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“One of their ward specialists.”

“Aren’t they all ward specialists?”

“Yes, but she’s an expert among experts. She’s been added to their detachment here. She mapped out all of our seith signatures—every Haelan, every member of our personnel, every guard, every patient. Any person crossing any threshold who isn’t from Swanstone will triggeralarms—and probably lose a limb. It cost a bloody fortune, but you said we had to be discreet in our enhancements.”

“The one time you follow my advice, it inconveniences me,” sighed Osric, settling into a seated position on the roof.

Fairhrim pushed aside a few plants and, after a moment’s hesitation—and decidedly not looking down—she clambered onto the window’s broad ledge, so that she and Osric were separated only by the space of the open window.

“Nice flowers,” said Osric.

Fairhrim repositioned one of the glass cloches. “Orchids. I’m fond of them; their blooms last a very long time.”

“Ah,” said Osric. (Desperate feeling: he had thought they were ephemeral.)

“Tell me what’s going on,” said Fairhrim.

“Complications.”

Osric described what he’d learned from Tristane—the questions raised by Brythe’s disappearance, the outrageous payout involved in the hit, the mysterious client who had deliberately blocked the Haelan Order’s funding.

Fairhrim absorbed Osric’s every word, her fingers pressed to her lips. She studied him in silence when he had finished his accounting. “It terrifies me that you’re terrified of Tristane.”

“As it should,” said Osric.

“Why are you so frightened of her?”

“She’s French.”

“Be serious.”

“Everything I can do, she can do better, faster, bloodier. Her shadow-walking is a thing of legend. She can move from one shadow to the next over real distances, not only a few dozen feet, like me—andI’mconsidered outstanding. Her blaecblade might as well be her hand. She’s taken over three thousand souls—in this lifetime, anyway. I told you some of us call her Hel herself. The goddess of the dead, walking among us.”

“What do we do?” asked Fairhrim. “How do we prepare?”

“These new wards are a good starting point. You want to deter her—make her think twice about entering Swanstone. She won’t risk being caught by Wardens. Add wards everywhere, not just at points of entry to the fortress proper. The bridge connecting Swanstone to the mainland. Any waterways below the fortress. Hatches. Dumbwaiters. Holes in roofs. Sewers. Everywhere there’s a shadow. She’s formidable, but you’re forewarned. That’s an advantage her victims don’t usually get.”

They talked. And something extraordinary happened, because, for once, their talk wasn’t arguments; it wasn’t negotiations; it wasn’t provocations; it wasn’t wheeling and dealing—it was the terra incognita of collaboration. It was coming up with a plan, together.

Night deepened and cooled, but the fortress’s sun-filled stones released the rays that had baked them all afternoon, and kept Osric and Fairhrim warm. And it was lovely to sit there, leaning against his side of the window while Fairhrim rested against hers, mind pressed against mind, untangling. There was pleasure in it. He thought that she, too, was enjoying it; her words were appreciative rather than cutting; her looks, encouraging; her nods, satisfied.

Fairhrim recollected something with a jolt. “Gods—it’s been so hectic, I haven’t had a chance to send you my deofol with the news.”

“What news?”

“I just received the test results for the substance in the bottles from Wellesley Keep.”

“And?”

“It was the Pox.”

“We knew it.”

“We were right. Appallingly, we were right.”

“I almostdrankit.”

“It wouldn’t have affected you. It only infects the young.” Fairhrim’s face was drawn. “I think they’re using the bottles to store the virus. Thecellar would be the right temperature. Not sure how they’re producing it, or spreading it. But do you know how horrific this is? Do you know how many brain-dead children we’re struggling to bring back, quarantined in our wards here? Hundreds. And that’s just at Swanstone. There are survivors everywhere, just—surviving, if someone is giving them care. They may never live again, not really.”