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unhooked a lantern from the wall and started down into the shadows.
      I'd been fortunate enough to witness the wonder that was Franco's Cellar of Crime on a couple of occasions before now. If anything, it was more astonishing and overstocked than ever. Not a single bare brick could be seen, and there was barely floor space enough to manoeuvre through the trove. Franco's stock consisted mostly of clothing, armour and a quite staggering range of weapons. Amidst these more predictable items, however, were countless less obvious accessories of the criminal trades: caltrops, poisons and acids, mantraps and snares, face paints and false beards, paste gemstones… it was enough to make my head spin.
      Forcing my attention to the racks of clothing, my eye fell immediately on a full cloak of deepest charcoal grey. There were other, showier outfits, but they were all in black, a shade guaranteed to stand out on even the darkest night and reserved for foppish would-be thieves.
      "That one. The grey," I said, and couldn't help feeling a little pleased at the twinkle of approval in Franco's rheumy gaze.
      I added a shirt and trousers of similar colour, and a particularly dapper pair of boots. I completed the outfit with a short, narrow-bladed dagger that sheathed neatly against my hip. It wasn't a weapon for fighting, but it had the potental to give someone a nasty surprise.
      When I'd finished changing, Franco had me stuff my old clothes into a sack, pointing out that, "It will make them less bothersome to burn."
      I looked around the overburdened walls, trying to guess what else I might need. "I'll take that rucksack, as well," I said, "two – no, three – sets of lock picks, needle and thread if you have them, and a length of your finest climbing rope."
      Franco plucked a coil down from a hook. "How's this? Hawser-laid single line, a sisal core with cotton overwrap. I made the grapnel myself, you won't find a better."
      "Excellent." I took it, crammed it into the pack with my other purchases.
      "That'll be three onyxes. I've rounded up, since you've left me the task of exterminating your revolting cast-offs."
      He'd rounded up by at least an onyx, but I didn't have time to argue. As I handed over the coins, I said, "There's one more in it for you if you'll share a little information."
      Franco eyed me slantwise from beneath his absurd hat. "Go on."
      "What's been happening to the city these last few days… do you know who's behind it?"
      "Of course I know. I also know what he'd do to me if he found out I'd talked to you."
      Encouraged by my new outfit, I struck my most threatening pose. "And what do you think I'll do?"
      "Damasco, I've known you since you were barely old enough to pickpocket. You'll talk a lot, eventually re alise you're as intimidating as cold soup, and give up."
      He had me there. "Look, Franco, I'm in a fix. I need answers. Alvantes is leaning on me and…"
      "What?" Franco looked at me with horror. "You're working with the Boar? Have you gone completely mad, boy? We both know people who'd gut you for just saying his name."
      "It's a long story. One I'd like to end sooner rather than later. If you could just give me something to go on, point me in the right direction…"
      Franco shook his head wearily. "All right, all right," he said. "I heard a rumour… something going down on the South Bank, some kind of a meet. I don't know where and I wouldn't tell you if I did."
      "Thanks, Franco." I offered him the fourth coin.
      "I haven't done you any favours. The city's under curfew. If anyone sees you, they'll kill you on sight. You want advice worth paying for? Get out of Altapasaeda. Never look back."
      "You know Alvantes. He'd track me down if it was the last thing he did. Still. I appreciate you looking out for me, Franco."
      "They can cut your throat and dump you in the river for all I care," he said, starting back up the stairs with the noxious