Dawn came blue and watchful. The three rogues sat cuffed to a bench in the small stone outbuilding by the east fence. Breath smoked from their mouths in steady ticks. Alexander stood in the doorway, shadow long on the floor. I took the chair by the wall; Evans leaned against the jamb, a quiet bruise on his face, hands open.
“Names," Alexander said.
Silence tried to be brave and almost pulled it off.
He nodded to a guard. “Water." A tin cup appeared. Alexander set it on the floor just out of reach. “Names."
The first rogue worked his jaw. “You're not a cop."
“No," Alexander said. “I'm worse. I'm invested." He glanced at Evans. “You?"
Evans's voice had been scraped down to something honest. “Tell him."
“Or what?" the second rogue sneered.
“Or you spend your morning teaching the elder
