"Probably. There's a history between Germa fon Dreasser and Honario Benedocto." The latter having been the Patriarch's name before his elevation.

"These Firaldians have been dishonoring each other's wives and daughters and using that to excuse assassinations since…"

"Not to mention their sons and catamites."

"Why are we going this way, Pinkus? Especially on a rainy day?"

They had entered an area of tenements so closely crowded that two horsemen could not pass in opposite directions. The unpaved streets were slick and deep in a mix of manure and human ordure. It made sucking noises when the horses lifted their hooves. Water filled their hoofprints instantly.

The grooms in the regimental stables would have plenty to do once these animals returned. "Just Plain Joe will love you." Hooves and legs would need special attention to prevent disease.

"Ogier! Aubero! What the hell is it with this romp through a shit pile? Who told you to go this way?" Ghort tried to bully his way forward.

Half a minute later Hecht emerged into a small square. Those who had preceded him were looking round warily, weapons drawn.

"Something besides the shit stinks," Ghort declared. "Ogier and Aubero have disappeared. Those assholes."

"I deduced as much when I saw your blade bare to the weather."

"Polo will rub the rust out. That's what he gets paid for. That and for spying on all of us for Paludan Bruglioni."

Polo overheard. He did not protest. Ghort never showed any concern for his feelings.

Ghort gave orders. Men dismounted and moved out along the walls facing the square and its central cistern. The emptiness of the square was not a good omen. Ghort muttered, "I never should've taken those two into the lifeguard."