Nuan Sama shook her furry head, the many silver hoops gently clinking against each other. “I was never there.”

“That puff was a dye,” I said. “The inn had marked you. Shall we see if your fur is stained?”

A lamp sprouted from the ceiling. She didn’t wait for the light. Nuan Sama leapt straight up, flipping in the air as she tried to clear the crowd of her clansmen. A furry blur shot toward her. They collided in mid-air and landed back in the circle of the clansmen, her uncle next to her.

Pawed hands grabbed her, as her relatives rushed to restrain her.

“You took a contract not sanctioned by the family?” Nuan Cee’s voice was mournful.

“I did,” she snarled.

“Why?”

“Why?” Nuan Sama’s voice rose, shaking. “Why? Do you need me to tell you why? I’ve been an adult for four years. I want my freedom. I want my money, the money that was rightfully due to me on my majority and the one you and the rest of them stole from me. You’ve trapped me and you work me like I’m some indentured servant. Can’t you see, you’re suffocating me? I can’t even breathe the same air as you. It’s poison to me, uncle.”

The floor under Nuan Sama’s feet turned liquid. She began to sink. The foxes frantically tried to pull her out.

“Uncle!”

Nuan Cee spun toward me. “No!”

“She belongs to me,” I said, loading all my magic into my creepy voice.

Nuan Sama had sank in to her knees. She was screaming and whimpering now, making sharp fox noises as her family tried desperately to pull her free.

“She will be punished!” Nuan Cee cried out.

“I know,” I told him. “It won’t be quick or easy.”

“A favor from the merchants is worth more than the life of one unskilled assassin.” Caldenia murmured next to me. “I assume you have a plan, dear?”

“Yes,” I murmured.

Nuan Cee pivoted to Sean. Turan Adin shook his head. Yep. I didn’t think so. According to Wilmos, nothing in Sean’s contract obligated him to serve as a bodyguard to spoiled rich girl assassins.

The floor reached Nuan Sama’s hips. Desperation vibrated in her voice. “Help me, uncle! Help me!”

Nuan Cee turned to me. “Yes. Whatever it is you want, yes.”

I flicked my fingers. The floor solidified, trapping the fox in place. I needed a visual aid in case Nuan Cee developed second thoughts.

“What is this?” The Khanum’s eyes narrowed.

I heard the buzzing sound of a blood weapon being primed. The vampires were ready to rumble.

“The Holy Anocracy, the Horde, and the Merchants. All of you are responsible for spilling blood within these walls. All of you owe me a debt. I am calling it in. It’s time to settle your accounts.”

“What do you want?” Lady Isur asked.

“Your memories.” I touched my staff to the bulb. The fuzzy green sepals peeled back. Delicate, translucent flower petals unfurled, hair-thin and glowing with pale green near their base, then turning transparent, and finally darkening to a magenta toward the tips. Long, whip-like stamens, coated in soft blue light, stretched from within the flower, reaching and twisting, and inside, in the whorl of petals, the psy-booster glittered.

“You want to take our memories?” Dagorkun asked.

“Not take. I want you to share them with me.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” the Khanum snarled.

“I do.” You know why I am asking it. Your reason is standing right there, next to you.

George stepped forward, undid the clasp on his wrist cuff, and rolled the sleeve back, exposing a muscular scarred arm.

“You do not want this,” Robart said, his voice suffused with so much sadness. “You do not want to experience my memories, Innkeeper.”

“Yes, I do. This is my price. Your honor demands you pay it. If you do not, there will be consequences.”

I had no idea what those consequences would be, but it sounded impressive.

George rolled back his other sleeve.

“Very well.” The Khanum’s face was terrible. She stepped forward.

I shook my head. “No. Him.” I pointed my staff at the shaman.

Ruga’s eyebrows crept together. He walked forward and stopped before me, corded with dry muscle, his charms and totems hanging from the belt of his kilt. Odalon shouldered his way through the vampires and came to stand next to Ruga, resplendent in his crimson battle vestments.

I looked at the Merchants. Nuan Cee started forward.

Grandmother made a quiet noise. He stopped almost in mid step. Grandmother turned in her palanquin. The foxes carrying it lowered it to the ground. She rose within it and stepped out onto the floor.

Clan Nuan let out a collective gasp.

The elder fox crossed the floor and stood next to Odalon. I had the spiritual leaders of every faction.

“Form a line behind your faction,” I said. “Leaders at the very end.”

The grand ballroom rippled, as vampires, otrokari, and Clan Nuan formed three lines behind their respective representatives.

“Hold out your hands and take the hand of the person next to you. Skin to skin”

Metal slid as high-tech gauntlets fell away. Grudgingly they obeyed.

I looked to the back, where the Khanum, Arland, and Nuan Cee stood, each the end of their line. “Complete the circuit.”

The muscles on the Khanum’s jaw stood out as she clenched her teeth. Arland’s face might have been made of stone. The gauntlet slid off his hand. He held it out. The Khanum took it. Her expression was terrible. On the other side, Nuan Cee took Arland’s hand. Robart, the next in line behind Arland, turned and clasped his left hand on Arland’s shoulder.