For the beginning of the breakdown of Vargo’s organization, we initially wanted to show him being confronted by his angry followers and seemingly talking them down, only for Ren and Grey to discover that, no, he really hadn’t. Our main reason for setting all of this up was that we wanted to show Vargo being tempted to use Sessat’s power, as an escalation of the threat posed by the medallions. But that just didn’t work, first because this whole thing dragged out too long in a book where we were desperate to keep things as tight as possible, and second because who really gives a damn about these random guys who just showed up? (We also hadn’t fully developed the business with the Moon Harpies yet — witness the different name in use here for their leader.) It was far more compelling if Vargo was tempted to use Sessat on Varuni instead.

And after that, any conversation with random guys the reader had never seen before was going to feel like an anticlimax, even if it was theoretically setting up a sucker punch where you think he’s defused the problem and then oops, no, turns out his own people mugged him. We toyed with the notion of just going straight to the fight, but it felt like that would sap the emotional impact from the bit with Varuni. So in the long run, the more effective route was to skip this entirely, and let Ren and Grey just find the aftermath of the offstage violence.

* * *

She hadn’t said aloud that she wanted to stay. And if she was torn, then the least he could do as her friend was make it an easy choice. “When are you going? Sedge’ll want to see you off. A few others that aren’t terrified of you. We could have some sort of party.”

Her weight settled back, off the balls of her feet. “You don’t need to worry about that. Plenty of other things keeping you busy.”

“No, let me. Least I can do, after years of you keeping my uncooperative ass intact.” Should he not say that? Fucking A’ash. He didn’t care if he was giving in to a desire by doing something nice for Varuni. She’d more than earned it. “Look, I’ll be here a few hours more at least. Orostin’s got my back; you go take care of your own business. We’ll talk at home tonight.”

Varuni gave him a look that said she knew he wasn’t telling her something, but she didn’t press it. Once she was gone, Vargo pretended to study his diagrams. Alsius . . . I don’t even remember picking it up. But it’s in my pocket.

He didn’t add, And that scares the liquid shit out of me, but he didn’t have to. Alsius crawled down to his shoulder. ::That . . . oh dear. We should warn the others.::

Yeah. If I can’t be trusted anymore . . .

::No, I meant that the others may find themselves doing the same.::

That was even more nauseating of a thought. There was no way Vargo could stay here, calmly scribing guidelines, with a piece of Primordial evil in his pocket. Earlier he’d been too wrapped up in his thoughts and his work to pay much attention to anyone around him, but now he looked at Orostin and saw that the man wanted to join some kind of legitimate organization — not the hawks, but maybe something like a mercenary company. Alsius wanted to find and help Mirscellis, to discuss everything the man had ever written about numinatria, the underlying order of the cosmos.

He had to get home and get this thing off him.

Vargo shrugged on his coat. “Orostin. We’re closing up early.”

Smuna and Ladnej were playing personal skiffer for him these days, paddling him where he wanted to go and then tossing dice or trading kisses until he was ready to go home. But when Vargo stepped out of the warehouse into the loading yard, he found way more than two people there.

Fuck. What now?

::I see Leek Street Cutters, Roundabout Boys, Blackrabbit Drifters…::

People from almost every knot Vargo held — but hardly any of the leaders who’d proven their loyalty to Vargo over the years. And with Sessat in his pocket, Vargo didn’t have to ask why they’d come. A patchwork of individual motivations came together in a mosaic: loyalty fraying, order breaking down.

“Nyalvin,” Vargo said, spotting the leader of the Moon Harpies. One of the few leaders present, but so new that she was no ally of his. “Quite the gathering you’ve brought to my door. I thought matters between us were settled.”

Her lip curled. “And I thought I was some exception, not taking any oaths with you. But seems you didn’t respect knot ways even before you got that noble title.”

Vargo ducked reflexively as she threw something at him, but it was only a crumpled up broadsheet. Scooping it up, Vargo smoothed out the paper to skim it.

Alsius had taken refuge under his collar. ::What does it say?::

That we’re more fucked than I realized.

Vargo folded the sheet, hoping the gesture looked unconcerned. “Looks to me like someone’s trying to manipulate you. My money is on our enemies.”

“Your enemies,” Nyalvin snapped. “And it en’t manipulation to tell the truth.”

Before Vargo could answer that breathtaking demonstration of naivete, the leader of the Chandler Alley Cudgels stepped up. “You’re done, Vargo. En’t nobody going to follow you now. You may have talked the old leaders into being your obedient little dogs, but we’re cutting free.” He spat on the ground. “Not that there’s anything to cut.”

“I can think of a few things I wouldn’t mind cutting,” one of the Roundabout Boys said — one who’d always been a bit too willing to draw blood, even in friendly fights.

Vargo tossed the folded broadsheet away. These weren’t all his knots; just some, and only a few from each one. None of his Fog Spiders were here, apart from Orostin shifting nervously at his back as though worried Vargo might order him to fight them all. Surely that meant some people could see the whole pattern. “I didn’t talk nobody into nothing. They was tired of blood in the canals; I offered a different way. En’t none of you can say you’re worse off now than you were five years ago.”

He had to keep them on his side. He couldn’t just let them go. There was still loyalty there, still a feeling of solidarity; he could use that. With the medallion showing him what was in each of their hearts, he could sort through the threads, figure out what to tug on to bring them back.

And if that didn’t work . . . it would take preparation, numinatrian work he couldn’t do right now. But with a little time, he could drag them back in line. Make them want the stability he offered.

Just like Ghiscolo had made him want to overthrow Sostira Novrus.

The lump of Peabody under his collar quivered. ::Has Sessat completely eaten your brain? There’s no fixing this, not right now. Agree and get out of here, before they go for blood!::

That snapped Vargo out of his thoughts. If they beat him, they’d be sure to strip him of everything of value. And then some Lower Bank mud-skull would have the power of a Primordial at his command.

Raising his hands, Vargo took a step back as though conceding. “But I suppose you’ll see soon enough. Any of you change your minds, you know where to find me.” He tilted his chin up to Nyalvin. He wasn’t certain if she was the chosen spokesperson or just the loudest, but the others seemed willing to listen to her. “Assuming you didn’t come here looking for a body to dump.”

His capitulation seemed to take her by surprise. “You don’t show your face on the Lower Bank again.”

“I own businesses here.” Some of them on his knots’ turf, but he’d worry about that later. “You stay out of mine, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

One of the others tugged at her sleeve. “It’s what we wanted. Let’s go. Kinless, knotless bastards like him en’t worth our time.”

They went. And Vargo, watching them go, clenched his hands behind his back to keep from reaching for the thing that might make them stay.