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aide…?”
    Daniel followed his eyes. Adele sat on one of three straight wooden chairs, engrossed in her display. The edge of her seat had been whittled into a procession of cherubs buggering one another, apparently the whimsy of someone with a jackknife and a great deal of raw talent.
    “She will not,” Daniel said dismissively. He took the glass and the chair on the other end from Adele’s; it hadn’t been embellished, but one leg was enough shorter than the other three to click on the floor when he moved.
    Sattler drank directly from the bottle, watching Daniel as he did so. He lowered the bottle and said, “Angels’ Tears, Captain. A Bryce specialty, as you may know.”
    Daniel took a reasonable sip but held it in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed. The straw-colored liquor tasted like wood smoke, but it was as smooth as anything he’d drunk of such high alcohol content; it must run at least 150 proof.
    “Very good,” Daniel said. He took three more swallows to lower the contents of the glass by half, then leaned back in his chair. He said, “Tell me about the Sunbright Rebellion, Master Sattler. Who’s backing it?”
    Sattler set the bottle on his desk. “Officially,” he said, “interloping traders who bring in weapons and take out loads of rice. You know Sunbright rice?”
    Daniel shrugged. “I know of it,” he said. “It’s valuable, I gather.”
    “Yes,” the merchant agreed, “but it is delicious beyond even its present high price. As it’s exported farther and farther from Sunbright, the demand will continue to rise and so will the price.”
    Daniel shrugged again. “You said, ‘officially,’” he said. “And the truth?”
    “Clan chiefs on Cremona,” Sattler said, “maybe half a dozen out of thirty-odd all told. Cremona’s in the Funnel, but it’s independent. As a matter of fact, it’s so independent that it hasn’t been worth the Alliance’s time to take the place over, tempting though I’m sure the idea has looked even before now. The only way to get all the clans to cooperate is to bring in off-planet troops for everybody on Cremona to shoot at.”
    “There’s no government?” Daniel said, crossing his ankle over his knee as he sipped his liquor. He wondered what it had been distilled from.
    Sattler drank also, then said, “Not one that anybody pays any attention to unless they feel like it. There’s even an army, but it’s barefoot boys and riffraff who’d sell their equipment for a drink—if they had any equipment. The larger clans have private armies that aren’t as much of a joke, though.”
    Daniel nodded. “And no joke at all if you’re trying to move through a city,” he said. “I can see why the Alliance wouldn’t make the investment, though I suspect the regional government has been pushing for it. And has been overruled from Pleasaunce.”
    It was a real pleasure to deal with a man like Sattler, who was willing to be honest when he was sure that he was talking to wanted the truth—and that his listener wasn’t going to be easily fooled.
    “I shouldn’t wonder,” Sattler said. “Nobody in the Funnel government has taken me into their confidence, but that’s what I’d be saying in their place. There’s pirates operating out of Cremona too, though they mostly don’t pick on Alliance or Cinnabar-flagged ships.”
    He held the bottle out and raised an eyebrow. Daniel looked at his glass—an ounce remaining—and shook his head. “I didn’t get off on the best foot with Admiral Cox this morning,” he said, telling the truth but lying by implication. “The last I need is him claiming that I was drunk while on duty.”
    Daniel had needed to drink with the merchant to set the right tone for interview, but he’d done that. Four ounces, even of strong liquor, wasn’t going to put him under the table or even give him a real buzz, but more wouldn’t improve his job performance.
    Sattler thumped the bottle down and said, “It’s not just