When he reached the top of the stairs and returned to the bar, Tessa watched him with a strangely calm expression that Samuel found difficult to read. The reject's smile was almost sardonic, as if this entire situation was a terribly inappropriate joke. But the fire that danced between the fingers of her upraised hand spoke volumes.

"Do you recognise this?" Samuel held out the broken rod toward her in offering.

The fire in Tessa's hand congealed into a bright spark of harsh white light at the end of her fingertips, and she dashed at Samuel with her hand extended. Samuel stumbled backwards until he hit the wall, and the reject's fingers followed until they were inches from his throat.

"No," Tessa replied, but the fire faded from her hand as she took the rod from him. Samuel sighed in relief and rubbed his throat.

Tessa turned the broken rod over once and tested the shards at the end. "This is Coldstone. Clovis gave this to you?"

"Yes. I was supposed to use it on you," Samuel admitted.

"That burning-" Tessa began to say, but Samuel cut her off by holding out the pad of paper.

"This was written on my pad of paper while I was downstairs. While the pad was still in my coat pocket," Samuel explained.

"Shimmering ash in the wind, Inspector. I know better. I know Clovis has a lot of Coldstone in that basement, and I know not even a Crafter can-"

Tessa's indignation vanished from her face like a wisp of smoke in a gale. Her eyes widened, and her hand shook, even as she traced over the paper with her finger. "Burn me, it's still warm. And I wondered why I didn't earn the coat."

"Listen," Samuel said and pointed towards a nearby table. Tessa followed mutely and sat down without turning her eyes away from the paper in her hands.

"We can negotiate a conditional sentence, but we have to do it right here, and right now," Samuel said, and he pointed to the door. "As soon as Clovis gets back up here, the Crafter is going to intervene. And people will die if it comes to that."

"A Crafter doesn't have any authority. They can't offer me terms," Tessa said, handing the slip back. She then looked around at the torches on the walls, and asked, "Who are you representing?"

Samuel saw a spark of flame dance over the paper. He shook his head, bemused. "You were right. A Crafter doesn't have the authority. But we're not dealing with a Crafter."

Samuel handed the paper back to Tessa, who read it with a single flicker of her eyes.

The reject smiled then, the first real smile Samuel had ever seen on her. In that smile, Samuel saw his own fear and prejudices fade a little, and his opinion of her change.

His hand still stung. He tried to ignore that.

"What are your terms?" Tessa asked.

Samuel held out his hands. "Two years in a prison work-camp. The fields, with one of the rehabilitation, work-sites that the Bureau of Agriculture runs."

"Two years of hard labour?" Tessa asked.

"Not hard," Samuel said, leaning forward. "Just honest work. Forty-eight hours over six days. One day a week to yourselves. An option to continue if they like your work."

Tessa nodded but frowned. "And Oversight?"

"Oversight prizes restraint. And you're showing a lot of restraint by changing course. I'm confident you'll get a fair hearing,

"Tessa?" someone asked. "What the burning hell is going on? Where's Clovis?"

Tessa stood up and glared at the man. "You want to live, Travis?"

"Yeah. But you're talking prison sentences, aren't you? I'm not keen on spending the rest of my life mining iron in the Undercity."

"Two years in the fields. Workcamp, so you're doing it sober. Like pretty much all of the rest of the City. Honestly, do you think we're getting a better deal at this point, Travis?"

"What about the boss?"

Tessa rubbed her eyes. "The boss was about to throw us on the pyre, just to get himself a better deal. I'm getting you out as cleanly as I can."

Here, Tessa set her hands on the table and began to stand up, stopping halfway. "But I will smoke you if you ruin this for Johnathan and me."

Travis swallowed hard and nodded.

"I need more than that from Oversight," Tessa insisted. Samuel was relieved that she was, once again, talking to one of the torches on the wall. "Johnathan and I are both on the wrong side of the law."

"You know we can't just guarantee that Oversight won't want to evaluate your mental state."

"I know," Tessa said. "I just want a guarantee it will be impartial. Just our mental state, not our background."

"Difficult," Samuel admitted, but he kept his smile up. "Difficult, but we can do that. Oversight owes me, and I've met a few reasonable people there. They won't guarantee you a free pass."

Here, Samuel waved his hands and leaned forward. "But if you're willing to sit here with me and hear bad news, I like your odds."

Firelight flickered on the paper Tessa was still holding. She smiled as she watched, and after the light faded set the paper back down on the table. "These are kind terms. I honestly didn't expect that," Tessa admitted. "I am a bit worried about trusting you, though. I am putting my life in your hands, and I don't like that."

Samuel nodded and paused a moment to consider his next words with care. When he finally spoke, it was as carefully measured as anything he had ever said. "The Orderlies, well, we do negotiate. But it's both official and unofficial policy that we don't go back on our word. To negotiate in a situation like this, we have to keep our word. Because if we can't be trusted, we can't negotiate. So everything you get out of me, right now, will be upheld by everyone right up to the High Commissioner."

"Well," Tessa hesitated, folding her hands together. She looked like she was about to say more when another flash of light appeared on the pad of paper.

Tessa smiled and turned to the nearby torch. "Yes, it would help."

Tessa then flipped the page and set the pad on the table. It looked like a small wave of red fire washed over the page, leaving behind a blob of text in a very tight script.

Tessa picked it up and held it close to her face. She seemed pleased and eventually traced her finger over the bottom of the document. "Agreed," she said, handing it to Samuel.

Samuel turned the pad over and glanced through the document. At the bottom of the page he could already see two signatures, one clearly Tessa's. He took a small charcoal stick out of his pocket and added his own.

"I'm going to live through this," Tessa whispered.

"We all are."

There were tears in Tessa's eyes, and seeing them brought Samuel to the realisation that he had badly misjudged her. He should have known that any reject in this situation would likely be killed as a matter of course, which was why she was so willing to follow Clovis.

As he thought of the bartender, he heard a dull crack in the distance, and the distinctive patter of heavy boots striking stone. Samuel stood up and bolted for the doorway.

And managed three steps before Clovis whirled around the doorway, the gun in his outstretched hand pointed at Samuel. "Sold me out, did you?"

"Clovis, don't be burning stupid. That gun won't do a thing to me," Tessa warned, advancing towards him with fire burning between her fingertips.

"I still like my odds. Pity you turned so burning disloyal at the end," Clovis sneered.

"You had already sold me out. Sold all of us out! Now drop that thing before I melt it into your skin!" Tessa warned.

Clovis pointed the gun towards Tessa just as Samuel warned, "Wait, that's-"

Samuel didn't manage another word before Clovis pulled the trigger. Samuel blinked out of reflex, fully expecting a percussive roar as the weapon fired.

It was a genuine shock to Samuel when the gun's hammer gave a single timid, impotent clang.

But just moments after, a thundering roar hit Samuel from behind and shoved him forward. He fell to the floor and rolled a little before he stopped. Blinking in disbelief, Samuel climbed to his feet and looked back towards the door.

Or rather, what was left of it.

The heavy metal door lay in at least three pieces, one small chunk still spinning lazily. Behind the wrecked metal a tall man, sword sheathed at his side, strode through the open doorway. He stepped beside the spinning piece of metal and stopped it with his boot.

"Mister Hannover," Captain Gerald Raeth said as if he were greeting with an old acquaintance. "Would you pour me a drink? We have a lot to talk about."