Yes, General.

He thought for a moment, then pressed his orders into the waiting arm. Take these to Rae Li Tam. Tell her what they are and what they cost. She was an alchemist; she would understand, he realized, and select as few men as possible. Those who took the blood-magicks would pay with their lives for the strength and stealth it lent them. He continued his orders: Kill a guard, take his keys, and free them. Arm them if you can and wait for further orders, but hold your floor quietly. The children are your first priority; Lord Tam is your second. Hold for my orders or for when the ships go-whichever comes first.

Aye, General, the scout pressed into his arm.

Rudolfo thought for a moment, choosing his next words with care. Rae Li Tam is to be protected at all costs.

After the first scout acknowledged the order, Rudolfo tapped for the second scout and took his offered arm. Find the children. Tap their location into the pipes. When I’ve found Tam, I’ll do the same.

Rudolfo gave them time to get under way, then listened for the guard to pass outside. Once he’d strolled by, he let himself out of the room and relocked it. It was time to begin this night’s work, and he hoped last night’s hastily thought strategy would hold together. With the flagship preparing to leave, they could not afford to wait any longer. He would make his way from here to the kitchen and pack the bundle of soaked rags into the main oven. If Charles’s handiwork proved true, it would lend eerie light to the smoke that leaked from its chimney and tell Rafe Merrique that it was time to disable the ships and prepare to hold the docks.

Rudolfo crept into the hall and moved quickly to the next point where he could check the pipe. In the absence of new information, Rae Li Tam was tapping out the previous ones. Rudolfo interrupted her with the lightest tapping of his own fingernails, hoping the sound would carry to her amid the screams and the flowing blood. My man brings you a way out. Follow his instructions.

After her acknowledgment, he slipped down another shadowed hallway and approached the door to the kitchen. He’d memorized what maps they had, amending them internally with each new bit of information he gleaned from his men or from the pipe. He listened at the kitchen door and paused a moment to collect himself.

The scout magicks were already starting to chew on him. He felt the headache building behind his eyes and felt the restlessness in his stomach. It would only get worse, and that meant he needed to do as much as he could while his mind was still sharp and the discomfort was at its lowest level. His Gypsy Scouts could stay under the powders for days at a time-weeks even, if absolutely necessary. But the few times he’d used them over the years, his body had paid steeply each time for days following.

Rudolfo heard nothing behind the door and opened it. The kitchen was dimly lit by an open stove with its banked fire. He went swiftly to it and pulled the wad of rags from his pocket. Taking up an iron fire poker, he stirred the coals to life and tossed the rag bundle onto it. Then, he closed the stove and moved back into the hallway.

Rudolfo picked his way slowly across the second floor, positioning himself near the guard station that stood between him and the third floor. His scouts had logged at least two men at this post during their forays into the various points within the building, and neither had slipped past this station yet-Rudolfo would be the first. But after watching for a full ten minutes he did not see how he could do it without resorting to violence, and magicked or not, two-to-one odds were not favorable. Neither was losing the element of surprise sooner than necessary.

Rudolfo moved through the corridors and found a door leading to a suite of guest rooms. He could not imagine guests attending the dark rites that took place here, but he picked the lock and found himself in a lavishly decorated room.

He scanned his memory for his recollection of this side of the structure. There were balconies here, and if the distance was close enough, he should be able to climb to the third floor. Rudolfo moved across the thick-carpeted room and opened the door that led to the bedchambers. On the far wall, a narrow glass door offered him a view of the harbor. Somewhere out there, beneath a veil of clouds, Rafe Merrique and his men set about securing the vessels and disabling the schooners.

Rudolfo opened the door and felt the warm night wind move over him. Stepping onto the balcony, he pulled the door closed behind him and looked up. The balconies were offset with one another, floor by floor, and he’d not consider a climb like that without the enhanced senses and strength he received from the powders. If only he could keep the damnable headache from consuming him.

He pulled himself up onto the rail, his hand steadying himself against the outer wall of the building. Trying not to look down, he balanced himself and once more measured the distance between him and the balcony above. Fixing his eye on the handhold ahead, Rudolfo forced himself to the climb, giving himself to the magicks that enhanced his strength and agility and trying not to look beneath him while he imagined the wall to be an old-growth pine from his childhood in the forest. Sweat beaded upon his forehead as he slowly made his way up, his feet and hands finding purchase as he went.

When he finally pulled himself over the edge of the balcony, he was winded but careful to let his breath out through his nose. He huddled in the corner and waited for the spike in his head to stop twisting.

As he waited, he heard voices and cocked his head. The door to the balcony above was slightly ajar, and he heard the sounds of muted conversation drifting out into the night air along with curtains that caught on the breeze like flags.

He’d thought to scout the third floor and see if he could find another way past the guards-but he strained his ear upward, catching the low voices, and curiosity got the better of him. Whatever happened here, he had no doubt it was connected somehow to the Desolation of Windwir and to the attack upon his Firstborn Feast. Blood magicks had returned to the New World when Windwir fell, and it could be no coincidence that one of the Named Lands’ most powerful families was now under the knife. This structure was made for bloodletting, from its viewing balcony to the cutting floor, through the system of pipes down into the distillery he knew must be buried in the deeper basements.

Rudolfo had certainly read the stories as a child. He was familiar with the bargaining pools and their access to the dark spirits of the Beneath Places, where blood and anguish could purchase favors and power. His own Tormentor’s Row, now closed these eight months, followed a similar design to those Blood Temples of old but only retained the notion of redemptive cutting, having no use for the blood that was spilled in the pursuit of that atonement.

This resurgence was a threat to the Named Lands that had to be stopped. That meant availing himself of anything he could learn while freeing House Li Tam. It even meant saving Vlad Li Tam if he was still alive, forced to watch as his family went beneath the salted blades. Quietly, he rose to his feet and moved to the far railing of the balcony. As he drew closer, the words became slightly clearer, though still not clear enough for him to hear. It was a man and a woman talking in low tones.

He climbed onto the railing and found his handholds, holding his breath and willing silence into his every movement. He was too old for this, he realized, and had not climbed since the days of his youth. Heights were not the friend they’d once been to him as a younger man.

Still, he forced his way upward and found himself crouching in the corner of the balcony.