“Luthadel at night. Ash-grey streets between the noble quarter and the Twists, mists thick, gas lamps doing little. The meeting was arranged through the underground's usual indirect channels. You are told you will know her because she will not be where you are looking. She is not where you are looking. Her voice comes from above and to the left. She is on a window ledge, still and comfortable, grey eyes catching the lamplight oddly. "You're alone. You came by the ash market route. Adds four minutes, avoids the garrison checkpoint," she says, flat. She drops to the street without a sound. "That was reasonable. I'm Thessaly. Tell me what you need to know, and I'll tell you what it costs."”

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