Twilight in Heaven: Chapter 12

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Chapter 12

I had a moment of peculiar introspection. Maybe not even introspection. Recollection maybe.

Less than an hour ago, I’d considered killing all five of them for the blade. That would have been a bad fight, but I was desperate. Now, I had the sword, they stood to let me take it, but I’d have to pay them nigh everything I had.

Two hundred and fifty thousand sesteres was a lot of money. I told myself not to get wrapped up in comparative value. They had a nice house, probably worth a million or more, and it made the quarter ton I’d offered them look light.

Forget all that. The assassins would have been paid a million, half up front and gone, half on completion. Half-a-million sesteres lay in cases I’d hid around the city, a lot of money, and if this deal walked, I’d walk away with a quarter ton. If I was smart with it, smarter than the idiots I knew or the fool I had been, I could stretch a that a long way. I knew people who knew money. Northshore had a finance department, and I had friends. I could do well.

But I didn’t pay them, with all four drops I’d have more, and I could do much better. That’s the way money works. More is a lot better than what you have.

All the risk was front-loaded. Draw now, kill everyone, leave. It nicely silenced any talking mouths too.

That was what Koru had meant to do to me.

It wasn’t any complicated ethics I thought of. I thought of people: Koru, Astras, Hoarfast, and Seraphine. Seraphine had let them try to kill me. They had done unto me what I considered doing onto these others. There are rules and laws about killing. We had religions like cow turds on a ranch, and some variation of ‘Don’t kill people’ seemed present in all of them. I didn’t care about any of that.

I thought of Koru.

I warned Apseto. “I’m going to point this toward that wall.”

He moved clear but stayed between me and the windows.

I rotated the blade, keeping the tip away from him and avoiding anything that could be interpreted as a slashing motion.

The edge was flecked with stars. They moved inside the steel, floating like dust specks in water. A lighter type of steel, almost milky, made up the cutting surface. The metal body was darker but polished like a mirror. I saw distorted images of myself and the Hemlin cousins. The straight edge was as thick as my pinky finger, and just forward of it ran a groove on both sides. Up and down it dripped shadows, a slow dissipation of darkness into air.

The bottom had a fake stamp, artfully forged. A flower crossed a scepter, and below it stood three runes. No one read runes any more. I didn’t either, but I’d memorized these three: All Things Ending.

Badly-engraved writing on the hilt said, ‘Saber by Hasso, Twenty Fourth of Messidor.’

Hasso had left a maker’s mark on a forgery. I contemplated that for a moment.

“Sleep forever,” I whispered, and the sword glittered. My words ran down the blade like a wave breaking through a tide of phosphorescent algae. Star-fragments sparkled under the fluid of shadow and went still.

I put it down on the table and wrapped it in their table cloth. Anything they hadn’t already seen, I didn’t want them seeing now.

“It’s real. Decide who’s coming. I want to leave Hyperion tonight.”

The room exhaled again.

“’You taking the table cloth?” asked Nurim.

“I’m taking the table cloth.”

“Take the table cloth.”

A number of lower intensity negotiations happened. I said I’d stay away from the table provided no one else came close. They agreed, but Zenjin said he’d cover me. I agreed but wanted him to put the gun away. They hashed out who was coming with me and decided on Zenjin, Osret, and Aesthus. I ate the rest of their bread. That I wouldn’t tell them where the money was didn’t bother them. They expected that. Likewise, I expected their refusal to leave me alone for any reason until they’d been paid.

“That includes using the water house,” said Zenjin, waving his finger. “If you’ve got to drop a package, we’re going to be in the stall with you.”

I nodded. If three of them joined me in a stall, we’d better be really friendly, and we were not that friendly. But none of them were going to go alone.

I thought of them as one entity, the cousins Hemlin. That entity would stay close until paid.

They’d also eaten and snacked. We left Nurim and Apseto, and headed out into the city.

I carried the saber, and Zenjin walked behind me. Osret walked with him. Aesthus took at my left side, and I carried the saber in that hand. Osret had given me a gym-bag for my wet clothes, which was quite clever because now I had a bulky thing in each hands. The saber was too long to fit in the bag.

They weren’t stupid. They’d made a few mistakes, but they were smart people trying to think their way through hard problems with very little warning and no experience. I felt better that I was going to pay them and leave.

The first drop had been a little lending library in the Anentine neighborhood. The Anentines, a collection of insecure new gods that coalesced into a pantheon to stop other people from making fun of them, built immense, empty palaces with tiny backyard houses. They threw a lot of dinner parties, spent fortunes on candles for their unoccupied mansions, and lived in their tiny houses. Most were nature aligned in some way. The little lending library I went to had stood on a small pole mostly engulfed by a wild hedge, an idiotic bit of gardening fashion that I found quite useful. The hedge was no longer wild.

It wasn’t anything. Nor was the lending library. Mallens had stomped it into a hole through the crust of the earth. I saw sandstone and lime, thicker marble, black basalt, and deeper bedrock until vast drive gears loomed underground like hidden shapes.

The cousins Hemlin observed me looking at the crater. Eyes narrowed. Frowns hardened. I did a little mental trig. The library had been in the center of that crater.

“Keep walking,” I said and set off quickly.

I felt the cousins glancing between each other, watching me, looking at the buried hole. I felt like the empty houses hid dozens of watchers. I had to fight down the notion that the Hemlin cousins were going to figure out I had lied about everything and they’d know what I’d done. I kept walking.

The next drop was much simpler. I’d wrapped the package in wax paper, waterproofed it with more, and dropped it into a horse trough. They say the stables of Hyperion are always clean, but this one had some algae growing in it. Rain gutters fed it from the stable’s roof.

The trough was arm-deep, so I dropped the gym-bag, held the wrapped saber, and stuck my arm in. Without words, Aesthus kept a watch, Zenjin watched me, and Osret watched them.

The package was there, but it had gotten stuck. I had to use some muscle. The Hemlins were big guys, and any of them could have done it easier. I didn’t ask, and they didn’t offer.

I yanked it out, took the gym bag, and we ducked into the stable. The horses didn’t care.

“Somebody got a knife?” I asked.

Osret did. “Give me the package. I’ll open it.”

“Just let me use your knife. I’ll open it.”

Glances shot between them. Aesthus nodded. Osret ignored him. Zenjin finally nodded, but Osret refused him too. I really didn’t want to use the saber.

“There could be anything in there,” argued Osret.

“There’s money and my stuff. It’s not weaponry or dangerous, but it’s mine,” I said.

“I’ll just open it–”

“Don’t do that,” said Aesthus, for the first time sounded tired and short. “If it’s booby-trapped, I want it to go off on him.”

Osret froze. “Is it booby trapped?”

“Of course not.”

I didn’t even fake lie. They weren’t going to believe anything I said anyway.

Unhappily, Osret gave me a stubby pocket knife. I’d sealed the package well, so I had to scrape sealing-wax aside. Zenjin moved out at an angle, standing by a tack rack, and drew that piece of his again. He kept it down, but I was getting quite tired of the way he went for it everytime something happened.

Maybe he’d just bought it.

I put the box on the ground so everyone could see it, squatted, and opened the wooden box. It had a sliding lid, the outside of which was damp. Inside, packed in cedar shavings, rolls of silver coins lay in wax rolls. Each coin bore Mallens’s seven-pointed crown, the points capped with glittering fragments of real stars, and the edges rippled with alloyed adamant. Each coin was worth five thousand sesteres, and I’d packed five rolls of five.

Without uttering a word, I gave all five rolls to Osret.

He unrolled one, inspected the coins, and gave them to Aesthus. The two of them went through each coin. Zenjin watched, and I could see his shoulders clench. He kept leaning forward when they picked up a silver piece and held it to the faint light of the stable. But he stayed cautious, back, and tried to look everywhere at once. Osret offered him a roll of money. He declined to keep both hands on the gun.

The package also had four wax-paper rolls of ambrosia. I took one out, opened it so they could see what it was, and offered them a wafer. It had dried out. They declined. I popped one, chewed and swallowed, and hid the rolls in my clothing or in the gym-bag.

I took out four sets of passage documents and hid them in the gym-bag. The package also had a tiny idol of Limatra, the Autumn Goddess of Good Luck and Found Wealth. She was four inches tall, standing, with one hand out, two others clasped, and one loose at her side. The loose one was a hidden switch for a spring-loaded blade. I showed her as well before putting the idol in a pocket.

The package also had a dead rat. I hadn’t put it there, and it worried me immensely. I threw it to a hungry plant, which woke up long enough to eat the rodent corpse. On a hunch, I threw the plant the box too, as well as the wax paper and as much wax as I could scrape off the ground.

“That was one twenty five. Of the next package, I will give you one hundred and twenty five, and our business will be done. Do we all agree?” I asked.

“Yeah. Let’s go,” said Aesthus.

We left. Our walk was a little easier, significantly less tense. Payment breeds loyalty, and while they gave me no loyalty, I had bought a little trust. I popped a few more ambrosia wafers.

Ambrosia’s the stuff. If you want to really put on mass, you lift heavy, eat ambrosia, train, eat ambrosia, and lift heavy again, all in the same day. You can get huge, and you don’t get the aches and pains of low-lifting. I used to do strength circuits every morning, four hours of combat in the afternoon, pop ambrosia, do it again, and sleep like bliss. I hadn’t worked out hard in a couple of weeks as that assassination thing had been taking up my time, but the ambrosia did its work. I was feeling better than ever.

The next drop point was a similairly waxed package, hidden in the dirt under some flowers. They formed a small garden, not two feet wide, that ringed a large flower-shaped fountain, one that spouted like pedals. It was a little park, mostly out of the way, and not exactly hidden but not easily seen either. I had worried about this one, because the dryads who tended such gardens could easily have found it. They hadn’t.

I took the package, the four of us dipped into a parking area, and hid between two carriages. The carriage horses, mules, goats, lions, or whatever had been stabled elsewhere, and the leading harnesses stripped. The carriages were tall, four-wheeled things, capable of carrying four important passengers in comfort and perhaps half a dozen servants on varying benches, platforms, and fold-away chairs. Not only was the carriage yard concealed by a tall wall, through with there was only one gate, but no one in that direction could see us through the carriage anyway.

I held the package up so everyone could see it too was thoroughly wrapped in wax paper. I asked for the knife, and Osret refused.

“No. I’m opening that one. I don’t know what your game is, but you’re up to something. Give it to me.”

Sickness take me, I should have given it to him and left. But there was ambrosia, and I needed it. There was an idol of Arya who hid secrets, and I thought I might keep her around. So I stayed for a bunch of stuff when I could have just given them the box and ran.

He took out his knife to cut it open and stopped. “Would you back up a little bit? You’re in my space.”

I wasn’t—well, I was in his space, but the space between the carriages wasn’t that big. I backed up.

“And you,” Osret said to Zenjin, who’d pulled his Puritan again. “Watch him.”

“I am watching him!”

“Not enough! Watch him like the Sun. Point the gun at him or something. He got a little loose last time he opened one of these.”

“Oh, blisters on you,” snorted Zenjin. He glared at me.

Aesthus looked like he wanted to avoid an argument, so he took a step away too.

Osret crouched down but shifted the box to his knife hand. He put his other hand on the bottom. I looked away for a split second at Zenjin, who was almost flagging me with the Puritan, and noticed some movement in Osret’s hands. I looked back.

With gun in his other hand, the one concealed underneath the package, Osret shot Zenjin twice in the chest. Something banged like sledgehammers on steel and blew Zenjin’s ribcage out his back.

Aesthus screamed, and Osret shot him too.

I bolted from the carriages and ran for the road.

Osret ran around the other side, tracked me across the parking-lot with his holdout gun, and sent rounds after me. Two missed.

The third did not.

For a holdout gun, that thing kicked like a horse.

He got me in the shoulder, I dropped and skidded on my face, and Osret walked me down. The saber fell a dozen yards away.

Before shooting, he said, “Sorry, Remus. I don’t know who you are and don’t care. If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you’re a bad guy. But I can’t have people knowing what happened here.”

Glory, I wish I had that forged sword. It was right there. But Osret was closer, and he drew a bead.

I flicked the hidden switch on the idol of Limatra, the spring-loaded blade shot out, and stabbed him through the center of the forehead. Luck was with me. He blasted wide, emptying his cylinder into the wall by the saber.

But I wasn’t there. I’d gone the other way, out the gate, and fled the parking lot. Everything was wasted, and I still didn’t have the sword.

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Twilight in Heaven: Chapter 11

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Chapter 11

How expensive was their house?

It was a nice house. They had space. The couches didn’t butt up against the walls. They had artistically arranged chairs. Glass lamps rose over the softer chairs for reading, and bookshelves stood between the windows.

I read a few titles with big print: The History of Modern Airship Racing, Paint the Sky: The Gods of Dawn, and Lumina and Beauty.

I bet the cousins hadn’t read any of them but thought they impressed ladies.

The Hemlin cousins returned. Nurim had brought a plate with him, moshu fruit and a cracker, and he finally sat down. I mentally gave him two minutes before he got up.

“We have a counter offer,” said Aesthus. He paused. The rest of them watched me.

I waved him on.

“Five hundred thousand, but we’ll kick you back a hundred thousand.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, and exhaled the breath I’d taken to reply.

“You’re not paying us,” said Aesthus. He wore a hint of a smirk. “Your customer is. I won’t give you a receipt, but you can tell them the price was half a ton.”

I said, “Now that’s very interesting.”

They were a lot smarter than I had given them credit for.

The mere fact I was snow-jobbing them something fierce didn’t diminish that. In fact, it meant they might be able to see through my plans if I gave them time. I had too many lies. The structure of them was flimsy. These cousins would start pushing, testing, and if they pushed too hard on anything, the whole structure would come falling down.

I had a moment. Call it clarity, caution, or cowardice, I suddenly understood that while I was winning right now, I could lose very quickly.

“Three hundred, same kickback,” I said.

“No,” blurted Apseto.

Aesthus shook his head. “No. We need more than that.” He spoke as if Apseto hadn’t.

Apseto nodded.

That wasn’t a counter-offer, but I’d done the same thing when Zenjin had asked ten million.

I was winning. Take the saber and run, self.

What number were they thinking of?

I’d gone forty two thousand for no particular reason. They probably wanted at least forty two each. That meant two ten. No self respecting grifter would lower his own bribe, so I had to add one twenty five. Round up.

I said, “Three fifty, but mine is one twenty five.”

This time Apesto didn’t speak. Neither did any of the rest. They looked to Aesthus, who watched me like a card player.

I looked away, ate something, but when I finished, Aesthus was still thinking. I locked eyes with him and waited. It became a challenge. He wouldn’t look away, nor would I, and I didn’t know what out he was looking for. After several seconds, his pride wouldn’t let him blink.

I’d made this mistake before. I’d gotten into a contest with someone, a contest I didn’t need to win, but the strain of it grew weighty in my mind. A throw-away fight became a matter of pride. I locked eyes with the Celestial, born of the line of Tollos, sister of Mallens, Lord of Creation, and tested him. He didn’t look away; he invested in our challenge.

His cousins did not interrupt.

But he had to win.

“Three seventy five,” he said. He flicked his fingers between us. “Same, same.”

I looked away.

Nurim was eating moshu. Moshu are soft little fruit with a shell like a walnut. The fruit inside has about the consistency and sweetness of an apple. Normally people open them with a nut cracker, and the skill is breaking the shell without squishing the fruit. People who eat moshu with sticky fingers look childish.

Nurim saw me looking and put down his cracker. He took out a knife. Tapping a fruit against the plate to show me the shell hadn’t gone stale, and without holding it, he sliced the fruit open cleanly with the knife. He didn’t touch it at all, merely drew the blade long-ways across it.

That was, in all honestly, simply astounding knifework. He was doing it to show off, but I was impressed.

“You laughed when I said there were five of us,” said Zenjin quietly. “You think you can win. Maybe. But not as easily as you think you will.”

Self, let them win. Get the blade, destroy it, be done.

I made sure there were no misunderstandings. “The price is three hundred and seventy five thousand sesteres, and you will pay me one hundred and twenty five thousand sesteres of that.”

Aesthus nodded. “Agreed.”

I nodded. “Done.”

The room exhaled.

“Do you want to shake on it?” Aesthus asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “But we have a deal. The money is hidden a few places through the city. I’ll need to collect it. Does one of you want to come with me and bring the saber?”

“Yes. Does the blade have a name, other than saber?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. That sword, that one right there, is the one I want.” I pointed at it. “But I want to inspect it. Now.”

They all exchanged glances.

There were five of them, but I’d be holding the weapon. That was a sword for the killing of gods. They didn’t know exactly what it was, but they knew enough.

But I wasn’t going to go any farther and find out that by some unimaginable coincidence, this wasn’t the right weapon.

“Go ahead,” said Aesthus. “Right now.”

All five of them got ready. Zenjin drew the Puritan, laid a finger along the slide, but held it down, pointed at the floor. Nurim stood up with the knife. Osret moved around to the other side, and Apseto shifted so he stood between me and the windows. We’d drawn the blinds when we came in. Aesthus waited by the foyer. He looked ready to run, but for safety or for a gun, I didn’t know.

I got up, moving slowly, and lifted the blade from the table. The room breathed again, inhaling after its previous sigh. This breath it held.

There were five of them, but I had a blade made to kill the Lord of Creation. I could take them.

Next

Twilight in Heaven: Chapter 10

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Chapter 10

“Hold on, hold on, hold on I appreciate your help down there. I’m Aesthus of Hemlin, of the Line of Tollos. Thank you.” One of the cousins held his hands up, palm out.

He caught me by surprise. And after a moment, I replied, “You’re welcome. Thank you.”

The others looked like they didn’t know what to say, so they said nothing. I couldn’t fault them, but that left all the talking to Aesthus.

He continued. “You said you’re here to acquire the saber?”

I nodded.

“We can–” He paused. “—talk about that.” He paused again to make up his mind over something. “As I said, I’m Aesthus. These are my cousins, Zenjin, Osret, Apseto, and Nurim.”

The cousins looked varyingly wary, curious, or distrustful.

“Let’s temper blades,” said Aesthus. He glanced around.

The cousins had just not-fought each other, so they showed varying levels of willingness to not-fight me. Most looked guarded but listening.

“You too,” Aesthus told me. “You saved me, and I appreciate it. Let’s not waste your effort.”

I felt like arguing, but Aesthus was leaving everyone a way out. Besides, I’d saved their lives, and I’d be throwing that away if I fought them, something that moments ago, I’d been trying to figure out how not to do. This whole situation was making me short tempered.

But now that I was aware of it, I could fix it.

“Thank you. I’m pleased to meet you,” I said and waved specifically to Osret. He didn’t reply with much grace, but he nodded back. “I’m pleased to meet you all.”

“Come,” said Aesthus. “We live nearby. We’d be honored if you joined us.”

And again, I let myself agree.

We left the beach, avoiding the water if we could. In some stretches, there was no alternative, but the nereids did not pursue us while we looked for them.

#

The cousins Hemlin had a small palace that was basically a wide townhouse. Five stories tall with a courtyard out back, its second story overhung a tunnel through the first floor. The tunnel opened into the courtyard where a circle of smaller cobble stones between large slabs of sandstone formed the center of the back yard. Behind rose a small garden that seemed mostly full of strange rocks and small huts. The cousins lead me through an elegant glass door to a tiny foyer, a wide staircase, and on the second floor a large receiving room. They lit a fire from an ember dish, and offered me a stiff drink or a warm towel.

I took both, but the towel first.

Zenjim put the blade on the main table and patted it dry. I sat where I could see it.

“You said you’re prepared to pay for it?” asked Aesthus.

I considered before nodding.

“This is the only one left. It’s rare now, perhaps rarer. That’s got to be worth something.”

Maybe, I thought. There had been two assassin’s parties.

“How do you know?” I said, equally cautiously.

“Mallens didn’t just break the seashore. He broke the earth. There’s a power in him, an energy. When he strikes something, it comes apart, and not merely in breaking. The stuff of it disintegrates. I think he did not truly stamp this sword. Perhaps it was close to his foot but not hit. Maybe it had already been dropped and fell into the pit. But we found nothing else of its like, and we are from the high mountains. Apseto is particularly clever with finding things in stone, even stone under water.”

Apseto didn’t look cocky, but he did look confident.

“What if it’s in sand?” I asked.

“Sand is just a lot of very small stones,” said Apesto.

If that was how it worked for him, so be it.

“I’ll show a few cups,” I said and pointed at the copied sword. “I’m here to get that, and I’m willing to pay for it. My customer is willing to pay in cash, so there is no reason to be concerned about favors or credit. I was at the beach looking for the sword when we met and saved your lived. You owe me. Business is business, but enjoy all that breathing you’re doing. Drowning is a hard way to go.”

“Who’s your customer?” asked Zenjin.

“No,” I said. “That doesn’t need to be discussed.”

The group of them glanced at each other, and a silent conversation of shrugs and facial expressions told me they didn’t feel like arguing the point.

“I’m going to go change my clothes,” said Aesthus. He was dripping. We all were. “I don’t think we have anything that will fit you, but can I lend you some sweats?”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

Again Aesthus deflated the tension, but his idea was a good one. I didn’t want to let the saber out of my sight. They wouldn’t leave me alone with it. With some towels and a little consideration, everyone changed and met back up in their living room, arrayed on couches around the chair.

Aesthus wasn’t quite as big as the others and had a slightly softer look. He’d changed into khaki pants and a fitted sweater, leather shoes, and leather belt. My stubble was longer than the hair on his head.

Osret wasn’t quite as tall but wider built, and he wore tight clothing to show off his muscles. None of his shirts had sleeves.

Zenjin was a bigger guy but didn’t have the gym build of Osret. He had a huge back, shoulders, and gut. He wore designer t-shirts and jeans, the sort of sports shoes that get dropped in limited quantities. A silver-handled Puritan nestled under his left arm, set for a cross-body draw. No one else seemed to be carrying a gun, so it certainly was a statement, but fashion or security?

Puritans, from the 22nd Testament of Thorophus the Weapon Maker, were good guns. They were such good guns people collected them, which made them rare, then valuable, and now they were fashion statements themselves. Still, they shot straight and rarely jammed.

Apseto showed up in a suit, and I don’t know a whole lot about suits. His seemed to fit well. He had thunderbolts on his tie pin, thunderbolt cufflinks, and a brown shirt with a white tie that drew attention to his face. They said he could find things in stone, even stone under water. That could be a valuable skill, depending on how good he was, and he wore the suit comfortably. He didn’t pick at it.

Nurim sized up the bunch of us and started making something in the kitchen. He threw chips in a bowl, got everyone a glass of water or beer, and brought out some bread and a few spreads. He was always moving, cleaning plates or putting glasses on coasters. He and Aesthus were slim compared to the others, but they were still big guys. He wore jeans of some unremarkable make, a hooded sweater, a watch he kept checking, and slip-on shoes. He changed the latter twice during our meeting.

I started. “Let’s talk peacefully. I’m not looking for a fight.”

“I don’t see why that’s relevant,” said Zenjin. “You’re mortal. There are five of us. A fight won’t go well for you.”

“He’s hiding his power,” said Aesthus. He looked at me. “I don’t think the fight will go the way you think it will, but since you attacked nereids in water, you’ve got something in reserve. But let’s put that aside. Temper blades. You’re not looking for a fight, we’re not looking for a fight. How much?”

“And when and where and all that,” said Nurim, coming in with snacks. “You’re not carrying any suitcases full of cash.”

“Yeah, also we’re not letting the sword out of our sight,” said Zenjin.

“The hand-over can be arranged.” I tried to wave pleasantly. “One or all of you can follow me to where I have the money.”

“Let’s talk about that,” said Apseto. “How much?”

The sidebars stopped. Nurim in the kitchen stopped puttering. Zenjin leaned forward, elbows on knees. All eyes watched me.

I’d made two payment drops for each of the two groups. The killers had been paid half up front and half for after the job was done.

I’d never known exactly how Koru made his riches. Earlier, I hadn’t cared. Now I cared, but I didn’t know. He had money. Bills, bribes, and charitable donations had all been paid, and I’d paid most of them. I had also hidden small packages of silver coins and ambrosia for the successful assassins.

I’d been such an honest fool. I hadn’t taken a coin or a bite. The money waited for me now.

I said, “Forty two thousand.”

That was a bad lowball. Forty two thousand sesteres was new horse money, maybe even nice new horse, but not a race winner nor a good sire. It would make a downpayment on a home. Someone like me could live easily on forty two thousand a year and scrimp it out three years. All four drops combined had about five hundred thousand.

“That seems a little light,” said Aesthus.

“It’s a magnficient blade,” I said. “It’s also stolen. It was used in the commission of a crime, and people will come looking. Problems will come. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. And the saber will disappear and you can say, with utmost honesty, you have no idea where it is.”

“We know your name,” said Osret. He stuck his chin out at me.

I had to bite back a quick remark. Osret was hot-tempered to begin with. I had things too say but for once, didn’t say them.

“You are correct,” I agreed neutrally. “You know my name, Remus.”

Apseto sighed. He and Osret sat on a couch together, and Apseto leaned over and whispered something to the other.

Osret kept a stoneface for several seconds. “Of course. You are Remus, and when someone comes looking for the saber, I will tell them Remus has it.”

“Please do,” I said.

Mental clockwork shifted everyone else in the room. Nurim glanced at Aesthus, and if I had to guess, I’d say Nurim was recalling Aesthus saying I was hiding my power.

“Ten million,” said Zenjin.

“Nope.” I shook my head and ignored him.

“It’s a rare and stolen sword. The rest are destroyed. Ten million,” he insisted.

“That’s not an offer.”

“I said ten million, and we’ve got it right now.” Zenjin moved forward a little on his chair.

I reached out, took a slice of bread, and examined the sauces. Nurim had laid out butter, olive oil, and something yellow and ganular. I don’t think it was hummus, but I bet it was close enough to rhyme. I scraped invisible butter on the bread and layered over top with the hummus stuff.

I took a bite. My mistake: it was hummus, but they’d mixed ambrosia in here.

Wow.

I wasn’t faking. It tasted like euphoria. My wounds began to close. My scrapes healed. My aching muscles felt salved. Those little wrinkles of tension around my eyes relaxed, and I suddenly noticed a coldness in my side by the way it faded.

I had really lowballed them with that offer.

“This is really good.” I held it up to Nurim. “Sourdough?”

He nodded. “We get it from the artsy place down the street. Girls like it.”

Zenjin said, “What about the–”

And Aesthus interrupted him, “Do you mind if we take a moment?” he asked me.

I waved the bread. “Please do. I’ll be here.”

They looked at me, the saber, and gears clicked behind every pair of eyes. I waited.

The cousins got up and moved into the kitchen, forming a small huddle between the stove and an island of counter.

I tried to look relaxed and dangerous. I tried to look thoughtful. I thought, but I was thinking about ambrosia in hummus.

We had tried to kill the Lord of Creation for a million sesteres. One thousand miles, a ton, two weeks pay for a legion. We’d tried to kill the King of the Gods for a million sesteres. And these fools who had the saber had enough money to put ambrosia in the hummus!

Their house was worth more than a million.

I was in the wrong line of work.

A volcano went off between my ears. I heard nothing but eruptions and thunder. I thought of stale wayhouse sandwiches and of not being able to afford stale wayhouse sandwiches so I stayed hungry until I made it home. I thought of sleeping hungry so I could eat manna in the morning.

They’d laid out a whole spread of artsy bread with ambrosia in the hummus.

These guys could get blisters. I wasn’t going to stop for appearances. I ate all their hummus.

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