The first thing I noticed when I turned around was that Giles was left-handed. Or at least held the knife that way. It was a single-edged blade of the type most men carry for mundane tasks. He was younger than I’d expected, with the pallor of someone who’d been avoiding the daylight. A bright green eye full of uncertainty peered out from under a lock of raven hair. A simple gray cloth covered the left socket and was tied about his head. Looking down at the knife in his hand, Giles tucked it back in its sheath.

“Lets sit and talk for a bit,” I said, taking one of the crates by the table. In the far corner I spotted where he had been sitting before, another box padded with a folded blanket. Giles sat at the table with me.

“I’m not really a thief either. Well, I am, but not by profession.”

“Let us start from the beginning.”

“I am – was an apprentice clockwright. I spent most of my days filing brass into absurdly tiny gears for whatever projects my master was building. He had, probably still has, a gamblin’ problem. It wasn’t my place to tell on him, so I kept my head down. But lose that much at cards and eventually the wife notices. Rather than fess up, he said I must have stolen it. When I’m ‘fore the bench, I tell the judge about the gamblin’ but he says I’m just makin’ up stuff and makin’ it worse. Then he gave me the choice between my left hand or left eye. Weren’t a proper sort of choice.”

“I understand,” I said. I’d been given the choice of sides for both a hand an an eye. The reminder of why I had jumped at the open church office was all too raw. But I wanted Giles to talk, so I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Nobody wants an apprentice who’s been labeled a thief. ‘Fore long, only Magdelene would even talk to me. She knew I was in a rough spot. She spun this job as helpin’ some nobleman raise some coin for himself without looking like he needed it. She said selling the jewel openly would be seen as shameful in the circles he ran in. It made so much sense the way she said it. Besides, the amount I was to get would be more than enough to start somewhere nobody knew me. I could say I lost the eye in battle and just be respectable again.”

“Makes sense so far.”

“The guy I now know was Wilcox made it so I could get in the house and to the storeroom without any hassles. All while he made himself visible elsewhere. Once I saw the gem, I got ‘fraid they were going to cheat me out of my pay. Wilcox insisted the best price could only be had down ‘ere. I wasn’t gonna let him take ship with the gem and leave me in Atlor. So all three of us came down ‘ere so he could deal with these Azanjin. Getting someone to pay that much takes time, and I was stuck waiting. Wilcox always had a short temper with me, so Magdelene did the talking. I kept the gem hidden while all of the talking went on.”

“When did things change?”

“The night Wilcox died. He said he had a deal and cussed us both out mightily when I wanted more specific answers. Magdelene insisted Wilcox was just havin’ a case of the nerves over the deal. Insisted he have a few drinks to calm his self before I got the gem and let him head out. He was much calmer when he left. Then someone stabbed him and everything’s gone to pot.”

“Did anyone else have a drink?”

“What? No, why?”

“Who poured the drinks?”

“Magdelene. Why does it matter?”

“Do you know what was in those drinks?”

“Cheap spirits, probably from the Whalin’ Hare.”

“Is the bottle still here?”

“No, Magdelene took what was left. I assumed she wanted it for after she got home. Why are you so on about the drinks?”

“Wilcox wasn’t just stabbed. He was poisoned, then stabbed.”

Giles’ eye went wide.

“You think Magdelene poisoned him?”

“With how much was in his stomach, unless he stopped off for another round of drinks between here and the meeting he didn’t make, it’s the only answer that makes sense. When did she leave here?”

“Not long after Wilcox did. She said she was going home.” I could see the gears in Giles’ head turn. “You think she was planning to take the gem off Wilcox?”

“I can’t say for certain, but it would make sense.”

“Do you think she stabbed him?”

“No. If she had, she wouldn’t have come looking to see if I had the Star of Azanjin at the mortuary temple. I still need to find who did stab him.”

“What about me?”

“I need everything you told me in a sworn statement to help sort this mess officially. I have no intention of charging you with anything related to the murder.”

“What about the theft?” Giles asked, eye narrowing.

“That was outside of my jurisdiction,” I said. “I only have writ over the island of Jinwick and the mainland plantations. Anything that happened back in Atlor isn’t within my remit.”

“I see,” Giles said.

There was a commotion outside on the street. I would have ignored it if I hadn’t heard my name mentioned. Standing up, I looked out the window. An Azanjin woman was trying to get one of the guards to do something. Her accent and poor grasp of the Atlorian language made it difficult to follow. I realized she was trying to get the guard to get me.

“I’m afraid I have to deal with this,” I said, heading back outside. Close up, I recognized the Azanjin woman as the one who’d admitted me to Nanjala’s House.

“Mister Browne,” she said, relief filling her tone. “The ship is leaving!” She pointed towards the sea.

“What ship?”

“T’bora’s ship!” Snagging my sleeve, she dragged me towards the shoreline. Nanjala stood at the edge of the pavement, staring out towards the harbor mouth between the lighthouses. A twin-masted Azanjin vessel with furled sails was being towed toward the gap by an oared pilot boat. The towering form of a shaven-headed Azanjin stood near the stern. Seeing us standing by the shore, T’bora made a show of examining an object in the sunlight. Mounted to a gold pectoral, the blood-red cabochon was nearly the size of a fist. Even from this distance, I could just make out the star pattern made by light refracting through the ruby.

“Aren’t you going to stop that ship?” Nanjala hissed.

“On what grounds?” I asked.

“He’s getting away with the Star!”

“Which he almost certainly paid for. Even if I were to immediately convince one of these merchantmen to take us after him, by the time we caught up, we’d be on the open sea. At that point, seizing him would be either piracy or an act of war. Neither of which would get you a cut of the sale.”

Nanjala glared daggers at me.

“What use are you?” she snapped. Switching to her native tongue, she addressed the other woman and they walked back towards the Azanjin district.

“Which storehouse was it?”

“What?”

“Where you were supposed to meet Wilcox to make the sale?”

“What does it matter now?”

“I still have a murder to solve.”

“That one,” Nanjala said, pointing at a building not far away. She turned and sashayed away. The pack of men exiting the storehouse were not Azanjin. Seven Atlorians, all of the same age and dressed in the same calf-length arming breeches and sweat-stained white tunics would be suspicious enough even if two weren’t carrying a chest between them. Each had a basket-hilted broadsword and a dagger on their belt. The one in the lead had an impressive mustache whose tips drooped below his chin. I stood athwart their path and merely got a raised eyebrow.

“One of you did it,” I said.

“I’m afraid we have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m sure,” the mustachioed man said.

“I’m sure you-” I was interrupted when a hand fell on my shoulder. Turning me about, Ardo gently led me away from the seven. “You knew,” I whispered.

“If you had served as a soldier, you might understand what it means when you steal from the company’s pay,” Ardo said. “It’s not just taking from the men who bled for that money. You’re taking from the widows of the men that died and their children. Yer starvin’ yer mates’ kids to line yer own pockets.”

“I can’t let them get away with murder,” I said.

“What can you prove, Jasper? What can you prove?”