over the government. They killed the archpriest."
Hubert sneered across the table. "A pretty tale, but there's no need to deny it. You've done us all a great service."
"I was out of the city taking Josey somewhere safe, or that I thought was safe."
"Ah, yes. The conspirator's daughter and her faithful knight in shining armor."
Hubert reached for the cup on the table, and Caim caught the young man's wrist in a hard grip. "That's enough."
Hubert's reddened eyes stabbed at Caim. Then his features crumbled into a ruin of misery. "Why did they have to butcher him like that? I know he could be a hard man, even cruel sometimes, but they had no right ..
Caim released Hubert. He sympathized, but his insides were ice. "The people responsible are the same ones I'm after. They took Josey and now they're holed up in the palace with a battalion of tinmen."
Hubert wiped his face with a coat sleeve. "What are you going to do?"
"Storm the palace and get her back."
"Really?" Kit blurted. "That's your plan?"
Caim clamped his jaws together to keep from yelling for her to keep quiet. "What about you?" he asked Hubert.
"I've been rousing the people. We already control most of Low Town. We could use your help, but it sounds like you've got enough on your plate."
"We could work together."
Hubert looked more like his old self now. He sat up straighter in the chair and even managed a backhanded brush down each of his coat sleeves.
"How?"
"You might control Low Town, but the Brotherhood still holds everything above the Processional. You'll never take High Town with a rabble of shopkeeps and stevedores, so don't even try Go straight to Celestial Hill."
"What will that accomplish?"
"We'll cut off the head of the beast. With Ral and his lieutenants out of the way, there'll be no one to coordinate their soldiers. Once we control the palace, the city will fall to us by default."
"That's a big risk. My father died taking a chance like that."
Caim drew his knives and set them on the table. The bodyguards shifted, but kept their distance.
"You're not your father, Hubert. Prove it tonight. Help me save Josey and put down this menace for good. She's the heir to the old emperor. We found the documents to prove it. She's royalty"
"Royalty, eh? Well, she certainly acted the part. But why should my people risk their lives just to trade one tyrant for another?"
"Because she's not her father either. She's what this country needs to knit itself back together. You always talk about a return to the old ways. This is your chance to prove it. This could either be Nimea's last night as a unified realm, or the beginning of a better life for us all."
Hubert eyed the blades, and then nodded. "I'm in. What do you want me to do?"
Caim smiled across the table. "I've got a plan."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ain pelted Caim as he crouched in the half-finished bell tower of the new cathedral. The wind howled in his ears. Rain pounded on the stone roof. No stars shined this night, and no moon, only a screen of tumultuous storm clouds stretched across the city.
A good night for killing.
High Town spread below him in a carpet of gray and black. Celestial Hill rose against the sky like a great wave. Lightning flashed, and the bleached shoals of white rooftops appeared before the night washed back over the city. Flames flickered along the Celestial's broad avenues, where a thousand plebeians struggled against the city militias. True to his word, young Vassili had assembled an army: milliners and bakers, porters and servants armed with all manner of weapons, from torches and lengths of raw timber to pikes stolen from slain tinmen.
Their goal was the Luccian Palace, sprawled atop Celestial like a crowning jewel, surrounded by concentric walls with watchtowers and massive barbicans. Hubert's spies reported Ral had withdrawn all of his pet soldiers inside in anticipation of a siege. Exactly what Caim wanted him to do.
"They're almost in position," Kit said. "Hubert says he doesn't expect much resistance."
The rain was freezing cold, but Caim paid it no mind. "They'll fight back. They don't have any choice."
"It's really burning out of control."
Caim turned his head. Billows of ugly black smoke shrouded the boroughs of Low Town. Fire had claimed entire blocks, devouring homes, storefronts, and public buildings in its wrath. The rain was the only thing keeping the blazes contained, but many would die before morning. More would die if his plan didn't