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Please, sir, can I go to the loo?

Jacob. Again?

Straight over to the loo, then right back to bed. Not a sound.

Yes. Thank you, sir.

Oh, please!

- Master Thorne. - Rycroft.

Good to see you, sir.

Would that it were on a happier day.

That's a hoof print.

This one looks more like a Trow.

Doesn't make any sense.

- Take a look over there. - Okay.

Well done nicking this,

right out from under their fucking noses.

I didn't think you had it in you.

Oh. Well, that is far from the whole of what I have in me.

Oh, don't get ahead of yourself.

You'll start out on deliveries and work your way up,

just like everyone else.

You'll be shadowing Oona.

- She'll show you the ropes. - Good to meet you.

But... if you need anything, anything at all,

you just let me know.

I will, thank you.

- He seems like a nice enough lad. - Yeah.

Be careful of that one.

Why?

He's looking to fuck you.

What?

No.

How can you tell?

He told me so.

Oh.

Brothers and sisters,

I had expected to be the bearer of good news this morning.

A shipment of lixir from the jungles of Mag Mor.

But it would seem it has been confiscated

by the constabulary.

We have a cricket in our midst.

Someone's been chirping.

I realize our work is a far cry from the lives we left behind.

We are not accustomed to the shadows.

We were not born outlaws.

We have chosen to live outside the law,

because the law of this city is not ours.

It does not protect us.

Not even you,

my little cricket.

Whatever they've told you,

it was a lie.

They will use you to crush your brothers and sisters,

and then they will crush you.

You have two choices.

Show me you wish to be made clean.

Step forward, here and now, and I swear,

my hand to the heart of Saint Titania,

no harm will come to you.

Or you can hide,

force me to hunt you down,

and I will see you torn from the sky

and fed to the eels,

like garbage.

What will it be?

So be it.

May the gods have mercy on you, little cricket.

I will not.

And what are your plans for the day, brother?

I'm meeting my solicitor at the office

to discuss which bank to approach for a loan.

I see.

I'm not at all sure how to take your lack of objection.

What do I know about such matters?

Hardly comes under "what to wear"

or "who's been seen with whom."

That was very unkind of me,

and I'm sorry to have said it.

You're sulking.

Don't think I don't see.

All I know is your brother wouldn't think much of you

inviting a gussied-up Puck over for tea.

I'll boil your horns if Ezra finds out about this.

Then why risk it?

Because I have no choice.

He would lose the roof over our heads,

yet I am incompetent.

My brother is a dear soul,

but he lacks our father's mettle.

This wouldn't be the first time

he's been taken advantage of in business.

But it is the last time I pretend to look away.

Take this across to the Puck.

- What is it? - A note

explaining that we're in the middle of sprucing

and to please come round to the servants' entrance.

What would the neighbors think

if they saw a Puck walking in through our front door?

Then why have him here in the first place?

Because he's positively desperate for acceptance

into polite society.

Imagine his gratitude at being invited to the home

of one of the most prominent families in the Burgue.

Who knows what dividends that gratitude might yield?

You'd ask him for monies over harken cake?

Certainly not.

But I might just... see my way round

to making passing mention

to my brother's many canny business ventures.

It may be that, in his eagerness to please,

he'll rise to the bait.

Better Ezra take money

from a gullible Puck than those vultures on State Street.

The boys are telling me you got a good look

at the bloke that did this.

Whatever it was, it wasn't a bloke.

Trow?

Bigger than a Trow.

Not bloody likely.

A bloke or a Trow

or a fucking Kobold,

why kill an old orphan-meister anyway?

Why kill a Pix entertainer?

What's some dead whore got to do with this?

She wasn't a whore.

Dr. Morange?

Severe contusions.

Multiple lacerations.

Cause of death was excessive exsanguination.

Just like the fae singer.

Who did the post on a dead Pix?

Friend of mine did me a favor.

Critch friend, was it?

A Puck, if it makes a difference.

The... killer

seemed preoccupied with this.

The victim's liver.

Can't make head or tail of the incisions on it though.

The liver? Are you sure?

My patients may be deceased, Inspector,

but I can assure you I can discern the difference

between a liver and other vital organs.

Why would the killer extract someone's liver?

To kill them.

Just guessing.

Inspector. You're late.

You knew I was coming?

The ways of the Fane can open a window to the future

for those whose faith is true.

That, and scuttle has it you tried to put a bullet

in some kind of "creature" last night.

How did folks put it?

"Neither man nor fae"?

Believe me now?

Both the victims had their livers removed. Why?

For what purpose?

I'm a holy woman.

These are unholy matters.

I'm afraid I can only speculate

as to the reasoning of such evil.

Go ahead, speculate.

Maybe the liver is a prize of sorts.

Its dark reward, perhaps.

Why do I feel like you know more than you're letting on?

Because I do.

But I've already told you as much as you will believe.

Try me.

There's a story in our oldest traditions

of a beast called a Darkasher.

Darkasher.

A golem of flesh, fashioned from the limbs of the dead

and given new life, new purpose.

What are you saying?

Some motley patchwork of corpses has been raised from the dead?

As Saint Titania herself said,

there is a strange power in the joining of unlike things.

You still don't believe me.

Sounds very far-fetched.

How many more bodies will drop

before it sounds anything else?

I'm a rational man, Mima.

I need to see such things for myself.

I don't traffic in the dark arts.

You want proof,

there's a haruspex with a shop off Vectis Square.

- Hmm. - You might see her about it.

I might.

Be careful, Inspector.

Skepticism might keep you sane,

but it won't necessarily keep you alive.

Good afternoon.

I'm sorry that you had to come through the back,

but Miss Imogen is repainting the entrance foyer.

I'm sure you understand.

Completely.

Horrid weather we're having.

With any luck, it'll clear by Wrensday.

Mm.

You're from New Freehold, I'm told.

It was my former city of residence, yes.

But, of course, I'm not from there.

No, of course.

My kin mined coal in Puyan for generations.

And then the war broke out, and the Pact

started conscripting every able body they could.

I was quick to ascertain that the life

of a Puck meant very little to two warring armies of men

and thus found my way to New Freehold.

Where you evidently prospered.

It's a festering sore of a place, to be certain.

But I found opportunity there, yes.

Do you have any sugar?

Yes.

Thank you.

I trust Finistere Crossing has lived up to your hopes?

Oh, its finery knows no peer.

My only disappointment, though,

is that I'm yet to meet its residents.

They're a bit bashful, you understand.

You're a rarity here.

Some might say an impossibility.

They'll find their way, I'm certain of it.

Well, thank you for being the first.

It's most kind and most appreciated.

Oh, we're actually quite progressive, we Spurnroses.

My father was first in the Crossing

to bring on a Faun cook.

But it's one thing to employ a Puck,

and quite another to have one over for tea.

- Yet here you are! - The one thing that I...

keep coming back to...

in my mind...

is why?

Why?

I must confess, when I first received your invitation,

it left me wondering, why would this young lady

extend herself so?

And what would her neighbors think

of her receiving a Puck in her home?

Like I said, we're progressive.

I could give a toss what the neighbors think.

- Really? - Mm.

Then why have me come around back...

through the servants' entrance?

Well, you saw for yourself the parlor...

Oh, come now, woman! We both know

this was a ruse, and a shoddy one at that.

I can think of only one reason you would invite me here.

And what would that be?

Sport.

- Sport? - You wish to regale your friends

in the smart set of tales

of the ridiculous Puck who came to call.

Well, go on, then.

I take three sugars in my tea,

and I don't give a shite who knows about it.

I would thank you not to use such language.

Well, perhaps I should leave.

Perhaps so.

Mark me, Miss Imogen, mark me.

The day will come that your bashful neighbors

will fight to shake my hand.

We have watchful eyes on Longerbane

and his every known associate.

Very good, Winetrout.

Keep us informed.

I dreamt of him last night.

That summer by the sea. Do you remember?

What if sleep is the only place

I'll hold my son again?

Oh. Shh, shh, shh, shh.

You must stay strong.

I have this in hand.

We know Longerbane has Jonah. Why not arrest him now?

Arrest him now, and he'd deny everything.

We'd never see the boy again.

Understand, Longerbane's not doing this merely to grieve us.

He's after the chancellorship as well.

How so?

Tell me.

When the ransom demand comes, it won't be for gold.

It will exact that I step down

in exchange for Jonah's safe return.

He can't very well admit

to having been behind the kidnapping, now, can he?

Which means he'll surely implicate someone else.

- Mm-hmm. - A group of disgruntled Critch, perhaps.

They're his favorite hobbyhorse, after all.

Yeah. He's a wily little devil, I'll give him that.

But we are onto him.

- Yeah. - Hmm?

Today, when we sit in Parliament,

he'll get nothing from me.

No inkling that we have discovered him.

The majority seem determined

to let these Critch remake the face of our city.

By the Martyr, soon enough

there'll be more of them than there are of us!

- Where does it end? - Where does it end?

Well, it wouldn't surprise me in the least

if before long Breakspear starts saying

that the Critch should be allowed to vote.

Never! Never! Never!

Maybe that's his secret plan for staying in power.

Yield the floor! We've heard enough!

The Critch are like a tide

that will swamp

- and drown our city. - Yes!

Make no mistake, they will destroy us

from without and within.

Selling lixir to men without hope.

Selling coitus to the weakest among us.

You push me too far, Longerbane.

Yield the floor!

Yield the floor!

If you have the votes to silence me,

conjure them now.

Conjure my son!

Your son?

What the devil are you talking about, Breakspear?

You know full well.

What have I done?

Why couldn't I hold my tongue?

Longerbane will never give Jonah up now.

It would be tantamount to a full confession.

And I...

I dragged it out into the open like a damn fool!

You're my advisor, Winetrout.

Advise me!

Forgive me, sir, I...

I can't.

- Arrest him! - Arrest Longerbane

without proof?

What choice do you have, airing it as you've done?

His coalition will appeal the arrest to the High Court.

- We'd not keep him for long. - Long enough to pry

the location of our son from his lips

by whatever means required.

Once you've wrung Jonah from him,

his guilt will be plain for all to see.

Yes.

Yes.

Have the viper brought in.

I'm sorry.

Forgive me.

- You said I was lost. - You are.

I know.

I have been.

I'm trapped between two worlds, Vignette.

For a while I thought I could choose a third.

A life with you.

But that was selfish.

Loving you meant letting you go.

So do it.

Thanks very much.

The inspector.

How could I help you?

What's this?

You want me to make a nice stew, is that it?

I want you to make me a Darkasher.

Take it you've laid eyes on the beast yourself?

I saw something.

But I won't believe it was raised from the dead

till I see for myself

if such a feat is even possible.

Ha.

And you would have me join these two lifeless creatures

so they breathe as one?

Not so easy what you ask.

It's all Critch bollocks, then, isn't it?

Ah, can't an old haruspex haggle anymore?

I'll pay you what you ask.

Can you do it or not?

A Darkasher must have its master.

It'll be bound to you

to your last breath.

Seems a long time to have a bloody... mole fish.

Bound to me how?

From the life that you must give.

- What are you saying? - I only require

what would be your part in any creation, Inspector.

You can't mean...

Your seed.

I have what I need.

Come back in a couple of days.

Matters such as these can't be rushed.

If any of this is charlatanry,

you old witch,

there'll be hell to pay.

It doesn't take a genius.

Couriers leave packages around town

in places marked with chalk.

Chalk tells you where to take them. Simple as that.

What's in the packages?

Lixir. Contraband.

Best not to ask.

Look, they'll start you off on a day route.

Swap it out as quick as you can, though.

- Nights go faster. - Why?

You can fly without being spotted.

Daylighters have to leg it.

What happens if you're spotted flying?

Well, they won't shoot you down,

but they'll order your wings clipped

if they catch up with you.

What do you need, Bol?

Just the new one.

Dahlia wants her.

Oh, God.

Please, please.

What was the first rule I gave you?

I didn't talk to the police.

Well, that's just patently untrue, isn't it, Bolero?

I saw you and the inspector, the handsome one,

on the Row, right out in the open, plain as day.

He's nobody.

We used to fuck.

Fucking them isn't better than talking to them, lass.

That was during the war. He wasn't a copper back then.

Well, he's a copper now, isn't he?

So, what did you talk about?

Nothing.

- Just our own stupid shit. - Your own stupid shit?

- Are you in love with this legger? - No.

I fucking hate the bastard, trust me.

Well, give us his address, then.

We'll sew it up for you, won't we?

- I don't know it. - All right, fuck this.

- Hold her steady. - No, please!

- I'm... I'm not the informant! - No.

- You're a fucking liability. - No, please.

I'm an asset.

I can... I can help you find the cricket.

Where are you gonna look? Under Johnny Burgue's bollocks?

What do you care how I fucking find him?

By midnight, you better be standing in front of me

with a name on your lips

or halfway back to Tirnanoc.

I never should have sent you to those shits.

It's not your fault.

I should've just gotten you a job here.

No. No, you were right. I wouldn't have felt free here.

You'd be alive, at least.

I'm not dead yet.

I just need to find that informant.

What? Before tonight?

- You're not serious, are you? - What other choice do I have?

Well, how about getting the fuck out of town, for a start?

No, I'm done running.

And just how in Lunasa's hell are you gonna find

whoever it is that's talking?

I'm working on it.

Vignette, these Black Raven...

Don't scare me.

I've survived worse. A lot worse.

You're not invincible.

There's a lot of hurt you're not dealing with.

Don't let it make you do anything stupid.

Please.

If not for your own good,

then for mine, because I will never forgive myself

if this Black Raven shit gets you killed.

I saw your alma mater started admitting women.

Farce in the making, no doubt.

How else is a lady to occupy herself?

You had already led two polar expeditions by my age.

Yes.

Hideous ordeal.

Perhaps I'll attend in the autumn.

After a sabbatical.

Touring the Beornlands.

Or down south to the Pharaonic Coast.

A summer sailing amidst the sunken tombs

of my ancestors.

Your ancestors.

Your mother was born in the embassy up the street.

She couldn't so much as spell her own name in Pharaonic.

Well, God forbid

a lady should want to know much more than that.

That she should want to see anything at all

of the world outside her house.

Come now, Sophie.

Your house is a bloody castle.

Are there not enough books in your library now?

Evidently not, considering I have read them all.

Twice.

Then read them slower next time.

Because your ancestors' tombs will turn to dust

before I let you prance off into the bush.

Much less college.

I wasn't asking your permission.

Then go and see how far you can get without it.

Hey, you can't just barge into a proctor's home.

Proctor Longerbane, the chancellor wants to see you.

I don't care what he bloody wants!

Get your hands off me. Don't you know who I am?

It's outrageous!

Done it this time, Breakspear.

Using the chancellery guard as your own personal thugs.

I'll have your robes for this.

Where's my son?

Bastard!

You're insane.

As would you be if someone stole your precious trophy from you.

Where's Jonah?!

I don't know what you're talking about.

Absalom, enough!

He can't tell us anything if he's beaten senseless.

I simply have no idea what either of you are talking about.

Take him away.

We shall devise some way to jog his memory.

I checked around like you asked.

Learned a thing or two.

- Such as? - Apparently, the brother

is casting around desperately for a loan.

So it wasn't for sport.

Sir?

Nothing. Well done, Fergus.

Always knew I could count on you.

Can't help feel sorry for 'em.

Poor girl's in for it, spoiled or not.

Yes, I'd imagine so.

Ritter.

Ritter?

Something for the pain.

Piety.

Thank the Martyr you've come.

I implored Absalom to let me plead with you

as Jonah's mother.

Don't waste your breath.

I've no idea where the boy is.

It's rare to witness such bravery

in the face of such wrath.

My husband has his hands full.

It's not bravery.

It's that I've nothing to give up.

Yes, but he doesn't know that.

You...

Say again?

You're holding him where?

What?

The Copley Baths?

Oh!

What is it?

Did the demon speak?

I fear you were too hard on him.

His body failed, and he...

he passed before my eyes.

Martyr be praised

you let me plead with him.

He confessed?

The old Copley Baths.

That's where he's holding Jonah.

Oh!

This is crap, is what this is!

I wasn't doing a bloody thing!

Well, then, you got nothing to worry about, do you?

Wait here, you shite.

Hamlyn.

Are you trying to get me killed, Inspector?

Dahlia's on a tear

after your pal Dombey broke up the lixir shipment.

Dombey's not my pal,

and your troubles are not my concern.

What is is we have a killer on the loose.

Well, it's not me, and it's not the Raven.

The only people they kill are the ones who cross them.

Like, say, getting caught ratting out to the cops.

I'm pursuing an unorthodox angle.

Some... beast made of dead things...

Puck, Trow and the like...

might've been responsible.

You're fucking crazy.

I'm waiting on evidence.

But in the meantime, I got to thinking,

who could procure a bunch of dead corpses?

Coroner.

Maybe you should have a chat with your friend Dr. Morange.

I'm having a chat with you.

Morange doesn't concern himself with dead fae.

Neither does the Raven.

But... I've heard tell of one of us.

Wren.

She might've gotten some side work digging up

the kind of things you're talking about.

- For who? - Don't remember.

Didn't make much of an impression on me.

Had kind of a religious name, I think.

I'll need to talk to this Wren.

Then you'll need to dig her up, too.

Dahlia tossed Wren off a roof two nights ago.

Said it was because she didn't trust her anymore, but ask me,

I think it was over this side action of hers.

So...

can I get out of here now?

In a couple of hours.

We wouldn't want Dahlia suspecting anything now,

would we?

You're not supposed to be back here, Tourmaline.

And you're supposed to be anywhere, are you?

As I recall, you're the one who told me to leave her behind.

I never told you to fake your own death.

I thought you broke it off clean.

It wasn't that easy,

- and I apologized. - No, I know.

But one of her new Black Raven friends saw you two together.

I'm sure you can imagine how that went over,

her talking to a copper.

- How is she? - They think she's the one

who's been sharing information with you lot.

She thinks she can wriggle her way out of it, as always.

Me?

I think you got her into this mess,

and you can get her out.

I told her not to join the Ravens.

Well, she did.

And now I need you to tell me who is on the take.

Fuck.

It's him or her, Philo.

These Ravens, they don't fuck about.

Edgal Hamlyn.

Inspector. They found him.

- Who? - The Breakspear boy.

He's being held at the Copley Baths.

Don't know how many kidnappers.

Captain wants all hands on this one.

- Sweep the place! - Right away, sir!

Whoever's helping Longerbane might be hiding.

It's okay. You're safe.

- Well? - They're gone, sir.

Eh, these cunts will be long gone by now.

Fuck it.

Are you all right, boy?

Did he hurt you?

I knew you'd bring me home.

I would have leveled heaven itself.

But, in truth,

we've your mother to thank.

It was she who implored me

to consult with her Haruspex.

Jonah.

Thank the Martyr you're safe.

I'd have a word with your mistress.

She is otherwise disposed, I'm afraid.

Is that you, Ezra?

What do you want?

I came to apologize,

for my behavior today.

Apology accepted. Thank you.

What's the matter?

Are they staring?

Wondering what a Puck is doing at your front door.

Imagine how they'll stare when you and your brother

are forced to sell this house.

What do you know of our affairs?

Only what your neighbors' servants are saying

about the trouble your brother's gotten himself into.

I am sorry.

One can only guess at your desperation.

It is.

It is desperation.

You are right to call it so.

My brother and I,

we find ourselves drowning

and were never taught to swim.

This is honesty.

My invitation to tea was not for sport.

I meant to test the waters of your generosity.

I sensed

that you lack a proper invitation to society here.

And you smelled a bargain to be made.

I am sorry, Mr. Agreus.

It was foolish of me. I see that now.

Was it?

Please don't toy with me.

Far from it.

I see no reason why we can't come to an accommodation.

The first step, of course...

...you have to let me through your front door.

Hamlyn.

He knew about the shipment.

That copper of yours gave you this?

You really must have him wrapped around your little finger.

Only one thing left to do then.

You want me to do it?

How easy it would be to give me a name and walk away clean.

No, you need to prove you believe it.

I'm not a killer.

All those years in the occupation.

A tough lass like you never left a single body in her wake?

Not one?

Never my own kind.

What did I tell you?

He who picks the groundlings belongs to the ground.

Put him in it.

And bring me the cocksucker's wing.

Oona said you wanted to see me.

I did.

What is it?

I'm very busy tonight.

I've heard something about you,

and I want to know if it's true.

Oh.

What did you hear?

That you've been telling folks that you mean to fuck me.

These faerishyn say all kinds of things.

So you wouldn't then?

Wouldn't what?

Fuck me.

Mm, no, I didn't say that.

Close your eyes.

Why?

Because I told you to.

Mm, I'm sure there's a more comfortable place we can go.

No.

I don't want this to get too comfortable.

You tender-wings all come off the boat the same...

thinking you survived because you're strong.

But you're just lucky.

You really think you're the first faerishyn to come for me?

Huh?

No.

I will outlive you, lady's maid.

And you will spend your last breath wishing

you'd just followed through

and sucked me off.

Because now you really got me worked up.

And I'm keen to see

just how slowly I can cut off your pretty head.

Too slow.

Are you okay?

Vignette.

We have to go.

How did you find me?

Tourmaline.

Oh, God.

Help me with the body.

Where's it lead?

To the river, then out to sea.

What if he turns up?

They'll find a constabulary bullet in him and let it go,

I suppose.

Is that how it works around here?

The Burgue

is an ugly place.

It's the home you chose.

It wasn't right, the way I left you.

I kept trying to tell myself it was.

At the end of the day,

a man's no better than the pain he's caused the people he loves

and what he's willing to do to set it right.

I should never have taken it from you.

I'm sorry.

I'll be honest...

I didn't know which one of you would come back.

Me neither.

Quick and painless?

No.

Good.

What's this?

A promotion.

Hamlyn ran the lots.

Now you do.

I'm giving you the Finistere route.

Off you go.

Oh.

Be careful with that copper of yours.

Or, next time, it'll be your wing on the table.

You don't have to worry about him.

You got my note.

And came anyway.

Portia,

I do care about you.

More than I've shown.

You deserve better.

What brings this on, Philo?

I've decided to choose a world.

What's that supposed to mean?

It occurred to me

I've never taken you out.

Can't think of the last time someone served me dinner.

Can't think of anyone who deserves it more.

This is nice.

Thank you for bringing me.

It was me.

Sorry?

That girl you asked me about the other day.

It was me who hurt her.

Sometimes that's harder to live with

than the other way around.

Have you been here all night?

You okay?

Vignette...

It's okay, it's okay.

Okay. All right.

You're okay.

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