I wasn't unhappy to leave Baltimore behind.

I had added another agent to my arsenal. Arnie had been strangely enthused by my proposal. I had the sensation the man hadn't left his home in a long, long time. Even as I stepped out of the door of the filthy little house, the man was moving around, gathering a traveling cloak, inspired by the prospect of action.

Olaf was at the gate before I was in the morning. He was not healthier for the night he had spent. Burdened by the regrets of unknown vessels of unknown beverages, he stood as stout and strong as ever, but with a sway and pain that I hadn't seen before.

Still, he greeted me with his usual innocence. I inquired if he had done anything that would make Tara unhappy, and he assured me that he hadn't. I believed him, of course, because he was Olaf and I felt sure he was incapable of lying or doing things that would make others unhappy.

Just before we left with our train, a young girl ran up to me, bowing and scraping to my station, handing me a note.

I tried to keep my expression neutral as I read it. Olaf was not his usual observant self. The big man was heavily invested in the task of appearing to not be intensely hung over. He smiled and chatted with the merchants in our caravan while steeling himself against what must have been a terrible malaise. The upside of his condition was that he had little energy left to spend observing the fluster that flashed on my face as I read the note.

When we sped away from the city, I was left in turmoil.

It was the day of the election for Speaker. Yes, I had signed the proxy and Lauren would have my vote. Olaf, though a Griidlord, was already of a noble house. His father was the lord of his castle, and Olaf had no vote of his own. Feigning ease through eyes that cried for mercy from the sun's light, he informed me that he did not expect Lauren would benefit from his father's vote. Still, I had done what I could to ensure her election. That I might miss the moment made me feel guilty, but the note burned into the flesh where I secreted it in my palm.

We might be late for the party.

Would Lauren care if we were late for her party? I tried to reason it out. There was every chance that she would lose, in which case the party she had planned would be a morose occasion, something I would be more than happy to miss the bulk of. And if she won, I would have done my part. She'd had my vote. She'd be ecstatic and delighted. What would she care if I was a few hours late?

I ground my fingers together, rubbing the note against my palm, feeling it.

Katya would understand. Even if I was late and missed the start of the party, if I explained it to Katya, she would understand. She'd explain it to Lauren in a way I couldn't. It would be alright.

Lauren would probably understand anyway. She had jilted me—what could she say to me delaying my arrival slightly?

It sounded so convincing. But still, I felt guilty.

We crossed the Wilds. The gap between Baltimore and Philly was narrow enough. The landscape around the city of Philly was pocked and marked by the scars of the time that had gone before. I had the sense that the metropolis of Philadelphia had extended far beyond the walled town that existed today. The land was marked by strange depressions. Odd remnants of structures protruded from the ground, reminding us that there had been a people sovereign over the earth before us. Unclaimed, rusting beams of steel still protruded from the earth at odd intervals.

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I glanced at the note. The Prussia Tavern.

I could see the town of Prussia in the distance. Many miles away, but only minutes under the Footfield.

Olaf said, "You'll catch Lauren's ire if you miss the election."

I said, "I have a meeting."

Olaf said, "Another disgruntled merchant? Ti, how rich do you want to be? How much difference can another deal make?"

I said, "It's important."

"Oracle's sake, Ti! It can't be! You own a city! Half the wagons I see coming and going on the roads seem to carry your mark—"

"That's an exaggeration."

"—Not that much of one. You have lands and a castle. You've more money than you could spend in a lifetime! Even as long as yours might be! Lauren will be pissed. And she'll have a right to be."

I said, "She has my proxy."

He said, "Does that count for your casting vote?"

I said, "My casting vote?"

He looked at me, shaking his head in vague dismay. "If the Lords have a vote that's hung on a tie, the Sword has the casting vote."

I said, "Really? I would have thought the Lord Supreme…"

He said, "No. The charters were set up to limit the powers of any one man. Boston learned the mistakes Chicago made with Padraig Dragonheart. The Lord Supreme has enough power. Had enough power. With the changes Balthazar is pushing through, there's those who'd say he has too much now."

I ignored the intrigue. "She won't need the casting vote."

Olaf said, "The last time you had a rendezvous, you took a while. What if she does win and you miss her party?"

Thoughts of that last rendezvous at the salt flats conjured memories of hot skin against hot skin, a breath on my ear, closeness.

I said, "I won't."

Olaf snorted as we relinquished hold of the Footfield and the caravan slowed to a stop. Prussia was a town in the Wilds beyond the edges of Philadelphia. The town had started in the ruins of a vast, crumbling structure. As I eyed it, I wondered if it had been an arena of some kind—a coliseum of the American age. The walls had been chewed by the ages, ground by vegetation. Still, the ghost of a tremendous building nestled there, now a warren of homes and businesses. The town had grown from that, with wood buildings stretching in crude lines on packed dirt streets.

I said, "Why don't you find the hair of the dog that bit you while I dicker."

He said, "Aye… I'll be at the hotel bar. Just don't take forever, Ti."

I waved him off and moved with a purposeful march toward the tavern on the main street.

The interior of the tavern could have been a sketch of a thousand more like it on the roads between the City of Angels and New York. A fireplace occupied one wall, flames rolling low, meat turning on a spit above it. A none-too-clean bar occupied another wall. The smell of poorly brewed ale wafted on the air, mixing with tobacco smoke. There were few patrons. A small tangle of men played cards by a window. A lone bruiser sat with a bottle of whiskey in a dank corner. A figure sprawled on a bench near the stairs, shrouded completely by a purple cloak.

Even as I stepped in, the cloaked figure stood and moved up the stairs. I moved to follow.

Noticing the staring eyes of the barman, I wondered if I should have taken measures to disguise myself. A cloak might have benefited me as well. I was a Griidlord, impossible to miss in my armor. This was not the kind of establishment that could be expected to be frequented by Griidlords. Even Olaf would draw notice at the grand hotel. Here, I was an aberration.

My eyes followed the tails of the cloak as it disappeared up the stairs. I said, "I have a meeting."

The barman said nothing. He couldn't speak. He was starstruck at my appearance. The man had probably never been so close to a Griidlord. He had probably never seen one before.

I moved to the stairs, casting a glance at the others. The card players continued with their game. They must have noticed me, but they showed no sign. The bruiser's eyes peered from a tangle of unkempt hair and a tangled beard, watching me.

When I reached the top of the stairs, a narrow corridor branched to either side, doors leading to bedrooms lining its length. The door at the end of the hall stood ajar, and I could see the edge of the purple cloak waiting beyond.

I moved swiftly down the hall. I was self-conscious. I hadn't thought of the spectacle I would be—a Griidlord appearing at a run-down tavern to attend a secret meeting. I felt the weight of my footfalls as I moved, heard their threat, felt conspicuous.

I shut the door of the room behind me and turned to face the robed figure.

The figure's hands lifted to pull back the edges of the deep hood. Racquel's face revealed itself, smiling at me with sheer devilment. She had melted back the suit from her face and hands so that she could move unnoticed with the aid of the cloak.

She let the cloak fall to her ankles, and I saw she had peeled the suit back from more than just her face and hands.

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