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sleep on the padded bench in his front room, while I spread my bedroll on the floor.
    Mayhap I should take Fisk to a tavern, so we could talk privately before returning to Benton’s rooms. Though what to say…
    I was in such a dither that the guardsman in charge of the lockup was reluctant to let me in to see his prisoner, even after I offered to bail Fisk out. He donned his sword, and insisted on accompanying me down the narrow stair, mayhap fearing I planned a gaolbreak, or some such idiocy.
    So there was an audience to our first meeting after that terrible fight. Not, as it turned out, that it mattered.
    The first thing I noticed, as a resigned expression spread over Fisk’s face, was that he wasn’t surprised to see me.
    The lockup consisted of three iron-barred cages, so 
I could see him clearly. Little moonlight fell through the barred slit high in the wall — on the far side of 
the room from the cells, so no slipping in a note or weapon. But some kindly soul had left a lamp burning, to keep prisoners from finding themselves alone 
in the dark.
    Not that Fisk looked ill at ease. He sat on the narrow cot, but he’d pulled the thin straw tick off the boards to pad the wall he leaned against. His relaxed hands were clasped about one knee, in a manner that suggested he felt quite at home. An attitude even the guard’s glower didn’t change.
    “Fisk.” For some reason my voice was hoarse. I cleared my throat and went on. “I’ve come to buy you out. I’m told the only charge against you is trespass, so I … that is, Kathy, will be able to pay your debt.”
    His resigned expression became more sardonic at this — though he knew how I’d spent my share of the reward, curse him.
    “I shall pay your bail tonight,” I finished more firmly. “Then we can talk.”
    Fisk contemplated me for a long moment, and then said, “No.”
    “What? What do you mean, ‘No?’”
    “Does that mean the prisoner refuses bail?” the guard asked precisely.
    “Of course he doesn’t.”
    “Yes, I do,” said Fisk. “I’ll stay here till the judicars total up my debt, then work it off.”
    “You’d sit here, in gaol, rather than accept my help?” I wasn’t sure if I was more incredulous, or more angry.
    “You’d be more comfortable in your own lodging, sir.” The guard eyed us both with suspicion now. He’d probably never had a prisoner refuse to leave these cells, given the choice. And who’d have thought Fisk, of all people, would be so absurdly stubborn.
    “Don’t be ridiculous.” I tried not to snap at him, but I fear I failed. “I’ll get you out. Then we’ll go to a tavern and discuss this trouble you’re in, and—”
    “You no longer have a right to say what I will and won’t do. Noble Sir.”
    Those words had always stung, but never as they did now.
    Fisk sat up, lowering both feet to the floor. If there was pain under the determination on his face, the dim light concealed it. He turned to the guard.
    “I refuse bail. And if I refuse, you can’t accept it.”
    Of all the lunatic, stubborn, asinine…
    “No, he doesn’t,” I told the guard.
    “Yes, I do,” said Fisk.
    “No, you don—”
    “Well, sirs.” The guard’s gaze was now very sharp. “In fact, he can refuse bail. No one ’cept a judicar can saddle a man with a debt, if he don’t choose it. May I ask who you are, and why it’s so important to you this man goes free? And what was he doing, sneaking around the university in restricted areas?”
    “I don’t know why he was there.” I had to force the words from my suddenly dry mouth. He suspected me of being Fisk’s accomplice, as well he might. In a moment he would ask to see my wrists, and find the tattoos that mark a man as unredeemed. Those broken circles signify a legal debt that can’t be paid in labor or coin, and men who bear them have usually bribed themselves out of being hanged or maimed. I hadn’t killed anyone, and Father hadn’t bribed anyone, either.