"There's a thing I must do now, Ariadne. An important thing, for both of us." A pause. "I need your help to do it."
"My help—?" The dark eyes widened. "My lord knows he has only to command. What must I do?"
Carefully, Burke picked his words; strove to hold the tension from his voice: "Among the people of this palace, there's one called Daedalus. You know him?"
"Daedalus the Smith, you mean?" The jet ringlets danced as the girl laughed. "Of course I know him. He's chief of all my father's craftsmen. What is it you seek of him?"
Again, Burke weighed his words. "Some talk, that's all. A chance to ask a few questions."
"Talk—at this hour?" Ariadne stared.
"I have no choice," Burke shrugged. "To see him by daylight would be as much as my life is worth."
"Oh."
"Yes." Time for a smile now, Burke decided. His most engaging smile. "You see, there are things the man knows, things his skill's taught him—"
Ariadne stiffened in the same instant. "Things Daedalus knows—?" For the first time, her voice held an edge, dark shadows of suspicion. "How could a smith know anything that means so much? What might he say that my lord Dion had not already heard a thousand times?"