Artificer Smithfield had ordered everyone to clear the attack area so he could summon the scythe-metal bullets and bullet fragments. He'd placed the gun and the retrieved metal into an empty knife box and ported away.

A group of Thursday Nighters gathered behind the Cafeteria tent.

"What happened?" demanded Iris. "We take our eyes off him for one minute in the safest place in the Realm, surrounded by friends and Angels, and he walks into his own murder! What happened?"

Samuel Terry said bitterly, "Carl Anders happened."

"The office manager? That nasty man? Why would—"

"Because he's been getting crazier for years. Brandon and Anders were my first Mentors, six years ago, and he was going mad even then. Their previous Junior left them after one year. They were pretty useless, jumpy and panicky in the field, botching Reaps, that sort of thing. Humphries noticed and reported it to Slingby. Slingby checked us out during a shift when they were both at their absolute worst. Next day, Spears split up the triad. I was handed off to Forbes and Brewster, for which I have thanked Humphries and the Highest ever since."

Marisa Solway agreed. "Anders blamed Humphries, even though Humphries was the only reason he still had a job. He had his ups and downs, but the downs kept getting deeper. I think we can assume he's the one who was writing to Judicial accusing Humphries of various crimes. Research must have noticed and recruited him to spy. At some point they passed that gun to him."

"Gotta be from that lab Research hid under the dorms at the Academy, the one the Angels filled in," said Dutch. "Lucky they only had the bullets that were already in the gun. Smitty said it's a short-range, low-powered load. Forbidden to us. Designed to be used close up by demons on Reapers and Angels."

Marisa continued. "Anders gloated when Humphries was benched as well. He was quiet for a while. Maintenance reported that he occasionally came in early, during third shift, and poked about in places where he had no good reason to be, but he didn't do anything actionable. Then Brandon decides he can't live with the constant venom anymore, starts looking around, finds a new job and new friends in Supplies, announces he's moving out. Is that about it, Sam?"

"Pretty much. Carl lost his last slipping grip on sanity. Decided to kill Brandon and Humphries and brought the gun to the Gather."

"I think Humphries is still alive," began Iris.

"He took a scythe-metal chest strike, Iris," said Mitch Sorenson.

"He looked mighty dead to me before I went for the doctors," said Dutch, "but they worked hard on him before they ported him out. Must have thought there was a chance. Sam, this is not your fault. No way we could have stopped this."

"He was alive," insisted Iris. "Slingby was still upright and rational."

"If he is still alive, it may now be easier to keep him that way," said Roberts. "At least his closest enemy is gone. It will take Hell a while to place a new one within London."

"Except now he's working outside London so often," said Liz Brodie, Slingby's AA. "I meet with every new pair of bodyguards Mr. Slingby hires. I tell them what to watch for. They're good, but they wouldn't be here if they were fully fit. Mr. Slingby says he's going along the next time there's a War Room to inspect. That will help."

"I'll be eligible for promotion next year," offered ffoulkes. "Mr. Slingby sort of promised me the option of returning to Operations, though he may not remember that. If I can guilt him into creating me a security job within the department, I will use it to protect them both as much as possible. We shouldn't forget that Slingby's a target too. Later I might be able to win a permanent bodyguard position."

"That's good," said Sorenson. "Try to take a partner into that job. Then when Humphries admits he needs competent guards, he'll have a fit team right there. It will make it easier to keep an eye on Slingby as well. If they split up so can you."

"Agreed," said Brodie. "Humphries' convalescents won't do for wartime. He's using them to seed London practices into other Branches, which is working well enough, but as defense they've already failed at least twice. You notice his current pair weren't around when all this happened. He probably offered them the day off and they were stupid enough to take it. I'll be asking them about that; the rules are, if he tries to ditch you, you smile sweetly and stay right behind him. If Slingby survives he's going to kill them. I'll hold his coat while he does it."

"Any other casualties?"

"Four bullets in the gun. Humphries, Fairbairn and Moreau injured, the last bullet jammed in the barrel. Anders is a lousy shot, didn't really aim or allow for recoil, just blazed away after Humphries went down," said Dutch. "This might be the first time he's ever used a firearm. His hands were badly damaged by the backblast. Last I saw, Chandra had him pinned with Vanderveldt coming up fast."

"Spears had a discussion with a Garrison officer and some of his senior Angels," said Sorenson. "I think he turned Anders over to them. Judicial's still under Angelic overview, I guess. The traditional penalty for a scythe attack outside the dueling field is a public execution. They probably want to avoid that."

Marisa sighed. "Liz, we have to get back to the office. You're Personnel now. I'm Ops. Brock and Depoy are our seconds. Neither of Mr. Alan's new Senior Assistants have the experience to fill in, but at least they'll have his schedule. If Birch or Garraway try to override you, tell them to sit down and research who's Eldest after Slingby; you're Senior to them with more experience, and I'll back you up. I'll write up an emergency distribution of duties to give to Mr. Spears. Also I'll submit an opinion that if Mr. Alan survives, it's past time for him to train a Number Three."

"The command structure in Collections has always been far too shallow. We have a legal problem, Mari. I'll call Sarah in Auditing right away and tell her that Ops and Personnel are suddenly operating under Admin managers. That violates the 1906 Accord between Auditing, Admin and Collections. Mr. Slingby's Reaper assistants are nowhere near ready for that level of responsibility. I'll ask her to transfer the title to Director Spears until Mr. Slingby returns. You go to Cortland for a pair of Reapers to guard Spears. If we lose him too, the Branch collapses."

"I'm off duty until first shift," said Mitch Sorenson. "MacLean and I will take him till midnight."


It was Fitzwilliam, coatless and gloveless and bloody to the elbows, standing aside as the doctors ported away, who had asked the crucial question. "Director Spears, who is your second-in-command?"

Spears paused for a moment. He had disposed of Anders without actually handing him off to the Reapers of Judicial; he hoped that Grell would not consider his promise broken. Now he must rebuild his Branch's organizational chart.

Senior Section Manager (Documentation) Solway arrived at a quick but controlled pace to announce that he must assume at least nominal leadership of Operations and its subordinate services. "It must be headed by a Reaper, sir, per Auditing. We can keep it running until you appoint another or until Mr. Humphries returns. Auditing affirms your position." As she spoke, he was aware of two Seniors stationing themselves behind him. He checked glasses. Ah. Sorenson and MacLean. Quite so.

"Find me Senior Holbert, please, Mr. ffoulkes. Senior Administrator Solway, return to your office to compose a general announcement. Humphries and Slingby unavailable, information to be issued as we receive it. Anders has been surrendered to the Angels for judgement. You and Brodie are confirmed as temporary supervisors. Reaper representatives will be provided shortly. Have a Junior bring it to me for signature. I wish to minimize rumor."

"Very well, sir. Memo in thirty minutes."

Holbert appeared, pale and angry. "Yes, Director?"

"Gather Master. We will proceed as scheduled. By tonight we should know if names need to be added to the list of Absent Friends. Appoint a Reaper to recite the Verse of the Grass. You yourself will light the bonfire. News will be posted as we receive it, in the area between the food and seating tents. Please assure all that we will provide breakfast as promised for those who will work overnight. Can you ask Maintenance to help raise the Scythes tent? For now, I shall await further information and answer questions in the back of the meet-and-greet marquee."

"Mr. Sorenson, if you will be so good, find me Senior Jacobs."

"No, sir. My station is here, with you, until I am relieved for third shift. One moment, please. Senior Quirke! Can you whistle up a group of interns and trainees to serve Mr. Spears as messengers? Thanks. Sir, let us move into the tent now."

Spears turned back to Fitzwilliam, whose jacket was last seen wrapping Humphries' wounds. "Mr. Fitzwilliam. You are out of uniform. Go clean up, find your partner and return to me here. You, sir, Junior Howe. Find me either Cortland or Onayemi. Schedules must be reworked."

Holbert returned and escorted Spears and his entourage into the tent, where a table and chairs had been arranged and the space around them cleared. Howe arrived with Onayemi, her two assistants and her schedule books. "Senior Onayemi. Please set up at the end of this table. Your schedule needs substantial revision. Mr. Howe, now find Senior Cortland to come help her partner."

A flock of youngsters entered, shepherded by Quirke. Clever of Sorenson. These newly appointed interns and newly matched trainees were as yet unscheduled, free to do his bidding.

"Ah, Senior Quirke. Thank you for these messengers. Please return to the office. Go Upstairs. Report to Madame Administrator all that has happened today."

Spears turned to the youngsters. "Who's first? Miss. You will port to the Infirmary. Identify yourself as my messenger, charged to await an update on the condition of my Seniors. Do not allow them to shoo you off. Tell them if they refuse you the update I shall send Agent Sutcliff for it.

"Next? Sir. I want Senior Collections Agent Jacobs in here now. He is"—Will checked Jacob's glasses— "by the Supplies tent and heading this way. Next? Miss. My compliments to Maintenance, and ask them to erect a message board in a central location. Post a notice saying that information will be given as soon as available. All schedules stand as assigned until further notice.

"Mr. Jacobs. My condolences on Mr. Fairbairn's injury. You are now Eldest in this Branch. You will assume the public face of Personnel in Mr. Slingby's absence. The employees of London are now yours. You will protect them from others as you have previously protected them from me; yet you must see that discipline is maintained. Remember that you may have brought this on yourself by denying Slingby information when he asked for it." Spears was beginning to understand and even share Madame Administrator's taste for schadenfreude.

"Your Senior Admin Assistant is AA Elizabeth Brodie. If not for a decree from Auditing, she would be doing this job. Follow her advice. You have two younger Seniors, Birch and Garraway, taking care of day-to-day business and Reaping part-time. Learn their duties. Inform Scheduling of your change of responsibilities. AA Brodie will notify them when your new responsibilities conflict with your Reaping schedule. Ask Section Manager Solway to assign a Documentation Admin to fill Ander's position on first shift until you select a permanent replacement. That replacement must be an Admin, as Brandon's replacement will be. Then review Slingby's list of transfer requests from Senior teams with training experience. Ask Senior Brodie to explain the interviewing and hiring processes. Welcome to Management.

"Ah, Senior D'Acres. Thank you for your prompt arrival. You will assume Mr. Humphries' many responsibilities until further notice. He has two AAs, unfortunately inexperienced, who will give you his schedule and whatever information they can. Seek help from Senior Admins Solway of Documentation and Brock of Bookkeeping. When witnessing handovers of Angel Blades to Scythes and Supplies, Mr. Fitzwilliam or another large Senior Reaper must accompany you. You will supply dignity and ceremony. Your escort's purpose is to inspire mortal fear and polite behavior.

"Humphries' two bodyguards have failed in their duty. Have Jacobs return them to their home Branches tomorrow. If Humphries survives, we three shall consider who should replace them.

"You will Reap in those hours that Humphries spent teaching. Have Senior Onayemi schedule a meeting with myself and Brock tomorrow to introduce you to the War Room.

"Next messenger! To the Academy offices, please, and inform them that Instructors Slingby and Humphries will not be available to teach until further notice. Ask them to notify their Teaching Assistants. Newly graduated TAs will resume teaching until the rest are ready to take over. I will make it my duty to inspect them in the coming weeks. If any Academician tampers with the contents of their lessons, I shall be displeased.

"Next messenger! Sir, a notice for the announcement board; all of Humphries' and Slingby's TAs who have just graduated and taken employment in London are now asked to resume teaching until their replacements are fully instructed in their materials. Their assigned Seniors are to adjust their schedules accordingly. Then find Mr. Garraway or Mr. Birch, whoever is covering the office now. Get a list of all those TAs, find them and brief them and their Seniors. They will all be here at the Gather, having been matched or placed today.

"Senior Cortland. The team of Sorenson and MacLean are my guards for the rest of second shift. Please assign a first shift team. Third is normally my rest shift. I will notify you if I need to be active during those hours. Please assign teams without trainees, youngsters of seven to nine years of seniority. After the Gather we will consider what defenses will be appropriate when I must leave the office."

The first messenger returned. "Director Spears, the Infirmary reports that Seniors Fairbairn and Moreau have been treated. Moreau has been released. Fairbairn will stay overnight. Assistant Director Humphries is in surgery. With your permission, sir, I will return to the Infirmary to await further word."

"Agreed, Miss— Reyes, is it? Thank you, Miss Reyes. Take a boxed supper from the food tent. I fear you may have a long wait."


The doctors pulled Alan away from him. They whisked the gurney away to Surgery. He was alone and bloody in a cold room with chairs designed to cause pain. Go home, said the room, there is nothing you can do. Your beloved is in the care of others. Let them work.

The bond pulled upon his strength. He was on the floor. Better than those chairs, though. He crawled to a corner and propped himself upright. Time crept by. The bond drew upon him, but there was no sense of Alan, none at all. He concentrated on the flow. This was no time for the old madness, not yet. He would not break as long as the bond continued. He would not.

Someone knelt beside him. A hot mug was pressed into his hands. "Drink." Herbal tea, mint, heavily sweetened. He sipped, and drank, and slowly focused. "Nurse Collins. Senior now? Congratulations."

"When did you last eat, Slingby? Last full meal?"

"Breakfast. Matching trainees all day, no lunch."

"Give me the mug. Time to stand up. Let me help. There now. Steady? Lean on me. You need food. You need to clean up and eat. The bond is burning off your reserves. Come on."

"Alan? Can't feel him, hear him. Can't even feel his pain anymore. Scary."

"That's temporary. He's deeply unconscious, under anesthetics. In surgery. Shouldn't be alive, but he's a fierce fighter. Some part of him feels your presence, you know. Come on."

Eric went, washed up, ate what he was given, donned pajamas, and was helped onto a bed with another mug of tea. "When your partner comes out of surgery he'll be put in the next bed. For now, you need to give yourself over to the bond. Don't force it. Let it do what it needs to do."

"Ye've been studying this?"

"Yes. You two are my patients as long as you teach. They called me in from the Academy to sit with you; the English translation of that one is, to keep you from tearing the place up and interfering with patient care. They don't have the staff to deal with a violent Reaper. I told them I'll dope you if I have to, but that it might affect the balancing. So behave, please. There's an Elder Doctor with your partner who is expert in this sort of thing, too."

"Will he live?" The bond was pulling steadily. He shivered.

"Give me the mug. Lie back." Collins produced a heated blanket from some secret cabinet and wrapped Eric up. It felt wonderful. "If he's not dead yet he probably has a decent chance. No idea why he's still with us. The bond is obviously part of that, but still. Here's what I know. Chest strike, slightly right of center. He was shot with a scythe-metal bullet which fragmented. Some of the bullet exited through his back, but not all. The remaining metal bits are seeking his life. A filthy wound. They're cleaning it out now. Lie quiet. Don't try to get up or talk. Waste no energy. Tea on request, and warm blankets if you feel cold. Bedpan also. Sleep if you can. I'll be here to wake you when he comes out of surgery."


Smithfield ported to the door of the workshop, presented his credentials and was admitted. He then broke several regulations by porting directly to his workstation and startling his Engineer.

"Smithfield!"

Smitty laid the knife box on the workbench, took a deep breath. "Sir. Three injured, one of them probably dead."

"Who?"

"Mr. Humphries, chest wound. Senior Reapers Fairbairn of London and Moreau of Calais."

Engineer Crawford opened the box, lifted out the pistol, and looked at the metal shards. "Despicable." He stood up and walked over to a nearby workbench. "Gunny, will you come look at this abomination?"

"What have you got, then? Let me see. Oh. Are those bullet fragments? That's vile. Tell me about this."

Crawford lifted an eyebrow at Smithfield.

"A domestic altercation occurred between two Reapers in the Scythe Gather tent, sir. It became violent. We threw them outside and pulled down the center poles to keep our display stock out of the fight. Other Reapers tried to keep them apart. Senior Anders drew this pistol from his coat, deliberately shot one man, then fired at random into the people around him. The fourth bullet jammed in the barrel and the backblast burned his hands badly. He was taken down and handed off to the Angels. I took the pistol, waited till the injured had been removed, and summoned all the scythe metal fragments from a radius of thirty yards. I brought them here at once before anyone could demand to confiscate them."

"Lucky the barrel didn't explode. This was cobbled up by someone completely ignorant of how these things work." Engineer O'Bannon sat down at the workbench. Picking up a pencil to use as a pointer, he entered Lecture Mode.

"This pocket pistol is a .442 Braddell-designed Ulster Bull Dog. Black powder, open cylinder, five chambers. Twenty yards maximum accurate range if used properly, which this wasn't. Based on the Webley British Bull Dog, same frame, but given a longer grip to improve control and therefore accuracy. Used by the Royal Irish Constabulary and now beginning to enter civilian and military use. This pistol has not been modified in any way. The cartridges, however, were emptied and reloaded with bullets made of scythe metal by someone who slept through Basic Metallurgy.

"Bullets are made from lead, a soft and malleable metal. They expand slightly when fired, for a seal to improve range, and the barrel's rifling gives the bullet the spin it needs for accuracy. Any metal which is hard enough to hold an edge is too hard to use for a bullet. The first scythe-metal bullet fired from this gun scraped the rifling and deformed and fouled the barrel. It would have been the only near-accurate shot this gun could fire. The second bullet scraped, deformed and fouled the barrel further, the third did the same, and the fourth jammed because the barrel was no longer true. The propellant would have blown back out of the rear of the cylinder and burned the hand holding the gun. Possibly blew off a finger or two; there's blood on the grip. The barrel could have exploded but in this case did not."

Engineer O'Bannon indicated a bullet fragment. "D'you see this edge here? These bullets were scored so they would expand and shatter inside the target. Doctors will be using our new X-Ray machine to find all the pieces in the victims' wounds. Good thing you brought these here, Artificer. We don't want this idea to spread."

"Hah." said Crawford. "Better to destroy this rather than surrender it to Judicial. They are under new management now, but I'll still not give them anything they might pass over to Research. Which has to be where this originated. I don't trust any of 'em, for good and sufficient reason. Gunny, my apprentice is known to have taken this. Can you remove it from our care?"

"Yes. Say no more. Unless this is required for a trial, I will dismantle the gun and melt down the metals. In any case it will not leave my control. None can deny that a firearm using scythe metal is the proper responsibility of this Division and specifically my workbench."

"Thank you, Engineer O'Bannon. Artificer Smithfield, good work. Return to your duties at the Gather."

"Yes, Engineer Crawford. Thank you both for your teaching and advice."