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tapestries in the entrance hall and let the whole place disappear.
    Instead, he had opened his hand and let the torch drop.
    And now he was here.
    Salim drank deep, draining the last of the mug. The wine at the bottom had an unpleasant copper taste, and he looked down to see blood pooling there, mixing with the dregs. He put fingers to his nose, and they came away red. He sighed.
    “You have a terrible way of announcing yourself, Ceyanan.”
    The creature across the table was neither male nor female, its pale skin as smooth and inhuman as an alabaster statue. Behind its shoulders, great wings that were half feathers, half shadow flexed once and then furled tightly in the dingy confines of the bar. Gray cloth like funeral shrouds wrapped its waist and chest.
    Salim wiped his bloody upper lip with the back of his hand. “You want to tell me why you sent him to me?”
    The angel smiled. “What do you mean?”
    “Don’t play coy.” Salim put down his empty mug and leaned back, crossing his arms. “Your boss deals with more complex judgments than Mirosoy’s little change of heart on a daily basis. If you hadn’t sent me in, the mob would eventually have made it through those zombies and killed him, thus removing any reason for the Lady of Graves to take an interest.”
    “Many innocents would have died,” the angel observed.
    “And since when does your mistress give a flying fig about that?” Salim held up two fingers to the barman, who appeared almost immediately with two more mugs.
    “Thank you,” said Ceyanan, “but I don’t drink.”
    “Who said one of these was for you?” Salim pulled both drinks close.
    The angel watched him. “You’re an excellent hunter, Salim. Your skill does you credit. But you still have much to learn.” White lips twitched higher, the smile becoming almost beatific. “Connell did something very brave today. Out of love and devotion to his friend.”
    “Who didn’t deserve it,” Salim growled.
    “Does it matter?” The angel’s big eyes bored into Salim’s. “Is the eidolon’s sacrifice any less admirable because of it?”
    Salim laughed sharply.
    “Is that what this is all about? Teaching me to take pride in my work, even if I don’t have any choice in the matter?” He showed his teeth. “Haven’t I learned enough about duty? About sacrifice?”
    Ceyanan shook its head, half sad, half bemused.
    “Maybe not,” it said at last. “But don’t worry. You will.”
    “Just what—” Salim began.
    But the angel was gone.
    Salim stared at the chair where the angel had been. Then down at the stain on the table.
    A mug in either hand, he began to drink in earnest.