"Then you better get started," Bastien says, though he does give the knot in question a little due-diligence tug to make sure it's at least secure, if not any tighter, before going into his own pockets for a handkerchief. "Someone will be here for you soon."

He wrenches the cloth around his blood-sticky fingers until they're passingly clean, then sits on the floor in front of Byerly's chair and unfurls one of the documents—hard-won, by Riftwatch, through negotiation and blackmail—that this is apparently mostly about. Half about, at least. The other half is tied to a chair. The dim light makes it difficult to make out the symbols and notes on the schematics, but even in daylight, they wouldn't mean anything to Bastien. Or be any more his business. He's only curious.

"All this fuss," he says.