Two blurry shapes moved around Yeger, voices muted. He blinked, his vision slowly clearing.

  Yeger tried to move, but something held him back. His head lolled, and he saw metal shackles at his wrists. They’d taken his coat and left him with just his beige shirt. Squinting, he focused on the chair. Oak? No, the grain was wrong, and it was too dark. A stain could cause that though… or blood.

  “The healing extract is working,” a woman, Voronina by the sound, said.

  They’d given him healing extract? Why?

  “Good,” someone else said, a man with an almost lyrical voice.

  His body didn’t hurt as much as one might expect after multiple stab wounds and a dislocated shoulder… they had given him healing extract. He lifted his head.

  Voronina stood beside a man with immaculately styled black hair and sideburns. Though all the styling and care in the world couldn’t distract from his pitted and pockmarked face. Despite that, he looked remarkably similar to Voronina. Both had the same closely spaced brown eyes, and only an inch separated them in height—with Voronina being the taller.

  “The Voronins,” Yeger said, his tongue thick and dry in his mouth.

  “Indeed.” The man ducked his head. “Zinaida, introduce us.”

  Voronina’s jaw tensed. “Yeger Blinov, my father, Anton Voronin.”

  “I know who you are,” Yeger said. “Yutzi Mucker, and Daughter of Yutzi Mucker. Also, a guildless mucker. I will call you Mucker and Young Mucker for short.”

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  Mucker’s lips curved down. “Zinaida said you were a stupid brute. She spoke the truth.”

  “Sure, but in this company? I look like a saint. Saint Blinov. Yes, you may call me Saint Blinov. Or just Saint.”

  Mucker glanced at Young Mucker, who stepped up to Yeger.

  Crack!

  Yeger whistled, his cheek stinging. “Nice slap, Young Mucker. Good form, that stiffening of the fingers and slight cupping of the hand really adds to it. So many people let their fingers relax, which can damage them—”

  Crack!

  “Well done!” Yeger said, his left cheek also throbbing.

  “Does he ever shut up?” Mucker asked, frowning.

  “No,” Young Mucker said. “Can I kill him now? Please?”

  Mucker dug into his coat and removed a phial and handed it to Young Mucker. “Not yet. But soon.”

  Young Mucker took the phial, grumbling, and uncapped it. She grabbed Yeger’s jaw and squeezed, trying to force it open. Which didn’t work. “Open, or I will break your jaw.”

  Yeger refused, keeping his teeth firmly clamped shut.

  “Fine,” Young Mucker let go, withdrew a phial of her own and drank it. She shuddered, grimacing.

  Strength extract. It had to be. Still, he wasn’t caving now. Yeger kept his mouth shut.

  Young Mucker straightened, drawing a deep breath. Then she swung her fist.

  Tears blinded Yeger as his jaw shattered, pain exploding in his mouth.

  Young Mucker grabbed his broken jaw and yanked it down, sending more agony lancing through his head. She poured the contents of the phial down his throat, then forced his mouth shut.

  He gagged, but she sealed his lips and nose.

  Somehow, in the trying to breathe, he choked the extract into his lungs.

  He gagged, unable to cough, unable to breathe. How dangerous or stupid breathing extract was, he had no clue. Nor did he care. His jaw hurt far too much to even notice how badly his lungs burned.

  After a few more seconds, Young Mucker pulled her hand away, and Yeger coughed, the motion sending pure agony through his jaw.

  “Did he swallow it?” Mucker asked.

  Yeger let his broken jaw hang open, showing an empty mouth.

  Young Mucker inspected his mouth. “Yup!”

  “Good. In ten minutes he’ll tell us everything he knows. The complete truth.” The Voronins left.

  Yeger let his head sag to his chest. He had no idea how they expected him to talk with a broken jaw. But he’d get a kick out of giving them a garbled, useless mash of a story.