My Infinite System.

They left him in the room until the walls felt smaller.

No food. No claim. Footfalls passed the door, then faded. Two voices argued on the hall about house rights and civic seals, fading just as quickly. When the door opened again, it was not Ryn waiting

You can leave

Matthis said,

stay inside the city’s skin. Answer if we call. Run if you will - make that your only answer.

Lucian stood.

Am I clear?

You are loose. That is not the same thing.

Matthis moved aside, revealing the front gate. People watched the side doors for sport. Lucian did not hurry as he emerged onto open sky, did not pause to regard his back. Through the civic yard, across the street and a block away, voices merged with the evening.

The shape of it should have been clear

he told himself as the city swallowed the last street building. If I remain a yard hand I will sit this out, but I did not earn this skin as second choice. The delegates had my name. So did the houses.

They wanted the claim,

Derrin had sold me as useful - and sitting only told other people which skin I wore.

Cael spoke as he turned toward Hold Market.

You are out of soft cover.

I know.

Then stop pretending as if rent money carries you

I stopped the pretense in that room

He moved through the market sounds until he spotted the awning of black that marked the merchant, the split ear still watching as if expecting him to turn and flee.

You again.

People under clarification return home, hide themselves.

I need Derrin.

Everyone needs Derrin when the Watch learns their name, as if the rope of years does not reach this far.

Why should I trade this?

Because the paper weight has me already, said Lucian, as the merchant paused with a coil of new rope between his forearms and thumbs.

And because Derrin claimed me before the paper weight. Someone will ask higher offices if the pocketed man went to Derrin first - his face is already in the room.

The merchant’s attention sharpened as he set the rope aside.

You are either brave or bad at surviving long.

I need a meeting. Today,

said Lucian, as the Veyrn runner passed twice more. He wanted a man who knew why the delegates were in Keth-Arel and what Keth-Arel brought with it. There was something in the movement of the second runner that said measure him for a sack, but Lucian met the look until the pair had moved on.

Derrin came as dusk settled, the same clean coat, the same pleasant smile with less room in the muscle.

You made lists.

The fast response said the same as the man’s eyes tracing the street. So did the way his fingers curled as he left the coin purse hanging by its string. It should have been impossible for a Watch pair to pass the corner without stopping to question him - except there was not a single halt in the entire evening. The delegate runner arrived twice more with his strange message scrawled across the parchment, as if the name was written three times to force recall. It was enough, in the end, for two more pairs to stop him on the second pass through the yards. When Derrin stepped forward as if to take Lucian by the shoulder, he was met instead a with hand on his own arm. It took until the last bell tolled before either of them made contact with skin.

You made lists.

I was included in one,

said Lucian with a push from the post. Civic hold. Delegates questioning good Frees about tidy numbers. Your name came up as a man who will buy up useful people before the hands close.

Derrin exhaled sharply and blew the air out his nose. I suppose you told them that?

I said you hired me, replied Lucian. They already knew the rest. Of course they always do, said Derrin as he swept a glance up and down the length of the street, before moving him with a nod past the wider street and into a smaller one. Walk, he said. I need more than coin on the side.

I need someone who knows what the delegates are searching for and where it leads them after Keth-Arel.

You live in the middle of the houses and the Frees,

Derrin said with a short dry laugh, You know who talks too much after a few drinks.

They stopped beneath a balcony that left the street light pooled around their feet. For long seconds Derrin rubbed thumb against short fingers as if counting discs still in the pouch.

There is a woman

he said finally. Not house blood. Not Watch. She sells routes and news to the kind of people who cannot be seen asking the wrong questions. If the delegates came for a Lord flare, she already sold three copies of the story before breakfast.

Where?

Old bath house on Cinder Row. After third bell. Tell the door you are there for steam and old maps. If you should happen to mention a certain name she may tax you for the bother.

Lucian nodded. What does she cost?

More than Sull but less than a house cell

Derrin leaned close enough to say the next part, A certain type of man gets sent home if coin turns out not to be your interest. If it is your interest you have more than just a purse.

I need the truth more than I need her comfort

said Lucian. That remark always gets a man buried.

Go,

Derrin said as he pulled back from the alley. If she asks where you heard of her, say the market still works. Don’t say you left directly from civic holding. Sounds desperate. I know, said Lucian. I am desperate. She was already smiling when he reached the end of the street.

It was clear the bath house should be half shut down from the street. Wet stone and small, narrow windows and a painting that stretched across the door into water shapes. The man waiting at the entry was large, and as bored as possible up until Lucian said the words.

Steam and old maps

Alone?

Yes

Inside. Second hall, blue curtain. Lucian did not stop until he was seated across the table from a woman whose hair had gray at the temples and a bowl of shelled nuts under one hand. She did not offer friendship but something close to it, regarding him up and down beneath the weight of the room.

You have Derrin’s timing, she said. Late enough to need me. Early enough to think I care.

I need to know why the delegates are in Keth-Arel -

Everyone wants that, she said, cracking a nut. Pay first.

Local discs went down with a glance but stayed on the table.

__NOT_AN_EMBLEM_QUOTE__ said the woman, Not a tavern story. Honest enough to pull Authority liaisons to the lower planes, looking for footprints and vessels, remnants, anyone who made this place settle as smooth as it does. The houses want to put a claim on it before the courts write their names. They are the weather pattern for this little hole of interest.

After Keth-Arel?

That depends on what they find, said the woman, reclined. If the find nothing they go to the next dense city and repeat this until they do. If they find someone worth taking they lock up a jurisdiction for a property fight. If they find one of our little true lines leading them all the way back to the vanished Lord this will no longer be a home, but a road.

Lucian kept speaking evenly, I want to know what a true line looks like.

She studied his face for too long.

Sometimes it looks like power. Sometimes it looks like a man not meant to last this long under the watch of official eyes.

The silence between them stretched to the edge of the room.

I paid for information, said Lucian, not the tell fortune kind.

She tapped one disc back to him. A discount warning. Turn up your pockets if you intend to leave the city. If not, someone will own you before mid week.

He left the coin on the table.

One more question, who benefits if I disappear in a house cellar this night?

Veyrn, if they can be bothered, said the woman rising as Lucian left. Sallis, if they are patient. The delegates, if either house is in the mood to force their interests. We are done.

Night had fallen for Cinder Row when Cael spoke. She saw enough.

I saw a Free in pressure

he said, You are a Free under pressure. That is not the same thing.

Lucian was walking through the streets, past Reed Street, when he thought How long will it be before I no longer have a choice, but not toward the house at all?