o’ war, but one word of advice, General, before you ride to glory.” Judge let her head drop back, looking at him down her nose. “Don’t lose. Now someone rub my fucking feet! Or start there, at any rate, and work upwards!”

The horrible voices seemed to have stopped, at least, as Leo limped back towards the steps. Except for the crying one. That softly went on.

Glaward hurried up beside him, hissing, “She wants to put Savine on trial—”

Leo tossed down his cane and caught the big man by the jacket, lurching into him and pinning him against the wall. “Do you think I fucking missed that?”

“I can warn her—”

“You will not. You’ll gather every man we can rely on and head out with me to join the People’s Army at once.”

Glaward stared at him. Shocked. As though he’d never quite seen Leo until that moment and didn’t like the look of him now he did. “But…

your children—”

Leo shoved him back again, hissing through gritted teeth. “If Savine runs, Judge will know we broke the deal and it will all be over. She has to trust me. Trust me enough, anyway. That’s the only way this has a chance of working.”

“He’s right,” said Jurand, softly, pushing Leo’s cane against his chest and using it to lever him away from Glaward. “There’s no choice.” He saw it right off, of course. He’d never been sentimental.

“Savine wanted this,” snapped Leo. “She should’ve known where it might lead.” He snatched his cane from Jurand’s hand and lurched off down the stairway again, the scraping of his iron foot on the marble echoing from the gilded ceiling. “Should I have said no?” He jerked his chin towards the slogan at the bottom of the steps. “Should I have told Judge fuck yourself? We’d all have been in the dock together before sundown.”

Behind him, Jurand took a long breath. “We all might end up there yet.”

This Half-Arsed Conspiracy

Vick picked her way down the street, a mass of slushy footprints, black-stained snow gathered in the gutters and against the doorsteps. She went against the crowd, as always, and thought about everything that could go wrong.

She’d flung a wide net when she scraped this half-arsed conspiracy together. She’d had to, to give it any chance of working. It had closed around some of the last people she’d have trusted. Savine Brock—as ruthless a schemer as you could hope never to be in business with. Her husband Leo—whose recklessness had already wrecked one attempt at treachery. Corporal Tunny—a legend in the husk-dens and gambling houses for his big mouth and small courage. His sidekick Yolk—who from her brief acquaintance appeared to be one of the stupidest men in