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contain the syllable ’Mal’?”
    “Mal’s probably short for Malina.”
    “Don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”
    “It’s a kind of cactus flower. Very traditional name. Your grandmother would love her.”
    “So you have a name, possibly fake. What else?”
    “She’s a cliff runner. She’s good, and rich enough to afford some High Quechal glyphwork. That narrows the range. Other runners should be able to lead me to her.”
    “That’s assuming she told you the truth, about her name or about being a runner.” She frowned. “You’re interested in this girl.”
    “Woman.”
    “You’re interested in this woman.”
    He might have lied, if there had been any chance of fooling Teo. “I’m interested. I’m interested, and I don’t want to sic the Wardens on her. I’ve seen what they do to people when they want answers. She was afraid last night.”
    “Why would she be frightened if she wasn’t guilty?”
    “I won’t dignify that with a response.” He stared out the window into the heat. “I don’t want someone else to burn for something my father or his cronies did. And she will burn, if the Wardens get their hands on her. They’ll crack her skull, pull the memories out, sew her back together again. Meanwhile, my father escapes unscathed, like always.”
    “He told you he didn’t have anything to do with this one. Why would he lie?”
    “Why tell the truth?”
    “That’s not an answer.”
    “No,” he admitted. “You remember university?”
    “What do you think I’ve forgotten?”
    “You remember when you told me you’d decided to break up with Ivan, that you’d met a girl. That you needed to do this, that it was a part of you. I asked you why you’d come to me. You said you had to know you were telling the truth to yourself, and the only way to know that was to tell it to someone you trusted to know when you were lying.”
    She tilted her head to one side. “Do you think this is the same thing?”
    “As coming out?” He put up his hands between them. “No. Of course not. Shit. Sorry.”
    “Apology noted.”
    “But this could kill me. I’m not being figurative. The Wardens will want my head for lying to them. I’m maybe obstructing justice, aiding and abetting who knows what. It’s not like I’m above suspicion, either. Tollan has been good to me, but I doubt she ever forgets who my father is. So I want to know—am I telling the truth? Is this something I need to do? Or am I about to commit suicide because I want to get in this woman’s pants?”
    “I said I wouldn’t be your conscience.”
    Caleb drained the last of his coffee, and stood. The shop felt too small. Skeletons mocked him from the walls, waving their arms in an obscene dance. Fire built inside him, fed by words he didn’t remember how to speak. Teo bit her lower lip, teeth showing white against her dark skin. Weighing scales shifted in her eyes.
    “Do it,” she said at last, as if passing sentence. “Find her. But if you don’t manage it in two weeks, I’ll go to Tollan myself. She will kill you for keeping this from her, and I’ll never work in this city again because I waited to tell her. I’ll have to throw myself on the tender mercies of my family, and be cursed to wear nice dresses and glad-hand Craftswomen at parties, or else join my cousins in the hedonism tango. I’ll hire a Craftsman to raise you from the dead once Tollan’s done with you, just so I can kill you again. I’ll do that whenever I get bored. And life with my family is so. Very. Boring.” She emphasized each word with a tap of her forefinger on the table.
    “You’re serious.”
    “I am serious.”
    “Why let me look for her at all? Why not go to Tollan right now, or force me to?”
    “Because four years ago you would have gone all in with two queens in hand and a third showing, rather than let yourself be bluffed out of the pot. Because you used to have fire, and you’ve got scared. You’re becoming a risk manager