Bernadette stepped out of the spirit world into the Docklands, the smell of brine sharp in the air.
Pier Four at night: the creak of moored ships, scattered lantern-light, the low voices of dock workers finishing the late shift. Not a soul paying any attention to the trim figure that materialised from nowhere.
Alger was already there.
Without a word, the two of them moved to a quieter stretch of the pier — just the slap of dark water below and the wind off the sea.
"I appreciate you coming," Alger said. He'd looked the part of a weathered Church-of-Storms sailor since arriving in Backlund, keeping his extraordinary height wrapped in a plain coat. "The plan is straightforward. Qilangos wants me dead — has for years. If I let myself be seen in the right place, he'll come."
"And then?"
"And then I kill him." A pause. "With your assistance."
Bernadette studied him. "What do you know about his capabilities?"
"His true sequence is only six — Sailor pathway. In a direct confrontation, he'd be no great threat to either of us." Alger's voice dropped. "The problem is Creeping Hunger."
Creeping Hunger. The sealed artefact Qilangos had obtained from the Twilight Hermit Order, which had elevated him to his Pirate Admiral status in the first place. An item that made him effectively unpredictable and considerably more dangerous than his sequence suggested.
"How do you intend to draw him out?"
"A gathering of Loen officials. There's a formal reception tomorrow evening — the kind of event that would attract the attention of someone looking to cause trouble in the city. I'll attend as myself, under my Church of Storms credentials. If Qilangos has any intelligence at all, he'll know I'm there."
Bernadette considered. "And you want me close."
"Close enough to act the moment he shows himself. His first priority will be me, not an unknown third party — that gives you the initiative."
Vincent spoke from within: "What's your read on the Twilight Hermit Order? If Qilangos is eliminated before he completes the commission, will they come after us?"
Bernadette relayed the question. Alger answered without hesitation. "The Order won't move openly. They operate through intermediaries precisely to avoid direct entanglement. Eliminating Qilangos removes their instrument, not their interest — but we'd be safe in the short term."
"Then we agree," Bernadette said. "Tomorrow evening."
Alger gave a small, precise nod. "The venue is Viscount Brant's mansion in the North Borough. The reception begins at seven. I'll arrive at eight — fashionably late, visible enough to be noticed by anyone watching." He paused. "I won't know you're there. For all appearances, you'd simply be another guest."
"Understood."
They said nothing more that needed saying. Alger turned and walked back into the dark. Bernadette remained at the water's edge for a moment, looking out at the black harbour.
"Tomorrow it's my body," Vincent said.
"I know."
"And Qilangos has a sealed artefact that eats whatever it touches."
"I know."
"And we're doing this anyway."
"We are."
Vincent was quiet for a moment. Then, with the particular tone he used when there was nothing useful left to say: "...All right."
Bernadette walked back into the city.
Back at the Caesar Restaurant, the night had grown late by the time she returned. Vivian was still awake — she always was when Bernadette was out — and set a cup of warm milk on the table without being asked.
"The Hanged Man's plan?" Vivian asked.
"Tomorrow night. We help him catch Qilangos."
Vivian absorbed this with her usual placid composure. "Should I prepare anything?"
"Just be ready to relocate at short notice. If things go sideways, we won't be coming back here."
"Understood." Vivian paused. "Your Majesty — about the new flat. I've found three candidates in Cherwood Borough. I can have the contracts drawn up tomorrow morning."
Bernadette gave her a look.
Vivian met her gaze with perfect, unblinking innocence.
"...Fine," Bernadette said. "Show me the contracts tomorrow."
A faint smile crossed Vivian's face. She collected the empty cup and excused herself.
Bernadette sat for a moment in the quiet of the room.
"She stalled," Vincent observed.
"She stalled."
"You knew the whole time."
"Of course."
"And you let her."
"...Don't push it."
Vincent, wisely, did not push it.
Above the city, the night deepened. Somewhere in Backlund, Qilangos was watching and waiting — and tomorrow, so would they.
To be continued…
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