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“Ask them not to damage him too much,” said Xanthe, eyeing Osric as though he were a slab of meat. “We could use another corpse in the anatomy lab. We’re running low on adult males.”

“I will,” said Fairhrim. “At least he’ll be of some use to the world.”

“Ibegyour pardon,” said Osric.

Fairhrim ignored him. She turned back to Xanthe. “Have you told Élodie the news yet?”

“Not yet. She’s going to be gutted. I won’t be able to convince the other Heads to dig further into our reserves to support her. I simply don’t understand—back-to-back rejections from five agencies in the midst of a crisis such as this one, and the Heads of the Tiendoms all sitting idle.”

The two Haelan continued their little chat, and Osric—well, Osric had never felt so unimportant in his life. Mrs.Parson might have warned him that the Haelan were lunatics who prioritised administrative matters over their imminent deaths.

“Hello? Hi? I’m still here,” said Osric, waving at Fairhrim over Xanthe’s shoulder. “Still going to kidnap you, too. And now I’ll have to kill this old dear for what she’s witnessed. I hope you’re happy.”

“Killme?” said Xanthe.

Xanthe threw her head back and cackled. Fairhrim stared at Osric with her eyebrows at her hairline.

“Bit of an idiot, is he?” asked Xanthe.

“So I’ve gathered from our brief acquaintance,” said Fairhrim.

Osric, miffed, wondered whether he ought to kill them both for this show of disrespect.

The Haelan continued their discussion as though he weren’t there.

“What was the bribe, out of curiosity?” asked Xanthe.

“Twenty million,” said Fairhrim. “In support of Élodie’s proposal, actually.”

“Twenty million? Woden’s balls.”

“No idea of its provenance, of course.” One of Fairhrim’s silver epaulettes rose as she shrugged. “Or whether it even exists.”

“Tempting, in light of this,” said Xanthe, holding up the rejection letter. Her wrinkles rearranged themselves into an exceptionally shrewd expression.

“He won’t show me his hands,” said Fairhrim.

“Ah,” said Xanthe. “He’s too sane to be a Dreor, but too stupid to be a Fyren, surely. Perhaps one of the Agannor? No. He would’ve already possessed one of us.”

“Regardless, I would never,” said Fairhrim.

Xanthe rolled the rejection letter into a tube, which she tapped against her mouth. “If he reallydidhave the money, though…”

“He’s a walker of the Dusken Paths,” said Fairhrim.

Xanthe waved her hand towards Fairhrim in a dismissive gesture almost identical to the one Fairhrim had used with Osric.

Fairhrim blinked an incredulous blink. “Haelan Xanthe,surelyyou aren’t considering—”

Xanthe turned to Osric, who was delighted to finally exist again.

“Have you got all twenty million in gold?” asked Xanthe, enunciating with particular care, as though speaking with an imbecile.

Osric set aside his vexation in the face of this lifeline. “Yes.”

“Really?” said Xanthe. “Fuck me. I should switch Orders.”

She cackled. Fairhrim, who apparently found nothing funny, stared.