As I started to turn back, I saw movement—light from below cast a shadow against the wall by the landing of the stairs. Bluestocking rounded the bend in the stairs and came up. White puffy blouse, corset at the stomach and waist flowing into a stylized Victorian-style sweeping dress with a slit up both sides, to showcase the indigo blue stockings. Opaque glasses of a similar tint glinted as she pushed them up her nose. A long cigarette holder was tucked into a strap at one of her arms, cigarette absent. It was a decent look, spoiled by the fact that her face at rest made it look like she’d just caught the faintest whiff of something dead.

“I’m doing you a favor, mediating this,” Bluestocking said.

I met Tattletale’s eyes. See?

“You got your trade deal,” I told her.

“We got a trade deal with the city.”

“You asked for the moon and—”

“And we got a big rock. It’s fine. But before you play any games with me or my tribe, you should know I can always say you didn’t deal fair. That means any informants or contacts clam up when it comes to you, your team, and any heroes you call friends. Things get harder in other ways. You wouldn’t be allowed through the portal.”

“Noted,” I said. “I’ve got enough to do that you’re not really a concern right now. We’ll do our thing, you focus on getting through the winter, don’t give us a reason to come after you, and we won’t come after you.”

“And do yourselves a favor while you’re at it, and don’t harbor people-butchers,” Sveta said.

“Extenuating circumstances,” Bluestocking said, smiling slightly, enjoying the ‘get out of jail free’ card Prancer had provided far too much. “This way.”

Bluestocking led the way, with Tattletale and I walking side by side, Snuff and Sveta in the wings.

“Tattletale!” Little Midas boomed. “You dared show your face. You know Nero.”

“I’m aware of him,” Tattletale said. “The Teapot Emperor.”

The man in the seat behind Midas clenched one hand. He had a gladiator-style helmet, tunic, and armor, with a coat draped across his lap.

“And you know Snake-eater and Whistler,” Midas said, lowering his voice.

The other two people near ‘Nero’ shifted position.

“I don’t, actually. Nice to meet you, Snake-eater, Whistler. Semiramis, good to see you.”

Semiramis didn’t move a millimeter, as she stared Tattletale down.

“Prancer,” I said, before Tattletale could handle all of the introductions. “Still around, I see.”

“I was invited. We’re getting settled elsewhere,” Prancer said.

“Doing well?”

“We’re managing. A few weeks into building and organizing, and we’re getting to the point where we have creature comforts again.”

“If you call the eighteen-year-old keeping you company in your cabin a ‘creature’, sure,” Midas said, chortling at his own line.