In his head, he imagined the look on Fidelis Jes’s face when he realized how much shit the lancers had managed to steal before the Blackhats returned to the city, and then he remembered that Fidelis Jes’s face was attached to a head in a bag, quite possibly still tied to Ibana’s saddle. The thought brought a smile to Styke’s face. Jes’s corpse was probably already burning on a mass pyre, anonymous, with a thousand others south of the city. A fitting end for a man who dedicated his life to making sure everyone knew and feared him.
