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“I thought that was my job, Boss.”

“If you want to fight a duel with Kragar for the privilege, I won’t stop you.”

“All right,” I said. “It’s a simple plan made complicated by the need to not get killed. The idea is to convince the Empire that this method of catching highwaymen is a bad idea. Now—”

“Do you do this sort of thing a lot?”

“What?”

“Convince the Empire to change how it does things.”

“Not as often as you’d think.”

“All right. Go on.”

“We’re going to arrange for the Empire to catch us using tagged coins, then make them wish they hadn’t.”

“Right. I already guessed that part.”

“Then here’s the rest.”

I went over the whole thing, first in general, then more specifically, concentrating on the warning and the false chase. Then I went over it again. Then I said, “Questions?”

Cawti had one. “The first part, the race. What if they pull in help that heads him off before he gets to you?”

I frowned. “Good point. Kragar, get us ten reliable people stationed along the route to get in the way in case the law gets too close.”

“How much am I paying them for this?”

“Enough, but not too much.”

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Any other questions?”

Fox-fellow had one: “Is this going to work?”

I considered that. “Almost certainly, probably, there’s a good chance, perhaps, and I very much hope so, depending on which part of it we’re discussing. Your end, almost certainly.”

“That’s reassuring,” he said as if it wasn’t.

“And,” said Ibronka, “what about your end? By which I mean, the result.”

“If everything else works, I’m hopeful about that.”

“I’m glad to know your state of mind,” she said as if she weren’t.

Kragar nodded toward Omlo. “Uh, I don’t know you, so no offense, but you don’t look like you could pull off the part. Are you an actor?”

“In a way, m’lord.”

“He’s one of my tags,” I said.

“Ah. All right, then.”

The Blue one said, “What’s a tag?”

“A prostitute,” I said. “They have to be able to act, at least a little, and they’re usually pretty hungry for money.”

He frowned. “I’ve never heard that expression.”

“Years ago,” I said, “street prostitutes used to walk around with a tag on their shoulders, listing their price.”

“Oh.”

Ibronka said, “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it.”

I looked at the two of them. “I take it, then, that you find your parts acceptable.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Good. The first thing that has to happen is the Skin needs to make contact with the Anvil. Kragar? Find anything?”

“He is exceptionally fond of small sculpted objects, especially jade and silver.”

“Silver sculpted objects?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I have something that should work. It’s in my flat; I’ll send for it. Omlo, in the Dragon Wing there will be an office for Lord Feorae. He is responsible for civic and county investigations. Find somewhere to wait near his office. There’s probably a waiting room just outside of it.”

“My lord, what do I say if someone asks me what I’m doing there?”

“Give him an evasive answer.”

“My lord?”

“You’re an aristocrat. Make yourself look like, I don’t know, a Hawk.” I found a scrap of paper and wrote an address on it, handed it to him. “When we’re done, go there and tell them you’re from me, and you need to pass for a Hawklord—ears, complexion, and everything.”

“I can do that.”

“And can you act the part?”

“I believe so, m’lord.”

“Look vague and distracted most of the time. If you’re asked a question, sniff and look disdainful.”

“And if doing so should incite a challenge, my lord?”

“Don’t sniff that loudly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“If you sniff just loud enough, and hit the disdainful perfectly, you won’t have to wait too long to see him. Then, well, lay it out. You have the item and a sudden need for money.”

“And if he asks me why?”

“Gambling debts.”

He nodded.

“Put the proposition simply. Yes, no, or he’ll think about it. Kragar will give you a psiprint and a description of the object. It’s a silver tiassa, very small and delicate, with sapphires for eyes. I think Feorae will want to buy it, but we’ll see.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“If he says yes, you can get it to him as soon as tomorrow.”

He nodded. Maybe he’d run out of m’lords.

“Are you clear on what you need to do?”

“Yes, m’lord.” Guess he had another.

“As soon as you have the material, head straight over to the Dragon Wing and get started. In the meantime, we’ll just wait here. Shouldn’t take long.”

He nodded, looking a little nervous, like it had just become real to him.

Foxy nodded to Omlo. “Do you like it?”

“My lord?”

“The job. Do you like it?”

“It seems all right so far, m’lord.”

“No, not this job, being a pr—, a tag.”

“Oh. It’s all right.”

“What House are you? I can’t tell from looking at you.”

“Chreotha, m’lord.”

“How did you end up in your line of work?”

“My lord? I’m not sure how to answer that. I guess I just fell into it.”

“That’s it? You fell into it?”

Omlo seemed puzzled. “Yes, my lord.” He looked at me.

“My lord the Fox wants to hear a hard luck story,” I told him.

Omlo frowned. “There wasn’t anything else I wanted to do, or was any good at. And the money is all right.”

“Do you have a pimp?”

“No, m’lord. What I earn is all mine after I split with the house.”

“Earn,” he said.

Omlo looked puzzled.

“I just don’t know much about it,” said Blue. “I’m curious. That’s a whole world I’ve never come in contact with, and it makes me curious. What it’s like working in a house, sex with someone you’ve never even met—”

“Or,” I told Omlo, “he might be considering switching careers.”

Ibronka reached out a hand and touched his arm. “Maybe you should drop it,” she said. I couldn’t tell who she was addressing, but if it was me I was willing.

Sometime during the conversation Kragar had returned; I know because it was about then he said, “It’s ready.”

I nodded to Omlo, who rose, bowed, and set off to begin the operation, Kragar leading the way.

“What now?” asked Fox.

“Nothing until we get a solid draw on Feorae.”

“You’re that sure we will?”

“If not, it’ll take longer, or we’ll find a different Anvil. Is there an especial hurry?”

“Not as long as my money holds out.”

“If you need a loan, I have some names for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Where do you stay in town?”

“With friends. Why?”

“If you tell me how to reach these friends, I’ll let you know when we’re ready to start.”

He looked at Ibronka, who stared back at him; I suppose there was a fair bit of conversation I couldn’t hear, but then he said, “Ironstone Manor, home of the Lady Lewchin, House of the Issola.”