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Keilor crossed his arms and waited. He was not the only one tired of murder attempts centering on his wife. A thought struck with sudden force. “Does Rhapsody have anything to do with Yesande, Jayems?” He shook his head, answering his own question. “Of course not. She would not approve a strike against her own daughter, or would she?” he asked, leveling a questioning look at his cousin.

“Who can say now? ‘The dead are notoriously tight lipped’,” Jayems said, quoting a grisly proverb. “A search of her rooms revealed nothing, not that I thought it would, considering how our luck has been running.”

He put his fists on his desk and leaned forward, allowing his loose hair to fall forward, concealing his face. “How are they getting past us? We’re neither fools nor innocents. I’d swear on my soul that Knightin was a good man once, and he gave us nothing—nothing!— under the truth drug.”