positions so easily. Change doesn’t occur without
blood.”
Blood. James had made sure there was plenty of that. “I won’t become like you,” said Kyra. “Burning down half the city to save it marks you just as guilty as the
wallhuggers.”
“Then why are you still here?”
To that, she had no answer.
James shifted his position. Pain flashed across his face, and it was a few more moments before he could speak again. “I didn’t start out trying to destroy the city,” he said.
“I don’t take pleasure in the pain of others.”
In that, at least, Kyra believed him. There were some in the Guild who enjoyed violence—Bacchus, for one. Kyra had seen it on the few jobs they’d taken together. He’d smiled as
he beat his victims, and it had frightened Kyra to the core. James was different. He was ruthless, and he tolerated people like Bacchus, but everything he did, he did for a reason.
“After Thalia died,” he said, “I took possession of the Guild. It took me a year to weed out those who weren’t loyal to me. I solidified my control, and then I considered
what I wanted to do. For a long time, the Guild had become another tool of the wallhuggers. I put an end to that and thought,
Why not go further?
Who was it, after all, who decreed that
the fatpurses should keep their positions? Why should they dictate how we live and how we die?”
“And that was when you started infiltrating the Palace,” said Kyra.
“The wallhuggers don’t pay attention to their servants nearly as well as they should. I learned much about the upper levels of Forge simply with careful bribes.”
He’d learned much, but there had still been things he couldn’t get to, like secret documents, trade schedules, and guard assignments. For that, he’d needed a thief who could
get deep into the compound. He’d needed Kyra.
James continued. “At first I thought I would only go after the bad ones. The first wallhugger I targeted was named Hamel. He was the lowest kind of worm, and few people considered his
death a loss to Forge. Yet folk suffered nonetheless when I killed him. Those who’d been in his employ went hungry that winter, and the political gaps left by Hamel’s death were soon
filled by another.”
“Willem,” Kyra guessed.
“He was already Head Councilman at the time, but he gained allies as those who’d looked to Hamel were cast afloat.” James’s gaze swept across the cell, as if he were
viewing the myriad connections that held Forge together. “My point is, corruption in the city’s not like a scab to be torn away. It’s a tumor, spread throughout the body, and it
grows back when you excise it. You can’t remove a cancer without digging out healthy flesh.”
“But what’s the cost?” said Kyra. “What’s the point of destroying the cancer if the body dies as well?”
“What’s the point of having a body if it’s riddled with disease?”
Kyra shook her head to dispel the headache that was starting to take root. “You can’t mean that. You don’t really want to raze the city to the ground.”
“And you don’t really believe me capable of obliterating the city.” He locked his eyes on hers. “It’s pointless to talk in extremes, because none of it will
actually happen. But no matter how far we range with our philosophical fancies, the hard truth remains. You hold a blade now, Kyra, as does everyone who possesses power in this city. And every time
you wield this blade, you must decide how deeply you wish to cut.”
S E V E N
T ristam was in his quarters, getting changed after his morning rounds when someone knocked on his door. A servant of Malikel’s bowed when
Tristam answered.
“Sir Willem has called an emergency Council meeting at the tenth hour to discuss several Demon Rider attacks that occurred this morning. Your presence is required.”
Demon Rider attacks? He immediately feared the worst. “Were the attacks at Brancel?”
Henril. Lorne.
“No, milord.
blood.”
Blood. James had made sure there was plenty of that. “I won’t become like you,” said Kyra. “Burning down half the city to save it marks you just as guilty as the
wallhuggers.”
“Then why are you still here?”
To that, she had no answer.
James shifted his position. Pain flashed across his face, and it was a few more moments before he could speak again. “I didn’t start out trying to destroy the city,” he said.
“I don’t take pleasure in the pain of others.”
In that, at least, Kyra believed him. There were some in the Guild who enjoyed violence—Bacchus, for one. Kyra had seen it on the few jobs they’d taken together. He’d smiled as
he beat his victims, and it had frightened Kyra to the core. James was different. He was ruthless, and he tolerated people like Bacchus, but everything he did, he did for a reason.
“After Thalia died,” he said, “I took possession of the Guild. It took me a year to weed out those who weren’t loyal to me. I solidified my control, and then I considered
what I wanted to do. For a long time, the Guild had become another tool of the wallhuggers. I put an end to that and thought,
Why not go further?
Who was it, after all, who decreed that
the fatpurses should keep their positions? Why should they dictate how we live and how we die?”
“And that was when you started infiltrating the Palace,” said Kyra.
“The wallhuggers don’t pay attention to their servants nearly as well as they should. I learned much about the upper levels of Forge simply with careful bribes.”
He’d learned much, but there had still been things he couldn’t get to, like secret documents, trade schedules, and guard assignments. For that, he’d needed a thief who could
get deep into the compound. He’d needed Kyra.
James continued. “At first I thought I would only go after the bad ones. The first wallhugger I targeted was named Hamel. He was the lowest kind of worm, and few people considered his
death a loss to Forge. Yet folk suffered nonetheless when I killed him. Those who’d been in his employ went hungry that winter, and the political gaps left by Hamel’s death were soon
filled by another.”
“Willem,” Kyra guessed.
“He was already Head Councilman at the time, but he gained allies as those who’d looked to Hamel were cast afloat.” James’s gaze swept across the cell, as if he were
viewing the myriad connections that held Forge together. “My point is, corruption in the city’s not like a scab to be torn away. It’s a tumor, spread throughout the body, and it
grows back when you excise it. You can’t remove a cancer without digging out healthy flesh.”
“But what’s the cost?” said Kyra. “What’s the point of destroying the cancer if the body dies as well?”
“What’s the point of having a body if it’s riddled with disease?”
Kyra shook her head to dispel the headache that was starting to take root. “You can’t mean that. You don’t really want to raze the city to the ground.”
“And you don’t really believe me capable of obliterating the city.” He locked his eyes on hers. “It’s pointless to talk in extremes, because none of it will
actually happen. But no matter how far we range with our philosophical fancies, the hard truth remains. You hold a blade now, Kyra, as does everyone who possesses power in this city. And every time
you wield this blade, you must decide how deeply you wish to cut.”
S E V E N
T ristam was in his quarters, getting changed after his morning rounds when someone knocked on his door. A servant of Malikel’s bowed when
Tristam answered.
“Sir Willem has called an emergency Council meeting at the tenth hour to discuss several Demon Rider attacks that occurred this morning. Your presence is required.”
Demon Rider attacks? He immediately feared the worst. “Were the attacks at Brancel?”
Henril. Lorne.
“No, milord.
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