“Well, that’s something at least.” Alter sounded relieved at the news that their main target had been captured. “Who grabbed him?”

  “We did.” Winslow answered smugly. “The man was hiding in the attic, having purposely buried himself under a pile of loose boxes. We’d likely never have realised he was there if he wasn’t breathing more heavily than an armoured warhorse after a long battle.”

  “Really? Strange, I figured he’d be one of the first ones to make a bolt for the tunnel.”

  “As did we. A good thing he decided to stay put, I'd have hated to lose him in the collapse. Just imagining all the interesting buds of information just waiting to flower out of his mouth makes me excited to get to work.” Winslow rubbed his hands together with a hefty dose of sadistic glee.

  Alter paused awkwardly as he processed what the man was doing and what he’d just said. “Alright then. What happens now, we all go home?”

  The man nodded. “We do, the regular city guard will take over the disaster control efforts now. The less we’re associated with the situation, the better.”

  “There were plenty of people who witnessed us on the scene, and the fact that we left almost immediately. The Pebble Maze already has a spiteful wedge driven in it, tonight is only going to push that further in.” Riptide warned.

  “Better to be hated by a minority then despised by everyone.” Winslow shrugged as he waved for everyone to start following him further away from the alleyways.

  There was a certain uncomfortable logic in his statement that caused Alter to hold his tongue as the assembled men fell in behind him. The quiet streets they passed through seemed eerily still, especially when compared to the hive of frantic activity they had just left. The only other movement along the much wider and well-maintained avenues were the occasional stumbling drunks who hurriedly sought shelter at their passing. After a time, Raymond and his Silver Wolves bid them their goodnights and split from the group towards their own accommodation. As the two groups parted, Alter couldn’t help but notice the suspicious glance and dark frown Winslow threw towards the manhunters. He opened his mouth to ask if something was wrong, but as his mind formulated a careful opening question another voice cut in front of him.

  “Sorry, I’m not letting this go. There is a potentially hostile Kindler in the city and you’ve not done anything about him?” Boozehound spoke, his voice laden with frustration and a noticeable hint of nervousness.

  “And exactly how would you go about attempting to capture a man who can alter his appearance to perfectly mirror anyone he comes across?” Winslow shot back. “The man’s nowhere near as much of a threat as he makes himself out to be, changing faces is the limit of what his power can achieve. All he cares about is keeping his little corner of Jestriff free of outsider interference. There’s no need to try and turf him out.”

  “What if he joins forces with the enemy?” Riptide asked but Winslow simply laughed at the idea.

  “That would mean getting into bed with the nobility. He’d never dream of doing something like that, not even with a knife at his throat.”

  “So, all he can do is alter his appearance to match someone else, how does that work exactly?” Alter wondered aloud.

  “As far as I’m aware physical contact is required for him to take someone’s shape, but that’s all I know.”

  “I see. Three, did anything like that happen between you leaving our position and reaching Five and Six?”

  The medic pondered the question for a moment before a flash of realisation passed before his eyes. “When I was on my way over to them, an old lady opened a door as I was passing, grabbed my arm and asked what was going on. I shook her off, told her to stay inside and then moved on without really thinking about it. From what we’ve been told, I’m guessing that was him.”

  “Mystery solved, I guess.” Alter shrugged.

  “I’m still not happy about him knowing my name.” Boozehound muttered.

  “Ruffle referred to you as ‘Bloodyjaw’. What’s all that about?” Boats asked with testy curiosity, like a cat who wants nothing to do with you but would still quite like to know when the food bowl will be refilled.

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  Winslow’s shoulders tightened for a moment as he considered answering. “A name I earned through my actions before I joined the Houseguard. I was an ‘enforcer’ of sorts, an independent one. I would aid in the collection of debts on behalf of those that didn’t want to comply with the rules and fees levied by the organised gangs. It didn’t make me any friends, but I sure got a nice long list of enemies.”

  “Yeah, I can see why that would make you an unpopular figure.” Boats chuckled.

  Winslow mirrored the gesture. “That’s an understatement and a half. I did a lot of bad things, often to the wrong people. By the time I woke up one morning to the realisation that what I’d done was wrong, there was no possibility of rebuilding any of the bridges I’d burned. Yet, despite all I’d done, joining up with authorities in an effort to prevent further violence was still more of a betrayal to them than any of my previous actions. As you have just seen, even years later, those wounds are still raw.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you regret your decision?” Alter asked softly, surprised by the candidness of his answer.

  “Honestly, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. I like the man that I’ve become, and I’ve done enough good for this city to eclipse my old misdeeds a dozen times over. Not that that means much to them, nor should it, it doesn’t change the fact that they happened in the first place. Suffice to say that my days as ‘Bloodyjaw’ are long behind me, and I’d prefer it if it stayed that way.”

  “Of course, it won’t be mentioned again.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  As the conversation lulled into silence, the walls of the estate appeared in the distance. The rest of the journey was made without noise save for the sound of soft footfalls on stone and gravel. With a poorly-concealed, heavy yawn, Winslow once again thanked them for their support before heading for the main house. Osprey Hall was dark as they approached, as they had left Morgan and Tabitha orders not to stay up waiting for them. None of the returning men felt able to sleep, so with unspoken agreement they all filed into the dining room and took their regular seats. No one bothered to make any light, the room was swathed in shadow apart from the odd moments when the moon would break through the swirling clouds to bathe the space in pale silver light.

  “Did anyone else notice the look Winslow gave the Wolves once they were far enough away?” Whim asked quietly after an awkward pair of minutes.

  A handful of the men gave small murmurs of acknowledgement as Whim scratched idly at a spot on the back of his head.

  “What do you think he meant by that? Because, to me, it looked like he didn’t trust them.” He tapped a finger on the tabletop anxiously.

  “More like they’d just stabbed him in the back, there was anger behind those eyes.” Boats added.

  “Wait, hold up.” Pavejack interjected. “Does that mean that he suspects the Wolves of being the ones that brought down the tunnel?”

  Silence regained its dominion as the men mulled the possibility, before Riptide answered slowly.

  “I think that it’s more possible than we’d like to admit. Raymond doesn’t strike me as a man who would risk his men’s lives needlessly. If more hostiles started pushing their way into the tunnel then he was comfortable with then I could see him bringing it all down on them.”

  “But that’s assuming that it was a deliberate action, it could’ve just as easily been an accident, especially if a fight had broken out.” Alter pointed out.

  “True, but here’s my theory. The infiltrators would’ve expected to be chased into the tunnel from the safehouse itself, so it makes sense for them to collapse it behind them as they retreated to prevent pursuit. In order to not catch themselves in the rubble, the mechanism to trigger such an event would have to be a short distance into the tunnel. Which is exactly where the Silver Wolves would’ve been lying in wait.”

  “There’s no way they wouldn’t realise that it’d threaten to collapse all the buildings above it. If they did in fact cause this, then they did it with full knowledge of what would happen.” Boozehound summarised through gritted teeth.

  “Enough.” Alter ordered. “We’re straying into the realm of conspiracy theories here, I refuse to allow such distrust against our allies who have risked their lives for our cause. Yes, I saw Winslow’s look, and yes it seemed like he didn’t trust them. But that could’ve been for any number of reasons, like the fact that they’ve only just got here, or that they joined us without so much as asking a question.” He ran out of steam, just as warm orange light began to pool outside the open door.

  A half-asleep Tabitha carrying a hefty, lit candlestick poked her head into the room.

  “You’ve returned, Sirs. Why are you all sitting around in the dark? Is there anything you need me to do?” She asked groggily.

  Alter smiled towards her. “We don’t need anything Tabitha, you can return to bed. In fact, we were all about to head to bed ourselves, weren’t we?” He asked cooly, but his eyes allowed no argument as he looked to the rest of the squad.

  “Oh, alright.” The light began to face once more as she meandered away again.

  Not wanting to start an argument, the men quietly left the dining room for the comfort of their own quarters. Alter lay motionless on top of his bed, having collapsed on it without removing any of his clothes. He stared at the ceiling for a small eternity, whittling away time on idle thoughts, until the sun began to stain the eastern sky with the colours of dawn.