The service lane narrowed between the two administrative buildings, far enough from the main road that Aurevane's festival noise reached them as a blurred murmur.
Orven von Halbrecht slowed, rubbing two fingers against his brow while he kept walking with the stubborn dignity of a man pretending the wine had not reached his legs.
"I may have underestimated the second bottle," he said.
"Only the second?" Caelum asked, keeping Edran von Voss's aged voice mild.
Halbrecht gave him a tired side glance. "Do not become irritating now, Master von Voss. I was beginning to tolerate you."
"That would be a shame to ruin."
Caelum's hand slipped into the inner pocket of his coat and closed around the small glass vial. With the same motion, he drew out a folded handkerchief, uncorked the vial beneath his sleeve, and soaked the cloth with a few careful drops. The chemical breathed into the cold air, bitter and sweet enough to scratch at the back of the throat.
Halbrecht noticed at once.
