And the vampire had been civil. Both of them had kept Strat’s name out of the conversation. “Our mutual friend” was what they called Straton, and because of that friend, Ischade was willing to tell Crit where to look.
And to warn him: “There is more, Critias, in that home than just two men in a house. Do not go inside, but merely open the doors-if you can.”
This was said for Strat’s sake, Crit knew, not his own. He unclenched a fist with difficulty and found he’d dug his nails into his palm, that his fingers were stiff from the clench. “She said,” he told Kama, “you’d have the right key for this lock.”
“Excuse me?” The woman on the roan kneed her mount closer.
“You heard me. Got anything on you that might do the trick?”
“You’re sure she didn’t mean that metaphorically?”
And Crit knew what Kama was alluding to: Tempus and an inhuman sprite had coupled before a magically locked door uptown, and things had happened.
“I don’t care what she meant, we’re not trying anything like that. What have you got that might work?”
“Keys,” said Kama with maddening common sense. “Lots of keys. To my place, the guardhouse, the Shambles safe house, Molin’s-“
“Spare me the list. Let’s try some.” He swung first one leg and then the other over his gray’s withers, reaching for his crossbow as soon as his feet hit the ground. A bolt might smash the lock, even if it were a stout one.
They drop-tied the horses without a word, a sign both of them were thinking this might not be survivable. Crit cast a look at Kama, wonder- ing how she’d managed to insinuate herself into this so fast, so deftly. And admitting he was glad to have someone there. He was a Sacred Bander, trained to depend on a partner. He wouldn’t have tried this alone, and Vis wasn’t the sort of man you could trust your right side to.