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buttery. I tightened my grip on my long knife and stalked with exaggerated deliberation toward the council chamber at the end of the hall. Lily Blades understood violence as theater, and theater as violence. As I approached the stained-glass door illustrating the wonders of felt, Mr. Nast stepped out.
    Pale, pinch-faced, severe as any Justiciary Mother, he had changed little. Mr. Nast also betrayed no surprise at my presence in his hallway. “Just on time, you are.”
    â€œI was not summoned.” In a perverse way, I liked this man, but he also brought out the argument in me—which was in all fairness never buried far from the surface.
    â€œAs it pleases you to believe.” He bowed. I saw something stiff in the movement, and tried to remember. Had he been shot during last summer’s fight outside this building? The crossbow bolts had flown wildly. “Though it may stretch your credulity to hear such from me, I find myself gratified to see you well.”
    â€œI should say the same of you, sir.” I bowed in return, then released my weapon’s hilt to clasp his hand. “You are brave, and honest, even in the face of impossibility.”
    A shadow that might have been regret flickered across his face. “The council meets,” he said. “They expect you.”
    â€œSo the trained bear at the door said.” But why? No one but Chowdry knew I was returning to the city just now. While I could imagine various treacheries of the old pirate, conspiring with Nast and the council was not among them.
    Nast quirked a small smile, then rapped on the door.
    â€œNow what?” shouted someone within.
    He pushed through. “The Lady Green is here.”
    The Lady Green!? How in the name of all that was unholy had I received that promotion? I followed him into the meeting room.
    *   *   *
    Three of the five who’d sat within the last time I came calling on this council were dead now. Federo, at my hands. Stefan Mohanda, also at my hands in his guise as the Pater Primus of Blackblood’s temple. And Mikkal Hiebert, killed in the fighting I’d brought down upon them all.
    The two survivors surely had my role in the recent council successions much on their mind. Roberti Jeschonek, of the sea captains, who had taken over chairmanship of the Interim Council amid the disruption following Federo’s death; and Loren Kohlmann of the warehousemen and brokers. They were seated with three other men. None of the new councilors were known to me.
    This room was much the same, with its brass lamps, and high narrow windows with more stained glass depicting the husbandry and processing of wool, all surrounding the long table I’d slammed my knife into on my last visit. That scar was still visible in the glossy finish of the mahogany.
    None of them seemed surprised to see me, either. My heart sank.
    Jeschonek rose as if to counterbalance that fall. “Green. Welcome back to the city. I trust your retreat to the High Hills was restful and in good order.”
    â€œAnd it would be still if someone hadn’t dragged me back.” I eyed the new men suspiciously.
    â€œMay I introduce Councilor Lampet? He sits for the great families of the Ivory Quarter and the Velviere District.” Lampet was small, dapper, and entirely bald, wearing a suit of silks and wool with a too-precise mustache. I hated him instantly, both for his looks and for the wealth whose interests he represented here. “To his right is Councilor Kohlmann, who you already know.” Thick-bodied and brutal-faced, Kohlmann simply nodded at me.
    â€œWhom,” you twit, I thought, letting my returning stare remain blank and ungracious.
    â€œOn this side of the table is Councilor Ostrakan, of the bankers.” Ostrakan could have walked down any street in this city unnoticed. A talent he shared with some of the most dangerous of the Lily Blades. I marked him out as the greatest action risk