The canvas canopy shuddered as a fresh blast of wind swept off the river, whistling through the ropes and throwing a spray of damp gravel against the white linen tablecloth.

Richard didn't move. He sat at the head of the table, his hands locked tightly around the arms of his wooden chair, his face darkening with mottled purple that ran all the way down to his velvet collar. His eyes were fixed on the small brass brazier, where the final, blackened corner of the vellum assignment document was dissolving into thick, oily smoke. The green silk ribbon had completely melted, leaving a sticky, chemical stench that choked out the scent...