The tin was decorated with golden scrollwork over a pale green background. On the front there was painted a dark oval, in which a ship built for speed cleaved the ocean waves; a tea clipper under full billowing sail. Alan offered it to Doctor Collins. "This is the tea I served to Jonas and Charlie. Shall I brew you a cup?"

Collins popped the lid open and sniffed. "That is nice." He resealed the tin. "I need to take this. You brewed it with water from the tap, correct? And in what teapot? That Brown Betty? Anything special about the pot? It's not Association issue."

"It's Eric's. We've had it for years. His old standard-issue pot was damaged when I first moved in. The spout was chipped, the glaze had crazed, and one morning the handle just fell off. Eric said it was trying to tell us something. That evening he brought home the Betty. If you want to take it, please ask Eric. It's not mine to give, and he's fond of it."

"May I see it? Human manufacture. I can't detect anything unusual about it. We'll get our own and come back to borrow this one for a comparative brew-up. Let's see. Kettle is standard issue. Anything special about the sugar, milk, lemon or the food you served with it?"

"No, not at all. Our cupboard was bare, so I sent an intern out to buy whatever was left at the store that afternoon. But why do you ask?"

"Please tell me how you came by this tea? Your experiences with it?"

"Do not get me in trouble with Will if you can avoid it, please. A couple of years ago I visited an angel. He was living as a human in the human realm, with a wife and three children. I wished to warn him of the coming war. Will had forbidden me any contact with the family."

Collins waited. Alan leaned back against the kitchen counter.

"It was late. I was tired. He offered me tea, this tea, and it was wonderfully refreshing. He mentioned that it came from his old home, which I assumed was in the Celestial Realm. I gave him my warning and left quickly. Eric had followed me. Angels worry him, and I didn't want a confrontation. That was the first and last time I encountered this tea, until a tin appeared on my desk at work. I think it was a gift from the angel Sandriel. I brought it home and brewed a pot when Fancher and Burns visited us. I hoped it would be as good as I remembered. It was, and everyone enjoyed it."

"According to Burns, you poured four cups, then refilled the six-cup pot. Everyone got a second cup of tea, and the remaining two cups were shared among the four of you."

"Yes. We didn't press them to stay, as they obviously needed rest. Charlie was still healing and Jonas looked dragged. The tea did perk us all up a bit. Did I poison Jonas or Charlie? Eric and I shared everything they had. We're both fine."

"No. I must be going."

Alan moved forward with unexpected speed and plucked the tin out of Collin's hands. "Ted. Either tell me what happened or go away. Do not give me 'Doctor is God' because I know better. Unquestioning obedience is not on the table, not ever again, not after Medical abandoned me in 1888."

Collins huffed and sat down at the table. "Sorry. This must remain confidential as long as possible. We don't want to raise false hopes, or cause a stampede. Alan, Burns has gone nearly three weeks with no growth of his Thorns."

"None? That's remarkable. D'you think this tea may have caused that?"

"It's not a cure, not at all, but it seems to have paused the progress. I won't say Burns is in a remission. Thorns are still very much present, but inactive. No attacks, no increasing discomfort, no growth. We have gone over everything he's done or been exposed to in that time. The only thing we haven't tested, the only thing out of the ordinary, is this tea. I suspect he may need another cup soon to keep the curse quiet. I would also like to try this on a patient who is further along, and one who is terminal. I will have to let Research have some of this, of course."

"Those utter bastards. Keep them away from Jonas, Ted."

"Don't worry. This is a Medical project with Medical staff, not that pack of sociopathic Scientific butchers who pursued you in the past. We have good people. Many of 'em were your students, y'know. They've studied your history. They treat patients like people, not specimens. You'd be proud. Will you let me take the tea? For Jonas, and for all the others if it works?"

Alan turned to the cabinet next to the window. He removed another tea tin, scratched and worn. The contents jingled. Collins recognized a savings tin. Alan emptied it out into a drawer, then shook some tea from the green tin into the old red one. "I'm keeping a little of this, because it cheers Eric up after particularly difficult battlefield shifts. Please let me know if it's actually helping Jonas. I could ask Matthias for more if you need it, although I don't know if I have anything to offer him in exchange. I'm afraid I have already exceeded Sandriel's goodwill. Perhaps a formal request from a ranking Medical officer might be better received."

Collins received the green tin gratefully. "We mustn't get our hopes up just yet. I promise not a leaf will be wasted, and I shall return the tin unless it's an active part of the process. It could be that the relief is a virtue of the tin rather than the tea itself, you know. Will you sniff the tea you just put in the red tin? Still the same? Maybe the tin doesn't matter. We have angelic doctors and nurses at the Academy Hospital, dealing with badly injured angelic patients. We'll speak to them as part of our investigation. They belong to Raphael's host, and healing is what they do. Whether they will extend their efforts to mere reapers, though—well; they don't, as far as we know; but we'll see."

"Sandriel helped me once. Perhaps that could be cited as a precedent. Please keep me informed about Jonas."

Meeting room B, 06:00. Coffee and biscuits. Present: Duncan, Mallory, ffoulkes and Sorenson; orientation for a new hire, Diederick 'Dutch' Ten Hagen, doing his best to seem worthy of working with these legends

Sorenson, usually taciturn, was expansive on this subject. "No, it's not that you're a bad Reaper, not at all. It does help that your partner is working for Slingby, or will be when he's done with Bristol. But that's not all of it. This is a difficult job, so don't think you're being demoted. You're being offered the chance to replace me. I'm leaving at the end of June."

"I thought you and Alan were permanent partners for local reaping," said Dutch. "What's happening in June?"

Sorenson rumbled happily. "Molly will be promoted to Senior status. I have her permission to begin a courtship. I've been waiting since the day she became Sutcliff's trainee. I had just assumed protection of Spears. I tried to keep her away when she had a message for him. She told me not to be an ass."

"Love at first sight," laughed ffoulkes.

"She is fierce. I admire that. In June, Grell will take Molly to be fitted for her battlefield whites. At the beginning of July I shall join her battlefield shift as a defender. Alan's given me his blessing. Oh, and it's always Alan once you're on first-name terms. Never Al, because there are too many Als. London is hip-deep in Alberts, all named after Victoria's Prince Consort, poor fellows. Also Alexes, Alfreds, Alistairs, Aldens, Alphonses, Alonzos, Alvins, Allens-with-an-e, and that one fellow who refuses to answer to Murgatroyd."

"I'll remember. Will I be sharing your reaping shift with him?"

"Yes. That's the easy part. It's mostly his desk shifts that drive us to distraction."

Mallory put down his coffee. "If you have questions, you ask any of us. We want you to get comfortable with the job quickly. Daily duty includes security of the War Room and Medical portals and the occasional escort of Spears, plus anyone else who has a meeting outside the Branch building. We all take Humphries' guard duty in turns. It is basically constant movement with the occasional spot of panic. There can be quiet stretches when he's working on reports or with Spears. Never begin or end a shift without getting or giving a handover report. If your replacement doesn't show, you don't budge until somebody else you trust steps up."

Ffoulkes added, "We have a deal. We try not to be a total pest, and he does not lock himself into his office and port away without warning."

"That's the rub," Mallory continued. "We have to defend him without interfering with his work or making him feel imprisoned. He may suddenly take you to damn sketchy places for unknown purposes. He rarely has time to explain. You have to accept that he has an excellent reason for whatever he does. Your duty is not to stop him, but to get him back undamaged. Spears would have you constrain him. So would Slingby. They are not your boss. Actually, the decree for his protection comes from a Higher Up. If you don't want to meet that lady, and believe me, you don't, you will learn everything about our group's responsibilities as quickly as possible.

"You will start by tagging along with us on our rounds. We'll drop out as you become comfortable with those assignments. They're not easy. First and most difficult, you'll be gaining Humphries' trust. Duncan, your input?"

"Alan will try to escape you if he thinks you'll interfere with whatever he's doing. He's good at it, too. He does a lot of things around the Realm, in all divisions, and you'll have to keep up and help out in all sorts of places and situations every day. He's as curious as a cat. If he asks you to research something, assign it to one of his Admins. Your job is to stay with him. On his rest shift he's technically Slingby's responsibility. Slingby doesn't know the half of what he gets up to, but we track his glasses and do not interfere unless he signals for help. On Thursday nights at the Scythe and Skull, he's everybody's responsibility. Recently he did duck out alone. We let him go because he was meeting someone we trust. Also because two of us were behind him. We left once we saw that Color-Sergeant Bourne of the London Garrison had him in sight. We'll make sure you're introduced to Bourne this week. You'll like him. He's what an angel ought to be."

Mallory resumed. "You can tell Alan was bullied in the past. He's explosive when attacked. He takes neither shit nor prisoners and fights like a rabid badger. Let him do it unless he's overmatched; then stand and wait for an opening. Otherwise, kill anyone who tries to help the opponent he's chopping into cutlets. We'll bring you into the sparring sessions. You'll learn what to expect and how to work with him. Remember he's using a long-handled scythe. Stay out of range."

Dutch nodded. "I saw him spar with Slingby when I was at the Academy. Scared me out of a week's growth, I swear. But oh, how it made me want to learn."

"He'll be tracking your glasses," said ffoulkes. "He will know where you are. You don't have to stay right on top of him. Get a feel for those times he wants you to be least in sight. Sometimes he wants you to be large and distracting so he can poke about unnoticed in the background. He's also very good at not being seen. He can fade away into a crowd to listen unobserved. Try not to lose him."

Mallory leaned back in his chair. "Beware if he goes all meek and harmless, I mean beyond polite manners. It usually means he's gathering information from a source who doesn't want to cooperate. But if he's still doing it by tea time, if he's distracted and not meeting your eyes, if he sits in his office and stares out the window, then he's thinking and plotting. Pay extra attention. If he slips away, come back and report. We'll use the Monitors' long-range screens to track his glasses and see what he's up to. There are several places in the human realm he visits regularly. He sometimes ports over to the Academy if a student is in trouble. Go wherever he is, but stay out of sight while he does whatever he needs to do, and join up with him when he's done."

"After he's used to you, one day he'll suddenly take you off on an unscheduled side trip. It's a test to see if you'll try to stop him or if you'll back him up. Convince him that you're his ally. Partner in crime, if you can achieve that lofty rank. He'll give you his trust, but only once. If you lose it, you're gone. Oh, and he's stubborn as two mules."

"So never argue?"

"Just have a really good reason and an alternative suggestion that will still achieve the result he wants. Be always on guard. The demons really hate him for the weapons he's given us. They've actually posted a reward for him. You know all about fighting them, no problem there. The angels, now. They are unpredictable. They'll help you one day and betray you the next. Let him lead if angels want to talk to him. If they attack, go for the gut and legs. If somebody's already doing that, get behind and strike at the wings. Get 'em to bend over so you can target face and neck. Tap your glasses for help, because it can take a group of us to drive one of those monsters off, depending on their experience and training. Fortunately, their contempt of us leads them to underestimate us."

"But never forget," said Sorenson, "that his worst injuries have been inflicted by other Reapers."

Duncan: "He's a good teacher. If you escort him to his classes, listen. You'll learn a lot about what's worrying him from the way he presents his lessons."

Ffoulkes: "Bradshaw keeps his daily schedule. He'll give you a copy when you are assigned to him. We also keep a record of all the tasks he does. You'll be expected to add your own observations. We're trying to write a reference manual for the group. Like if a shipment of blades comes in while he's off teaching; you have to escort it to Supplies, make sure all the papers get signed, and witness the exchange of finished knives. Or if a new set of maps comes in, or if that big screen in the War Room gets an update that doesn't work right. Or if he can't go to the Academy for some reason; we need to know who takes over which classes, and which office we have to notify so they don't complain to Spears."

Sorenson: "He forgets to eat. Bradshaw's in charge of tea and tiffin; doctor's orders. If he won't eat, Brad will pour you a cuppa so Alan'll have one to keep you company."

Mallory: "Give it a try. It's a hard job. If you can't do it, say so and some other poor soldier will be brought in. Now, today you and I are going to cover him while he does his in-realm rounds. Scythes, Supplies, Maintenance, and, ah, let's see; a meeting with Maritime, in Yarmouth this time; probably a side trip to the confectioner, as the candy dishes are getting low."

That night, Smitty came in from Scythes to find Ten Hagen stretched out on his bed. "How's the new assignment?"

"Oi."

"That good? I'm sorry."

"Got you some Raspberry Lances and Ginger Creams. On your bedside table. Blackberry-and-Apple drops for me. Dammit. The demons have the candy shop staked out. Mallory led in, ran 'round whacking them, and I defended the door while Humphries chatted with the proprietor. Nice old fellow, was Werther's source for sweets. He thinks Alan's an invalided soldier, or too tubercular to serve, buying candy for hospital wards in Werther's memory. The office keeps a list of personal requests, so tell me your favorites and pay me later."

"Obviously there's a reason that you're not using other candy shops in a random order? I'd like to hear it."

"Firstly, Alan likes the owner; secondly, their quality and selection is better than most; thirdly, because sugar's rationed and Alan leaves an occasional bag in his storeroom. Just enough to cover our needs and to keep him in business, not enough for his neighbors to notice and inform on him. The old fellow's sons fell in France. He's a little vague since they died, doesn't notice the deliveries. His daughter does. She and Alan have an agreement. She will keep the shop going when her father shows up on the Death List."

"She's been taking over production, then."

"Yes. And we escorted Alan all 'round the Realm. Supplies has cracked open the slavery ring that stole poor Burns. Judicial is in on that, with Auditing keeping an eye on them. They're all newly assigned and appear to be doing a good job without any of the arbitrary executions that got the previous staff fired. They're working on finding and returning abductees. There's a problem with replacing them. They don't want to stay, most of them, but if they go home the Branches fold. A lot of bad feeling, there. One of the abductees stated that if all of France's reapers were laid end to end it would be a good thing. Alan's very worried about that. Cooperation is the only thing we have that the demons don't. Scythes was present at that meeting, too – you know about that?"

"Oh, yes. We're very much involved. Among other things, we're helping Supplies improve their tracking."

"Then a big meeting with the Maritime Branches. They're having staffing problems like everyone else. They've released a large group of Thorns sufferers to the London Hospice. We went over there, and saw them all moved in, poor sods. Humphries was going to have us all painting some new walls, but Mallory gently reminded him that Senior Stornaway – he's Richards' replacement, she's in Supplies now – Stornaway expected him in Maintenance for a good gossip. The last big classes in India's Academies are achieving Senior status this year, as is also happening worldwide, and they need to consider offering the plans for the Academy Hospital to any country that's interested. Also how to get them interested if they're in stubborn denial that trouble's coming. And the angels, too. They are terrible at forward planning, being created loyal and obedient and all, so they tend to wait for orders rather than anticipate them. They need to uplift a bunch of snarky humans. General Artois is Uplifted, and is one of their best commanders. And Color-Sergeant Bourne, Eric's drinking buddy. I'm supposed to be formally introduced to him on Thursday."

"A busy day."

"A busy morning, actually, thank you. Stornaway fed us lunch. Then four hours Reaping. That would have been routine except that Alan was telling us about a new disease that popped up in barracks at Étaples and Aldershot this winter. It seems to resemble influenza except that it destroys the lungs. Having given me food for nightmares, he released me to go reap another shift with Sam, who updated me on the progress at Bristol. I'm supposed to brief Humphries on it in the morning. I've more information than my brain can hold."

"So? You're getting bored with being a Collections drone. Lie down till you feel better. You've been underutilized for years. Give the job a chance. You'll grow into it."

"And here I was hoping for sympathy. Some roomie you are."

"Huge opportunity to learn things, and you're sulking? You are barking up the wrong ankle if you want sympathy. You'll be fine."