
Shatters fell sideways with his head still in the bucket, spilling water over himself and the floor. He lay there, coughing violently, his body convulsing with the effort. I knelt down and relieved him of his dagger as he vomited up water and bile.
“The name,” I said when he was done.
Shatters spit. “Screw,” he said.
“That’s not a name,” I said. I stood and pushed his face into his own vomit with my foot, crushing his nose against the floor in the process. “Try again.”
Shatters gagged and tried to wrench his head up. I let him after a moment.
“Ioclaudia,” he gasped. “The name’s Ioclaudia.”
I arched an eyebrow. It was an old-fashioned name; certainly one I wasn’t familiar with on the street. “Who is…?” I asked.
Shatters started on another coughing fit. I nudged him with the toe of my boot.
“Who is?”
“Don’t know. Athel wouldn’t say.”
“What’s her connection with Athel? Was she his buyer?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Where is she?”
Shatters shook his head.
“What about the reliquary?” I said. “Did you find out where it is?”
Shatters was rising to his hands and knees now, arms trembling but getting stronger every moment. “All he said was he needed to make some kind of swap. It sounded as if it came up suddenlike.”
“And he used my reliquary?”
Shatters nodded.
Bastard. “What did he swap it for?”
“How the hell should I know?” Anger had found its way back into his voice. “Shit,” he said, looking up at me. “You little shit. Do you know what my brothers will do to you for this?”
I reached out and put his own dagger against his cheek. Shatters froze, staring at the steel. It was sharp; a rivulet of blood appeared without any effort on my part.
“Don’t even think about making this personal,” I said. “You tried to shake me down, and I called you on it. It’s business. It’s over.” I moved the blade down, letting it linger beside his neck. “But if you insist on bringing in your fellow Agonymen, not only will I take it poorly, but Nicco probably won’t be too pleased, either. And I know you don’t want him mad at you.”
