Oh, good—a whole new set of problems. He really should have walked past that alleyway without interfering. Saving Jaya had made him feel good about himself and gotten him a kiss on the cheek, but now it was threatening to hamper his work.

  "I'm sorry," Jaya said softly. "I was afraid this might happen."

  "I should have been more afraid myself, it seems." His tongue felt thick in his mouth, but his words seemed to emerge clearly enough. "Where are we, exactly?" He looked around. "Apart from in a storeroom, I mean." The narrow space was cluttered with stacked crates, and the shelves on the walls held innumerable pieces of artwork and small relics—some quite interesting, actually. "Apart from a rich man's storeroom," he amended.

  "His name is Ralen Vadim," Jaya said.

  Alareon whistled. "The Ralen Vadim?"

  "Unless there are two," she said.

  That seemed unlikely. Alaeron didn't know much about Vadim. He was the sort of man about whom people said, "Well, he's not really a criminal," and it was basically true. He was a former adventurer who'd brought great wealth to the city, currently a collector of and trader in relics from distant lands and fallen empires. There were rumors that he didn't much care how those relics were acquired, but so what if he took stolen goods? They hadn't been stolen from Andorens, after all, and anything from elsewhere was better off here anyway. Vadim was a tireless promoter of Andoren ideals ...though he was, by all accounts, more interested in the mercantile aspects than the philosophical ones. Alaeron's father had done some work for him once, crafting alchemical lights for his mansion—Alaeron had been his father's apprentice at the time, and he remembered Vadim as a dashing, flamboyant man with a black pointed beard and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  The door to the storeroom swung open silently, and the man who stepped in had rather more white than black in his beard, and his eyes were anything but mischievously twinkling, but he was unmistakably the man Alaeron had met as a boy. "Hello," he said, voice smooth and cold as fine marble. He stood in front of Alaeron, hands on his hips, looking down his noble nose at the bound alchemist. "We haven't been introduced. I'm Ralen Vadim."

  "You knew my father." Alaeron tried not to babble. Might the reminder of some personal connection save him here? He didn't see how it hurt. "The alchemist, Edmondus? He did some work for you."

  If the news stirred Vadim's emotions one way or another, he didn't show it. "He did good work. Some of his lamps still light one of my houses. I was sorry to hear he'd passed away."

  "Thank you," Alaeron said. "I—"

  "I'd be sad to hear you'd passed away, too," Vadim continued, as if Alaeron hadn't spoken. "Perhaps we can avoid that outcome, hmm?" He turned on his heel and stared at Jaya for a moment, then clucked his tongue. "Alaeron," he said, "do you know this young woman? I know you've met—she gave us your name—but do you know her?"

  "Ah, no. Sir. I happened upon her, and she seemed to be in some trouble, so I tried to help. We have no prior relationship."

  Vadim hmmed. "Understandable. Even admirable, though I'm afraid your kindness was misplaced. You see, I am the injured party here. Jaya and her brother presented themselves to me, claiming to be explorers and adventurers in possession of rare artifacts from the deeps of Osirion and the Mwangi Expanse. We struck an agreement to make a trade—a certain sum of gold in exchange for some few artifacts. I am a cautious man, of course, and so I gave them a small amount of gold in exchange for a sample of their wares, with the promise that, if the artifact proved valuable, we would complete the exchange. They gave me a very fine piece indeed, a death-mask from Osirion cracked only slightly by the passage of time."

  He paused. "But one of my employees noticed that some of the paint on the mask was a color not in common usage until some several hundred years after the mask's supposed provenance. When I sought out Jaya and her brother to ...make inquiries ...they were nowhere to be found."

  Jaya stared fixedly at the floor during the man's speech. Vadim turned to Alaeron and spread his hands. "A more ambitious thief would have given me a real artifact, and only subsequently traded me a crate full of worthless fakes in exchange for a chest of gold. That would have angered me, but I would have respected the audacity. Jaya contented herself with stealing a mere jingling pouch. Why, I spend more money than that on wine at dinner most days."

  "That was the idea," Jaya said. She lifted her eyes, and though they brimmed with tears, that only increased their luster. "We thought, for such a paltry sum, you would not bother to pursue us."

  "Ah, foreigners." Vadim gave Alaeron a broad, toothy smile. "They don't understand the importance of honor and integrity to Andorens! I spent far more on tracking down Jaya than she stole from me, because it is a matter of principle. No one may cheat me and escape the consequences." He waved his hand at her as if shooing a fly. "No matter. She is dead; she is the past—"

  "Please!" Jaya cried, face a mask of anguish. "I will repay what we stole, I'm sorry, I had no choice. My brother, he is very ill, and we needed money to pay the healer, but we will—"

  Offhandedly, without even looking at her, Vadim cuffed the side of Jaya's head, rocking her in her chair. She gasped. "Dead women shouldn't speak," Vadim said. He crouched, looking into Alaeron's face. "You, however, still live. And you said some very interesting things in that alley, according to my men. About Numeria, and the Silver Mount, and artifacts."

  "Ah." Alaeron cleared his throat. "Yes, about that ...."

  Vadim's bushy eyebrows went up. "They tell me you had a device in your hand, they saw a flash of silver, and then, moments later, they were tied up, and you were gone. Was it some relic taken from the Silver Mount?"

  "No, merely a potion, sir. When I spoke of Numeria, I confess, I was just hoping to distract them long enough to allow me to imbibe one of my extracts. Your men must have seen the glass vial twinkling in the light. The potion gave me a brief burst of speed, you see, allowing me to move with such haste that I became effectively invisible."

  The old adventurer frowned. "So you have no artifacts?"

  Alaeron sensed that he could trade his relics for his life ...but he wasn't ready to make that deal unless no other alternative presented itself. "I assume your men searched me, sir. Did they find any such devices?"

  "They did not," Vadim admitted. "I suppose your mention of the Silver Mount was a lie as well?"

  "No, sir. I went to Numeria, in hopes of learning some of the secrets of that place, and I did indeed see an inner chamber of the Silver Mount, in exchange for services to the arcanists who claim it as their own."

  Now Vadim smiled. "Do you think you could go back, and enter the Mount again, and bring out some beautiful things for me?"

  Alaeron closed his eyes. Numeria had been a hell—a fascinating hell, full of strange wonders, but he had no desire to return. "I ...did not leave on good terms, sir. I did some work for the Technic League, but I found their methods vile, and my opinions are known to them. I do not think I would be welcomed back, and the Silver Mount is so well guarded that no man may enter without leave of the League."

  "I've heard tales of steel men who serve that League. Nonsense, I trust?"

  "Gearsmen," Alaeron whispered. "I have seen them, sir, and they are not men—more like metal devils in the shape of men. Relentless, and deadly, and incapable of feeling pain. They are the ones who guard the Mount."

  "A pity." Vadim stood up. "If you can't offer me relics, then you are useless to me, and I'm afraid I'll have to turn you over to the men you fought off in that alleyway. They are divided over whether the best course of action is to kill you or merely to cut off your thumbs—death is more permanent, but an alchemist with no thumbs is like a cart without wheels, and they think it might be amusing to make you suffer." The old adventurer shrugged. "I think it's an overreaction, myself, but I try to give my employees a certain amount of latitude to deal with minor problems as they see fit. Good day."

  He started toward the door, and Alaeron opened his mouth, on the point of saying "I have relics! Take them!" He could always try to steal them back, after all, but if he lost his life—or, worse, his thumbs—he would suffer a marked reduction in opportunities.

  But Jaya spoke first. "I can give you relics," she said.

  Vadim snorted. "You have, in fact, proven that you can not."

  "No lies this time," she said, her tears dried up, her voice calm. "I can take you to the ruins of Kho."

  Chapter Four

  The Wrong Circumstances

  Vadim hesitated a step from the door. Alaeron admired Jaya's audacity. As far as gambits and delaying tactics went, this one didn't suffer from a lack of ambition. The Silver Mount was one of the most famous sites of shattered antiquity in the world, but the ruins of Kho were just as legendary—and almost certainly less well guarded and previously plundered, since no one seemed to know quite where they were.

  "My mother originally came from an Uomoto village," Jaya went on. Vadim tilted his head toward her a fraction, not turning around, but not turning away, either. "Just to the west of Osirion, not far from the Kho-Rarne Pass. She left to seek her fortune in the wider world, but I still have family there ...and my people know the location of the ruins. ‘The City of the Fallen Sky,' they call it. My mother saw it with her own eyes, standing on a ridge above the valley."

  "If that's even true," Vadim said, "which I doubt, then I'm sure your people have emptied the ruins of every item of value by now."

  "Not so." Jaya sounded completely sincere and most convincing—but then, believability was probably a crucial quality in a professional liar. "There is a strong taboo against entering the ruins, and rumors of terrible things lurking within. But they will guide me, my lord—" She winced, probably remembering the anti-aristocratic stance of Andorens, though Alaeron wondered if even that lapse was studied and intentional, to give Vadim a sense of superiority over her. "I'm sorry, sir. My family in the village will show me how to enter the ruins. I will bring back anything I find." She inclined her head toward Alaeron. "He should come, too. If he has experience delving into such ruins, then his expertise would help the expedition."

  Alaeron said, "I, uh ..." then fell silent. She was trying to save his life, he realized. He cleared his throat. "I would of course be happy to lend my meager skills to such an endeavor."

  Vadim didn't speak. He drummed his fingertips against his leg.

  "You win no matter what," Jaya said. "If we fail, and die in the ruins, we've saved you the trouble of killing us yourself. And if we succeed, and bring you treasures, surely you can forgive our minor transgressions?"

  "I will consider your offer," Vadim said abruptly, and left the room.

  They sat in silence for a while, Alaeron straining to hear anything beyond the confines of the room—nothing much, apart from muffled footsteps—while Jaya stared up at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought. After a while she said, "I don't suppose your ropes are loose?"

  Alaeron strained his wrists against the rough ropes binding his arms to the chair frame, then shook his head. "Alas, no."

  "Perhaps he'll take us up on my offer," she said, but without much hope.

  "I doubt you're likely to fool him twice," Alaeron said. "But it was a good effort. I appreciate you attempting to save my skin along with your own."

  "I got you into this trouble, so I should do what I can to get you out. The sad thing is, I'm not even lying—this time. My mother really did come from a village a half-day's walk from the ruins of Kho. And I do still have family there. I've never been, but I know the way, more or less—my mother often talked of visiting, but the time was never right before she passed away."

  Alaeron began to get interested despite himself. "What do you know about the ruins?" Once upon a time he'd considered going in search of Kho, before deciding to go to Numeria instead, simply because it was more known, and practically speaking it was far easier to catch a boat up the Sellen River and travel with caravans of crusaders bound north for the Worldwound than to cross the Inner Sea and somehow make his way beyond the desert of Osirion to ...most likely wander in the mountains and die, assuming he made it that far. But while the Silver Mount was under the tight control of the Technic League, the ruins of Kho were, presumably, largely undiscovered by the wider world.

  Jaya shrugged. "A great sky-city from the days of the Shory Empire, brought down by accident or treachery, and crashed into the mountains. My people still tell stories of that time—the Night of Fire, they call it. When I was younger I thought it was ...what's the word? A fable. A story to teach us a lesson about the dangers of being too prideful, too ambitious, without heeding the cost. To tear a city from the earth and place it in the clouds—how could such a thing last? But my mother convinced me it was truth. There really were cities in the sky, once upon a time."

  "All fallen now," Alaeron murmured.

  "So you believe in them?"

  "Oh, yes. In my researches I've seen documents from the time of the Shory, about the cities. Some believe the tales of flying metropolises were nothing but propaganda to frighten the enemies of the empire, perhaps propped up with a few illusions to strike fear into the hearts of the credulous. But some of the documents I've seen were prosaic things about provisioning flying cities, inventory lists, plans for dealing with sewage and traffic—the sort of dull documents no one would bother to fake, you see? Cargo manifests make poor propaganda tools. On the off chance that Vadim does take you up on your offer, it could be interesting." He looked at Jaya thoughtfully for a moment. "Of course, I suppose if he lets you out of this room, you'll do your best to disappear completely. Actually going to the ruins of Kho isn't your intention, is it?"

  Jaya shrugged. "I do what I must to stay alive, and protect my family."

  "Yes, your brother, of course."

  "The same. He, at least, is long outside the city by now, waiting for me to meet him, assuming I can get out of this room alive." She looked around. "I doubt Vadim would kill us here, because he'd hate to get blood all over his artifacts, and if we're taken elsewhere, there's always a chance we can escape. I've been in dangerous situations before."

  "As have I," Alaeron admitted. "Though I've usually had my hands free. I can't say I like this variation."

  "Oh, I don't know." Jaya tossed her hair. "In the right circumstances, being tied up can actually be very liberating."

  Before Alaeron could begin to think of a response to that, the door opened again. Vadim entered, followed by the single most disreputable-looking man Alaeron had ever seen. He insinuated himself into the room, not so much walking through the door as sidling through it. He was dressed in clothes tinted the indefinable brownish-gray that came from long wear between washings, and his frame was so thin it seemed he might vanish if he turned sideways. His nose was long and pointed, his dark hair slicked back either with pomade or by natural grease, and his eyes darted around like a watchful rat's—indeed, his whole affect was decidedly rodentlike. But most disturbing of all was his smile, exposing a great number of off-white teeth.

  Alaeron had seen hard men smile in frightening ways, but usually, their eyes were cold, or angry, or cynically amused, giving lie to their mirth. This man's eyes gave away no such secrets, and seemed as merry as his grin—you'd think seeing two people bound and ready for murder was the most delightful thing he'd encountered all year. He leaned against the doorframe, removed a long knife with a thin blade from his pocket, and began examining the edge minutely, occasionally pressing his callused thumb to the blade, apparently engrossed in the task.

  "Jaya," Vadim said in kindly, almost grandfatherly tones. "Did you really think I'd just let you go with a promise to hurry to far-off Kho and bring back treasures for me? Simply open the door and wish you good luck?"

  "Of course not. I'd hoped you'd also pay my traveling expenses."

  Her tone was so dry that Alaeron almost laughed, and the man by the doorway did snort in an amused way. "Funny," he said, gesturing at Jaya with the knife.

  Vadim nodded. "Yes. One of her many ...qualities." He picked up a few rolls of cloth, set them aside, and sat down on a crate. "All right, Skiver, go ahead."

  The man by the door grunted and stepped forward, knife in hand. Jaya made a low moan and closed her eyes as he stood behind her chair. Alaeron opened his mouth, once again planning to offer his relics for his life—and for Jaya's life, too, why not?

  But Skiver didn't move to slash Jaya's throat. Instead, he cut through the ropes binding her. Jaya looked at Vadim, her eyes narrowed, and rubbed at sore wrists. Skiver winked at Alaeron—just being winked at by the man was enough to make you want a hot bath with some good strong lye soap—and then came over to cut him free as well. Skiver returned to his spot by the door while Vadim beamed at his now slightly less captive prisoners. "There now," the old man said. "It doesn't do to talk business with people who are tied up—we should at least have the pretense of fair dealings in our negotiations, wouldn't you say?"

  "What are we negotiating?" Alaeron asked.

  Vadim laughed. "Why, your upcoming expedition to the ruins of Kho, of course! It's true, I was initially doubtful, but I happen to have a source who could corroborate Jaya's story—or portions of it, anyway, and at least he didn't contradict anything."

  Jaya's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

  "I think you know what I mean. Or, rather, who I mean. Did you think I just had men looking for you, Jaya? Of course I captured your brother. He's tied up elsewhere. I asked him about your mother's history, about the ruins of Kho, and his version agreed with yours on all the relevant points."

  Jaya started to stand up, but Skiver immediately slid forward a step, and she sat back down. Trying for icy dignity, and just missing the mark, Jaya said, "If you harm my brother—"

  Vadim rolled his eyes. "I'd say that's entirely up to you. As generous as it is for you to offer to die on this mission, I'd much rather you succeed and return with treasures, and I find that my employees work best when there's strong motivation. So: if you aren't back by next spring, your brother won't live to see next summer. Do you understand me?"