Chap at his side, tail in the air with a cheerful countenance.

"Sorry," Leesil offered. "One of my weapons was finished, and I stopped by the inn to store it. I'd rather not wear it, as we already make Lanjov nervous enough."

Passersby cast them an occasional wary glance, and Magiere realized that Lanjov wasn't the only one they made nervous. Leesil had a dark red scarf tied around his head.

"I thought you weren't going to bother with that anymore," Magiere said.

Leesil just shrugged. "Habit. The eyes are obvious, but my ears and hair are a dead giveaway from a distance."

Magiere turned toward the bank doors. "We don't exactly fit in this part of town. We could put a scarf over your face, and people would still stare at us. I miss Miiska."

"We'll be headed home soon enough," he said, but his words brought Magiere no comfort.

The bank's interior wasn't as lavish as the council hall, but the floor was polished speckled granite, and two narrow pillars of the same stone framed the large entryway, more as ornament than support. A few uniformed, armed men in gray tabards stood along the sidewalls. To the right was a row of clerks upon a long raised platform lined with a polished cherrywood counter. All were busy with parchments and quills. On the left was a matching wood partition rising chest-high, and to Magiere's surprise, Doviak, the foppish council secretary, sat at a desk in the walled-off space.

As Lanjov's main occupation was running his bank, serving on the council being only proper for a gentleman of his station, Doviak must serve as secretary for both the council and Lanjov's business.

The wispy little man looked up and locked eyes with Magiere, and disbelief turned to dismay. He scurried around the partition's far end with his shoes clicking upon the floor like a cricket.

"Mistress Magiere… I… how… may I assist you?"

Magiere wavered at the poorly hidden distaste in his voice. In the council hall, she'd been summoned as "the dhampir," assuming her familiar role of convincing village or town elders that she was their only salvation. In this place, amidst a faltering investigation, she was as lost as a peasant among old-blood nobility. She remembered the hatred and distrust from her home village and suddenly felt swallowed by uncertainty. She blinked and summoned her mask—her dhampir persona—once an illusion but now a reality.

As if sensing her struggle, Leesil stepped forward.

"We've come to speak with Councilman Lanjov."

Doviak's lips parted slightly, and his perfectly curled hair swayed forward as he pretended to check the appointment log he carried.

"Oh, he does have a full schedule. Perhaps if you make an appointment for another day, he can fit—"

"This won't take long," Leesil cut in. His politely disarming manner vanished. "We'll see him now."

Whenever Leesil's voice turned threatening, most people backed down. Rather odd, since he was neither large nor imposing. Doviak straightened his spine without even a flinch, either brave or merely stupid.

"No one," Doviak said coldly, "not even the king, would expect to see Councilman Lanjov without an appointment. His duties serve the city, and his schedule is set well in advance."

Leesil smiled and took one step toward Doviak.

"I'm not the king, you little dandy. I was hired to investigate a murder. And where were you the night Chesna was killed?"

Doviak sputtered, two dainty fingers over his mouth. He took his fingers away and shouted, "Guards!"

Magiere snatched Leesil by the shoulder, their roles suddenly reversed in who held who back. She raised her empty hand, open palm toward Doviak.

"We meant no offense. We simply need to—"

"What is going on out here?" a deep voice called out.

As gray-clad guards closed in from around the room, Lanjov stepped out from a side door.

"That's more like it," Leesil said with satisfaction.

Lanjov scanned the room over the partition's top. His gaze finally rested upon his secretary and the new arrivals, and his eyes widened as his mouth closed. Waving the guards back, he came to join them.

"Mistress Magiere," he greeted her with cold formality. "What are you doing in my place of business?"

"Our apologies," she said, as this wasn't at all what she'd had in mind. "We need to speak with you urgently… regarding the situation."

Before Lanjov could reply, a second figure appeared at his chamber door. Lord Au'shiyn, the Suman merchant who'd opposed her presence at the council meeting, exited Lanjov's office, striding through the room to stand behind the councilman, dressed in a floor-length russet robe open in the front. His head