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with too much force. “I spoke with the servants unloading your chests. Several of them know Narmer by name, yet no one has seen him for three days.” 
    “What do you think happed to him?” said Caina. She took a sip of the wine. It was very good. Halfdan would have loved it. 
    “I don’t know. Narmer has always been reliable,” said Ark. For the first time since Caina had met him, Ark seemed baffled. “He was in the Legions, as was I. Steady man. Knows how to handle himself.” He shook his head. “Something must have gone amiss. Either he’s gone to ground somewhere. Or he’s dead.”
    “Doesn’t your Ghost circle have protocols for unanticipated disaster?” said Caina. “You should have a meeting point, or a safe house.”
    Ark’s eyes flashed. “Of course we have protocols. We’re not fools.” He took a deep breath, getting himself under control. “There’s more. When I checked on the servants I went outside to have a look. There’s another member of the Rasadda circle, a woman named Crastia. She’s a ceramics merchant, keeps her booth here in the square, across from Corazain’s pyramid. The booth is empty. The servants say that about two weeks ago she didn’t show up, and hasn’t appeared since.” 
    Caina stared into her wine, thinking hard. “Could the secrecy of the Rasadda circle have been breached?”
    “Possibly,” said Ark. “But I cannot see how.”
    Caina shrugged. “A simple mishap. Treachery, perhaps. And the magi of the Imperial Magisterium have spells that let them pry into another man’s mind.” 
    “Absurd,” said Ark. “They are forbidden to do so under Imperial law.” 
    “Oh, certainly. And the magi have been ever keen to obey Imperial law,” said Caina. 
    “Is that your answer for everything?” said Ark. “You were quick enough to blame the Magisterium at Halfdan’s inn. And on what basis? No magus I have ever met has acted other than honorably.”
    Caina glared at him. “The magi wield sorcery. And as it happens, sorcery was employed in these burning deaths.”
    “Sorcery,” said Ark, his voice dripping scorn. “Are you a Ghost nightfighter, or some peasant child to blame every misfortune on sorcery? Perhaps those thugs in the alley were conjured up by sorcery. Or some sorcerer summoned that lion out on the plains.”
    For a moment Caina was so angry that she could not answer. Her fingers tightened hard around the stem of her glass, and she simply stared at Ark.
    His dead gray eyes did not waver.
    For a moment they did not speak. 
    “It is clear,” said Caina, ice in her voice, “that we shall have to exercise the utmost caution. The secrecy of your circle has been breached, that is plain. Perhaps whoever is behind these burning murders did not appreciate your circle’s investigation. We lack information, and until we know more, we shall have regard everyone with suspicion. Even the Magisterium. Despite how eager you seem to lick their fingers.” 
    Ark’s eyes got harder. “I put twenty years in the legions, girl. I’ve killed more men that I can remember, and most of them before you had your first moon’s blood. Probably even before you were born. I earned my centurion’s plumes, and I led my men through the sort of slaughter that would leave someone like you weeping and broken if you witnessed it. Were you to live through a tenth of the things I’ve endured, it would break your mind.” He leaned closer. “I am no man’s dog.” 
    “All that may be true, centurion,” said Caina, “but in the Ghosts I still outrank you.” 
    Ark sat back, his hand curling into a fist. 
    Caina sighed. “So Crastia is gone. Do you have another contact?”
    Ark blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in topic. “I do. A man named Aulean. He works as a cook in the Imperial Basilica, for Lord Governor Nicephorus himself.”
    “Then you shall have to speak to him,” said Caina. “It…”
    Sairzan approached their table, bowing, and Caina