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rows of townhomes. High rent areas, reasonable people. The guy from whom they needed to collect probably had just run into some bad luck and would offer no resistance.
    She smiled lightly, and Dannac glared at her, as if the minute gesture were the equivalent to laughing at a funeral. “Why does everyone your age smile at their own abject failure?”
    â€œI wasn’t smiling at our failure. It’s just that these rows of homes are almost like the little towns in Uvrow. It was cold there, but I really liked the pubs. There was always a good pub down the road from wherever you were staying.”
    â€œDo you ever stop thinking about the continent? Those bloody Little Nations?”
    â€œNo. It’s all that keeps me going, Dannac. I thought you would have known that by now.”
    â€œI thought you wanted to own a restaurant. You can do that anywhere. If you were smart, you’d do it here in Blightcross. The business growth here seems unprecedented.”
    â€œI never said I wanted to own anything.” But before she could drift into fluffy visions of her plans, she found the street in question and began to search for the address written on her hand. “It should be right here...”
    She scanned the block for any sign of the grey-haired man they were to meet. She found him pacing in front of one of the townhouses, cracking his knuckles and wringing his hands.
    â€œSir! My colleague and I have decided to accept your offer.”
    â€œAh. Are you sure?” He looked at Dannac for a moment, and the questioning lines in his forehead smoothed, as if the Ehzeri’s presence had answered a silent question about how this woman was going to perform an eviction.
    Capra extended her hand to the man. He ignored the gesture. He ignored her altogether, and she couldn’t understand why, since he had given her his attention at the lunch counter.
    â€œNow,” the man said to Dannac, “I should tell you that this man has dispatched two bailiffs previously.”
    â€œWhat do you—”
    Dannac raised his hand and cut her off. “Just the one man?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œI have dealt with worse.”
    The man’s eyes flicked to Capra. “She one of your healers? Is that your edge?”
    Dannac nodded.
    She tried again. “But—”
    â€œJust one condition. I want all of the money up front. You can stay here and watch. I can assure you the fight will not last long, if he chooses to start one.”
    The man chewed his lip and fiddled with the buttons on his coat. All the while, Capra’s gaze flitted between both men, and she wondered if she had stepped into a vivid dream where she had become a phantom. The men seemed to have an understanding, or at least Dannac was pretending that they did. Had the man thought that Capra were just a runner, just a secretary, for Dannac?
    It was unthinkable.
    But, she reminded herself, the rest of the world was not used to new ways of the Valoii.
    â€œFine.” The man dropped four coins into Dannac’s palm. She was about to snatch her share from him, but by now realized that the act was important.
    Dannac kicked open the iron gate, and there was the sound of snapping metal. Capra skittered behind.
    â€œTry not to damage the new wainscoting!”
    She assumed that Dannac would know what that meant, because he casually raised his hand and said nothing to the man. They stopped at the door, where he pounded four times on the deep red wood.
    â€œCan you see inside?” she asked.
    â€œI can. There is only one person inside, upstairs.” He knocked again. “And he is not moving.”
    â€œMaybe he’s dead?”
    He raised an eyebrow. “The dead appear differently to me, unless freshly deceased. This man is as orange as you or I.”
    Only now did she realize the implications of having left everything behind on the ship. She had no weapons, except the switchblade she always carried