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sack containing my old clothes slung over one shoulder. "I just don't want you stirring things up, that's all. They're more than bad enough already."
      From the edge in his voice, I could tell he meant it. In fact – and this shocked me more than almost anything could have – he sounded scared. What did it take to unnerve Franco? He was the closest anyone could be to untouchable in the world of Altapasaedan crime. He'd been staring down death for as long as I'd been alive.
      As he let me out the front door, I said, "I'll be careful, Franco."
      "You won't. But try, for all our sakes," he said – and the door slammed shut.
     
    It was some distance to the South Bank, almost the breadth of the city. Worse, I could hardly hurry, or take the main roads. I moved through back alleys wherever I could, jogging from shadow to shadow and each time pausing to listen, straining my eyes against the darkness.
      Once I had to duck into an arch as riders thundered by. Twice I had to sneak past groups of armed men lurking in the shadows. Both times, they were clustered at a junction, where they could see in all directions. Had they been paying more attention to their work and less to talking and drinking, I wouldn't have stood a chance.
      As it was, I felt my success vindicated my choice of cloak, and of the boots, which made nary a squeak upon the cobbles. Still, it was taxing on my nerves. The guard had never been this fastidious, or the city this well manned. Someone was making a point – keeping Altapasaeda safe, whether Altapasaedans liked it or not.
      Only when I came out on the edge of the South Bank did I realise my problems had barely begun. The South Bank was as well lit as anywhere in Altapasaeda, and didn't contain anything even approaching an alley. In fact, the street I'd reached was a wide, tree-lined boulevard, with no hint of cover except the widely spaced openings of mansion compounds.
      I heard footsteps.
      The curfew had one advantage. It told me that anyone on the streets must be there for a good reason. A confident step would have been bad news, but this was anything but, a rapid, anxious tip-tap. I darted round the corner of an archway, trampling some noble's prized flowerbeds in the process. The footsteps drew nearer. I caught the briefest flash of a figure: well dressed though graceless, tall but hunched against the night cold.
      I gave him a half-dozen more paces before I stepped out. "Off to the meeting?"
      He jumped back, made a noise that sounded like "Wuuh?"
      "I should walk with you. Safety in numbers." Encouraged by my new outfit, I did an ample job of making it sound like a threat.
      "What… ah… do I know you?"
      I looked him up and down. My initial impression had been spot on. He was gaunt and fretful, a few years older than me and impeccably dressed. He had the peculiar accent unique to the Altapasaedan wealthy, but with a nervous tremor all his own. I doubted very much if he'd ever done a minute's work in his life, or anything as dangerous as walking the streets alone at night.
      One thing more: he hadn't contradicted me when I mentioned the meeting. That meant there was a good chance my guess was correct. "I doubt it," I said. "I don't think we've mixed in the same circles. Not until recently, at any rate."
      "I haven't seen you at the other conferences," he replied, struggling for something approaching authority.
      "I've been caught up in some business. Only just found time to get in on the act."
      My new companion looked nervous. "I can't imagine he liked that."
      "Oh, he was understanding. We go way back."
      He looked at me with mingled horror and respect. Then, catching himself, he said, "Well, no time to waste, eh?"
      "No time at all," I agreed.
      He hurried on, and I paced nonchalantly beside him, as though it were the most natural thing in the world that we'd be taking a stroll together through the nocturnal streets. Still, I