“I think you have guessed who I am at this point,” Mitchell told him. “Am I correct?”

  Falen met his eyes and then glanced at Allora before nodding.

  “You are to be the next monarch. Allora, through unknown means, has managed to find someone who can bond with Awen. Despite being hunted and on the run, and despite not having the Council of Eight to cast the ritual. That is the only reason I can think that she would be back here.”

  Mitchell gave him a nod.

  “You have the heart stone then, I take it?” Falen asked.

  “I do.”

  Falen shook his head before looking at Allora with clear admiration.

  “How in the nine hells did you manage that?”

  “It was not easy,” Allora said by way of reply.

  “If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I would offer you a job,” he told Allora with a chuckle. “With you at my side, I could take control of the whole city.”

  “My destiny lies elsewhere,” she told him with an almost apologetic smile and then looked at Mitchell.

  Falen saw the look and apparently understood the meaning behind it.

  “Indeed,” he said. Then, perhaps remembering there were more pressing matters, the beleaguered don brought his glassy stare back to Mitchell. “So, what is it you are proposing? Did you arrive from whatever strange land you are from with two thousand crowns? Because and please take this in the spirit in which it is given – you don’t look like you have that much.”

  “I have nothing I can offer you today. But if I retake the palace and the city, I think I would be in a pretty good position to make up for the loss of crowns you suffered today. Not the least of which would be an immediate end to the checks at every gate in the city.”

  Falen’s face had lost the gentle friendliness he had displayed when talking with Allora. His eyes were dagger sharp and his face hard.

  “Having traffic resume through the gates unhindered would definitely help me get my goods moving in and out of the city and, in time, I would recover what I’ve lost, but that could take weeks. I’m going to need more.”

  Mitchell nodded, expecting as much. He gave himself a few moments, weighing his options. There was no time to talk this over with Allora, but chances are she wouldn’t like anything he could offer anyway, feeling as she did about underworld dealings.

  “Once I have control of the city–”

  “That is a large presumption, don’t you think?” Falen interjected. “Milandris is not actually in residence, but a great many of his people are and they are all on the lookout for her.”

  Falen pointed a long finger at Allora.

  “It is a large presumption, but as you just said, with Allora by your side, you could take control of the whole city. She’s not by your side, but she is by mine. Not to mention my other companion, who got us inside the walls to begin with. I like our chances.”

  Falen arched a blonde eyebrow but didn’t comment, so Mitchell pushed on.

  “What does someone like you value more than anything else?”

  Falen shrugged.

  “Power,” he said. “Control.”

  “And information.”

  “True.”

  “With that in mind,” Mitchell began, taking a deep breath, “I want to offer not a deal, but a partnership. There will be chaos after we take back the city and I will need as much information as I can to be able make decisions going forward. I need ears and eyes on the street. And you will need information as well. Perhaps about rivals. One of my first orders of business once I get the city under control is to start gathering information. Whatever records remain in the palace will be a little outdated and I will want to update them quickly. In return for your generosity today, and you cooperation in the future, I am proposing an information sharing service.

  “Where I’m from, we say ‘you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.’ You give me information on things like enemy activity in the city, put me in touch with people who could become crown agents, or people who could be bought or turned, and help me identify threats, and I’ll feed you information about rivals that I acquire through my network that might help you in your business. And, as long as your men and women aren’t caught doing anything particularly nasty, I’ll have the watch know to look the other way. Maybe your shipments get through a little faster than others. Maybe your men and women who do get arrested find their imprisonment orders mixed up with someone else set to go free. And there are many other little ways that you would benefit with a secret relationship with the palace that would increase your power and control.”

  Mitchell took a deep breath and sat back. That was it, that was his pitch. Guys like Falen always needed more information. Having the favor of the crown could help him in numerous ways, likely ones that Mitchell couldn’t even imagine. Falen was clever and determined, that much was obvious. Mitchell could almost see the gears turning as he thought up ways that such a deal could benefit him. He knew Allora would be mad as hell about it, but thankfully she had not tried to argue about it with him. He hated that he had to spring it on her like that, but there really had been no time to work out something better, so Mitchell had played the only card he really had. Fearing the look on her face, however, he opted to keep his eyes on Falen.

  “It occurs to me,” the gang boss said after a long silence, “that all of those wonderful bits of information you would be sending me only come my way if you actually succeed. If I let you walk out of here and you fail, I get nothing. Even worse, some other person may collect that reward, which, by my counting, is worth three thousand crowns. You will be captured and/or killed and your deals won’t be worth the paper you would ink them on. You want me to give all that up on the chance that you, a complete unknown, the last Onyx Knight, and a Black Hand from Varset can take back the city? If you had some other knights with you, or a small army at your back, maybe. But you don’t. The knights are all dead and there is no army camping outside the gates.”

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  Mitchell smiled then.

  “What?” Falen asked him, seeing the cocky smile and looking a little unnerved by it. “Why are you smiling like that? Is there an army somewhere?”

  “I am smiling because I know something you don’t know.”

  Falen looked to Allora and then to Mitchell.

  “Well, what is it?”

  Mitchell turned then and looked at Allora. Her face wasn’t the raging thundercloud he feared, but rather somewhat bemused.

  “You heard what he said,” Mitchell told her. “If we had some other knights.”

  “Yes,” Allora agreed. “That is what he said.”

  “Do you want to tell him, love?”

  “Very much,” she said.

  “Please.”

  Allora looked at Falen then, her face wearing an expression as smug as Mitchell felt.

  “All of the knights are not dead,” she told him. “More are coming. I expect them in a day or two.”

  Despite himself, Falen’s eyes bulged.

  “Impossible! All the knights in the service were killed in the coup. All but you. That is well known.”

  “There were knights that were not actively serving that are making their way to the city as we speak. They are going to aid us in retaking the palace.”

  “But… knights never leave the service! That is well known, too! If there were a secret cadre of them out there, why–? How have they stayed hidden? It is impossible, I tell you!”

  “Yet, it is true.”

  “I think,” Mitchell said, trying not to sound like he was gloating too much, “that you will find where Allora is concerned, words like ‘impossible’ don’t mean much.”

  Allora turned and looked at him with a smile.

  “That is very sweet, thank you, my lord.”

  She leaned over and gave him a little kiss on his cheek. Mitchell rubbed her leg but kept his attention on Falen.

  “So, what do you say, Edrokii Sereg? Do we have a deal?”

  Falen sat back in his plush chair looking like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. Mitchell had learned a lot about the knights over the last several weeks. They were respected, admired, feared, and held in reverence by even their enemies. From what had been explained to him, seeing them wiped out had struck a near mortal wound to the very soul of the nation. Hearing that, not just one, but several knights were still alive had stunned even the mob boss. Falen thought he was pointing out the impossible by wishing for other knights, but he had inadvertently given Mitchell the final piece he needed to seal the deal. The impossible was real.

  Mitchell leaned back into the sofa and took Allora’s hand in his. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Allora was holding Lethelin’s hand as well.

  Falen recovered himself after a moment and he snapped his fingers.

  “We’re done,” he called out into the room, not speaking to his three guests. “You may leave us.”

  “What–?” Allora began but before she could finish her thought, the air began to shimmer at several points around the room and, to Mitchell’s astonishment, six figures appeared as if the space around them parted and they were stepping through curtains. All of them were heavily armored and armed, each one carrying crossbows, blades, as well as a sevith or a krisa. They all gave a nod to Falen, and then exited the room through the door they had come through.

  After the last one left, the trio all turned to look at Falen, who, it seemed, felt it was his turn to give a smug grin.

  “A last bit of insurance if your offer failed to impress. Now that I’ve decided to accept your terms, they are no longer necessary. Granted, we will need to iron out specific details, but I am content to allow your plans to proceed for the time being.”

  Mitchell debated whether to be angry or not, but ultimately decided against it. A deal had been struck and no one had died. He felt it best to leave it alone.

  “I’m glad,” Mitchell said at last, and he saw both Lethelin and Allora relax a little. Perhaps they had been expecting him to react differently. “Now, that we’re on better terms, there’s something else I need from you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Chaos,” Mitchell said.

  ***

  It was the wee hours of the morning when their borrowed carriage pulled up outside of The Mighty Nine, the inn where they were to meet Gilriel’s contact. Thankfully, Falen’s garden had flax lilies so that they could get the three they needed, and the crime boss had procured the yellow ribbon from somewhere.

  “Think anyone is still awake?” Lethelin asked while yawning as they stepped down onto the street. Allora quickly followed with a yawn of her own, and Mitchell wasn’t far behind. It had been a very long and trying day and they weren’t quite done yet.

  “There should be watching the front,” Allora said. “Even at this hour.”

  “I don’t see why this couldn’t wait until morning,” Lethelin complained. “A few hours of sleep wouldn’t have made any difference.”

  “It may well have. We need to get this done as soon as we can,” Allora said. “Do not forget that they have an ability to scry for me. We do not know how long we have until they locate me again.”

  Lethelin made a face, but didn’t argue further. Mitchell signaled the woman, Britha, and she snapped the rein. The horses took off down the quiet street.

  Mitchell looked around to see they were in a rather nice part of the city. The buildings were all two-to-four stories high, made of a mix of wood and stone, almost all of them showing signs of ornamentation. He could make out shops of different varieties, as well as what looked to be cafes or restaurants, and the cobbled street was wide and clean. Mage lights in lanterns cast soft glows about every ten meters and, in the mists of the early morning, Mitchell felt like he was standing on some Victorian London street. He half expected to see Sherlock Holmes emerge from an alley or entryway. The air was crisp and cool in the early summer morning and the scent of all the trees and shrubbery up and down the lane was heavy in the air.

  The Mighty Nine was of a similar design as its neighbors. It was four stories, which made it one of the taller buildings on the street, and the ground level was dominated by two large currently dark windows on either side of the central door. A sign that was affixed to the wall of the inn above the left side of the entrance depicted six figures of various sizes in silhouette that looked to be mid-stride in one of those slow-motion shots that superhero movies always liked to do when the good guys were finally assembled to do battle with the final boss.

  “There are only six people on the sign,” Mitchell said as Allora had begun to make her way up the steps.

  “So,” Lethelin said.

  “But it’s called the Mighty Nine. Where are the other three?”

  “Oh,” Lethelin said, rubbing some sleep from her eye. “It’s an old tale about a band of adventurers that slew one of the dragons after Yuliana Blood Scale was killed. Some general of hers or something. They called themselves the Nine, even though there were only six of them. No one knows why.”

  On the stoop Allora reached up and tugged at a chain. A small mage light appeared in a sconce affixed to the right of the door that Mitchell hadn’t noticed before, and bathed the area in a warm yellow glow. From inside, he heard the quiet tinkling of a bell.

  “That’s a neat trick,” Mitchell said, looking at the illumination. He was once again pleasantly surprised by the simple yet ingenious knack they had for using magic here.

  “It’s a standard rune,” Allora told him as they waited for the door to open. “It’s carved into the door’s frame and the chain is connected on the inside to a charged gemstone. Pulling it brings the gemstone inline with a bit of wire running through the wood of the door, usually gold or silver, and that channels a small amount of the mana from the stone into the rune, which powers the mage light.”

  Lethelin stepped closer and leaned her weary head against his chest as they waited.

  “Doing okay?” he asked her.

  “Just really want to sleep,” she said, exhaustion present in every syllable.

  “Yeah, me too,” he told her, and kissed her scalp.

  The door clicked and Allora stepped back allowing it to open fully.

  A tired looking human woman with auburn hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and wearing a loose-fitting pale dress with a simple tie around the waist peered out, taking them in one at a time. She looked to be about twenty-five or so and it was clear she was trying to find the strength not to snap at late arrivals for disturbing her at such an hour.

  “Stollar’s blessings on you lot and all that, but do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “Apologies, good lady,” Allora said and ducked her head in a slight bow, “but we come on a matter of some urgency. Might we enter, if it be Stollar’s will?”

  The girl looked at Allora more closely, as if deciding whether or not to trust her.

  “We have business with the mistress of the house, Cenedra. Please, we have traveled far and only just arrived.”

  “Fine, fine. But keep it down. Our other guests are sleeping.”

  The woman stepped to the side and held the thick wooden door open and Allora thanked her once again and beckoned for Mitchell and Lethelin to follow.

  Almost carrying Lethelin, Mitchell climbed up the steps and followed Allora inside.