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girl?” Sethos inquired
    “ Still smelling like dung?” Ossen retorted. “I daresay, if a man’s scent is any indication of where he’s been, I’ve been granted the superior circumstances.” Sparing Sethos his own conceited smile, Ossen disregarded him and turned to Godren. “So, Godren. I hear you’re being fooled into thinking you’re something special these days. Are you going to be a fool and believe it?”
    “ I’m just playing along,” Godren replied emotionlessly, refusing to be goaded.
    “ Of course. ‘Playing along’,” Ossen drawled sweetly. “Isn’t that something children do?”
    “ Of course. Along with sending inferior criminals on whatever spiteful errands they find desirable.”
    Ossen’s complacent smile shrank.
    “ We’re not children, either of us,” Godren said. “When you stop acting like one, perhaps I will consider stooping to confront you, and we can finish our remaining differences once and for all.”
    “ That will be the day,” Ossen anticipated keenly. “To finally see you stoop and bring your head out of the clouds.”
    “ Won’t it be joyous,” Godren concurred emotionlessly. “What will you do to celebrate?”
    “ Kill you, of course,” Sethos piped up. “What else? Unless you want to celebrate the return of your sense and kill him first.”
    “ You all had better start taking this killing business seriously,” a new voice advised, the speaker appearing at the edge of the courtyard. The three young men stopped their bickering and focused on the newcomer. “This job is to be committed to, executed, and finished. Clean and swift. And there should be no debating who is killing who.” Seriously, Bastin glanced between them all, seeing that he had won their solemn attention. “You hunt according to convenient target, unless there is an obvious match that should be honored. Kill each other on your own time.” He turned away as quickly as he’d arrived. “Come with me.”
    Glancing once amongst themselves, the three followed Bastin out of Godren’s adopted sector of the Underworld. Bastin led them back toward the more lavish wing of the underground kingdom, but didn’t steer them near Mastodon’s personal quarters. They came to a closet-like chamber, which Bastin unlocked and threw open, and they crowded in and gathered around as Bastin thrust a second key into the brass mechanism of a large trunk in the corner. Kicking open the lid, he revealed the contents and stepped back to let the three look. They all stood there, peering in, eyes roving in wonder over the alien contraptions.
    As soon as they’d had a good look, Bastin stooped to reach in, withdrawing one of the weapons for closer inspection. Proffering it to the small group, he watched their reactions. Ossen seized the weapon before anyone else could, turning it over and testing its feel in his hungry grip. A reckless fascination was coming alight on his darkening face.
    Less eagerly, Godren stepped forward and took one for himself.
    “ What are they?” Sethos asked, more wary than his two precedents.
    “ Dart guns,” Bastin explained. “Extremely efficient, stealthy, and – most importantly – lethal. Easy to operate; they kill from a distance. Regardless of faulty aim, the poison in the darts spreads to the heart. I present to you a truly revolutionary weapon, gentlemen, and advise that you appreciate the privilege of being some of the only few in the country to wield its like.”
    At Seth’s continuing hesitance, Godren caught his eye and sent him a meaningful, warning look. He knew his friend had become wary to death about criminal business. It was too easy to indulge in what paid when you were wrestling with survival on the streets – and what paid was usually what was dominant in corruption. From the beginning, the two fledgling criminals had sworn to escape the business they had been forced into, had promised to commit only what they had to. It was a tough business to work your way