When I collected my crew to meet with Mylera, I found Ash and Faith in our private room at the orphanage, standing several feet apart like a pair of duelers. A frown of intense concentration scrunched up Ash’s face. As if braced against ghost field blowback, he leaned forward, attuning as hard as he could at the cat ears atop Faith’s head. Noticing me in the doorway, she mouthed with exaggerated facial contortions, Shhhhhhhh! Don’t interrupt him!

Both cat ears twitched. The tip of one flopped over in the most adorable, kitten-like manner, then perked back up inquisitively.

Stunned by his own success, Ash relaxed and exclaimed, “You’re a good mentor!”

Then he saw me – or, more precisely, my expression.

In the oral equivalent of shoving his hands into his pockets and whistling innocently, he inquired, “Oh, Isha, is it time?”

Without waiting for an answer, he sauntered up to Faith, plucked the cat ears off her head, and jammed them over his own. Naturally, she voiced no objections whatsoever, and the three of us crossed the park to the sword academy with Ash doubled over like a scoundrel who’d lost a fistfight. Both of his hands clutched the edges of his hood to hold it securely over the cat ears, which he swept off as soon as we reached Mylera’s office – although not before the guards stationed at her door suddenly turned particularly stone-faced. Humiliated, Ash shoved the headband into a coat pocket.

One guard broke into a grin as he turned to knock and call through the door, “Isha and her crew here to see you.” When I passed him, he whispered, “Tell him to put ‘em back on. Might cheer her up.”

In the interests of crew solidarity, I ignored that.

As her guard had suggested, Mylera was obviously still grieving and weary, but her coffeemaker was already gurgling away in its corner. At our entrance, she gestured towards the chairs in front of her desk. “Please, have a seat. Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” I said.

Ash craned his neck around, searching for any signs of tea. (I hadn’t yet converted him to Iruvian coffee, which apparently tasted very different from Tycherosian caffe.) Resigning himself to the inferior option, he agreed, “Sure, I’ll have some too.”

Since Faith was too busy scrutinizing the mug design to answer, Mylera poured for all of us. Then she refilled her own mug, took an assessing sip, and got down to business. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s more what we would like to do for you,” I replied, selecting my words with care. “We’d like to take out Djera Maha. Are you in?”

She practically cut me off. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s a good start,” remarked Ash, who since committing to the score had devoted considerable effort to investigating Red Sash and Lampblack finances. He’d already estimated a fee that was just barely low enough for them to afford and just barely high enough for him to accept. “We have not spread word of this, obviously. You are one of the first people we’ve told.”

“Of course.” From the edge to Mylera’s tone, she remembered Ash’s love of haggling all too well and did not look forward to another session.

With his keen instinct for how far he could push our clients, Ash ignored that and explained earnestly, “There are a lot of things we should discuss, one of which is that there will likely be war and you will need to be ready for that.”

Mylera gave a curt nod, displeased that he deemed it necessary to tell the ward boss of the Docks how to run her own district.

“The other thing is that we were hoping to find connections to the Circle of Flame.”

Wry amusement lit Mylera’s face for the first time since Xayah’s death. “Unfortunately, I only know of one member of the Circle of Flame – and she doesn’t like you.”

Even more unfortunately, the Akorosian language used the same word for the singular, dual, and plural second-person pronouns. “You mean me?” I clarified. “Or Ash?”

“Or all of us?” he asked.

“All of you.” Mylera smirked, adding to Ash’s and my confusion. (Faith, on the other hand, was cooing over the Iruvian trinkets as if art appreciation were the sole point of this meeting.) After waiting a beat for maximal effect, Mylera lobbed the name at us: “Elstera Avrathi.”

A moment of startled comprehension. Then – “Aaaah,” sighed Ash.

“The Iruvian Consul?” I demanded. “She’s in the Circle of Flame?”

“Yes.”

That was not at all what I’d expected. Except – except of course House Anixis would order diplomats to infiltrate local secret societies. And given Elstera’s willingness to work with the cultish Hadrakin, she was the obvious choice to embed into the Circle of Flame. Chagrined by my oversight, I confessed, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Satisfied by our reactions, Mylera savored her coffee and played the crafty spider in her web. “It’s not clear how serious she is about her membership.” (Probably not very – Elstera’s loyalty to Iruvia would supersede all Doskvolian ties. House Anixis would have made sure of that before posting her here.) “But I do know that she is part of their inner circle.”

Ever the pragmatist, Ash pointed out, “If we find we’re on the same page, relationships can change. I have nothing against Elstera Avrathi.”

Yes, well, our willingness wasn’t the issue here. Goodness knew Elstera had a lot against us: First we’d allied ourselves with her enemy, Irimina Kinclaith. Then we’d framed her nephew for Merrick Dillingham’s murder. And after that, we’d killed both of her Hadrakin, stymying her efforts to retrieve the battle plans for her Anixis overlords, which was never conducive to continued good health – or any kind of health, really…. We might be able to trade the battle plans for her assistance, but who knew where Faith had hidden them? I slid a glance in her direction, but she was staring off into the distance, lost in thought.

“I assume you’re going to make the same offer to Bazso,” Mylera stated, carefully neutral.

“It seems only fair,” Ash countered.

At the same time, I said, “Yes. We arranged separate meetings to maintain secrecy.”

In a gesture of trust, Mylera didn’t even stop to parse my potential motivations before she approved, “That seems prudent.”

In a counter-gesture of trust, I explained myself anyway: “As Ash has pointed out, now we have a number of young children to take care of. We can’t afford to be as cavalier as we have been in the past.”

“Ah.” Although Mylera didn’t have to protect a passel of kids, she did run a school whose students included some spectacularly incompetent specimens of aristocrat, which amounted to much the same thing. She sucked in a breath and thought for a moment. “Your children are literally next door. We can make sure nothing happens to them.”

Ash snatched the offer before she could change her mind. “That would be most kind. Now, if you have any more information on Djera Maha – didn’t the Hive own a leviathan hunter?”

Sure, if you assumed that Lady Clave’s captaincy of the Lancer translated to Hive ownership. Conveniently, the Claves and Kinclaiths were still tussling over the ship in the appeals court, and Irimina’s lawyer believed the judge would award it to Irimina and Roethe. Gods help his future crew.

“Why would the Hive own a leviathan hunter?” Mylera, the former naval officer, sounded offended by the notion of a criminal organization controlling one of the precious ships.

“I don’t know,” admitted Ash, “but they certainly amassed a significant amount of berthing capacity.”

“I don’t know why they needed so much dock space,” Mylera mused. “I mean, they are a smuggling operation, but it was a greater volume than they needed. Besides, even with their allies in the Ministry of Preservation, that kind of volume draws attention.”

Ash’s thoughts had already drifted to the score itself. “Fair enough, fair enough,” he dismissed his own question. “Not something of immediate concern. It would be nice if most of the blood shed is the Hive against itself.”

With that, Mylera agreed wholeheartedly. “It would. Because there will be reprisals.”

Perhaps unaware of the close friendship between the Red Sash leader and her second-in-command, Ash reminded her bluntly, “There were already two, and there will be many more if we don’t stop them.”

“Yes.” Ducking her head, Mylera took a large gulp of coffee. Then she grimaced, rose, and turned her back on us. “This is cold. I’ll make more.”

To give her time to compose herself, I proposed, “We should frame someone for this.”

The scooper clanked a little more loudly than necessary against the inside of the coffee bean jug. Her slightly muffled voice said, “That would certainly be cleanest.”

“Is there anyone in the Hive who has a grudge against Djera Maha?” asked Ash.

Noisily grinding beans and still not looking at any of us, Mylera answered above the clatter, “She might have ambitious lieutenants, family members who think they can do better….”

“Her nephews?” I suggested. “Is it at all plausible that they would turn on her?”

“Her nephews? Doubtful. They’re extremely loyal.”

“Well,” proclaimed Ash, “any organization that size will have disloyalties. We’ll just have to find them. We’ll also see if we can contact anyone in the Circle of Flame – but of course we’re not dependent on them.”

I already had ideas for how to accomplish that particular task.

Unaware that my brother was in town, Mylera assured us, “Between myself and Bazso, we can handle things. We do run two districts. You won’t lack for manpower.”

Ash nodded his appreciation of that fact – brought to fruition through our efforts – and segued smoothly into pay negotiations. “Now, of course this is all somewhat presuming that the financials get taken care of. We thought that you and Bazso might both have a vested interest.”

“You are correct.” Mylera gritted her teeth, bracing for an exorbitant sum.

“Given the hazards to ourselves and to a number of young, innocent orphans who might find themselves homeless again after all of this, we were thinking fourteen coin.” At the sight of her stony face, Ash allowed, “Perhaps it wouldn’t be unreasonable to split the fee?”

Mylera’s voice was flat and held no promise of all fourteen coin. “I’ll talk to Bazso. We’ll figure out how much we can spare.”

Satisfied, Ash fished his cat ears out of his pocket and attempted to don them, followed by his coat, in one single smooth motion – but he wasn’t fast enough. As the Red Sash guard had suggested, Mylera eyed him quizzically, temporarily distracted from the headaches of ward boss duties, the impending war with the Hive, and her best friend’s murder.

As we let ourselves out of her office, I grinned at her, while Faith adopted a pure, confused innocent air that somehow conveyed, I have no idea why he’s wearing those either!

Mylera’s lips lifted in a tiny, genuine smile.

Ash didn’t even notice. He was too busy being embarrassed.

Before we met with Bazso, Ash convened an assembly at Strathmill House in which he instructed the orphans, “Sometimes your enemies come to you and everything burns down, but don’t worry about that. We have tons of coin, we can rebuild everything. We just need to be alive for it. Stay alive at all costs so we can regroup afterwards.”

Needless to say, all the children were absolutely petrified – from the younger ones who understood the “enemies” and “burns down” part all too well, to the older or smarter ones who guessed who those enemies might be.

After that motivational speech, a handful of children fled back onto the streets, but as none of them included the Insect Kids or Azael, we opted to retrieve them later.

And then it was time to haggle with Bazso, who appreciated Ash’s financial antics even less than Mylera.

On our way to the Lampblacks’ coal warehouse, Ash congratulated me, “The gangs’ relationship seems to keep improving. I know you’ve been planning this for a long time.”

It did. And I had. But while I wanted to believe that the Lampblack-Red Sash alliance rendered them impregnable in this section of Doskvol, I had to stay realistic. “If only the Hive hadn’t murdered their seconds. Henner’s a good man, but I don’t think he’s quite ready to step into Pickett’s shoes.”

As an indication of that, the new Lampblack second-in-command wasn’t even present in the coal warehouse when we arrived. Bazso waited alone in his office on the second floor, with a bottle of whiskey and five tumblers (four full, one empty) arrayed across his battered hardwood desk.

About to push a glass at Ash, he froze. “What the hell, Ash?”

I burst out laughing. Not to be outdone, Faith promptly followed suit.

“Orders from on high,” Ash explained stolidly, raising his voice and trying to act as dignified as possible for a man wearing big fuzzy cat ears.

Bazso shot me one of his warning looks. Iiiiiisha?

With an effort, I reigned myself in and arched an eyebrow: Tell you later.

Just to make the point that Bazso exercised no control over her merriment, Faith kept giggling for a moment longer before she drooped mournfully into a chair, propped her chin on one hand, and lamented, “Sometimes the behaviors of my comrades are mysterious, vexing, and inexplicable.”

I slanted a glance at her. That about summed her up.

With a sly glint in her eyes, she blinked at Bazso. “I’m sure Isha’s said the same to you at some point.”

“Yeah….”

“The intent is to make us look friendlier,” Ash broke in loudly. “I question my mother’s judgment in this matter, although it does seem to distract people significantly, which – ”

Bazso cut him off. “Yeah, it does! Take them off right now!”

Ash was all too happy to oblige. In a practiced motion, he whisked the cat ears off his head and into a pocket.

Still nonplussed by my crew and its behaviors, Bazso slid a tumbler across the desk to each of us. He toasted the empty glass, lounged back, and sipped his whiskey. “Now. What can I do for you?”

As with Mylera, Ash signaled for me to lead.

Folding my fingers tidily around my tumbler, I began, “As I mentioned, we’re here to discuss the same thing that we did with Mylera.”

“The Hive,” Bazso stated.

“Yes. More precisely, taking out Djera Maha.”

“Mmmm.” From his expression, he’d known the moment I requested this meeting. “Ambitious.”

“We have some ideas.”

While I set the stage for Ash, Faith was surveying Bazso’s spartan office with a disapproving air. Now she started shifting everything on his desk – which consisted of a grand total of one pen, one inkwell, one notebook, and the whiskey bottle and tumblers – to the space directly in front of me. Bazso followed her movements out of the corner of his eye, but all she did at the end was topple forward, pillow her face on her arms, and fall sound asleep. The ward boss of Crow’s Foot did not look impressed.

Ignoring our mysterious, vexing, and inexplicable crewmate, Ash soldiered on with business negotiations. “Taking out Djera Maha seems to be our best chance of confining bloodshed within the Hive, versus among our friends.”

One of Bazso’s eyebrows lifted as he parsed that sentence.

With the directness he preferred, I stated, “The hope is to frame someone in the Hive and trigger a bloodbath in their organization.”

“That might be doable.” Bazso evidently knew more than just the usual pub scuttlebutt, because he told us, “My understanding is that the Hive is a cult of personality built around Djera Maha. Karth Orris might have been able to run it in her stead, but…. In her absence, there would certainly be a period of unrest.”

Ash hinted, “We’ve begun to lay the groundwork, but it’s tricky, and we don’t know much about who could best take the fall.”

Unfortunately, we had exhausted Bazso’s knowledge about the Hive. “I don’t know much about their inner workings.”

“Along similar lines,” nudged Ash, “the Hive’s enemies are good people to know.”

Bazso allowed himself a twisted, rueful smile. “Ironically, the Crows. But I think that was kind of because of Lyssa, and anyway, that’s a moot point.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, cocking my head to a side.

“Well, she’s dead.”

“No, I mean: Why didn’t Lyssa and the Hive get along?”

Draining his whiskey, Bazso gestured broadly with his tumbler. “Oh, it’s a whole convoluted story. The short version is that Djera Maha hated Lyssa because Lyssa killed Roric.”

That was an even more egregious oversight than missing Elstera Avrathi’s membership in the Circle of Flame. How much else had I overlooked? No wonder Father kept expanding his spy rings. “What did Djera Maha have to do with Roric?”

“They were tight.” Bazso raised his eyebrows meaningfully, hinting at some sort of amorous relationship.

I processed that, wondering if we could use our status as Lyssa’s murderers to get close to Djera Maha – but it wouldn’t work. My affiliation with the Lampblacks and Red Sashes was common knowledge at this point.

In a hopeful tone, Ash asked his favorite question of late: “I don’t suppose you have any contacts within the Circle of Flame?”

An explosion of laughter answered that question. “No,” snorted Bazso when he could speak again.

“Well, it was worth a try,” Ash defended himself.

The former lighter of streetlamps informed him (not entirely accurately), “No, I’m not fancy enough to mix with those people. Aren’t they supposed to be a bunch of nobles?”

“Nobles are good allies to have sometimes,” Ash pointed out, perhaps thinking of me and Faith. (Definitely of Faith, if he needed to qualify that statement with “sometimes.”)

“Yeah, but – ” Amusement crinkling his face, Bazso waved around his converted abandoned coal warehouse headquarters. “No, I don’t have any contacts among the nobility. I do have the best bunch of knee-breakers in Doskvol, plus various contacts among the citizens.”

To be honest, the latter was probably a lot more useful – especially if the Hive burned down Strathmill House.

After some private negotiations, Bazso and Mylera agreed to jointly finance the hit on Djera Maha and to hide the orphans in Crow’s Foot families if necessary. As for our fee, they countered with an offer of ten coin but allowed Ash to drive it up to twelve, which was the original number he’d calculated anyway.

Ash practically drooled.