Abbee awoke the next morning before dawn, feeling a little stuffy and wrapped in her blankets. She listened to the house. Footsteps crisscrossed the building; soft voices rose and fell. Abbee picked out Carver for the most part. Perci a few times, and several other voices that Abbee didn’t recognize. She stretched and fell back asleep.

A knock jerked her awake.

“Abbee?” Whimsy asked, her voice muffled through the door.

“Coming,” Abbee called.

She climbed out of bed. Tried to. Her foot hooked on a knot in her sheets and she tripped. Almost fell on her face. Abbee swore and disentangled herself. Two steps, and she was at the door. Cracked it. Whimsy stood on the other side in her constable uniform. It looked clean and pressed. So did Whimsy.

Abbee smirked at her. “You look refreshed. Glowing, even.”

Whimsy smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from her coat. “Yes, well, I have to head into the precinct. Come see me today, before you go to Baylor’s house.”

“Why not after?” Abbee asked. “He’s on the way to the precinct.”

“I want to talk to you before you see him,” Whimsy said.

“We’re talking now.”

Whimsy looked around and lowered her voice. “Away from prying ears.”

“If you’re worried about being overheard,” Abbee asked, “then how come you spent the night in Parn’s room? Carver seems like the type who listens where he shouldn’t.”

Whimsy both blushed and frowned. “Carver knows better.”

Abbee snickered.

“I was going to talk to you on the way,” Whimsy added, “but I can’t be late again.”

“Again?”

“It’s a long story. Look, I need to talk to you before you do anything. Will you come by the precinct first? Please?”

“Whimsy, Baylor made me kill three people last night. He doesn’t get to have a nice, leisurely morning.”

“Fine,” Whimsy said. She leaned forward and whispered. “Don’t trust Parn.”

“What?” Abbee asked, startled. “Why?”

“Come to the precinct, and I’ll tell you.”

***

Carver found Abbee first. The thin man was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs in the foyer. Abbee couldn’t tell how long he’d been there, and found herself wondering if he’d overheard Whimsy’s whispered warning.

“Special Constable Danner,” Carver said. “I have your new uniform.”

“Already?”

Carver pointed at a nearby table, where Abbee spotted a bundle of dark blue clothing, a pair of black boots, and a shiny silver badge sitting on top. “I took the liberty of guessing your measurements.”

Abbee wasn’t sure she liked anybody looking at her long enough to get her measurements.

She reached the bottom step, and Carver made room for her in the foyer. He remained close, but not too close. Abbee walked over to the table with the uniform and dropped her pack on the floor. She picked up the badge. She’d seen plenty of people wear this. Seen them up close. Never held one in her hands. Getting one of these usually involved a year of academy, two years of probationary work, and lots and lots of training. Abbee walked into the city and got one in a day. This feels like cheating. “How long have you worked for Parn?”

“Six years,” Carver said. “I came with the house.”

“You what?”

Carver smiled. “I’ve worked here for three decades. This house belonged to House Grommen. After the Tower fell, it was appropriated for Lord Trippers. It’s been a welcome improvement.”

“How so?”

“Well, Kol Grommen fled the city without telling any of us of the danger. Left everyone here to die.”

“He left you here?”

“I helped him into the carriage that took him out of the city,” Carver said. “Saw the panic in his face. I even asked what was wrong. He said not to worry. He told me it was fine. It wasn’t fine. When Kol Grommen fled the city, Veronna had breached the Tower, and House Danan soldiers were killing constables on the streets. He’d said not to worry.”

“That was selfish.”

“It went beyond selfish,” Carver said. “It meant he viewed the people who worked for him as less than human. When you work for someone in a station or with status, work closely with them, you realize that they’re just people with a strange job. They’re people. The basic rules of decency still apply to them. Kol Grommen lost my respect when he didn’t have the basic decency to warn the staff of the danger.”

That tracked with everything Abbee knew about lords and ladies. People in high stations only looked out for themselves. She wondered how someone like Carver, who’d been around power all his life, could see it any other way. “And Parn’s different?”

Carver nodded. “I could tell right away. His Lordship was hopeless with delegating. He was used to doing everything himself. It took me a month to get him to stop doing my job. And he keeps trying to be friends with the staff. Asking after their families, their children.” Carver smiled. “You should have seen his face when he found out we were living in the work camps. He moved all the staff into the house until permanent residences could be built. He looks out for us in ways the Grommens never did.”

“Sounds like you trust him,” Abbee said.

“When it comes to the staff, yes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means he’s on the Akken Council. He works with snakes. You don’t survive around snakes unless you adapt.”

“So he’s a snake?”

“On some things, yes. But not on the important things. Not when it comes to the staff.”

Abbee rubbed the badge in her hand with her thumb and wondered if Parn considered her staff. Wondered if he’d look out for her or if she fell into the purview of the snake. She didn’t wonder very long. The special constable business felt too fast. Parn barely knew her. He was using her for something. This was the snake. Parn was using Abbee for something.

She’d use him right back. She pinned the badge to her jerkin. Picked up the cap and tried it on. That fit. “I think I’m good,” Abbee said. “You can keep the rest.”

Carver gaped at her. “You’re not wearing the uniform?”

“I’ve already got good clothes that fit,” Abbee said.

“Constables need to be in uniform.”

“I’m a special constable,” Abbee said.

“You look ridiculous. You look like you stole the cap.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“I do?” Abbee took off the cap. She didn’t mind leaving it—it wasn’t a proper hat, anyway. It only had a brim in front. A good hat had a brim that went all the way around. Kept the rain off. Abbee usually didn’t wear hats except in the winter. They always got knocked off when sparring. She put the cap on top of the jacket.

“I guess the badge will do.”

“It won’t,” Carver said, shaking his head. “No one will believe you when you tell them you’re a constable. You don’t look the part. You look like a vagrant. At least put on the jacket.”

Abbee shouldered out of her own coat and tried on the new one over her jerkin. It was dark blue wool with a soft inner lining. She’d expected it to be too restricting or too bulky, but it was just right. She buttoned the front and raised her arms over her head. Windmilled. The sleeves didn’t ride up as much as she’d expected, and she had a full range of motion. Easy access to all her knives. “This is actually pretty good,” she said. “It’s not leather, though. It’s not going to keep me dry in a downpour.”

“Then don’t stand in one,” Carver said. “What about the boots?”

“Are they from Hudson and Sons?”

“No. I’m not a sadist.”

“The heels are too big,” Abbee said. “I need a softer sole. And they’re too tall. I don’t need to go reaching for a knife and find it in the wrong spot. I need midcalf boots.”

“I’ll have those adjusted too. Do they fit at least?”

Abbee kicked off her boots and tried on the new ones. They fit surprisingly well. Better than her current boots. She took a few steps around the foyer. She clomped. Walking in them made her feel like she was wearing stilts, and she didn’t like how the tops banged into the back of her knees. Major chafe point. Abbee pulled them off and put her old boots back on. “They fit. Lose the giant heels, and make them midcalf boots.”

“And the trousers?”

Abbee held them up. She grabbed the legs and pulled them apart. The stitching split in the crotch. “Yeah, no. If I crouch or stretch or lunge, that’s going to happen. I’m good with what I’ve got.”

Carver sighed. “Fine. You can leave your pack here. Lord Trippers has said you can stay here until we arrange housing. That will take a couple of days.”

“I’ll keep the pack, thanks.”

Carver shook his head. “Leave it. Constables don’t carry packs.”

“I’m special, remember?”

“It looks like you collect random objects and you happen to be wearing some of them. Authority is granted because people believe you have it. You still look like a vagrant. Leave the pack. Don’t worry—nobody will take anything.”

Abbee hesitated. It was less about people stealing it and more about being ready to leave the city on a moment’s notice. Leaving the pack meant she had to come back to get it. It meant putting down a root. Not a big root, but a little tendril was how roots started. Abbee wondered if having a home base was really all that bad. She dropped her pack on the floor. Everything Abbee owned was in her pack. She didn’t like leaving it. “Don’t lose it.”

“We won’t,” Carver said. He opened the front door. It looked sunny and warm outside. “Perci’s in the gatehouse. See him before you leave.”

“What’s his role here?”

“Perci? He runs His Lordship’s security detail. He’s like me—he came with the house. Oh, and take the cap. You still look like you stole the jacket, but maybe you’ll always look that way. There’s just something about you that doesn’t say ‘constable.’”

Abbee put the cap on. “If it doesn’t say ‘constable,’ what does it say?”

“‘Dangerous.’ It says you’re dangerous.”

“That’s probably better.”

***

Perci stepped out of the gatehouse as Abbee neared. He nodded appreciatively at her. “Looking smart.”

“Carver says it looks like I stole it,” Abbee said.

“Well, you are only wearing half the uniform,” Perci said, gesturing at her legs. “And you don’t carry yourself quite like a constable does. They all walk around like they own the place.”

“Carver told me to see you before I left.”

“C’mon in. I’ve got something for you.”

Perci led her inside the gatehouse, into a large room with benches, weapon racks, and several tables. Abbee saw a big map spread out on one, and the other had a stack of gear. An older woman stood leaning over the map. She was dressed in gray woolens, like Perci. The woman looked up at Abbee as she came inside. Took in her appearance. She snorted and went back to the map.

“Planning something?” Abbee asked.

“Don’t concern yourself with that,” Perci said.

He walked over to a cabinet. Unlocked the door and opened it. Abbee couldn’t see inside, on account of Perci blocking her view. He took something out and closed the door. When he turned around, he held two small pouches. Perci hefted the larger of the two. It clinked.

“This is a week’s advance of your pay. Wages are typically paid at the end of the week for that week’s work, but Parn said you didn’t have any money.”

“How does he know that?” Abbee asked. “I never told him.”

“Did you tell Whimsy?”

Abbee tried to remember. Yesterday had been a lot. “I might have mentioned it to her.”

“Right. Here’s your pay.” He handed over the first pouch.

Abbee took it and opened it. A jumble of coins inside. This was a lot more than the spare change she’d managed to pilfer from Ipsu.

“You’ll need to stretch that for two weeks,” Perci warned.

Abbee almost said that she could stretch it for two months, but that was living in the woods. She had no idea how much she’d spend here in the city. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Her gaze moved to a table behind Perci. A plate of food sat on it, half-eaten. Meat and bread and a little cheese.

“You hungry?” Perci asked. “You can have the rest of that, if you want.”

Abbee grabbed everything that didn’t look nibbled upon.

“Carver is looking for a house for you,” Perci went on. “He’ll try the River District first, but space is tight there. North Bend, most likely. Don’t worry—it’s not like the old city. The New Bend work camp has more of the old district’s vibe.”

“I know. I came through there,” Abbee said. “I can probably find my own house, you know.”

“Let Carver do it. There are some formalities for Parn’s staff that Carver knows about and you don’t. Besides, you’re going to be too busy.”

“I notice you don’t use Parn’s title.”

“We’re on a first-name basis,” Perci said. “You aren’t. It’s ‘my lord’ or ‘His Lordship’ to you.”

“Whatever. You said two things.” Abbee pointed at the other pouch in Perci’s hand. “What’s that?”

Perci raised the pouch. “This is a loan. This isn’t to keep. You have to turn it back in when you return to the house tonight.”

“What is it?”

Perci handed it over. Abbee opened the drawstrings and found a rock inside. It was squarish, gray, and had flecks of teal around the edges. Abbee tipped it out into her palm. It was about the size of her thumbnail, and lighter than it should’ve been for a rock. Abbee’s breath caught. Not a rock. “This is an artifact chip.”

“That’s right. Mental protection. It will shield you from a telepath, speaker, or empath. None of them will be able to enter your mind, scan you, or put thoughts in there. Anyone who tries to scan you won’t get anything.”

This was the first time in Abbee’s entire life that she’d even held an artifact chip. It seemed strange that the nearly weightless chip in Abbee’s palm was worth more than everything she had ever owned. And then some. She could trade this for a fortune. It reminded her of the time when she was twelve and had encountered all the talkie tabs in Vit’s cubby.

Abbee gestured at the cabinet on the wall. “You keep artifact chips out in the open like this?”

“This is just where we keep the ones we’re planning on using for something.”

“So you have others.”

Perci’s brows lowered. “That’s none of your business. And if you go looking for any, the university will be the least of your problems.”

“Got it,” Abbee said. “Does it have to touch my skin or something?”

“No,” Perci said. “You just have to be carrying it. That jacket has a small pocket on the inside, on the right. Should have a button. Put it in there so you don’t lose it.”

Abbee found the pocket and slid the chip inside. She didn’t feel any different. Perci could be giving her a fake chip, for all Abbee knew.

“Returning that chip is your top priority today,” Perci said. “I didn’t want to give it to you, but Parn insisted. We only have three like it. The Tower didn’t make very many. That chip is worth more than you. A lot more.”

“Then how come I’m a special constable and you’re not?”

“Maybe because he wants me to stay alive.”

“What?”

The woman at the map looked up. “Trippers didn’t tell you that special constables don’t hold the position very long, did he?”

“He didn’t,” Abbee said. “Do people quit or something?”

“No. They tend to die.”

Abbee didn’t know what to make of that. Maybe they were trying to rile her up. And she wondered if Parn had told them about her talent. Dying was hard for Abbee.

“Speaking of people dying,” Perci said, “Nilga here didn’t find any bodies at Constable Gallaby’s house last night.”

“Wait, none? Are you sure you looked in the right house?”

“We’re sure,” Nilga said. “Whole place had been cleaned. Not very well, mind you. We found blood between the floorboards in a couple places. You’d best head to Baylor’s as fast as possible. We checked last night, and he was still at home, but if the university is cleaning up loose ends, he might be dead already. Someone took great pains to make it look like the attack never happened.”

“One of them died outside,” Abbee said. “The neighbors saw the body.”

“Nobody remembers seeing a body,” Nilga said.

“So they were paid to not say anything.”

Nilga shook her head. “No, it’s worse. They don’t remember at all. They thought I was crazy when I asked. Their memories have been erased, which means the university sent a Class Four Telepath to clean up their mess. There’s only one of those in the city that we know about, and if he’s doing cleanup work for the university … well, that’s very bad.”

“Why?” Abbee asked. “Who is it?”

“Ekon Togrim.”

“The councilor?” Abbee asked, startled.

Perci nodded. “Which is why it’s very bad. Parn left first thing this morning when we told him about it.”

“I don’t understand,” Abbee said.

“They’re friends. Mostly. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Parn spends half his time complaining about Ekon but still invites him over for dinner twice a month.”

“That seems like a political thing to do,” Abbee observed.

“Then how come he never invites Sera Togrim?” Perci asked.

“Everybody knows they hate each other,” Nilga said. “Look, here’s some advice. Trippers isn’t a planner. He doesn’t think five moves ahead, like Sera. Or however far ahead Ekon is—that man is on a whole different level. But Trippers is always searching for the truth. He has multiple avenues of inquiry open at all times. But because he doesn’t think ahead very far, he usually doesn’t consider the ramifications of those inquiries.” Nilga gestured at Abbee. “You’re an avenue of inquiry. He’s really excited that you’re here. You have no skin in the game here in Akken. No political connections. No reputation to worry about. He’s using you like a golem, smashing into things.”

“Or like someone tipping over rocks,” Perci added, “and watching all the bugs run around.”

Abbee had tipped over plenty of rocks and logs in the woods. “Bugs run away.”

Nilga snorted. “Yeah, well, here they fight back.”