Belobog made a show of looking through her hand before grinning.

  The man sitting across the table from her furrowed his brows, feeling a growing sense of apprehension. Her abilities helped, but even without them she would have been able to read his tells. He glanced at her, saw her smile, then looked through his own hand.

  “Well?” Belobog said at just the right second, right when the man’s apprehension could have turned to unwarranted hope. “You in or out?”

  And… there. The apprehension turned to disappointment.

  “Fold,” he grunted.

  Her grin turned smug and she set her hand face down. Nobody else would know just how bad that hand had been.

  “Then I’ll be taking this, thank you.” She leaned forward to scoop up the Cee loosely piled in the middle. “Wanna go another round?”

  The man, one of the lieutenants in the Opals, frowned, then leaned back in his chair. He waved one of their girls down.

  “Maybe. But we’d need to switch decks first. This one’s rigged or something.”

  Beleobog rolled her eyes.

  “It’s your deck, and we’ve switched twice already. Just admit you’re bad at playing,.” Belobog taunted, not mentioning the fact that her abilities made poker a breeze.

  The man’s ire rose, but not in the way she wanted. She hoped he would decide to prove her wrong by playing another hand. But she supposed even dumb crewmembers learned after the third time the trick was played.

  The man narrowed his eyes, his anger spiking just before the girl dropped off a full tumbler stinking of strong and cheap whiskey. He rolled his glass and sniffed the fumes, acting like the drink was fine. After calming down, he deigned to answer.

  “Nah,” he said. “Know what? I think I’m done. If you ain’t cheating, then I don’t know what.”

  “Giving up already? Can’t say I blame ya. I’d be scared too if I were you.”

  The man snorted but ignored the bait.

  Drat, Belobog thought, before shrugging it off.

  She glanced about the Opal’s den for another source of entertainment. She could have used her abilities to sense everyone out; trying to figure out what people were thinking was always fun. She had only made the mistake of doing that once. It was normally fine, if a bit of a mental strain, but there was so much misery coming up from the basement that she started to feel depressed herself.

  What the opals were doing down there was probably sickening. At least it felt that way. And since Belobog was unable to change that, dwelling on it was useless.

  She saw Joe taking it easy at another table, and she decided that she had built enough rapport, at least for now. The man saw her looking his way and he raised a single eyebrow, both dismissive and unimpressed. At least the man was remaining apathetic. That was the best case scenario, with people like him.

  Another spike of despair wafted up from the basement. It almost made her shudder.

  She decided she had built enough rapport for the time being. After she collected her winnings, she got up and left the card table.

  The lieutenant glanced her way. Suspicion and grudging respect wafted off of him. A good place to end it, Belobog thought.

  “Since we’re done, I’m off to find trouble somewhere else,” she said, putting on enough of a grin for him to see in the dim room.

  He nodded and she left it at that.

  She figured that she should check on the rest of the crew while she was up, so she headed towards the corner of where the bartop met the wall, where Bee made a bad showing of resting. The meohr radiated caution to anyone that knew body language, not that many did, at least not for meohrs. Of course, Belobog had an advantage when it came to reading moods.

  She strutted over, playing up the confidence.

  Bee watched her approach, pale eyes almost glowing. In his hands was a grumbler of ale, or maybe cider. It smelled cheap, and despite being uncorked, was nearly full. He gestured towards Belobog with it, a greeting. He had been holding onto that same grumbler for a while now. It probably tasted vile. He was putting on a decent act, she supposed.

  She leaned against the wall near him, where they could speak in lowered voices and only risk being overheard by those caring to eavesdrop. She had been keeping track of the people in the room, and none of them felt curious or attentive, meaning that no deliberate eavesdropping was taking place. It was safe enough to chat, but not of secrets.

  “What’re you thinking, big guy?” Belobog asked, her voice quiet. It was best practice. “Still thinking ya made the right choice?”

  He snorted, slightly amused.

  Belobog’s lips curled just slightly, genuine this time.

  “Bringing Ay, here?” Bee chuckled before shaking his head. “It’d be a bloodbath.”

  “Ironic, yeah?” Belobog asked. And it was, in a way, since Bee was the one who had been called the ‘Bloody Bull’ in the fight pits.

  “Maybe,” Bee said, losing the flicker of amusement and turning dour. “You know what’s below us?”

  Belebog could have winced. She had been hoping to have the crew gloss over that, considering how prickly of a subject it was. Unfortunately, hiding her tells was difficult when dealing with someone able to smell them.

  “Then you do know what our allies are up to.” There was some resentment there, risking within him, possibly close to surfacing into action. If she let things play out, it might ruin any rapport the crew had built over the past week.

  “Maybe,” Belobog said, mirroring his earlier tone. “You know how these things go.”

  He grunted and mimed taking a swig. The anger sank deep enough for the time being, but Belobog would need to find a way for him to channel it, and in a way that would keep the crew alive and the patron happy.

  But for the moment, Bee was set. This let Belobog turn her attention out to the room as well. From the swirling emotions approaching, she thought things were about to wrap up. At least she hoped. She had things to do besides standing around in dens reeking of stale smoke and worse.

  “Whelp, good talk then,” she told Bee. He rumbled something, more a hum than a word in response.

  She rolled her eyes. Bee always played up being taciturn, likely as it was the easiest role for him to play. But that was fine. So what if Bee tended to lack his own initiative. That was what Belobog and Joe were there for.

  Emotions were shifting from down below, muted though they were through the walls and floor. A source of arrogance and anxiety was approaching. It looked like it was time then.

  She caught Joe’s eye and nodded towards the back door, from where the opals’ accessed the under. He understood of course, because both of them had gone over multiple scenarios and the signals they would use to indicate which was playing out.

  As soon as Joe saw it, Joe put his cigar out in a tray, not that he was in the habit of smoking. He was making a show of getting up so as to limit the impression that the crew was in the Opals’ den under their aegis. It was subtle of course, but most communication was subliminal.

  It was then that the back door opened, the one that led to the stairs. During that brief period of the door opening, a wave of miserable despair issued forth, reminding Belobog of why she hated traffickers. But this was business, so she clamped down on the shudder and ignored her empathy.

  Fortunately the door closed quickly, just as soon as the Opals’ crewboss entered. The man scanned the room, finding his guests, a few of his men, and the serving girls carrying drinks and flirting.

  He worked his jaw for a bit. The room silenced as eyes went to him. He waved at the girls and the grunts.

  “Get out,” the boss said.

  Of course, that came out as ambiguous, and it was largely context that carried sway. If a person felt they were important enough to stay and risk it, they could do so. But this was left to the person to decide. The guests were to remain as they were the reason the crewboss had shown up. Still, ambiguous though, and that left a small social opportunity, one which Joe seized.

  “Who, me?” Joe asked. He inserted himself just after the imperative, associating himself with authority while also lessening the crewboss’s position.

  “No, course not,” the boss said, confused but wary. “Everyone not needed for this, best t’clear out. Would hate to silence you ladies later. And boys,” he glanced over several crewmembers, all submissive in posture, feeling a mix of apprehension and resentment. None of them chose to risk staying. They grabbed their things, their half full glasses and smokes, and headed out either set of doors.

  Only people left for Belobog, Bee, Joe, the lieutenant, the crewboss, and a curious sort, an intentional deviant that worked for one of the more worrisome forces in the slums.

  This curious deviant must have taken inspiration from stories of snake men and lamias, as there was no way he had actually come through the swamps. Which meant his mistress had done a lot of work on him to get him looking the way he was.

  “Is it time to discuss?” The pseudo-lamia asked. “We need to recoup from our losses, and that alchemist has not delivered.”

  “Yeah?” the boss said, irritated at the question, but also wary. “Well Charson’s flown the coop. Right screwed us. You too, suppose.”

  They were still doing business with Charson? Belobog remembered that Jackie had something of a grudge against the man. Learning of things like this was one of the reasons that the crew had ingratiated itself with the Opals.

  The pseudo-lamia’s eyes opened wider, pupils vertical slits, holes for nostrils narrowing. The deviant reared upwards on their coils, standing higher in a forced threat display. It may have fooled anyone watching, but Belobog could feel the deviant’s fear of ill-tidings.

  “This is worse than suspected. Assuming it is as you say.”

  “Careful, it almost sounds like you’re calling us liars.” the crew boss said with a scowl. The anger was feigned, as the man was just as disturbed at having to be the bearer of bad news. He continued, “Fact is, Charson stopped sending product up about a week ago. We thought the shipment was running late, and maybe it was. After too long, we sent some of ours down there to sniff ‘em out…”

  And?” Joe prompted. “Surely with how we’re all here, with all this worry, there must be a good reason.” Once again, Joe centered the conversation around himself and asserted himself. The man felt nothing, even as emotion dripped from his mannerisms and voice.

  The crew boss coughed. “Huh, well I wouldn’t call it good, but it’s a reason alright. Fact is, our friends down below got shut down. Our investments are gone. All the ledgers are in a mess cuz of that, and we’re gonna lose hard at this rate…”

  “This is certain?” the pseudo-lamia deviant said, as though to reconfirm. “Charson is gone?”

  Apparently, the Opals and the Skingineer had gone in together to set up an alchemist, to spin out elixirs for a profit. Belobog assumed these elixirs were of dubious quality. Highly profitable and illegal both. She could see how the Opals would fit the alchemist on the side, as they were already investing in paths to the deeps.

  “We were betrayed?” the pseudo-lamia asked heatedly.

  “We think so,” the crew boss answered. “We’ll be keeping our eyes open, of course. If we see him, we’ll nab him.”

  “Yes, as will we. Accords must be honored.”

  If Charson was found out by Skingineer’s men, than he better have a suicide vial, because the menace underlying that statement left Belobog slightly ill.

  “So our ledgers are well and fucked. Gotta recoup our losses. Maybe find Charson, but definitely set something up, since our mutual investments are wrecked.”

  What stood out the most to Belobog, was the fact that none of this directly involved her crew or her patron’s investments. But she had her suspicions, and they were growing by the minute. She met Joe’s eyes and sent another signal. Joe’s lips curled slightly, but no emotion spurred the action.

  “Unfortunate circumstances then,” Joe said, before asking, “But what of my patron’s investment?”

  The crew boss closed his eyes and pressed his palms to them. He was broiling with emotions, from greed to fear to hope, all of it too muddled together for Belobog to extract much.

  “Yeah, and I’ll tell you. But first, I need to know if you can get us that dungeon seed earlier than expected.”

  Joe tapped his chin, seemingly deep in thought.

  “Possible,” Joe said, “But it would be both dangerous and expensive. Not that we can’t afford it of course. But still costly. Help me understand why your crew should be entrusted with such a thing after, I assume, you have already lost both ours and theirs–” Joe nodded towards the pseudo-lamia, referring to the side deal with Charson.

  “Nah,” the man refuted. “We didn’t lose anything,” the crew boss spat. “We weren’t running that op, just the shipments.”

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Was that operation not established under your aegis?” Joe asked.

  The crew boss felt a wave of both rage and desperation, likely looking for a quick out, possibly considering violence. Belobog gave Joe a nudge, letting him know to back off.

  “But I suppose it is as you say. We might consider moving up the scheduled delivery, as you request.”

  “This does not resolve the issue of Charson,” the pseudo-lamia said.

  “I suppose it would not,” Joe admitted, turning the attention back towards the Opal crew boss. “You were about to tell us more, of how shipments and communications with the op were lost. I assume it is no longer functional? Hence the request for the seed.”

  “Yeah, I was getting to that,” the crew boss answered. “And to be clear, I never owned that op. You know this. This isn’t on us. We just ran the tunnels–”

  “-Yes, we all know. But what happened to it?” Joe asked. “Was it a cave-in? Did the under-things break it? Maybe some pit-dogs grew greedy?”

  “If only,” the boss said. “We got the scouts back a bit before we called you here. The entire place is wrecked. Inaccessible. Nobody there to run it, if they can get past the mists to begin with.”

  “What?” Joe asked, this time he did feel a flicker of surprise. “The mists? But… how? That makes no sense…”

  Belobog was curious as well, and she was suspicious that the boss was covering for his own failing. Mists should not have been able to swallow that defiled shrine, not unless something had gone incredibly wrong. She decided to focus a bit more on the crew boss. She could hardly read minds, at least not exactly, since minds were messy affairs to begin with. But she could get impressions if she focused. Since she wanted to know what the man knew, and if she would need to take some direct action to preserve her assets, she made the effort despite the migrain it could cause.

  From him, she was picking up a vague image attached to a mess of feelings, or rather the mess of feelings forming an image for her to unpack. It was a complex feeling, oriented at a woman, one known and loathed. Knowing who also had been traveling in that area at the time on an excursion, Belobog had a sudden foreboding.

  What were the chances?

  “Captain Guardson’s brat.”

  Belobog kept her face still and neutral, but Joe’s eyes flicked towards her all the same.

  The pseudo-lamia hissed in irritation.

  Joe’s lips flattened.

  It was when Bee snorted in recognition and connected the dots that Belobog shot the meohr a pre-emptive glare to keep his mouth shut. Because of course, the entire crew knew about Sir Guardson. It had seemed like harmless gossip, a way to bring them together. She regretted gossiping that fact now.

  Joe was still watching Belobog, and she gave him a terse nod in apprehension of later reprisal. But that was for later, after Belobog had ensured her crew avoided blame for this, no matter how justified that blame might be.

  “Dire news,” Joe said, after the situation had been laid out to the best of the Opals’ knowledge. “But you got off lucky.”

  The crew boss was about to protest that, but Joe kept going.

  “Since the inquisition hasn’t been mobilized, the little knight was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. Since you had nothing to do with that, it really has come down to luck. You could have been ruined, but were spared by luck.”

  “If they came for us, they may as well burn all the slums too. Fat chance of them linking us to that. We covered our trail.”

  Joe gave a patronising and cold smile.

  “You assume that they won’t burn the house to kill the mouse, but they’ve done it before.”

  The Crown did a fine job of covering their misdeeds, and communication was always limited between cities, but word still got around. It had been a while since that sort of thing had happened, but it was still always a possibility. And, it seemed that the pseudo-lamia knew this as well, judging by their angry hiss and the radiating anxiety for their mistress.

  By comparison, the Opals were less educated on the realities of the realm.

  “So what?” the crew boss said, spitting to the side. “You gonna help us or not? Just gonna write it all off an’ hope for the best, forgetting all our plans–your big plans?” The man was nearing a breaking point, one that could ruin everything. Belobog stepped in, not having time to signal Joe.

  “I dunno,” Belobog said, interjecting herself. “Scary stuff, for sure…” the eyes in the room were drawing towards her as she drawled “All this is sounding a bit hasty. We could probably figure something out, right boss?” She pointed towards Joe. Despite the fact that she likened them to equals, it sold better for the Opals to think that Joe was in charge.

  Joe blew out a sigh, giving Belobog a dirty look.

  “It’s not like I don’t want to help,” Joe said, pulling back some of the steel. “It’s just, our patron needs something to prove it’s viable. You’ve got to admit, our patron has already invested a lot. And unfortunately…” he trailed off, not needing to restate the crux.

  At that point, the pseudo-lamia protested, likely wishing to have Belobog’s crew invest more heavily into an operation that would profit someone besides the crew and the crew’s patron. She narrowed her eyes at the snake. The ploy was obvious, even without empathic talents.

  “You imply my mistress has not? For she has, she has invested much. And now, that is lost.” They shivered and radiated concern, not for their mistress, but for how their mistress would react when receiving this news.

  “Calm,” Joe said smoothly. “Nobody said she has not. In fact, this should help your current position.” Joe was dangling a small hope before the pseudo-lamia, knowing that there was little other choice besides simply reporting that their investments were lost. “It would go a long way for all of us if the Opals could show us something–anything–that proves things are viable, that they’re worthwhile. Surely there is something.”

  “That’s not fair!” The crew boss protested. “Think I don’t know what you’re doing? Pining this all on us? Demanding of us?”

  “I know that. We know, we really do,” Joe said, sounding plain and beseeching rather than smarmy. “But our patron? And I assume this is the same for your mistress–” he once again nodded towards the pseud-lamia, drawing them in to support his position “-they don’t have all the context. Help us make a case, help us help you.”

  The pseudo-lamia agreed silently, and the weight of attention fell upon the crew boss. The man grumbled under his breath, before admitting, “Guess we do have some results.”

  It felt promising, but also tentative. The only one to hear clearly had been the pseudo-lamia, who had felt a slight bit of hope.

  “I doubt any of us heard that clearly,” Joe said in a velvet tone. “You’ll have to repeat yourself.”

  “We actually have had a pretty solid deal in the works. You guys needed fighters, right?”

  Belobog’s eyebrows lifted. That had not been what she was expecting, nor Joe, by the display he was putting off.

  “Yes,” Joe said slowly. “We do, but it was also why we paid your crew already.”

  Why would the Opals try offering something that had already been bought and paid for? It seemed foolish. There had to be more to it than just that.

  “For sure,” the crew boss said. “But the more the better, right?”

  And this was looking even more problematic, since there was nobody else that could provide the numbers needed, at least nobody that was neutral.

  “You went blabbing to someone?” Joe said, sounding as accusatory as Belobog felt.

  “Think I’m stupid?” the crew boss asked. “I didn’t snitch. Nah…”

  “Nobody thinks you snitched, but we’re worried whoever you brought in will.”

  “Who did you bring in?” The pseudo-lamia demanded, feeling anger, almost enough to lash out.

  The crew boss started explaining.

  “Yeah? They won’t, believe me. It’s them cat folk. You know them? Not the domesticated ones, but the wild ones. More than a crew's worth is is town. Shit ton of ‘em. When my boys noticed them, I had them go and figure out why. Not like the Crown’s friendly to them kuns, y’know?”

  Bee’s irritation was flaring all the while, as the domestication of sapients was reprehensible.

  “Where’s this going?” Belobog cut in, before the crew boss could stick his foot any further down his own throat.

  “I’m getting there!” The crew boss said. “So we see them poking around, and after running a few off, we realized they weren’t stopping. So we asked ‘em. Crazy, right? Asked them.” The crew boss paused, looked around to build tension. “Well, it turns out they’re here looking for someone.”

  That explained at least some of the misery and despair welling up from the basement.

  “After we found out, we went searching and we found ‘em. Not hard either, a white cat, kinda like your bull there,” he nodded towards Bee, causing another swelling of anger from the meohr. “Now that we got ‘er, we went and made a deal.”

  “What’s the offer?” Joe asked calmly.

  The pseudo-lamia was not nearly as understanding. “You brought in another faction without telling us? This is not good. Not at all.”

  “Relax, alright?” The crew boss said. “To answer your question–” he turned to Joe “-if you need them this week, it’s forty of ‘em. If we hold off a bit, we can get as many as a hundred.”

  Belobog had to wonder why the Kaiva were seemingly invading the city. She also wondered how they were sneaking in without the High Knights catching them.

  “Quite the number,” Joe admitted. “But how can we be certain they won’t betray us after we give them this ‘white cat’ as you said?”

  “I mighta misspoke earlier. They want more than just this one thing. They want quite a bit, and they know we can deliver…”

  “This might be enough to show results in good faith,” Joe said, before glancing towards the pseudo-lamia. “What of your mistress? Think she’ll go for it?”

  “Perhaps, but I cannot say.”

  “Figured.”

  From there, they began discussing specific plans, including dates and targets. They brought a map of the city out and circled several points of interest. However, after marking down one of the routes often taken by the knights leaving the bridge-tower, the crew boss began to feel hesitant.

  “You guys sure you got it covered on your end?” The crew boss asked. “Because if not, my guys’ll get burned here.”

  “It’s covered,” Joe said with a confident tone.

  “Yeah? Give the details. We’re all in this together, right?”

  Joe glanced to Belobog, letting the table know that she was the one to ask. It both put pressure on her while giving her freedom to choose how much or how little to share.

  She grinned and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please,” she said. “It’s covered, like Joe said. I’ve got a man inside the baron’s own staff. Can’t name names, of course, but we’ll be getting support from his men.”

  “Really?” the opal boss asked. “I find it hard to believe we’re gonna have peacekeepers working with us. How’d you manage that?”

  Belobog snorted. “Like I’d tell you,” she said, before making a show of revealing more. “But I also gotta correct you a bit. Wouldn’t say they’ll be working with us, more that they’ll be present and working against a common enemy.”

  The others tried to pry more from her, but she shut them down calmly and cooly, preserving her own secrets. It would be bad for everyone to figure her talents out.

  After a while, Joe clapped his hands suddenly, startling several, and causing Bee to stand up straight from where he was leaning.

  “Well, friends, looks like everything’s in order. Might we leave it to you then?”

  “Yeah? Where you think you’re going all a sudden? Setting us up to take the fall?”

  Joe frowned at Belobog, and Belobog rolled her eyes. The crew boss was not actually feeling suspicious, more of a feeling them out and digging for scraps.

  “You wound me,” Joe griped. “No, we’ll be setting the pieces where we need them. In fact, I’d say our task is a bit more dangerous than yours even, considering we’ll be operating on enemy land.”

  “Uptown? You’ll be back on the hill then?”

  “Not all of us, but some, yes. The rest of us have to make arrangements with our patron.”

  “Which is?” The crew boss was fishing for details, again. Of course the man wanted to know who the anonymous patron was, especially one sitting so fat with coin.

  “You know I can’t say,” Joe said with a shrug. “But if you think about it, and what we’re trying to achieve, and consider that another Kwin Red’s around the corner…”

  Several eyes widened. Belobog felt incredulous that these fools were just now putting it together.

  “Exactly,” Joe said as he leaned back with a smug smile, actually feeling close to nothing at all. A calculated reveal that actually revealed nearly nothing, if anyone with half a brain would think a bit.

  From there, they wrapped up their discussion, shared pertinent details, scheduled transfers and actions, and then left the rest to be arranged later.

  An hour later, Belobog and her crew were leaving the Opal‘s territory.

  Joe led them along a meandering path, one meant to throw anyone following their trail. The man had donned a grimy tarp to better blend in with the slums, while Belobog kept inquisitive attention off herself and Bee. She was already starting to feel a headache from diverting so many minds.

  “Won’t be able to keep this up forever,” Belobog commented to Joe’s back. “Maybe we can pick up the pace?”

  “Not much further now,” Joe answered. The lack of accompanying emotion always threw her.

  Behind her, Bee snorted, “whiner.”

  Her lips thinned, but she let it pass.

  True to Joe’s words, he turned off the path and entered a specific tenement, then its basement, then a sub basement further.

  Belobog felt relief as she put distance between herself and the press of the disenfranchised above.

  Still, though, Joe took no risks. He used a scanner, similar to those used by knights. This one detected attention from beyond a certain radius, useful for catching pursuers. He had to slide a fresh Cee in before finishing with it.

  ”All clear?” Belobog asked, already knowing it would be fine.

  The device hummed and lit green.

  ”All clear,” Joe said.

  Belobog was about to head towards a connecting tunnel passage, one that would pass across the dividing highway, but then the veil obscuring Joe’s emotions shifted.

  He turned to face her, smooth and graceful, while a muted and cold anger simmered through him. His dead eyes focused on Belobog, and she found herself resisting the urge to swallow.

  “Am I mistaken that it was your recruit that foiled the corrupted shrine?” Joe asked, his voice low and calm, far too much so considering the chill she felt coming off him.

  “Who, Jackie?” Bee asked bluntly, oblivious to the danger lurking beneath Joe’s affable act. “Can’t go blaming her for something the captain’s kid did.”

  Or perhaps Bee was aware of the danger, Belobog wondered, but if that was the case, then he was knowingly helping to smooth over a tense situation. Were she less focused on picking up the faintest shifts in Joe, she would have checked to be sure. But as it was, she decided to simply seize the opportunity for what it was.

  ”Especially with that power imbalance,” Belobog added. “Not like Jackie’s able to boss Guardson about. You know this, yeah?”

  Joe’s lower jaw jutted out just slightly before his face returned to a placid calm.

  ”I suppose that’s true,” he said. “But still a problem for us. And how was it that she and her paramour stumbled across the shrine? It seems far too coincidental…” he tapped his lips as though in thought. All the while, the ice within him had remained constant.

  Belobog’s first thought was to throw Jackie to the dogs and let her deal with the mess she helped make. But that would be wasteful, and most likely problematic in execution. She clamped down on that urge and decided a different course.

  She deflated with an exasperated sigh. “And how was I to know she’d stumble across that operation? Chances are zero to none that woulda happened. It must have been a outsider intervention. What’re the chances if we got eyes on the shrine that we’d see some statue of whatever one of these deities went and caused the mess?”

  Notably, at the mention of outsiders and the divine, neither Joe nor Bee reacted. Were almost anyone else to hear this, there would be superstitious panic and fear, along with some amount of loathing.

  Joe began to warm back up to a neutral apathy.

  ”An unfortunate reality,” he said, before admitting, “but it was always a risk that something like this would occur. But what will we do now… killing her won’t fix anything at this point, but how’re we gonna make sure she doesn’t cost us again?”

  “It’s about leverage, and I think we’re about to get some. We’ll also need to bring her in…”

  “Well then,” Joe clapped and grinned. “What’s done is done. So we bring her in, get more leverage, and exploit this connection to the High Captain of hers… ? Yes, I think that would suffice.”

  “Think the opals’ll recognize her?” Bee asked, pointing out an obvious and glaring issue that the other two had overlooked. Joe’s mouth opened then closed, while Belobog winced.

  “Probably should keep her in uptown for the time being,” Belobog said.

  Joe agreed, before turning to the side passage. As he went, he continued to speak.

  ”Belobog, I’m counting on you to get that leverage to leash her properly. She’s your dog, after all. It’s not just us counting on you, but the Green Field too, as well as your brother.”

  A spike of anger went through her at the mention of her brother, and Bee was also feeling anger, likely from the leash comment. To add oil to the fire, they both could hear Joe’s smile as he spoke, and she could even feel the faint amusement radiating off him, where he would normally feel nothing.

  And yet, Joe was right. At least he would be if the way he phrased it was ignored. Unfortunate, but leverage was the name of the game, and currently, Joe and Green Field had all of it, Belobog none.

  But she had thoughts on how to fix that.

  It would be a slow accumulation of it. It would be tricky, but she was good. She just needed to assemble the pliable talent and ingratiate herself, all while professing loyalty.

  Hopefully, she would never need this leverage. But she had a feeling about their patron.

  Yeah, she thought. She needed that leverage. Fortunately for her, she had a means to score a substantial amount with Jackie. Even better, Jackie was both skilled and lacking in initiative.

  As they made their way back, Belobog mused upon the fact that oftentimes the incredibly skilled either had initiative in spades or not at all.

  She also planned on sending another message to the Kaiva working the kitchens at Ma’Ritz.