Magpie thinks about it. He holds the image in his mind, and turns it to all angles; lets every bright facet glint in the sun. Then he sighs once more, long and loud.

"No," he says. "No, it wouldn't be. Crow, I can hear you. It's not like you think." He can just imagine Crow's delight at hearing him admit that—just sometimes—winning isn't everything. Well, let him. He's known about tainted little victories since day one.