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The man held out a business card. “We’re Jocelyn and Brock Roxby. Roxby Weather Wizards. We have over thirty high-rez weather channelers on our staff. Let us know if we can be of service to the Guild.”

“Thanks.” Gabriel took the card and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I’ll keep your agency in mind.”

“We’re the largest Underworld weather business in Illusion Town,” Jocelyn said. “Coppersmith Mining is our biggest client at the moment, but we can handle more work. We’ve got a lot of talent and experience on our team, and we’re extremely flexible.”

“Good to know,” Gabriel said.

“Heard you might be in the market for a good channeler, Mr. Jones,” Brock continued. “A special project in the Ghost City, I believe.”

“I’ve already hired a channeler,” Gabriel said.

“Me,” Lucy added with an icy smile.

Jocelyn did not miss a beat. She gave Lucy a concerned look. “Someone mentioned that you had taken a contract with the new Guild director. Do let us know if you need some help. It’s been a while since you worked down below, and we all know you went through an extremely traumatic experience two months ago. The weather changes so quickly in the Ghost City. We’ve got all of the latest charts available. We’d be happy to offer the most up-to-date expertise. Perhaps you should take an outside consultant with you?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lucy said. “I’m sure I can handle Mr. Jones’s contract by myself.”

“Good luck,” Brock said to Gabriel. He spoke with deep feeling, as if he suspected a lot of luck would be required. “If you change your mind, give us a call. We’re a full-service agency. We’ve got channelers available twenty-four hours a day.”

Brock took Jocelyn’s arm and moved off into the crowd. Lucy waited until they were out of earshot.

“You’ve just met my main competition,” she said. “Roxby Weather Wizards moved into town right after Coppersmith Mining took over the Ghost City project. They brought in their own team of channelers and have since hired most of the independents who were already here. There were never many of us because there wasn’t much in the way of big corporate jobs. Until Coppersmith opened up the Ghost City, the majority of the clients were small-time prospectors and academic researchers.”

“Why didn’t you join the Roxby outfit?” Gabriel asked.

“I was thinking seriously about doing just that before my little disaster down below,” Lucy admitted. “There would have been some advantages. The Roxbys are getting all the big contracts from Coppersmith, and they pay their channelers well. But in the end I decided I’d rather be able to pick and choose my own jobs. I kept my prices affordable for the small operators who work the fringes—old-fashioned prospectors and the historians and researchers who can’t afford to hire Weather Wizards.”

“You had a niche market.”

“Which I was hoping to keep,” Lucy said. “But then stuff happened and I became a pariah.”

Gabriel grabbed a couple of glasses of champagne off a tray and drew Lucy into an alcove, where it was easier to talk privately.

“Before we were interrupted,” he said, “I was trying to explain that, while I do believe it’s possible your memories of what happened two months ago may have been altered by the energy in the tunnels—”

“And the fact that I was drunk and probably doing some illegal drugs,” Lucy interrupted much too sweetly. “Mustn’t forget that part.”

“All right, fine. The combination of heavy drinking, drugs of any kind, and three days in the tunnels isn’t a good one. But what I’m trying to tell you is that I don’t doubt your ability to handle the weather in the Underworld.”

“Is that so? Why not?”

“Because I trust you. If you didn’t think you could handle the job, you would tell me. Do you have any doubts about your talent?”

“No.”

“Fine. That’s settled. We’re going down tomorrow morning at five.”

But Lucy was not looking at him. She was watching someone in the crowd. He followed her gaze and saw a tall, long-legged blonde making her way toward them. The woman was in her late thirties and dressed for high drama in a bloodred gown.

“Another friend?” Gabriel asked.

“Not exactly. You’re about to meet Cassandra Keele of Keele Investigations. She’s the owner of the agency I hired to look into what happened to me that night. Like the cops, she came up empty-handed. Unlike the police, she sent me a bill.”

Cassandra glided to a halt in front of them.

“Lucy, so good to see you out and about,” she said. “I hope that means you’re on the road to recovery.”

“I recovered as soon as the meds I was given at the clinic wore off,” Lucy said.