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before
Anastasia returned to the sitting room. Her eyes danced with joy as she
plopped down beside Josey.
    "Isn't he magnificent? I'm so happy, Josey. I feel like a cloud floating
high above the world."
    Josey hugged her friend and murmured the words Anastasia wanted to
hear, but she couldn't shake the suspicion that things might not remain so
congenial between husband and wife after the wedding day. Markus was
polite enough in mixed company, but his cavalier manner didn't suit her
friend, who was the picture of a perfect lady, refined and unassuming. Yet
Josey kept those fears to herself. Anastasia was clearly smitten, and there
was no use spoiling her good feelings. And some part of Josey wondered if
she wasn't just the tiniest bit jealous that her friend had found such love
while she was still alone, chaste and waiting for the man of her dreams.
    Josey listened with half an ear while Anastasia chattered about visits
to the seamstress, finding the right orchestra, and all the other minutiae
required to plan a wedding. She nodded at the appropriate places and
made polite noises, but the greater part of her thoughts were on her own problems. Her ship departed in two days. The matter couldn't wait until
she devised an airtight argument. She had to speak with Father tonight.

    Ral watched them from the shadow of the Emperor Tronieger monument
in the center of Torvelli Square, the strapping officer of the Guard and the
young daughter of a respected statesman, as they shared a deep kiss on the
front steps of the manse. The prefect's hands slid down to clutch his lady's
slender bottom in broad daylight. Ral smiled to himself. The wagging
tongues of High Town would wear themselves ragged.
    Ral didn't understand the fascination with romance. Oh, he enjoyed
the company of women aplenty, the sorts who were attracted to a man of
means, and the girl was a pretty slip of a thing, but he didn't have time
for anything that outlasted the night. Perhaps after his work was done he
would take the time to find a companion, someone suitable for an
upcoming man with a bright future.
    Finally, Markus bid the girl farewell. Ral followed him, keeping his
distance. The prefect, in his scarlet coat, was simplicity itself to shadow
through the broad streets of Opuline Hill.
    The sights and sounds of High Town did not distract Ral. Growing
up, he had sampled every type of excess that wealth could buy. His life
might have turned out differently if his father had lived to a ripe old age,
but fate had intervened in the form of news off an Arnossi trader bound
for Illmyn. Both of his father's ships had disappeared in a storm off the
Hvekish coast, lost with all hands. In an instant, he went from a boy to a
man of means. He sold his interest in the shipping company and bought
a big house. He found new friends in the sons and daughters of the city's
finest families, hosted lavish parties that went on for days, and lived the
life he'd always wanted. Until the money ran out. Then the loan sharks
started circling. He borrowed to keep up his sumptuous lifestyle, and
then again when that ran out. By the time he realized the depths to which
he had sunk, it was too late.
    They found him dead drunk in the back room of a Low Town dive.
Five big men with cold eyes propped him on a rickety chair and lashed
his hands behind his back.

    "Mr. Ayes isn't happy with you," the biggest of them rumbled. "You
been spending his money like it's piss, and he ain't seen nothing back in
more than a fortnight."
    Another thug flashed a long-bladed dirk, so big it was almost a
sword. "Not a smart thing to do, making Mr. Ayes angry. Now we come
to collect."
    They cut off his clothes and shook them out, but Ral laughed at them,
too drunk to care whether or not they killed him.
    The man with the big knife rested the point between Ral's legs and
whispered in his ear. "If you can't pay, friend, then you have to make good
some other way."
    They