{"id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","serial_id":"556fb8faada6e270f8e264d5","episode_ids":["5b7dbdbd32ed0600011c4326","5b18216d07839400014de76a","5b1821e1b467920001f6c8bb","5b18222bb467920001f6c8bc","5b18226b07839400014de76b","5b1822d597be280001eff36d","5b18230b85bbcd000125c319","5b182346b467920001f6c8bd","5b18239207839400014de76c","5b1823d885bbcd000125c31a","5b18241d07839400014de76d","5b182479b467920001f6c8be","5b1824bcb467920001f6c8bf"],"description":"Sex, Scandal, Swordplay... and Chocolate! The prequel to Ellen Kushner's cult classic Swordspoint is back for a fourth season!\n","subtitle":"","title":"Tremontaine Season 4","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.issue.20180606","number":"4","featured":false,"background_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/covers/season4/TremS4_cover_tall_new_3.jpg","cover_wide_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/covers/season4/TremS4_cover_wide_2.jpg","gowatchit_id":"","is_free":false,"episodePrice1":199,"episodePrice2":299,"episodePrice3":499,"episodePrice4":599,"episodePrice5":799,"episodePrice6":899,"episodePrice7":1099,"episodePrice8":1299,"episodePrice9":1399,"episodePrice10":1599,"episodePrice11":1699,"episodePrice12":1899,"episodePrice13":1999,"episodePrice14":2199,"episodePrice15":2299,"episodes":[{"id":"5b7dbdbd32ed0600011c4326","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":1,"title":"Season Preview","released_date":"2018-08-27T18:10:08.215+00:00","released":true,"strapline":"A sneak peek of the final season of Tremontaine.","byline":"Ellen Kushner, Tessa Gratton, Karen Lord, Joel Derfner, Liz Duffy Adams, Racheline Maltese, and Delia Sherman","featured":true,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/covers/season4/trems4e00.jpg","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/dividers/tremontaine_divider.png","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-08-27","body":"\u003cp\u003eHigh on the Hill, perched in the warm, dry eyrie of Tremontaine House, Diane, Duchess Tremontaine looked down over the same dull, industrious view of the City, and her smile, though delicate, was just as ready to feast.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDespite the steel grey skies, Diane found her view immensely satisfying.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer fellow nobles might complain at how the flooding in the north and east had muddied so many roads and dampened gardens, making travel to summer residences uncomfortable at best, impossible at worst, but Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s duchess had all she needed here in her home. Diane loved her City, especially standing at the center of progress as she did. Beyond her deep green garden, which glistened with rainwater she chose to see as tiny pearls and drops of diamonds, the dark river curled higher than she\u0026rsquo;d ever seen it, the rippling waves lapped urgently at the pleasure barges docked here at this northern curve. Her own swan barge bobbed as if with life. If she trained her gaze south along the river, over the barely visible curve of the Hill and peaked roofs of the Middle City, she could spy the first high University buildings on the eastern bank. Beyond the edge of her sight, the island of Riverside perched\u0026mdash;the last remnant of that old city that one day would be no more. Consumed by this tide of progress.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003ePerhaps not in her lifetime, but these threads she wove now would one day knot into patterns for the scions of Tremontaine.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFootsteps on the tower stair had Diane straightening her shoulders and turning her head to present an elegant three-quarter profile to the entryway. This eyrie was the duchess\u0026rsquo;s private nest, and she allowed very few admittance. The guest she anticipated now set a flutter beneath her ribs. She smoothed her hands down the deep grey silk of her bodice and dissuaded herself from the temptation to readjust the black-and-pink scalloped ruffles cascading down in layers over her skirts. It was a new, bold cut and fashion, and her maid had fussed it into perfection.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam, first daughter of the first daughter of the House of Balam, leaped over the second-to-last step and burst into the pastel sanctum. At the sight of the duchess, she stopped immediately, lips parted, and stared at Diane framed by the window, exactly as the duchess had intended.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEvery encounter with Kaab this past year had grown more and more exciting, because Diane never knew quite what to expect. There would certainly be subtle conversation, but it might be edged with angry conflict, vital intelligence, or merely humorous gossip. There would be a bargain of some kind\u0026mdash;they neither of them liked to leave the other without a promise\u0026mdash;ranging from mutual trade concerns and tariffs or touching upon which sort of Kinwiinik dessert Diane\u0026rsquo;s cook would attempt for their next private dinner.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere would be a moment when Diane glanced at Kaab\u0026rsquo;s lips, or Kaab skimmed a thumb almost unintentionally against the small bones of Diane\u0026rsquo;s wrist\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. but would either deign to notice? Would they come together aggressively and fast, or draw out the delicate tension with even more delicate smiles, or perhaps pretend there had been no such moment at all, allowing the memory to pull between them for days and days until they finally met again?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd always during their conversation would come the moment Diane remembered\u0026mdash;suddenly, with a slamming heart\u0026mdash;that Kaab knew the buried secret of Diane\u0026rsquo;s most distant past. When that moment inevitably struck, it would shift the entire frame of their mutual attraction.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTherein lay the tension and mystery of their moments together. Diane understood the boundaries of their relationship, but the center of it swirled ecstatically.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab settled her hands on her hips. Today the Kinwiinik woman was clad in a slightly more formal version of her usual Landish-Kinwiinik compromise: boots and fine dark brown trousers under a lovely Kinwiinik tunic of painted cotton, bound at the waist with a thick woven belt in purple and blue in which her twin daggers were tucked like long fangs. Her hair was looped in braids beneath a dark blue Landish hat with a brim to shield her face from the rain. The shadow it cast seemed to make her dark brown eyes deeper.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab doffed the hat, tossing it onto a chair as she strode forward, licked her bottom lip, and said, \u0026ldquo;My duchess, I would not have thought to compare your eyes to a storm cloud, but there is something of this thick sky and dreadful, urgent, constant rain that brings vivid spirit to those eyes, and from deep within them, I see Chaacmul, his rains ever-cleansing, staring out at me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe underlying passion in Kaab\u0026rsquo;s voice set Diane\u0026rsquo;s heart trembling, but she did not allow the desire and pride the Kinwiinik\u0026rsquo;s words inflicted upon her to present in her expression. Diane merely held out a hand to invite Kaab to join her at the window.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab strode forward, but instead of taking that hand, instead of gazing out at the cloudy landscape, Kaab gripped Diane\u0026rsquo;s waist, pressed the duchess\u0026rsquo;s bottom against the windowsill, and kissed her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat was another thing Diane appreciated about the Kinwiinik spy: Kaab was so very, \u003cem\u003every\u003c/em\u003e good at taking what she wanted.\u003c/p\u003e","description":"An excerpt of the final season of Tremontaine.","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.355","slug":"tremontaine-s4e0","audio":"","epub":"","mobi":"","pdf":"","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b7dbdbd32ed0600011c4326","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"Season Preview"},{"id":"5b18216d07839400014de76a","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":2,"title":"Potential","released_date":"2018-09-12T10:57:19.687+00:00","released":true,"strapline":"A plan to change the City forever threatens Riverside.","byline":"Tessa Gratton","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"http://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/covers/season4/TremontaineS4E01_2.jpg","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/dividers/tremontaine_divider.png","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-09-12","body":"\u003cp\u003eIt was late spring in the City, though whatever brightness might have bloomed had been leeched away by weeks of bad weather. Grey clouds cut across the entire sky, dripping idly with rain; the river flowed a swift green-grey, capped with angry white where new construction along the eastern bank diverted the water unnaturally. To either side of the river, the City swept up in gradients of grey and dull blue and tarnished white, as if everything were curtained by a pastel wash.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat utter lack of color was the first thing Ahkoet Balam, first son of the sixth son of the House of Balam of the Traders of the Kinwiinik, noticed about his new home as he stood eagerly at the prow of the merchant vessel \u003cem\u003eLove Between Papagayos\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBy contrast, his sister beside him burst with color. Looking at her, he smiled, then grinned, and then laughed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxcho Moe, first daughter of the sixth son of the House of Balam of the Traders of the Kinwiinik, wrinkled her small brown nose at him, used to his ways.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet touched his knuckles to hers and said, \u0026ldquo;Your headdress will wilt in this rain.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe elaborate purple knots of cloth both contained and highlighted the even more elaborate braided loops of her hair, and three sleek white heron feathers dipped down her neck and spine, the tips just brushing her mantle of sheer violet cloth woven with tiny emerald feathers. Colored glass dotted the front of her wrapped skirt along the pattern of vines and delicate flowers, making gleaming eyes for the mice, snakes, and little parakeets hiding amid the greenery. Her only compromise to the dull weather and constant chill Uncle Chuleb had promised were supple leather boots wrapped just past her ankles instead of her preferred sandals.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxcho already had made clear her disappointment in Koet\u0026rsquo;s attire: Landish trousers and shirt and quilted jacket, with very sturdy boots gifted to him by the uncles when Koet received his assignment. He did wear a cotton mantle painted with the family crest\u0026mdash;it had been Uncle Chuleb\u0026rsquo;s\u0026mdash;over all his Landish clothing, both for added protection against the damp and to signify his mission.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe clogged river and mechanical contraptions all along the eastern bank were the next things Ahkoet Balam noticed about his new home. The City was in the midst of some immense building project: The only docks large enough for the \u003cem\u003eLove Between Papagayos \u003c/em\u003eto anchor were piled with mounds of silt and limestone, and just to their north shallow barges knocked together, swarming with workers as they dredged up the river bottom with interlocking levers and pulleys. Several ships of similar size to the \u003cem\u003ePapagayos\u003c/em\u003e bobbed in the middle of the river, and smaller ships had anchored toward the western bank. Even farther north of the new docks, at the end of a temporary pier, was a machine Koet had no name for, in any of the languages he knew. A spiderweb of scaffolding, ropes, and counterweights aided workers as they lowered\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. something\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. into the water. It was huge, shaped like a barrel but the length of twelve men.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;This is a mess,\u0026rdquo; Cho said in Kindaan.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet drew a deep breath, as if to reinvigorate all his spirits with the City\u0026rsquo;s vibrant bustle of life. Ninety days at sea had not managed to sink his excitement, and this \u003cem\u003emess,\u003c/em\u003e as his sister called it, spoke to his head-spirit like a delicious challenge, his heart-spirit like a welcome, and his liver-spirit with a sheer glee.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe said, in Xanamdaan, \u0026ldquo;A mess, but an industrious one!\u0026rdquo; and it was Cho\u0026rsquo;s turn to laugh at him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe captain called out for Koet\u0026rsquo;s attention, and pointed to the wide barge approaching them. Hand signals communicated a request that the \u003cem\u003ePapagayos\u003c/em\u003e hold. Koet left Cho at the prow and went to join the captain, who leaned over to speak with the Landish harbor worker.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Captain!\u0026rdquo; the man yelled, then continued in an accent nearly too difficult for Koet to parse, \u0026ldquo;As you can see, we\u0026rsquo;re in a bit of a disarray, and your passengers and goods will have to be offloaded onto my barge, and the next behind me, so we can maneuver to the temporary docks there upriver! The City apologizes for the inconvenience, but my word the harbor master will clear your trade faster than usual for it!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet translated for the captain, whose Xanamdaan was passable enough for usual harbor business, but not nearly as fluent as Koet\u0026rsquo;s.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfter the captain acknowledged that he understood, Koet yelled back to the man on the barge, \u0026ldquo;Hello! Can you tell me what they are doing there?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe captain shot Koet an impatient look, but the man below smiled, wiping rainwater off his face as he tilted it up. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s to be a grand new bridge, young sir! Wider than any we\u0026rsquo;ve had before, with arches round as the moon! Space for better carriages to cross, and heavier wagons! They might even put a viewing platform in the center, for foot traffic and entertainers!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Sounds impressive!\u0026rdquo; Koet called, imagining it. A bridge\u0026mdash;of course! The squat limestone tower there on the bank was the base, and they were diverting water to sink the necessary pylons. He\u0026rsquo;d been studying the pieces without seeing the whole. A bad habit for a Trader, but, Xamanek\u0026rsquo;s star, Koet loved a puzzle too much.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet wished, as he had all his life, for wings like his namesake eagle, to soar high above this new City and take in all its wonders, to map the spill of Xanamwiinik people and homes and lives, from this grey, heavy river all the way to the hill at the summit of the City in the northwest. Even under all this rain and the weight of clouds, Koet could see the gleam in the distance, from window glass and rich green gardens. There was so much here, new roads and customs, new trade to exploit.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAhkoet Balam had arrived to take over the family business, and his hungry, eager grin showed teeth ready to feast.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHigh on the Hill, perched in the warm, dry eyrie of Tremontaine House, Diane, Duchess Tremontaine looked down over the same dull, industrious view of the City, and her smile, though delicate, was just as ready to feast.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDespite the steel grey skies, Diane found her view immensely satisfying.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer fellow nobles might complain at how the flooding in the north and east had muddied so many roads and dampened gardens, making travel to summer residences uncomfortable at best, impossible at worst, but Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s duchess had all she needed here in her home. Diane loved her City, especially standing at the center of progress as she did. Beyond her deep green garden, which glistened with rainwater she chose to see as tiny pearls and drops of diamonds, the dark river curled higher than she\u0026rsquo;d ever seen it, the rippling waves lapped urgently at the pleasure barges docked here at this northern curve. Her own swan barge bobbed as if with life. If she trained her gaze south along the river, over the barely visible curve of the Hill and peaked roofs of the Middle City, she could spy the first high University buildings on the eastern bank. Beyond the edge of her sight, the island of Riverside perched\u0026mdash;the last remnant of that old city that one day would be no more. Consumed by this tide of progress.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003ePerhaps not in her lifetime, but these threads she wove now would one day knot into patterns for the scions of Tremontaine.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane had seen the detailed plans months ago, designed by a young architect, Moses Robertson\u0026mdash;the son of a rather plain Middle City family, who\u0026rsquo;d won a bid to design an extremely fine new building for the St Vier bankers. His work had earned him accolades and patronage enough to be trusted by the Merchants\u0026rsquo; Confederation as their chief architect in rebuilding those blasted warehouses over which Diane had nearly lost her pride and a cartload of Tremontaine money last year to Gregory Davenant. Robertson had done well enough that the merchants listened when he brought new plans to them for expanding the docks, as well as for building a new bridge south of Riverside, to link the eastern and western banks right there at the warehouses. While the idea was interesting enough, Diane had not seen the value in openly supporting it to the Council of Lords until she learned two additional pieces of information: that Ambassador Reza had promised Robertson Chartili engineers to teach the City new techniques for water diversion, and that the Kinwiinik fully favored the elaborate river project plans. The new bridge was to be wider than any previous, to allow for newer carriages and the movement of goods more securely from the public warehouses to the Kinwiinik\u0026rsquo;s private warehouse and compound. No longer would merchants need to risk their cargo by moving it upriver. That appealed especially to the Kinwiinik, and after all, Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s livelihood was quite caught up with that of the foreign traders these days.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd so, last autumn, Diane had helped push pieces of conversation and the right persons into position to see the full plans approved by Council of Lords. The new warehouses were magnificent, and the docks, too, though they were not yet in use. Now the river was being further dredged to stabilize the heavy docks and prepare for the bridge itself. There was only one slight issue with re-approving the landing site for the bridge on the western bank. But the merchants were happy, the nobles \u003cem\u003ewould\u003c/em\u003e be happy once this dreadful rainy season passed, the Kinwiinik were happy, there were many new jobs to combat the flooding and terrible harvests, and so much potential for future schemes and opportunities adorned Diane\u0026rsquo;s future that it was impossible for her not to love this dour, rainy view with all her cool, calculating heart.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane allowed herself a smug sigh and pressed her small white hand to the windowpane. A shadow of moisture spread from her skin, marking a print against the glass. So she would print her legacy onto the City: visible only in the shadowy strata of politics, by careful design.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFootsteps on the tower stair had her straightening her shoulders and turning her head to present an elegant three-quarter profile to the entryway. This eyrie was her private nest, and she allowed very few admittance. The guest she anticipated now set a flutter beneath her ribs. She smoothed her hands down the deep grey silk of her bodice and dissuaded herself from the temptation to readjust the black-and-pink scalloped ruffles cascading down in layers over her skirts. It was a new, bold cut and fashion, and her maid had fussed it into perfection.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam, first daughter of the first daughter of the House of Balam, leaped over the second-to-last step and burst into the pastel sanctum. At the sight of the duchess, she stopped immediately, lips parted, and stared at Diane framed by the window, exactly as the duchess had intended.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEvery encounter with Kaab this past year had grown more and more exciting, because Diane never knew quite what to expect. There would certainly be subtle conversation, but it might be edged with angry conflict, vital intelligence, or merely humorous gossip. There would be a bargain of some kind\u0026mdash;they neither of them liked to leave the other without a promise\u0026mdash;ranging from mutual trade concerns and tariffs or touching upon which sort of Kinwiinik dessert Diane\u0026rsquo;s cook would attempt for their next private dinner.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere would be a moment when Diane glanced at Kaab\u0026rsquo;s lips, or Kaab skimmed a thumb almost unintentionally against the small bones of Diane\u0026rsquo;s wrist\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. but would either deign to notice? Would they come together aggressively and fast, or draw out the delicate tension with even more delicate smiles, or perhaps pretend there had been no such moment at all, allowing the memory to pull between them for days and days until they finally met again?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd always during their conversation would come the moment Diane remembered\u0026mdash;suddenly, with a slamming heart\u0026mdash;that Kaab knew the buried secret of Diane\u0026rsquo;s most distant past. When that moment inevitably struck, it would shift the entire frame of their mutual attraction.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTherein lay the tension and mystery of their moments together. Diane understood the boundaries of their relationship, but the center of it swirled ecstatically.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab settled her hands on her hips. Today the Kinwiinik woman was clad in a slightly more formal version of her usual Landish-Kinwiinik compromise: boots and fine dark brown trousers under a lovely Kinwiinik tunic of painted cotton, bound at the waist with a thick woven belt in purple and blue in which her twin daggers were tucked like long fangs. Her hair was looped in braids beneath a dark blue Landish hat with a brim to shield her face from the rain. The shadow it cast seemed to make her dark brown eyes deeper.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab doffed the hat, tossing it onto a chair as she strode forward, licked her bottom lip, and said, \u0026ldquo;My duchess, I would not have thought to compare your eyes to a storm cloud, but there is something of this thick sky and dreadful, urgent, constant rain that brings vivid spirit to those eyes, and from deep within them, I see Chaacmul, his rains ever-cleansing, staring out at me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe underlying passion in Kaab\u0026rsquo;s voice set Diane\u0026rsquo;s heart trembling, but she did not allow the desire and pride the Kinwiinik\u0026rsquo;s words inflicted upon her to present in her expression. Diane merely held out a hand to invite Kaab to join her at the window.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab strode forward, but instead of taking that hand, instead of gazing out at the cloudy landscape, Kaab gripped Diane\u0026rsquo;s waist, pressed the duchess\u0026rsquo;s bottom against the windowsill, and kissed her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat was another thing Diane appreciated about the Kinwiinik spy: Kaab was so very, \u003cem\u003every\u003c/em\u003e good at taking what she wanted.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA constant drip like the striking of an old, hidden clock echoed from deep in the bowels of the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s underground lair. The cavern, lined with shelves both carved into the limestone and those built with practical wood and nails, had always been damp. Thin layers of moss could be found clinging to its dark crevices. Tess had only discovered the narrow, dripping stalactite in the far corner recently, thanks to all the rain: One early morning she\u0026rsquo;d been so sleep-deprived and dazed after wrestling with one of Everly\u0026rsquo;s constant tricky exams, she\u0026rsquo;d wandered the boundaries of the lair without thought to personal safety or Everly\u0026rsquo;s privacy, hunting the source of the maddening \u003cem\u003edrip-drip-drip\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThough she often felt comforted working in this cavern basement, as if she breathed the breath of Riverside\u0026rsquo;s inner self, today its damp walls seemed to close in on her like the palm of a clammy hand.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe stared at the assignment her mentor had set before her: a simple word problem, it seemed, with lists of words in three columns that she was to discover a pattern to, and then use it to crack a code from the slender book called \u003cem\u003eNotes on Irrigation\u003c/em\u003e. Her work with Everly was rarely so proscriptive. More often, Tess was given a book to read, or a pamphlet, and they\u0026rsquo;d discuss it over wine, dissecting the story or philosophy until Tess saw how it related to her life or the lives in Riverside. Or the pair would wander the streets simply observing the shades and patterns of Riverside, until Tess could describe, explain, and map the details of things she\u0026rsquo;d known instinctively for years. It wasn\u0026rsquo;t that she\u0026rsquo;d been ignorant before, only that putting names to things gave you some power over those things\u0026mdash;or at least could put you in conversation with them. Many Riversiders understood that in their guts. Few wielded the understanding with purpose.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFor years, Tess had been Tess the Hand, but she was only just beginning to figure out when and how to mark her actions\u0026mdash;her story, Everly called it\u0026mdash;as either Tess, or as the Hand. \u003cem\u003eThe Hand\u003c/em\u003e wasn\u0026rsquo;t just a signifier of her forgery business, it was a title that described her role in Riverside\u0026rsquo;s story.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt least, according to Everly it was. Someday, they said, Tess might only be known as the Hand, as Everly themself wore the mantle of the Salamander, and choose however she saw fit to whom she\u0026rsquo;d gift her personal name.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eToo bad neither Tess nor the Hand could figure out this damned puzzle!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe shoved it away and rubbed her eyes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer time would better be spent above ground, working her way down her long list of clients. Since the start of spring, business had grown shockingly fast. It was the bridge project, and the bad winter. More folk streaming into the City to escape flooding and sickness and a bad harvest meant more opportunities for cheating, more need for fake papers and legal documents. And the massive construction on the river was pulling workers from the Middle City through Riverside every day, to and fro, clogging the bridges and losing their coin to pickpockets. Tess had plenty to do as a simple forger, and even more responsibility to her friends and neighbors to be on guard against the fluctuating population and pressures from off-island.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Frustrated?\u0026rdquo; Everly inquired without sympathy as they stepped off the final stair into the cavern. They\u0026rsquo;d been on an errand, presenting themselves in man\u0026rsquo;s attire, including a broad-rimmed cap tilted just enough to display one pale, interested eye. They stripped damp gloves off their hands and set the pair on one of the long, cluttered worktables.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I have work I should be doing, and I think Charlotte might be waiting for me already\u0026mdash;she was going to stop by near noon.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhile Tess had not given in to the young woman\u0026rsquo;s insistent requests for official apprenticeship as a forger, Tess had allowed Charlotte to insinuate herself more and more into her business. Charlotte\u0026rsquo;s penmanship had become fantastic, thanks to Simone Fenton at the City Academy, and the girl was learning to excel at switching between the five most common accents to be found in the City. Tess had her learning to identify every possible iteration of all the crests of the City nobility, and let the girl watch Tess mix various shades of ink and identify ingredients. Building blocks that would aid Charlotte in any manner of ways, and Tess could take advantage of a helper. It was a more Riverside way than official apprenticeship: two individuals taking mutual advantage of the other.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSometimes Tess wondered despairingly what advantage the Salamander was getting out of \u003cem\u003ethis\u003c/em\u003e arrangement.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;ve missed her, then,\u0026rdquo; Everly said, still lacking sympathy. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s midafternoon.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Damn it, Everly, I\u0026rsquo;ve been at this for six hours?\u0026rdquo; Tess picked up the paper with its columns of words\u0026mdash;at this point she had them memorized, but still couldn\u0026rsquo;t see any pattern, even if she broke them down into their smallest components or shapes or sounds.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;As long as it takes.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tell me why, at least.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEverly moved a stack of blown-glass bells in rainbow colors, reached past them, and from a compartment in the worktable withdrew a small tin flask. Tess stared, silent, as the Salamander poured alcohol into the base of one of those glass bells\u0026mdash;certainly not its original use\u0026mdash;and added a pinch of powder from an envelope in their jacket pocket, then knocked it back.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTaking a deep breath, Everly slid a side-eye at Tess, and cocked a smile onto their thin lips. \u0026ldquo;Do you give up?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess recognized the challenge. It had been a full year, after all, since they\u0026rsquo;d begun this dance, a full year of Tess devoting hours of every week to their games and tests. She only wished that in that year she\u0026rsquo;d gotten better at predicting Everly. Stubbornly, she clenched her teeth. \u0026ldquo;Motivate me \u003cem\u003enot \u003c/em\u003eto give up,\u0026rdquo; she returned.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith otherworldly grace, Everly reached for the puzzle and tugged it from Tess\u0026rsquo;s grip. Then the Salamander walked away, through the labyrinth of display tables and shelves, picking around statues and oddly shaped floor lamps. Tess followed their winding path toward the far corner of the chamber, where a shallow wooden bucket caught every slow, rhythmic drip.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander touched the tip of the stalactite and drew their finger up along the butter-colored stone. Then, with sudden violence, they slapped the puzzle paper into the bucket.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGasping, Tess barely stopped herself from reaching to save the paper\u0026mdash;it was only a puzzle, only a test, but her urge to save it from drowning nearly overwhelmed her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You forge a connection to everything you touch, Tess,\u0026rdquo; the Salamander intoned. \u0026ldquo;But sometimes, the only answer is to let go.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane parted her lips for Kaab\u0026rsquo;s kiss, and did not move otherwise but to tilt her head. Let the younger woman perform, let her work, and Diane enjoy the rippling spoils. \u003cbr /\u003e And Kaab did work, eagerly and gently both, careful never to muss Diane\u0026rsquo;s hair\u0026mdash;which cued to the duchess that Kaab had someplace else to be, and this would not turn into a languorous afternoon of lovemaking. Their kisses rarely did. Ah, well. This past winter Kaab had spent three entire nights at Tremontaine Lodge during the White Days, ostensibly for cultural exchange, but truly for plentiful exercise atop thick furs in the great hall, before the hearth that was large enough to roast a spitted deer. That had been their only time alone as lovers, without the pressures of society or their other multiple roles brought to bear. All other kisses were stolen, or often buried beneath barbs and political machinations.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eExactly how Diane preferred.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe duchess rolled her hips and Kaab laughed against her cheek, then sighed warmly, the breath trailing down Diane\u0026rsquo;s jaw, neck, to pool at the collar of her d\u0026eacute;colletage. The crush of skirts between them added pressure to their embrace, and Kaab, with infinite strength, slowly, slowly lowered herself before Diane. Kaab\u0026rsquo;s dark eyes held Diane\u0026rsquo;s until Kaab was on her knees, clever hands finding the thin silk at Diane\u0026rsquo;s ankles.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane leaned against the windowsill and let Kaab carefully lift one ankle to press a hot kiss there at the bone, breathing heat through the stocking. Pleasure wrapped Diane\u0026rsquo;s calf, a dreamy thread crawling up past her knee and along the inner curve of her thigh. Kaab set Diane\u0026rsquo;s slippered foot at her shoulder and gently, torturously, pushed the three layers of skirts up and up over Diane\u0026rsquo;s raised knee until the stocking was fully visible. Her teasing fingers danced along the garter and Diane caught her breath; Kaab skimmed a hand over the cool flesh of Diane\u0026rsquo;s thigh, then stroked the silk ruffle of her short pantalets.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Do help, Diane,\u0026rdquo; Kaab murmured, pressing the weight of the skirt upward, and Diane clutched the crumpled silk and linen in both hands, displaying herself rather indelicately. Otherwise Diane did not move, both aghast and deliciously aroused.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab sat back on her heels, gently cradling Diane\u0026rsquo;s foot, and gazed up. She licked her lips and Diane shivered, her insides tightening. Kaab saw, and smiled, and with the same purposeful care with which she\u0026rsquo;d sunk to her knees, the young woman leaned forward, teased open the part in Diane\u0026rsquo;s pantalets, and pressed her mouth to the duchess\u0026rsquo;s ready center.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was good Diane had her skirts to cling to, the window to lean against, and that single leg draped over Kaab\u0026rsquo;s shoulder, for otherwise she\u0026rsquo;d have fallen.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer own mouth gasped open and she arched her neck, her cloud of curls mashed flat against the window as Kaab played with tongue and fingers, hot and reaching for Diane\u0026rsquo;s most secret moans. The tremble began and did not abate until Kaab achieved her goal and Diane bit her cries away, melting against Kaab, into the Kinwiinik\u0026rsquo;s arms as they lowered together into a nest of skirts upon the floor.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane did not open her eyes for some long while, as Kaab hummed satisfaction and pressed a warm palm to the duchess\u0026rsquo;s thigh, skin to skin, the only bareness between them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFinally, with a sorry caress, Kaab slipped her hand away and turned to catch Diane\u0026rsquo;s gaze. The sparkle in her eyes had changed from lust to business\u0026mdash;nearly as pleasing. Diane nodded, and Kaab said, \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;d prefer to remain, my storm cloud, but I am due at the docks to greet whatever man my family has sent to head the family Trade since Ahchuleb returned home with his daughter Peapem at the start of winter. A bore, most likely, or someone who will be harsh with poor Ahoen, who you know has been taking up the roles not allowed to me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Will you play damsel, or overwhelm this newcomer?\u0026rdquo; Diane asked.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab tilted her head in a Kinwiinik shrug. \u0026ldquo;I will decide the moment I see him. We haven\u0026rsquo;t had a ship from Binkiinha all winter to bring me any news.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Allow me to bring the wealth of Tremontaine to dazzle him if it will help. We have quite the alliance to maintain.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Our unity with Tremontaine is my\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. second\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. priority,\u0026rdquo; Kaab teased. She ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth, eyes greedy on Diane\u0026rsquo;s mouth again.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane kissed her quickly and then pulled away just as fast. \u0026ldquo;It should be your first until this river redesign is completed.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith an exaggerated scowl, Kaab climbed to her feet. She offered her hands to the duchess and pulled her standing, too. Then Kaab headed for the tray of chocolate beside Diane\u0026rsquo;s delicately carved writing desk. Picking up the pot from over the small candle flame keeping it warm, she sniffed at it\u0026mdash;and a small approving smile quirked her lips. As if Tremontaine would maintain subpar chocolate! Diane even had tiny pots of cinnamon and ground chilies stocked for Kaab\u0026rsquo;s pleasure. \u0026ldquo;We need that bridge, Diane.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It will be delivered. The necessary approval for the new western bank location is a formality. I promise the Council will be swayed to my arguments. Everything is as near settled as can be, for everyone understands the benefits of this grand bridge for the future of our City.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab shook her head, setting the chocolate pot down too hard. \u0026ldquo;This architect changed the location of the bridge landing without submitting new plans, and I wouldn\u0026rsquo;t put it past the lords to punish him for daring to forget they are the center of the world.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I assure you, the new plans will pass. There is naught but a tree to be razed at the new location. The buildings there are nothing but ancient ruins.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Good. We\u0026rsquo;ve put money into this, with the Merchants\u0026rsquo; Confederation, and I\u0026rsquo;m tired of catering to\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; Kaab stopped, and Diane knew she held something back. But that was well enough\u0026mdash;they both kept secrets. Such was part of the allure.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;My darling Kaab. Trust me.\u0026rdquo; Diane let her smile draw out with subtle hunger that few would note. Except Kaab did, and laughed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I like it when you are full of pride and fire, a lovely jaguar kitten.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Do step closer when you say such things.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Kinwiinik\u0026rsquo;s rich brown eyes narrowed appraisingly. \u0026ldquo;I must not be late to greet my countryman, but perhaps you might make me an offer for an assignation in the near future?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Perhaps,\u0026rdquo; Diane said lightly, \u0026ldquo;so long as it is the \u003cem\u003every\u003c/em\u003e near future.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn a small office tucked away on the ground floor of Ambassador House, at a desk beside a fire burning the damp chill from the room, Rafe Fenton put the finishing swirl onto the final letter of the penultimate chapter of his book. It was an excellent concluding line: pointed, elegant, and meaningful. Readers would certainly feel compelled to turn the page immediately for the conclusion.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe last chapter.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe end of a year\u0026rsquo;s work.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat thought pinched off the swell of gladness and pride Rafe felt, replacing it with trepidation. A finished book spelled an end to more things than his labor.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe leaned back in the thinly cushioned chair, spreading his hands flat against the smooth chestnut of the desk. He breathed deeply, studying the shelves, the dark paneled walls, the plaster moldings at the corners of what he\u0026rsquo;d come to consider \u003cem\u003ehis\u003c/em\u003e office. He had one at his school, of course, for the tedious, necessary administration required of him, but that mausoleum was a scatter of paperwork, too many chairs crammed in for the occasions Joshua or Anselm or even Micah barged in for an impromptu meeting\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;Since you\u0026rsquo;re actually \u003cem\u003ehere\u003c/em\u003e during \u003cem\u003eschool hours\u003c/em\u003e,\u0026rdquo; Joshua frequently griped\u0026mdash;or one of the students knocked with questions about Rafe\u0026rsquo;s latest attempt to instill in them a basic understanding of the cosmos.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe loved the City Academy. He did. He believed in it, in the mission, and he\u0026rsquo;d fought so hard for it. The school \u003cem\u003emattered\u003c/em\u003e. Not only as a place of learning, but as a \u003cem\u003ehome\u003c/em\u003e now for several students, and for Micah, and Rafe believed in that, too. It meant something to keep fighting for it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;The problem was that Rafe had finally accepted that teaching was never going to be his strength. Though he could grasp at moments of genius or epiphany between himself, the natural world, and his students, those moments were too few and far between to feed Rafe\u0026rsquo;s passion.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis book\u0026mdash;\u003cem\u003eOn the Causes of Nature\u003c/em\u003e\u0026mdash;this was his passion. These arguments, these pages of complex thinking, the attempt to communicate his genuine understandings through intense writing: This was his true calling. He\u0026rsquo;d been balancing both, the manuscript and the school, for nearly a year now, but once he finished writing, this carefully crafted existence would change. He would have to make decisions about his future, and the future of the manuscript. The future of the school.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNot to mention, he\u0026rsquo;d lose a ready excuse to spend so much time at Ambassador House.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGrimacing at himself, Rafe pushed back from the desk just as a soft knock sounded at the door.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe froze, ass in the air, unable to decide on even so easy a thing as whether or not to stand up all the way or sit the hell back down. \u0026ldquo;Er, come in,\u0026rdquo; he said, and in a rush stumbled back into the chair.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was Reza, which was no surprise\u0026mdash;who else would it be, except maybe Esha? She did occasionally sweep in like a spring breeze to open the heavy curtains and bring color to the dark room with bright blooms plucked from the Ambassador House gardens. But it \u003cem\u003ewas\u003c/em\u003e Reza, so this was Rafe being awkward and just staring at the ambassador.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eWho wouldn\u0026rsquo;t stare?\u003c/em\u003e Rafe defended himself to himself regularly, and, case in point, Reza\u0026rsquo;s fine, athletic shoulders were framed nicely by the doorway, and a sleek house robe in midnight blue fell gracefully to his knees, open over an embroidered tunic and his loose Chartili pants. All that black hair had been bound into a loose knot, looped at the crown and tied with blue silk. \u003cem\u003eThe Ambassador at Home\u003c/em\u003e, if he were a painting.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza tilted his head and smiled gently. \u0026ldquo;I have caught you in the midst of deep thinking,\u0026rdquo; he said in his low, soothing voice.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You are welcome,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said in Chartili, careful to pronounce the proper form of address. (The language had seven forms, but Reza was teaching him only three: formal with respect, formal neutral, and informal neutral\u0026mdash;the first of which everyone in Ambassador House used only when addressing Reza himself, never each other, never Rafe, not even the honored engineer Sa-Anzu; the second of which Reza charmingly suggested Rafe would one day wield with enough skill to lay down the most cuttingly backhanded insult; and the last of which skirted very close to intimate address. Reza refused to teach Rafe intimate inflections until he\u0026rsquo;d achieved a certain fluency, teasing that he wouldn\u0026rsquo;t wish Rafe to slip and use intimate address when it was inappropriate. Rafe had taken that as a rebuke of his more casual\u0026mdash;habitual\u0026mdash;flirtations, gradually having come to understand that Chartili society was exclusively invested in the pairing of men and women, and not very understanding of proclivities of desire that did not conform to such expectations. Ugh.)\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAlso in Chartili, Reza said, \u0026ldquo;I have interrupted by the course of bringing you an invitation to remain this evening to dine with me and a small party.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe thought he should say no. It was best. Absolutely best. He hesitated as he attempted to conjugate the right form of \u0026ldquo;decline with intense regrets,\u0026rdquo; but before he could, Reza strode forward with all his grace, bent over the desk, and peered at the page of \u003cem\u003eOn the Causes of Nature\u003c/em\u003e Rafe had just completed. He was so near, Rafe could brush a finger against the edge of the ambassador\u0026rsquo;s thin beard\u0026mdash;right there at the corner of his jaw.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;This is the end? May I read it yet?\u0026rdquo; Reza said, in Landish this time, and eagerly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Ah, I\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. there remains the final chapter\u0026mdash;the conclusion. Then\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. then yes, I would be honored if you read it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;We will have much to argue over.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs always, Reza\u0026rsquo;s understated interest in Rafe\u0026rsquo;s work, ideas, and even just his well-being set Rafe\u0026rsquo;s heart beating a little bit faster. \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t want to impose tonight.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re never an imposition, Rafe, and you know by now I do not invite to my table anyone with whom I do not truly wish to share a meal.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe laughed, knowing that Reza very much enjoyed inviting certain individuals with whom he did \u003cem\u003enot\u003c/em\u003e get along at all, entirely for the purpose of an entertaining evening. \u0026ldquo;You want me there to argue with someone so you don\u0026rsquo;t have to.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe was rewarded with a sharp and approving glance from the ambassador. \u0026ldquo;One of our number will be the young master Moses Robertson.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAn instant groan of both angst and delight burst from Rafe. He could not resist a chance to poke at the architect behind all the disruption on the river these past two seasons. Nothing at the Fenton household or in nearly all the Middle City had been a greater topic of conversation since last summer. \u0026ldquo;Yes, by the Green God\u0026rsquo;s horns, you know I\u0026rsquo;ll say yes to that!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza inclined his head in a shallow bow, dark eyes on Rafe\u0026rsquo;s, and Rafe wondered if anyone ever actually said no to him. Rafe certainly didn\u0026rsquo;t, and wished he could have the same tempting effect on the ambassador. A chance to maneuver past Reza\u0026rsquo;s reserved exterior, to the extremely passionate lover Reza locked down so\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe firmly shut the door on that thought, and produced a friendly smile, no more.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDown that road he\u0026rsquo;d only find a morass of possibilities and dead ends, and Rafe was not going to step further. He wasn\u0026rsquo;t. This was only a crush\u0026mdash;he and Reza \u003cem\u003ewere\u003c/em\u003e friends, and the last thing Rafe was willing to do was to ruin the relationship they\u0026rsquo;d built by literally cocking everything up. Reza would leave soon for Chartil, and Rafe, to his own amazement, had realized he preferred a lifetime of letters and long-distance arguing\u0026mdash;a real friendship\u0026mdash;to a temporary affair. No matter how satisfying it might be.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe only survived by telling himself it was the extremely mature thing to do.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFar-Reza ko Arezu ko Shirin-sa Chartili, nephew of the emperor of Chartil and first official ambassador to the City, closed the door to the office he\u0026rsquo;d gifted to Rafe Fenton and left his hand there, gently pressed to the cool wood.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe was worse than a fool. He was the weapon of his own torture, and the will behind it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere had been a moment, several months ago, when the complex infrastructure of his heart had revealed to him the cornerstone of his longing: They\u0026rsquo;d been seated beside each other comparing poetry\u0026mdash;not poetry composed by their own hands, no, for Rafe was abysmal at such art\u0026mdash;and Reza had attempted a pun in the Landish tongue, thinking to amuse his friend and win a laugh. Reza no longer recalled the pun itself, only that he had miscalculated exactly how filthy it would be. He remembered the gleeful surprise that had slapped itself across Rafe\u0026rsquo;s face, followed by Rafe\u0026rsquo;s carefree laughter. The younger man laughed and laughed, eyes tearing with pleasure. Reza\u0026rsquo;s discomfort at his error mingled with sudden hot admiration for all the passion contained within the confines of Rafe\u0026rsquo;s mind and body, for the scholar\u0026rsquo;s wit and broad laugh, and in a flash Reza understood the longing that had seeded within him so slowly but inexorably.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe had fallen in love with Rafe Fenton.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza\u0026rsquo;s distress at the notion had little to do with Rafe himself. Rafe was brilliant and eager and never hesitated to follow Reza\u0026rsquo;s philosophical ideas or throw himself entirely into a theory. A lover and scholar to Reza\u0026rsquo;s historian and general, and Reza\u0026rsquo;s romantic nature found countless angles of compatibility. Rafe made Reza feel \u003cem\u003eplayful\u003c/em\u003e, which he\u0026rsquo;d thought entirely against his disposition.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNo, the horror lay in being in love at all, that his heart had spun out of his control once again, and with such ill timing. In four months Reza would return home and very likely never return, nor see any of his Landish friends again unless they chose to make their way to him in Chartil. The memory of Vincent\u0026rsquo;s loss remained a painful wound, and Reza did not know if he could bear to gouge himself open again for a day\u0026rsquo;s happiness, or a week\u0026rsquo;s\u0026mdash;not even to taste those lips that so often beguiled and vexed him by shaping unending arguments, or to draw forth a startled moan, or\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBeside the closed door, Reza trembled, disappointed with himself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe had lost himself so entirely when he lost Vincent. It was his responsibility never to inflict such mayhem onto the world\u0026mdash;or himself\u0026mdash;again.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Reza,\u0026rdquo; came the soft, encouraging voice of his other good friend, and permanent guest at Ambassador House, Esha Jayasuriya.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSchooling his expression to polite welcome, Reza walked toward her. She held a bouquet of damp sweet pea blossoms in pink and orange, their delicate flowers falling over her forearm in a spill of color. It complemented the simple day dress in bold green and softer pink she wore, which she and Reza\u0026rsquo;s slave Mino had ingeniously altered to be tied up at her knees in order that Esha might pick around in the mud of the garden. Esha\u0026rsquo;s luscious black waves of hair were bound beneath a cap as always when she worked, revealing her beautiful tan face, from perfectly plump lips to proud brow, and the delicate wrinkles of humor at her eyes. \u0026ldquo;The sky stopped its incessant weeping for nearly an hour,\u0026rdquo; she said, \u0026ldquo;so I did what work I could.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe answered, \u0026ldquo;Those are lovely, and I can see from my bedchamber window that the curving bed of tulips is blossoming in those waves of color exactly as you promised.\u0026rdquo; Inviting Esha to redesign the sprawling gardens at Ambassador House had been perhaps the cleverest thing Reza had done in the past year. It not only offered her a long-term artistic challenge, but he could provide her a small stipend for her services without either of them risking offense. It was commonly assumed in the City that Esha was his mistress, and that suited them both for now. But Reza was leaving, and Esha would have to provide for herself by the summer\u0026rsquo;s end. He hoped having had this year to save and make arrangements had helped, though he did not yet know what she planned to do. Not join him in Chartil, certainly, though he had made clear he would have her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;All the flowers will drown soon, so we need to take advantage.\u0026rdquo; With a knowing smile, Esha stepped near enough to him he could smell the mossy rain scent still clinging to her, and the mingled perfume of sweet pea and damp fertilizer. Esha chose a single stem of vivid orange sweet pea and pressed the rest of her bouquet into his arms so that she could reach up and weave the stem into his topknot. The dangling buds arced over his crown, and one bobbed just at the edge of his vision.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;There,\u0026rdquo; she said, and touched her fingers gently to his temple, then cheek. \u0026ldquo;Perhaps this will help you remain cheerful, my lord.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Your presence at dinner this evening will do that better than any flower,\u0026rdquo; Reza replied, knowing full well she referred to his inner torment. They\u0026rsquo;d not spoken directly of his feelings for Rafe, but Esha always read such things as plainly as the baldest poetry. Reza allowed her, as a friend, to criticize many things\u0026mdash;the angle of his wrist when dancing with her sword, the practice of contracted slavery in Chartil, his pronunciation of a Zeren verse\u0026mdash;but he would not discuss this with her, for he was well aware what her advice would be, and he refused to take it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hmm,\u0026rdquo; she said, extremely neutral.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;If you have no other plans, my guests would be delighted by your presence, I\u0026rsquo;m sure. Salford, Robertson, and Anzu, naturally.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And Rafe.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes,\u0026rdquo; Reza said lightly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, \u003cem\u003eReza\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe truly did remind him of his sister Sezan, and that was a good comfort most days. Other days, it was mere meddling. He said, in Chartili, \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eFor the petal cannot love the root / it knows not what is borne beneath the earth.\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha pursed her lips. The foreign words may have been lost on her, but his message was not. She took back the armful of sweet peas and, with a slightly chiding dip of her chin, promised to join the men for dinner. \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab was flushed with pleasure from her encounter with Diane. She leaned into the thin cushions of the Balam carriage as it drove her down through the City to the overcrowded temporary docks where the new Kinwiinik were to be offloaded. Kaab wished the ship could sail gloriously into port, sails billowing, paint as bright as Xamanek\u0026rsquo;s light, so that these new Balam could be welcomed with immediate pomp and glory. But at least this way, Kaab could present as their savior: After the newcomers had been rowed to the docks on a barge, helped up onto the dank, slippery brick landing where visitors now arrived, and forced into the bustle of Landish sailors, dockworkers, merchants, and thieves, Kaab would appear, handsome and calling in their home language. They\u0026rsquo;d instinctively follow her anywhere, and it would be straight to the Balam compound, where a hot dinner awaited. Warmth, family, and food, then in the morning the new arrivals would give drops of their blood to the altars and be bound to the mission.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab hoped whoever was coming to take Chuleb\u0026rsquo;s place would quickly prove competent. She had a ferocious desire to return to Binkiinha triumphant, and soon, and she needed to leave her family here in the best hands.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTwo years ago, Kaab had arrived messy and lost, desperate to earn her reputation back and become a worthy first daughter. Since then, though losses had been great, she\u0026rsquo;d won the Balam\u0026rsquo;s continued monopoly, seen their enemies punished by death or beatings, discovered traitors in the very bosom of their home, and proven herself not only to her beloved Ixsaabim, may she never be extinguished, and the Balam aunties, but to all the Kinwiinik in the City. She was the first daughter of the House of Balam\u0026mdash;by birthright, and also by her own actions.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll that was left was overseeing the completion of this grand new bridge, which would provide not only more secure transportation of Kinwiinik goods from ships to their private warehouses, but also revenue, through their contracts with Tremontaine. The Balam had openly negotiated with the Merchants\u0026rsquo; Confederation for larger sales percentages, and their relationships with the merchant families had never been better\u0026mdash;and though Ahchuleb and, when he sailed home, Ahoen, had led the talks, Kaab had directed the progress in her role as first agent. This was her legacy: a stronger position for the Kinwiinik in the Middle City, and better relationships with the Hill.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBest of all, once the river project was complete, she\u0026rsquo;d no longer need the charming, conniving Francis Salford to represent Balam interests at the Confederation, and she could slide an obsidian dagger through his eye and into his brain, finally avenging Saabim\u0026rsquo;s poisoning.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIf Kaab was diligent and fortunate, she\u0026rsquo;d be free to sail home by the autumn, just in time for the last bloom of hollow cane flowers across the mountains beyond the shining rooftops of Binkiinha!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe driver knocked on the carriage frame, and Kaab grabbed her hat from the bench before pushing open the door. She readied herself with a smile, and the proper formal greeting on her tongue, her hat sweeping out into a bow so she could call out to the new Kinwiinik grandly and hurry them out of the rain\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was Ahkoet, first son of the sixth son of the House of Balam. \u003cem\u003eFeather Brain!\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere amidst the shuffle of angry dockworkers, each pushing to offload goods and people fast so they could get out of the rain, stood her cousin: taller than when she had last seen him, good-looking in all the right Balam ways, with light warm brown skin and a strong nose, spreading cheekbones, and dark eyes that would bend perfectly with humor\u0026mdash;if he ever smiled. His expression now was irritably damp as he leaned toward his companion, sheltering her with his broad shoulders and the Kinwiinik mantle wrapped around her. Ixcho Moe! Another cousin, Koet\u0026rsquo;s little sister.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe light, persistent rain suddenly burst into a downpour.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll the gods of the sky, and Ekchuah of the deep! Kaab buried her shock and dashed forward, glad that at least she didn\u0026rsquo;t need to be formal. \u0026ldquo;Ahkoet! Here!\u0026rdquo; She shoved her hat on his head and jerked off her half-cape, throwing it around poor Ixcho\u0026rsquo;s shoulders. It was treated leather with velvet trim, and would at least warm her, though it couldn\u0026rsquo;t save those dripping feathers.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAhkoet grinned at her surprise and let her guide them quickly into the waiting carriage.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Are there others we need to collect?\u0026rdquo; she asked loudly over the noise of the suddenly swamped docks. Ahkoet shook his head and Kaab clamored in after him, swinging the door shut hard. The driver needed no more encouragement, and the carriage lurched into motion.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, this is dreadful,\u0026rdquo; Ixcho sighed, lifting the tip of a long white feather with a finger.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Cousin Maas will know how to dry it, if there\u0026rsquo;s any hope,\u0026rdquo; Kaab assured her quickly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe young woman turned her round eyes\u0026mdash;brown with flecks of amber\u0026mdash;to Kaab and gasped, \u0026ldquo;Your clothing is just as bad as Koet\u0026rsquo;s!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was said with such innocent horror, Kaab didn\u0026rsquo;t even consider being offended. She laughed instead, and let her gaze glide to Ahkoet. \u0026ldquo;What an insult, to either you or me, Feather Brain!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHumor vanished from Ahkoet\u0026rsquo;s eyes\u0026mdash;amber with flecks of brown\u0026mdash;at the old childhood nickname. \u0026ldquo;Tooth-Butt,\u0026rdquo; he replied darkly, calling up her own loathed childhood nickname\u0026mdash;and his old taunts that Kaab wore a bee\u0026rsquo;s stinger on her behind.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab held his gaze. She\u0026rsquo;d not lose this contest, despite the indignity of being trapped in a tight carriage, knocking around in the unusually muddy lane, smelling damp wool and drenched hair.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxcho smacked her brother in the arm, and Ahkoet blinked, then turned his scowl into a sideways smile and offered, \u0026ldquo;I believe you shoved me in the lake for that nickname.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No.\u0026rdquo; Kaab grinned. \u0026ldquo;It was because you tied my braids in actual knots and I had to ask my mother for \u003cem\u003ehelp\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;May she know you in the houses of the dead,\u0026rdquo; Ahkoet said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the moment of silence that followed, Kaab thought that perhaps this would prove an excellent outcome. Ahkoet had been one of the only Balam in Binkiinha who had not turned his back on her after the unfortunate Tullan incident that sent her scurrying here\u0026mdash;possibly because he didn\u0026rsquo;t rank high enough for the details. Though he\u0026rsquo;d been without much power then\u0026mdash;just as she\u0026rsquo;d been\u0026mdash;it had meant something to her. Perhaps Ahkoet knew a thing or two about needing to prove himself. And she did like that he\u0026rsquo;d already attempted a compromise of Xanamwiinik and Kinwiinik clothing. That might hint at his willingness to find a place here. A strong one.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab said, \u0026ldquo;I am going to have to tease Uncle Chuleb for choosing you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But you do not protest?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I no longer make flash judgments, Ahkoet.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer cousin scoffed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe quashed an unruly desire to stick out her tongue.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxcho said, with a beatific smile, \u0026ldquo;With my things on the ship, I have a small item Peapem made for you!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWarmth softened Kaab\u0026rsquo;s teasing smile. For all she\u0026rsquo;d been unsure of the baby when she\u0026rsquo;d arrived, she missed that squirming butterfly too much. \u0026ldquo;Made? She\u0026rsquo;s not even two years old!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;She smeared her hands in pigment for imprints and layered them very, very skillfully for a baby. Not even the Rainbow herself could have poured so much auntie love into so little space.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab couldn\u0026rsquo;t help meeting Ahkoet\u0026rsquo;s eyes again, to share a moment of amusement. He shrugged his head sideways, but Ixcho caught their mutual humor at her expense and glared. \u0026ldquo;I hope this isn\u0026rsquo;t going to be what it\u0026rsquo;s like when the two of you are married.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA wince skittered across Ahkoet\u0026rsquo;s face, and Kaab felt her mouth drop open in panic.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs expected, Master Moses Robertson was the last of the party to arrive at Ambassador House for dinner. The rest\u0026mdash;but for Esha, who would remain withdrawn until the men moved into the formal dining room\u0026mdash;lounged in the sitting room with a gentle aperitif.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza leaned comfortably in his favorite seat, a straight-backed armchair with silk upholstery that suited his frame and height perfectly. It was not the sort of seat a prince of Chartil used\u0026mdash;those were short square blocks of precious black heartwood, gilded in intricate royal patterns a man could stare at for days\u0026mdash;but in the Land there was nothing it resembled more than a modest throne. He enjoyed these dinners immensely, and the more widely populated salons he\u0026rsquo;d been hosting for the nearly two years he\u0026rsquo;d lived in the City. By now, Reza had to do little besides issue invitations: The conversations wove without the need for much curating.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTo his left sat Sa-Anzu ko Amid ko Shirin, a Chartili engineer whose writings on wartime applications for water diversion Reza had admired since his boyhood. Short and gruff, Sa-Anzu was the age of Reza\u0026rsquo;s uncle the emperor, and it showed in the long wrinkles pulling at the corners of his black eyes and the solid white of his short, shapely beard. Sa-Anzu wore the headscarf of his family\u0026rsquo;s class, despite his having earned the \u003cem\u003esa\u003c/em\u003e appellation of genius. Only Reza\u0026rsquo;s own rank kept the prince from donning a general\u0026rsquo;s blue headscarf out of respect to the elder Anzu. Reza had gladly abandoned the scarf upon arrival in the Land\u0026mdash;both because the sun was not so harsh here, and because he preferred to wear his hair in the elaborate royal topknots. It was the only part of his life in which he chose the royal signifiers over those of his army.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMaster Francis Salford, a prominent member of the Merchants\u0026rsquo; Confederation, slender and impeccably dressed, shook his head to deter the footman from refilling his peach brandy. Among a small handful of City folk as well-read in history and what passed for international politics as Reza, Salford was one of the ambassador\u0026rsquo;s favorites, and they often entertained each other solo for an afternoon of pipe smoking and literary criticism. Just now, Salford had been breaking recent news of a peace treaty the current Zeren oligarch had reached with his rival government that hopefully would spell a longer-lasting peace than the previous time that country\u0026rsquo;s cyclical civil wars had paused. It was news Esha would be glad to hear, and Reza said as much, inviting Salford to deliver it when the lady joined them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I suppose that will be a boon to your shipments of Zeren silk,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said, standing at the sideboard. He preferred Reza\u0026rsquo;s Chartili wine to the sweet peach brandy. \u0026ldquo;My father had mentioned a hope one of his cinnamon channels would expand if they ever achieved peace.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Unfortunately, when it becomes easier to import the silk,\u0026rdquo; Salford said in his bass voice, \u0026ldquo;the prices will inevitably drop as the competition strengthens.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe shrugged laconically. His interest in the family business rarely lasted long.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSa-Anzu curled his hands meditatively around the shallow bowl of peach brandy in his lap. \u0026ldquo;Will the new port here not aid your endeavors?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford answered, \u0026ldquo;Eventually, if we get the dock taxes lowered\u0026mdash;until then it will remain more profitable to import overland from Zeren, despite the mountains.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs if summoned by the mention of the new port, Mino pushed open the door just then to admit Moses Robertson, chief architect of the river project. The young man shoved his fingers through his damp hair, forcing it into dark blond ruffles. \u0026ldquo;This blasted rain!\u0026rdquo; he cried, and one took the impression that if he\u0026rsquo;d not already been divested of his coat, he\u0026rsquo;d be dramatically shaking water off the hem.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza tucked away vague annoyance at the man\u0026rsquo;s rough entrance, and nodded toward the hearth. \u0026ldquo;Welcome, Master Robertson\u0026mdash;the fire is warm for you, and here\u0026rsquo;s brandy.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Thank you, Lord Reza. Hello, Salford, Fenton, and ah, Master Anzu\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo; Instead of going for the fire, Moses fell into a chair beside the Chartili engineer and eagerly complained, \u0026ldquo;The blasted high waters were making it rough lowering the caisson today, and I wonder if you can come down tomorrow, weather permitting, and examine the angle of the rizallan pulley. My men don\u0026rsquo;t understand what you explained about using the force of the water, and gods forbid they should listen to my directions alone! Your honored presence impresses them, the bastards.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt the sideboard, Rafe made a face, and Reza directed the footman to bring Moses a bowl of brandy.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Robertson,\u0026rdquo; Salford said, \u0026ldquo;you\u0026rsquo;ll have to endeavor to be less obviously excited about math if you wish to earn the respect of your workers.\u0026rdquo; The merchant leaned toward Reza. \u0026ldquo;I witnessed the unveiling of the arch frames last week. While Robertson here went on about the exactly calculated angles, Sa-Anzu compared the woodwork to a bold smiling moon\u0026mdash;you can guess which the laborers preferred. The carpenters practically flushed with pride to hear their work compared to celestial bodies.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I would never suggest that such comparisons are inelegant,\u0026rdquo; Moses argued, \u0026ldquo;but it is not my fault the common man cannot see the beauty in radial calculations.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSa-Anzu said, accent heavy, \u0026ldquo;I agree with Master Robertson, and will add that my appreciation for even so simple a creation as this bowl of brandy is increased exponentially by the understanding of the difficulty in achieving a perfect circle.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Before we devolve into a too-careful examination of the craftsmanship of my ceramics,\u0026rdquo; Reza said, standing, \u0026ldquo;let us adjourn to the dining room.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey did so, and Salford clapped his hand onto Moses\u0026rsquo;s shoulder to keep the youth in check. Rafe obligingly walked at Sa-Anzu\u0026rsquo;s side while Reza brought up the rear and signaled for Mino to invite Esha and have the first course served as soon as she arrived. Reza, at least, was quite hungry.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfter arranging themselves easily according to social privilege\u0026mdash;they\u0026rsquo;d all dined together before\u0026mdash;the conversation had not yet picked back up before Esha glided in to a moment of admiring silence. She bowed to Sa-Anzu and then her lord Reza, playing her role with a sparkling eye, and nestled into her chair with a rustle of layered silk and gentle breath of perfume.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza nearly laughed when he noticed the spray of bright sweet peas braided into her fall of curls. He still wore the sprig she\u0026rsquo;d tucked into his topknot, and so they truly fit as an enamored couple.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt took practiced will not to glance at Rafe when he thought it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Master Robertson,\u0026rdquo; Esha said, leaning slightly toward the table to lock her eyes with the young architect\u0026rsquo;s. \u0026ldquo;I have heard dreadful things about how all this rain is complicating your project.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMoses flung himself into answering her, explaining in detail about the trouble with diverting the water so they could lay the pylons, and how this delay would have a cascading effect on the length of time it took to complete the work.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;At least,\u0026rdquo; Reza said, \u0026ldquo;a delay allows for more time for the Council of Lords to grant official approval for razing the grounds necessary on the western bank.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford sipped wine and lifted one eyebrow. \u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s the landing not in the original proposal we all approved last summer?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAggravated, as always, when this came up, Moses snapped, \u0026ldquo;The lords and merchants and everyone involved, from the Dragon Chancellor down to the women who weave our ropes, should understand that when you work with the natural world you cannot predict every possible outcome! It is not my fault, nor anyone\u0026rsquo;s, that the blasted limestone outcrop was hidden under the silt. If the City dredged the river more often, kept up the care of our banks and retaining walls, we might have known it was there. I had no choice, and it\u0026rsquo;s only a matter of six feet.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Better to ask forgiveness than permission,\u0026rdquo; Rafe murmured.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMoses sniffed, but Rafe added, \u0026ldquo;I can vouch for the method, Robertson. It\u0026rsquo;s certainly gotten me more than it\u0026rsquo;s cost me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza could imagine.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSoothingly, Esha said, \u0026ldquo;And surely nothing in that neighborhood is too difficult to move, or rebuild elsewhere. Your bridge will revitalize the area.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes,\u0026rdquo; Moses breathed, lashes fluttering with unconscious desire.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Harder, perhaps, than it otherwise could be,\u0026rdquo; Salford put in. \u0026ldquo;It sits on a piece of the bank belonging expressly to the Council of Lords\u0026mdash;no individual sir, nor one of my compatriots or another easily bribed fellow.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The less the Council owns outright, the better. I\u0026rsquo;m doing everyone a favor,\u0026rdquo; Moses said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Rafe caught Reza\u0026rsquo;s eye\u0026mdash;to make sure Reza was ready for Rafe to push the architect\u0026rsquo;s buttons\u0026mdash;and said, \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve heard, ah, rumors about what some noblemen get up to under the spreading boughs of that especially ancient oak\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; He lifted his brow, but kept his merry eyes on the liquid in his wine glass.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza suddenly found himself thinking about things he was not supposed to: In all his three and a half decades of life, he\u0026rsquo;d never had sex outside, nor even kissed under bare sky. The likelihood of being caught had always been too high at home. Someday he would regret never having let himself be free while in the Land.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe cold thought was interrupted by Sa-Anzu. \u0026ldquo;Young men,\u0026rdquo; he said disapprovingly. \u0026ldquo;It is a good reason to replace the tree with the bridge.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs if he agreed, Reza nodded. But he would not look toward Rafe.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m certain your bridge will end up no less blessed by the young men of the nobility when it is completed, Moses,\u0026rdquo; Esha said. She put a small bite of their first course\u0026mdash;flaky fish pastry with Chartili herbs\u0026mdash;carefully into her mouth, inviting everyone to shift their sensual thoughts ever so slightly. To Reza it brought to mind how expensive the cream had been. Prices for everything were rising this season, thanks to the constant rain.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford asked Sa-Anzu if he\u0026rsquo;d ever faced so many bureaucratic barriers he\u0026rsquo;d had to give up a project.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith an amused glance at Reza, the old engineer said, \u0026ldquo;We have a long poem in my profession that can be cut down to: \u0026lsquo;What the emperor wants, the emperor gets\u003cem\u003e.\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rsquo;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, who\u0026rsquo;d made an effort to keep his close relationship with that emperor as hidden as possible, given the Land\u0026rsquo;s inherent mistrust of monarchies, noted blandly, \u0026ldquo;I met with several examples of bureaucratic barriers with regards to supply and manpower in my capacity as a general.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I did not say there were no barriers when my work conflicted with what the emperor wished, Far-Reza,\u0026rdquo; Sa-Anzu chided in Chartili.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Perhaps,\u0026rdquo; Reza said in the same, \u0026ldquo;our guests would like to hear the tale of Sa-Izraia.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe said, in perfectly inflected formal address, \u0026ldquo;For you to do so would please us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was perhaps an overly complicated way of saying \u003cem\u003eYes, please\u003c/em\u003e, but unerringly pronounced. Rafe\u0026rsquo;s gift for over-complicated language was one of his finest qualities. Reza allowed himself a brief, encouraging smile.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThen Sa-Anzu regaled them with the story of the most famous war engineer in Chartili history, who\u0026rsquo;d created the fireproof war towers at Dar Shak, and mounted long-range ballistae on a sturdy rigging that could be cocked with the strength of five horses harnessed together. All by the time of his death at the age of twenty-seven.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza stepped in with a few translations when necessary, but allowed Sa-Anzu the hushed descriptions of Sa-Izraia\u0026rsquo;s epic love for the daughter of the emperor\u0026rsquo;s secondary wife\u0026mdash;for this was in the century when such things were allowed by the Beloved\u0026rsquo;s grace. The princess had been Izraia\u0026rsquo;s downfall, for the emperor himself grew jealous of Sa-Izraia\u0026rsquo;s glorious fame, and rather than see her father eclipsed, the princess poisoned her lover at the height of his achievements. Thus she preserved the emperor\u0026rsquo;s pride and confirmed Sa-Izraia\u0026rsquo;s genius before he could decline.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Ah,\u0026rdquo; Esha said, \u0026ldquo;that princess is the true hero of your tale. I wonder if her name survived?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Perhaps in the stories of women,\u0026rdquo; answered Sa-Anzu, not unkindly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;She is a hero, Mistress Esha, for poisoning her lover?\u0026rdquo; Salford asked.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha, with whom Reza had engaged in several long conversations about medicinal and poisonous flowers of Chartil, said, \u0026ldquo;It is an art form in Chartil, is it not, Lord Reza? Much like the City nobles throw swordsmen at one another?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe answered carefully, \u0026ldquo;I have heard complaints that more money is spent on tasters than any other specialized skill in the empire.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford finished his fish and remarked, as if he truly meant it, \u0026ldquo;How fascinating.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith a hearty sigh, Moses Robertson said dourly, \u0026ldquo;I suppose if the Council does not approve the new location for the bridge\u0026rsquo;s output, poison will be something to consider.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe laughed, though there was an edge to it. \u0026ldquo;For yourself, or the Council?\u0026rdquo; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLate that evening when Rafe begged his leave, Reza insisted on walking him to the front entryway so that a soldier might be summoned to accompany the scholar home through the dark, rainy streets. The sodden Middle City had been growing ever more tense the past weeks, as equally sodden folk wished for better weather and less moldy grains. \u0026ldquo;Thank you for dining with us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, I wouldn\u0026rsquo;t want to force you to deal with Robertson\u0026rsquo;s visionary attitude alone.\u0026rdquo; Rafe smiled sweetly, leaning conspiratorially toward Reza as if they were comrades in arms.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It is worth it, for how his mind spins ideas.\u0026rdquo; Speaking of the other man helped Reza hide that his singular desire was to press his lips to the corner of Rafe\u0026rsquo;s smile.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe snorted. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sure you could have managed without me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But I would not have liked to.\u0026rdquo; It slipped free before Reza realized, and he bowed his head formally, withdrawing just enough.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFor a moment Rafe lingered, hooked by Reza\u0026rsquo;s soft words, but the delicate tension was broken by the footsteps of Firiz, arrived to walk Rafe through the streets, as Reza did not trust himself to do.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe scholar and the young soldier departed, and Reza rejoined Salford in the library for a much-needed nightcap.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess wandered slowly along the edge of Riverside toward the Bridge and the Brown Dog, hood pulled up though the rain had lessened after the sun fell. She\u0026rsquo;d found Charlotte dozing in her rooms, a new batch of dark grey ink perfectly cooked. Tess had sent the girl along with a coin for dinner with her River Rats, and gotten to work on a fake deed and the meager remains of a sandwich. She had an appointment with Anna Chapman at midnight, to write up a letter for one of Anna\u0026rsquo;s cousins from the North who\u0026rsquo;d recently arrived in the City. But that was an hour and more away, so Tess had time to stretch her legs, tying on her new blood-red bodice she\u0026rsquo;d bought herself as a reward after a very profitable winter. It laced in four places, allowing for comfortable movement as well as squishing her tight in all the right ways. Tess felt good in it, powerful and luscious.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer skirts swished from ample hips as she walked, though her boots leaked slightly\u0026mdash;a too-common complaint in Riverside of late\u0026mdash;and the short mantle of her hood kept her shoulders dry but her forearms free\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. and did not hide the dagger she\u0026rsquo;d taken to wearing in a sheath horizontally at the small of her back. Vivid red curls filled the space between her cheeks and the hood, knotted with a few scattered braids, the ends of which she sometimes dipped in ink these days. An affectation. A signal. This was Tess the Hand.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRiverside yelled all around her: Taverns spilled men and women and noise, light flaring from open windows despite the damp skies, and even at this late hour, alleys were more crowded than not. Workers from the bridge they were building south of Riverside often got trapped here with the promise of gambling, beer, and excitement bumped up against the more desperate squatters who\u0026rsquo;d found themselves on the island recently, too poor for lodging in the Middle City. And the residents, Riversiders eager to take advantage of every new lead and loophole, tempted the newcomers and those with coin into this tavern or that covered back garden or narrow alley between leaning ancient townhouses.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Tess herself was untouched by the chaos around her, both belonging within it and having successfully shrouded herself in mystery. What was the point, though? Why was she doing all this, pushing herself according to the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s riddles?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess evened her breath to her pace, to the imaginary pulse of Riverside nightlife.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe could not stop thinking about the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s warning: \u003cem\u003eSometimes, the only answer is to let go. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess scanned the clouds, identifying the location of the risen moon by the point of diffused light. Her hood fell back and she shoved it the rest of the way off her hair, shaking out the thick mane. \u0026ldquo;Let go of what?\u0026rdquo; she said to herself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tess,\u0026rdquo; said a voice to her left. A man leaned against a shadow near the start of the Bridge. \u0026ldquo;Y\u0026rsquo;all right?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe nodded once and kept walking, shoving through a snaking line of folk laughing and hurrying from the Bridge over the bricks toward whatever danger they sought.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe man wove through behind her and found her pace. It was the swordsman Kian Ellis, who this time last year had drunk for weeks off the story of his battle with the Dragon Chancellor on the opening day of the City Academy. Tess nodded at him. Comfortably ugly and just shorter than she was, he\u0026rsquo;d be a quiet presence, welcome on a tangled night like this, but not interfering.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs she led him toward the southern tip of Riverside, where the river rushed loudly against the retaining wall, she asked, \u0026ldquo;Kian, do you ever lose a fight on purpose?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe slid a disbelieving glance at her, and she laughed darkly. Of course not. That could get a person killed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess felt sure something cranky grew in her stomach, perhaps due to the lack of sun for so long, or the constant dampness between her toes. Beneath and all around her Riverside pulsed, but nobody else seemed to notice. Something was coming.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs soon as she thought it, she banished it for superstitious foolery. Too much time with the Salamander.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I took a job once I knew I\u0026rsquo;d lose,\u0026rdquo; Ellis said suddenly. \u0026ldquo;Maybe that counts.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Why?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It was a good way to spread my name. I knew I\u0026rsquo;d lose, but I wouldn\u0026rsquo;t die, and I could hold on long enough for my opponent to be impressed, which he\u0026rsquo;d remember.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eA good Riversider strategy\u003c/em\u003e, Tess thought, and started to say it, but she was distracted by an unusual mass of shadows before them, hulking on the edge of the island. \u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s that?\u0026rdquo; she muttered.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNot much light penetrated across the triangle courtyard here at the southern tip of Riverside, but a torch sputtered in the hand of a broad man she didn\u0026rsquo;t know: He stood under a deep cowl, treated enough that water beaded against the cloth. A cudgel hung from his belt.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe was guarding a stack of crates stamped as City property.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess marched up to the man. \u0026ldquo;You can\u0026rsquo;t put this here.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe shrugged. \u0026ldquo;Just doing my job.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;How did it get here?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKian Ellis stood himself just behind her, a silent support.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe man shrugged again. She could barely see his mouth move as he said, \u0026ldquo;From the barges tied below. We heaved it up here to keep it drier overnight. Good place for storing equipment, you have to admit. Nothing else was in the way.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSudden incandescent fury sent Tess dashing toward a crate, and before she thought twice, she used all her weight to shove it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hey!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess ignored him, and kept pushing until the crate toppled down into the river. It crashed against the heavy stones of the retaining wall and splashed hard. Tess immediately pushed at another, ignoring the sound of steel and a grunt.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe thought she was going to cry.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHow dare the City just dump their shit on Riverside, as if they didn\u0026rsquo;t do enough!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt felt good to hurl her anger at the crates, hurting her arms and knocking her hip hard, shoving and crying out with effort. She had flung maybe four crates over and kicked another to pieces, when a hand grabbed her arm.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tess,\u0026rdquo; Ellis urged, dragging her away. \u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s more coming. We\u0026rsquo;ve got to go.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGrowling through her teeth, she pulled out of his grip but left, running back around to the west, then darted toward the center of the island where she knew every veining alley. Her heart beat, she heaved her breath, and finally stopped, throwing her back against the wooden door of a tavern\u0026rsquo;s rear exit. Blood pounded painfully in her temples and she pressed fingers to her eyes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eHow was that for letting go?\u003c/em\u003e she thought viciously.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut it wouldn\u0026rsquo;t be enough. Tess knew that too well.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNothing would be enough to keep the City from reclaiming whatever it wanted.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOr maybe saving Riverside was what the Hand had created herself to do.\u003c/p\u003e","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine, having risen from a secret past of meager means, did what she had to do to hold onto her place in society, manipulating the nobility of the city into proclaiming her duchess in her own right. But power comes with a cost, and the increasingly isolated Duchess has found holding onto to allies and lovers even more difficult than defeating the most persistent enemies.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen the foreign agent named Ixkaab Balam pursued the life of a professional swordswoman, her career did not go as planned, costing both her both a lover and a mentor. With the death of her beloved aunt, Kaab was thrust into a role she wasn\u0026rsquo;t entirely ready for\u0026ndash;that of the spymaster for her powerful merchant family.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eElsewhere, the scholar Rafe Fenton, grew up through heartbreak, temporarily putting aside his romantic adventures to focus on building a school that challenges the scholarly traditions of the city. Meanwhile, his ally and friend Micah, a mathematical genius from the country, fled her unlikely living situation in the duchess\u0026rsquo;s home after witnessing one too many betrayals.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eWho's Who:\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess the Hand \u0026ndash; a talented forger working to keep Riverside safe\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha Jayasuriya \u0026ndash; a foreign courtesan with a spiritual relationship to the sword\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.299","slug":"tremontaine-s4e01","audio":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/audio/season4/TremontaineS4E01.mp3","epub":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E01.epub","mobi":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E01.mobi","pdf":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E01.pdf","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b18216d07839400014de76a","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 1"},{"id":"5b1821e1b467920001f6c8bb","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":3,"title":"What Goes Up","released_date":"2018-09-19T11:28:24.335+00:00","released":true,"strapline":"Diane moves to take control of the bridge project","byline":"Liz Duffy Adams and Joel Derfner","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/covers/season4/TremontaineS4E02_2.jpg","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/dividers/tremontaine_divider.png","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-09-19","body":"\u003cp\u003eWhen the event had first been scheduled, weeks ago, the Hill had as one decided, as often happens with such things, to view it with a jaded weariness; everyone would attend, given that the treacherous weather had by now rendered it impossible for them to flee to the country in order to avoid being present, but they would do so resentfully, ignore the proceedings entirely, and go home immediately afterward to spend the afternoon talking about how dreadfully, tediously, unbearably dull the whole thing had been.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat, however, was before anyone had realized that it was apparently never going to stop raining.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs the date drew closer, therefore, and what they had hitherto thought of as their inexhaustible indoor pleasures began to prove in fact profoundly exhaustible, a few of the bolder rou\u0026eacute;s were heard to remark, yawning, that as a matter of fact they weren\u0026rsquo;t entirely certain it wouldn\u0026rsquo;t be a thing to be enjoyed after all. The matrons more secure in their position in society took their cue from the rou\u0026eacute;s, and gradually the mood of jaded weariness transformed into one of giddy hope\u0026mdash;even if no one could help reflecting, given how steadily it had rained for weeks and weeks, that the likelihood that the deluge would actually stop for long enough for them to gaze enraptured upon the promised spectacle was slim to none.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd so, when the morning broke, if neither particularly clear nor especially bright, then at the very least \u003cem\u003enot raining\u003c/em\u003e, the Hill, in a collective paroxysm of joy, prepared to trundle in a horde out to Hawking Meadow to be amazed as no one in the Land had ever before been amazed when they saw the giant cloth balloon filled with nothing but air lift off the ground and wend its way through the grey skies, across the river, and on to the farthest boundary of the Land. In the meantime, it was generally agreed that whoever had volunteered a chicken from his flock for the perilous journey was the most excellent of farmers and that the chicken herself, of course, was certainly the bravest fowl ever to cluck over a noble\u0026rsquo;s breakfast egg.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane de Tremontaine could not have been more pleased as she set out in her carriage. To succeed in her task this morning, Diane required the men she approached to be cheerful enough both to say yes and not to pay too close attention to exactly what it was they were saying yes to.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe mercurial bridge designer Moses Robertson had been making noises of discontent about the location of the already-begun bridge, claiming that, on top of delays caused by the unusually heavy rainfall of the past months, digging the first pylons had uncovered some sort of limestone obstacle. Diane would need to go before the Council to explain that changes must be made, the doing of which would require all the goodwill she could garner. She had no real doubt in her ability to persuade, but she had no intention of exercising it at the last moment.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe stage could not be more perfectly set for her morning\u0026rsquo;s work, she felt, as she alit from her carriage and looked about her. The atmosphere was one of feverish excitement; practically every noble on the Hill was there, and most of the better merchant families as well. The tentative sunshine was sparkling on the waterlogged grass, and all the ladies wore pattens attached to their soles, to lift their slippers and hems out of the wet. Diane\u0026rsquo;s were gilded wood and two inches high, and as she walked over the grass she felt like a wood-keeled ship gliding on the sea; it was easy enough to move gracefully if you kept your spine both straight and elastic. Some of the ladies, she noted regretfully, were tottering on their pattens, clutching at their companions\u0026rsquo; arms, and squelching unpleasantly as they sank with each step.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA particularly loud sucking sound drew Diane\u0026rsquo;s attention to the approach of Lady Fitz-Levi, who dragged her left patten\u0026mdash;a three-inch-high circle of wrought metal\u0026mdash;out of the ground and favored Diane with a broad smile. Square-jawed Lord Fitz-Levi, whose arm she was wrenching nearly out of the socket, offered a more-than-civil nod. Fitz-Levi was a sure ally; not a bad place to start.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u0026ldquo;My dear duchess,\u0026rdquo; Lady Fitz-Levi shrieked. An excitable woman. \u0026ldquo;Is this not the most exciting thing?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;A novelty, to be sure.\u0026rdquo; Diane smiled. \u0026ldquo;I confess, however, that I would not care to lay odds on the fate of that hen.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLord Fitz-Levi cast her a shrewd look under his bristling salt-and-pepper brows. \u0026ldquo;I agree with you, my lady,\u0026rdquo; he said. \u0026ldquo;I have no high opinion of the chances of this coming off. It shall be exciting, nevertheless, to witness its failure.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh!\u0026rdquo; his wife cried. \u0026ldquo;But I do hope it succeeds, I do indeed! How thrilling it would be to see it fly away into the sky, all the way across the river and beyond!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Better ways to cross the river, eh, Duchess?\u0026rdquo; Bless the man, had he given her that opening on purpose? His smile was almost conspiratorial.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane picked up her cue. \u0026ldquo;Oh, quite. No matter what little adjustments may need to be made, our ingenious new bridge will prove, I\u0026rsquo;m quite sure, far more convenient than a \u003cem\u003efleet\u003c/em\u003e of hot air balloons.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Adjustments?\u0026rdquo; He raised an eyebrow. There\u0026mdash;the hint was dropped; now, to trip lightly away.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, my lord, from talking with Master Robertson one would take bridges to be animate creatures, with whims and wills of their own! The important thing is that it \u003cem\u003eshall\u003c/em\u003e be built, do you not think so?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I most certainly do.\u0026rdquo; He inhaled as if to continue, but Lady Fitz-Levi, who had been gazing longingly at the balloon, squeezed his arm and said, \u0026ldquo;Oh, my dear, do let us get closer to the contraption\u0026mdash;I want a better look.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane let them take their leave, satisfied to have planted a useful seed. She turned and favored Asper Lindley with a warm look before correcting herself: His uncle having perished some months before of ague, Asper was now Lord Horn. The title had aged him; no longer a fledgling, he had grown into a sharp young falcon. She smiled to herself as he approached. His feathers would not remain sleek much longer.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe greeted her with enough enthusiasm for her to be immediately suspicious. \u0026ldquo;Well! What do you think is about to happen? Triumph or catastrophe?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, neither, I hope\u0026mdash;we are not all made of such heroic stuff as you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;How right you are. In \u003cem\u003emy\u003c/em\u003e life, it\u0026rsquo;s all either triumph or catastrophe, I assure you!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe caught a glimpse of Nicholas Galing some distance away, surrounded by chattering nobles. Galing glanced their way as though catching the voice of his beloved; a flash of pain crossed his face before he turned hastily back to his conversation. Ah, trouble between the two of them, was there? Well, the affair had gone on longer than anyone might have expected it to, after all.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And for that matter,\u0026rdquo; continued Lindley, his voice conspiratorial, \u0026ldquo;I think it\u0026rsquo;s the same for you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What, triumph or catastrophe? You flatter me. I have no such ambitions to a dashing life of extremes; I am all moderation.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So you would have us think, apparently. But I see through your turtledove disguise.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHow unpleasant. She laughed gaily. \u0026ldquo;You terrify me, my lord, with your gimlet eye! But I promise you, I am far duller than you seem to think. I was up early this morning poring over bridge schemes, and what could be duller than that?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, that tedious abomination.\u0026rdquo; He rolled his eyes. \u0026ldquo;I daresay I shall engage a swordsman to skewer the next man who utters the word \u0026lsquo;bridge\u0026rsquo; in my presence. Is there anything left to fret over? Are not the builders getting on with it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes indeed, it is well begun. But\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;she thought she might as well reuse a good line; Fitz-Levi and Horn loathed each other\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;one would think a bridge were a living creature full of its own whims, to hear Master Robertson talk! It may need to be shifted, it seems, but what is that to us?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What indeed?\u0026rdquo; Whether he was feigning boredom with the topic or hoping to draw her out, she had done all she safely could with him, and soon drew their chat to a graceful close.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOn she went, from nobleman to nobleman, dropping hints, pressing hands, giving some a charming laugh and some a pointed look, gathering goodwill as a maid might gather flowers in a basket.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It seems the great event is about to begin,\u0026rdquo; said a voice behind her. \u0026ldquo;Will you watch it with me, Duchess?\u0026rdquo; She turned to see Lord Octavian Perry, his ugly terrier splayed out asleep on the grass beside him. It was one of the oddest things about him, his attachment to the animal. No matter how many people exclaimed at its irredeemable scruffiness and impenetrable breeding, he had not been seen in public without it ever since she had known him. His solemn insistence that his devotion was due to the dog\u0026rsquo;s powers of prognostication was, however, the sort of drollery she quite enjoyed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;With pleasure,\u0026rdquo; she said, \u0026ldquo;Though I don\u0026rsquo;t know whether I will require you to cheer with me, or bear me up when I faint in horror.\u0026rdquo; She looked down at the dog. \u0026ldquo;I expect Solange, on the other hand, knows exactly what is to happen.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes, but Solange\u0026rsquo;s powers of prophecy are unmatched, so you can hardly fault yourself for not coming up to her standard.\u0026rdquo; She laughed, and he went on. \u0026ldquo;You seem to have accomplished your true mission for the morning. If you wish, however, on the next occasion you have a matter in which you wish to turn people\u0026rsquo;s opinions to your way of thinking, you may avail yourself of her services to determine in advance whether an event will be propitious or not.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane smiled vaguely, looking about the scene as though unaware of what he could possibly be insinuating. Unlike three quarters of the men on the Hill, Octavian Perry was no fool. Luckily, unlike the other quarter, he was also no snake.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe was scarcely a handful of years older than Diane herself, but already his dark thatch of hair had a scattering of grey; his face was that of a wise monkey, seamed and wide-mouthed. Perhaps the most eccentric man of her acquaintance, he had an air of honestly not caring, or even realizing, what anyone else thought of him. He rarely if ever attended Council, oblivious to comments about his duty, and preferred to spend his time, if rumor was true, reading in his library, Solange snoring gustily at his feet.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Shall we transfer ourselves to that little hillock,\u0026rdquo; she said lightly, \u0026ldquo;the better to see the\u0026mdash;I hardly know what to call it\u0026mdash;the ascent?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003ePerry bent down to pick up the dog, which disdained to awaken. \u0026ldquo;If an ascent it turns out to be. I myself don\u0026rsquo;t see this ending in anything but disaster.\u0026rdquo; They began walking.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And what has Solange foreseen?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;She has thus far remained silent on the question. I believe she finds it beneath her notice.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey reached the hillock, and there, at a slight remove, they surveyed the scene. An enormous crowd had gathered, clusters of nobles and merchants alike across the field. Ancient Hawking Meadow was no longer used for its titular activity, the City having long ago grown up around it, and hawking being better suited to the countryside. These days it saw mostly May Day celebrations in spring and children\u0026rsquo;s snowball fights in winter, and now the spectacular launch of the flying device that Maximilen Land, whether genius or charlatan, claimed to have invented.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe balloon had been lying stretched out upon the grass, the tall, dandified figure of Master Land holding court before it, as excited nobles and merchants alike clustered about, examining the apparatus and peppering him with questions.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane wondered what Micah would have thought of Land\u0026rsquo;s invention. No doubt she would have had been keenly interested in the calculations involved. Diane thought of Micah rarely now; after all, it had been nearly a year since the girl had fled Tremontaine House without a word of farewell. Diane had, of course, lost no time in discovering what had become of her, and that she was safe. There she had left it, having indeed little other choice, and resolved not to regret the loss. Still, in this moment, she felt a lingering and inexplicable pang.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAh, but now there was a great stir. \u0026ldquo;Stand back, now, I beg!\u0026rdquo; the inventor cried out. \u0026ldquo;Stand back and observe!\u0026rdquo; And as everyone obligingly backed away, Diane and Octavian could see Land stoop, then straighten again\u0026mdash;he had lit a fire in the opening, and the balloon began to fill with air, and gradually rise and take on the bulbous shape they had all been warned to expect. The enormous sphere, painted in brilliant red and gold, would likely stand out magnificently against the heavens, should it manage to reach them. As it rose, it could be seen that it was tethered to the ground by ropes, and that hanging below the fire was a wicker cage in which sat a deeply affronted fowl, clucking and flapping.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sure he knows what he\u0026rsquo;s doing,\u0026rdquo; said Diane dubiously, \u0026ldquo;but I must say, if \u003cem\u003eI \u003c/em\u003ewere a hen in a wicker basket to be borne aloft by a balloon the size of Tremontaine House, I\u0026rsquo;m not positive I\u0026rsquo;d want to be quite so close to the fire.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The apparatus has no doubt been constructed according to the soundest principles of natural philosophy to ensure its passenger\u0026rsquo;s safety. I\u0026rsquo;m sure there is a whole faculty of balloons at the University.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It is no\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And now, noble sirs and ladies!\u0026rdquo; Diane had no idea how the man\u0026rsquo;s voice could carry so far and at such volume, but doubtless such people had talents she could not imagine. \u0026ldquo;You are most privileged to be witness to the greatest achievement in the history of mankind: I\u0026mdash;yes, I, lowly Maximilien Land, will, for the first time in history, break the bond of gravity that shackles us to the ground! As a result of this glorious experiment, Man shall soon take his rightful place alongside the fierce hawk, the mighty eagle!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Why do you suppose Man is not taking his place alongside the mighty eagle today?\u0026rdquo; Diane said. \u0026ldquo;Master Land doesn\u0026rsquo;t seem the sort to yield glory to a common chicken.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian, with a cocked head, pretended to consider the question. \u0026ldquo;Is it possible he isn\u0026rsquo;t quite as confident in his invention as he claims to be?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I have perfectly calculated the trajectory of my mighty device,\u0026rdquo; Maximilien continued to the crowd that stood rapt before him, \u0026ldquo;taking into account prevailing breezes, and will race to the distant spot where it will descend again gently to earth. Any of you may follow me, and join me in celebrating this historic flight!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh dear,\u0026rdquo; Octavian murmured. \u0026ldquo;Solange seems unconvinced.\u0026rdquo; The little dog yawned, showing a great deal of pink tongue. Diane laughed. They might have been the only ones discreetly doubtful: The crowd was hanging on the inventor-showman\u0026rsquo;s every word. \u0026ldquo;And now! I will cut the ropes tying my astonishing creation to the earth, and you will see it ascend into the heavens!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane put one hand to her breast and scratched under Solange\u0026rsquo;s chin with the other. In truth, she could not help feeling a thrill of excitement. She certainly did not wish herself in the chicken\u0026rsquo;s place, but still, the idea of actually \u003cem\u003eflying\u003c/em\u003e\u0026mdash;well, it would certainly be an accomplishment. Perhaps, if by some miracle it did come off, if, some day, people were to go up, she might\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eChop! Chop! The ropes were cut, and the great gaudy mushroom lurched skyward, the hen hauled into the air after it, cackling madly. The crowd gasped and exclaimed, tilting their heads back and pointing. The flying device lifted up and up and began to move away westward, as majestic a sight as anyone could have hoped.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was then, as they all looked up into the sky, that two events occurred in quick succession. The first was that dark grey clouds swept back in, threatening an immediate resumption of the rain.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe second was that the balloon caught fire.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOne person screamed, then all was tumult. Fire raced up along the sides of the canvas\u0026mdash;and almost at once, thunder boomed in answer, the skies opened, and rain came down. The smoking skeleton of the device tilted and plummeted earthward as the crowd shrieked and ran pell-mell for their carriages. Octavian popped open an oiled parasol to shelter himself, Diane, and Solange, as they stood and watched the hen in her cage crash to ground, feathers flying. An outraged clucking betrayed the reluctant aeronaut\u0026rsquo;s survival.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe two watched in silence for a brief time. \u0026ldquo;Well!\u0026rdquo; Diane breathed finally. \u0026ldquo;That was a spectacle, just not the one we came for!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian turned his dog in his arms to face him, and looked her in the eye. \u0026ldquo;Solange,\u0026rdquo; he said in mock reproach. \u0026ldquo;You might have warned us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane pressed her hand to her mouth to quell a shout of laughter and turned to look about her\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOnly to find herself gazing into the cool grey eyes of the Serpent Chancellor.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Lord Arlen,\u0026rdquo; she said, her flesh running cold.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Duchess,\u0026rdquo; he said, and the word was a warning, or a promise, or a threat. But she could not determine\u0026mdash;she never could, when Arlen spoke\u0026mdash;which of the three he intended. He turned to Octavian, rain dripping from his broad-brimmed hat. \u0026ldquo;Sir.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indeed.\u0026rdquo; Octavian bowed, handed Diane the parasol, and walked away without another word. Diane could not even watch him go, unable to take her eyes away from Arlen.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;A most unfortunate conclusion to the afternoon\u0026rsquo;s events.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Certainly.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Then again,\u0026rdquo; he said, and though his countenance did not change, she felt he was looking at her differently somehow, \u0026ldquo;when one attempts to rise above where one has been placed\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; He looked over her shoulder and she, involuntarily, looked back. What had been the balloon was a blackened pile. The inventor had the chicken out of her cage and tucked under his arm as he stood over the ruins, drenched, quite alone, head bowed as though in mourning.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well,\u0026rdquo; Arlen said. \u0026ldquo;Perhaps it would be best to pass over what fate has wrought today in silence.\u0026rdquo; His head moved a quarter of a fingerbreadth. \u0026ldquo;And in mutual understanding.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane closed her eyes. She felt the need to reply, to defend herself, to insist that she knew what she was doing.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut when she opened her eyes again, he was gone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah was mesmerized by the slate in her hands.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt didn\u0026rsquo;t make any sense.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWell, of course it made \u003cem\u003esense\u003c/em\u003e; it was math, and math always made sense. But she couldn\u0026rsquo;t tell \u003cem\u003ewhy \u003c/em\u003eit made sense, and that was incredibly exciting.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt meant there was something to explore. Something to \u003cem\u003elearn\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt had only been by accident that she had started writing numbers in a sort of square spiral, anyway. There were calculations on the right side of the slate that she hadn\u0026rsquo;t wanted to erase yet, so she\u0026rsquo;d gone up instead, and then when she\u0026rsquo;d hit the top of the slate she continued the left turns, and so on, and once she\u0026rsquo;d started the spiral she figured she might as well continue.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd now, all of a sudden, there right in front of her, were the patterns.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOf course it made sense that if you wrote integers in a spiral going outward, primes would be on the diagonals; above 2, only odd numbers were prime, so it could hardly be on the horizontal and vertical axes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut why would the top right to bottom left diagonal have so many \u003cem\u003emore \u003c/em\u003eof them than the top left to bottom right?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA noise tugged at her, like a fly buzzing behind her right ear. She shut her eyes and shook her head, but it kept coming. She shook her head again. Finally she realized that it was a voice. Jason.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So what you\u0026rsquo;re saying,\u0026rdquo; he was asking, \u0026ldquo;is that 1 \u003cem\u003eis \u003c/em\u003ea prime number, after all?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No,\u0026rdquo; she snapped, \u0026ldquo;that\u0026rsquo;s exactly the opposite of what I\u0026rsquo;m saying. Don\u0026rsquo;t be stupid.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd she turned back to her slate, but before she could sink her attention into it again, she heard an odd choking sound. She looked up to see Jason\u0026rsquo;s face red and crumpled, a look she\u0026rsquo;d come to know meant anger or distress. His eyes were welling up with tears, and he had his hand pressed over his mouth, as though trying not to make a sound.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer stomach tightened and the room seemed to shrink. She clenched her fists helplessly. \u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t cry,\u0026rdquo; she said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut he just kept crying.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer breathing quickened. She wanted to run out of the room and hide in a closet and disappear. \u0026ldquo;Stop.\u0026rdquo; But he wouldn\u0026rsquo;t stop. If anything it seemed to be getting worse; he lowered his head and clasped both his hands over it, and kept making that awful sound. There was something she knew she could do to help herself calm down\u0026mdash;it was about counting\u0026mdash;maybe she could count primes\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;One,\u0026rdquo; she whispered to herself, \u0026ldquo;two, three, five, seven, eleven,\u0026rdquo; but he kept crying, and if only Rafe or Joshua were here to\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Class dismissed,\u0026rdquo; she finally heard from the doorway, and looked up to see Joshua there. She felt a rush of gratitude\u003cem\u003e.\u003c/em\u003e \u0026ldquo;Everybody out. Come back later for class with me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJason bolted from his chair and ran out of the room. Once the rest of the students had all trailed out, Joshua came over to her. \u0026ldquo;Why don\u0026rsquo;t we sit down?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey sat, and in the silence broken only by the sound of the rain outside, her stomach gradually unclenched, and her breathing slowed, and the room expanded again. Eventually, when she no longer wanted to disappear, she said, \u0026ldquo;I hate it when that happens.\u0026rdquo;\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis voice was gentle. \u0026ldquo;Micah, you\u0026rsquo;ve been teaching for a year, and you\u0026rsquo;ve been fine. But this is the third time you\u0026rsquo;ve made one of our students cry this month. Is there something going on?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe scrunched up her face. \u0026ldquo;Yes!\u0026rdquo; Then she thought again. \u0026ldquo;No. I don\u0026rsquo;t know!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe sighed. I\u0026rsquo;m going to guess it\u0026rsquo;s not the prime numbers you\u0026rsquo;ve been so excited about.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah grinned. \u0026ldquo;No, they\u0026rsquo;re wonderful! Did you know that if you write the numbers in a spiral, the top right to bottom left diagonal has \u003cem\u003eso many more \u003c/em\u003eprimes than the top left to bottom right? In the first hundred numbers alone, there are\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJoshua held up a hand. \u0026ldquo;I want to hear about this,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;but not yet. So what\u0026rsquo;s upsetting you isn\u0026rsquo;t the prime numbers. Is it something somebody at the school is doing? One of the teachers, or a student?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah thought hard. \u0026ldquo;No.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJoshua\u0026rsquo;s mouth twisted. \u0026ldquo;Is it your family? Cousin Seth or Uncle Amos or Aunt Judith or\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m so worried about them!\u0026rdquo; The words burst out of her, and once she\u0026rsquo;d said them she realized they were actually true. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s been raining so hard, and people have been coming in from the countryside because it\u0026rsquo;s not safe there. What if Judith and Amos and Seth and Ruben have to come to the city, too? Where will they live? So many of the people who have come don\u0026rsquo;t have any place to sleep. Will they\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sure,\u0026rdquo; said Joshua, \u0026ldquo;that if they do end up having to leave the farm, we\u0026rsquo;ll be able to get them a place to sleep and food to eat.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah frowned. \u0026ldquo;How can you be \u003cem\u003esure\u003c/em\u003e? What if something happens to us and \u003cem\u003ewe \u003c/em\u003edon\u0026rsquo;t have anything to eat either?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Micah,\u0026rdquo; Joshua sighed, \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m not \u003cem\u003esure\u003c/em\u003e, because I can\u0026rsquo;t predict the future. But I\u0026rsquo;m \u003cem\u003econfident\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey sat silent for a few moments, and then an idea struck her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Joshua,\u0026rdquo; she said, \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m still worried about them. But I don\u0026rsquo;t want to keep making the students cry. How would you feel about teaching with me for a while? And we could come up with some sort of signal you could give me if I start getting annoyed, and I could just be quiet for a little bit and you could keep going. And then, once I\u0026rsquo;m calm again, I can join back in.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe smile on his face made her very happy. \u0026ldquo;I think,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;that that is a \u003cem\u003ewonderful \u003c/em\u003eidea.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What should we use as a signal?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;How about if I bite my lip?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No, because you already bite your lip sometimes. Besides, I might not see you do it. What if it was something you said? That way, if I wasn\u0026rsquo;t looking at you, I would still hear it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;An excellent idea, Micah. But it should be something that you can pick out as a particular meaning, and not mistake as part of conversation. How about\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. . \u0026lsquo;sassafras\u0026rsquo;?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I would definitely recognize that, even if I was upset. But wouldn\u0026rsquo;t the students think it was strange that you all of a sudden said \u0026lsquo;sassafras\u0026rsquo;?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I am confident they will put it down to scholarly eccentricity.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;All right, then. Sassafras it is.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;When is your next class?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tomorrow morning.\u0026rdquo; Micah\u0026rsquo;s stomach clenched tight.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I will be there with the sassafrassiest air I can manage.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA steady rain drummed on Kaab\u0026rsquo;s wide-brimmed hat as she walked along the river, her feet unpleasantly damp after a long morning touring warehouses and visiting merchants with her cousin, who walked at her side, chatting away about she hardly knew what, as she\u0026rsquo;d been lost in her own thoughts. A week had passed, and his orientation to all Kinwiinik business here continued. She had to give him credit: He was quick-witted, understanding much at a glance, and clearly determined to fulfill the trust the family had placed in him by giving him this important position. He was ambitious. That was all to the good. As a partner in pursuing the interests of the Balam, he showed great promise. But as a\u0026mdash;she could hardly bring herself to even \u003cem\u003ethink\u003c/em\u003e the word\u0026mdash;husband?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe had the letter he had brought from the heads of the Balam family back home memorized by now, its glyphs hanging, ugly, in her mind. \u0026ldquo;Ixkaab, we are exceedingly pleased by the reports we have received from you over the last year. Rather than summon you home, therefore, we wish you to stay in the Land as head of the service there. Our merchant operations, however, interrupted by Chuleb\u0026rsquo;s return to Binkiinha, must resume at once. We send with this letter Ahkoet Balam, who will take up Chuleb\u0026rsquo;s position to lead the family with you. It would bring us great joy if the two of you saw fit to formalize your alliance in marriage. It is with this in view that we greet you, little bee, and wish you continued success in your operations in the Land.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eIt would bring us great joy\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey might as well have written, \u003cem\u003eIt is our iron-bound decree.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab\u0026rsquo;s mouth twisted. Now, to her irritation, she felt Koet\u0026rsquo;s hand on her arm, stopping her. She tilted back her brim to look up at him, to find him gazing into her eyes with a strange expression.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What is it, Feather Brain? Are you ill?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eInstead of lobbing back an insult, Koet shook his head with unwonted seriousness. \u0026ldquo;No\u0026mdash;or rather, yes, Kaab, yes, I am ill\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. with longing. I know the family wish us to marry\u0026mdash;and now I feel I must tell you, that is my dearest wish as well.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab opened her mouth to object, but her tongue had turned to stone. He went on in a rush of ardor, \u0026ldquo;Why do you think I always teased you, played all those elaborate pranks on you? Because I adored you! And now that I meet you again, grown and even more beautiful than I remembered, I must tell you how overjoyed I am, that my deepest, most secret wish will at last come to fruition!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs if the order to marry hadn\u0026rsquo;t been enough.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet was \u003cem\u003ein love with her\u003c/em\u003e?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab\u0026rsquo;s training had prepared her for much, and her not inconsiderate experience had sharpened that training to a fine point. But this was beyond her ability.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe lowered her brim without a word, turned and looked out over the river, its dark grey mirroring the glowering sky, the shifting waters roiled by rain. If she hurled herself into its currents, she would no longer have to listen to his revolting sentiments. But how unfair, that \u003cem\u003eshe \u003c/em\u003eshould be obliged to die, when it was \u003cem\u003ehe \u003c/em\u003ewho had turned her world to ashes with that fateful letter!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOn the other hand, if she indulged her sense of justice and threw \u003cem\u003ehim \u003c/em\u003ein the river instead, there was a very good chance he would take it as a perverse sign of passion.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe gave up and began walking again, Koet still at her side, apparently unconcerned by her silence. He was still prattling on about her beauty and his happiness, taking her acquiescence for granted, curse him! Now he had commenced recounting the highlights of their childhood rivalry.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;and then, when you sewed me into my blanket as I slept, oh, Ahkin\u0026rsquo;s balls, Kaab, I could have killed you on the spot!\u0026rdquo; Koet was laughing so hard he had to stop in his tracks, bend over, and catch his breath.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;If I remember correctly,\u0026rdquo; she said, her lips tight, \u0026ldquo;you tried.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes, but it turns out that running isn\u0026rsquo;t something you can do very quickly when you\u0026rsquo;re sewn into a blanket.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Maybe \u003cem\u003eyou \u003c/em\u003ecan\u0026rsquo;t.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey started walking again. \u0026ldquo;Xamanek\u0026rsquo;s light, I\u0026rsquo;ve missed you, Kaab.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That makes one of us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What on \u003cem\u003eearth \u003c/em\u003eare you so moody about?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Nothing.\u0026rdquo; \u003cem\u003eOnly the fact that, unless I can come up with some brilliant evasion, I must marry\u0026mdash;and marry a \u003c/em\u003eman\u003cem\u003e, on top of that\u0026mdash;and a man who spent his childhood pouring maize syrup into my hair. Then, of course, there\u0026rsquo;s the matter of how Koet\u0026rsquo;s arrival will affect our\u0026nbsp;various .\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. trade arrangements with Tremontaine. Not to mention the business of Francis Salford. She didn\u0026rsquo;t need any partners there. He was hers to punish. \u003c/em\u003e\u0026ldquo;Nothing,\u0026rdquo; she repeated.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You know, Kaab, for a spy, you\u0026rsquo;re a terrible liar.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What makes you think I want you to believe me?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Seriously, tell me. What\u0026rsquo;s made you so angry?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe stopped again. At this rate they\u0026rsquo;d be drowned in this rain before they got home, in which case all her troubles would be solved. \u0026ldquo;Look,\u0026rdquo; she said, her voice tight. \u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s a lot you don\u0026rsquo;t know about.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So tell me!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe held a hand up. \u0026ldquo;I will. I will. Just\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. give me a little time.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Fine. But if you wait too long, you might wake up to find maize syrup in your hair.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey turned a corner. \u0026ldquo;We seem to have reached our destination. What a shame we must cut our conversation short.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Alas.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe house they stepped into, though, was curiously quiet. She should have heard children chasing one another in the courtyard, aunts chattering in the kitchen as they rolled dough for tamales, arguments about merchandise or tariffs or shipping coming from the offices.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSomething was wrong.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab put a hand on her dagger, and she sensed Koet doing the same. They padded silently through the house, communicating wordlessly as they explored, finding room after room empty. No one in the kitchen. No one in the parlor. Kaab\u0026rsquo;s heart battered against her ribs. No one in the dining room, any of the offices, the halls.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey entered the long hall that led to the courtyard outside. Side by side they crept through it, stepping out to hear\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;SURPRISE!!!!!!!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd all of a sudden the air was filled with all the voices she had expected upon entering the house, because they were \u003cem\u003eall \u003c/em\u003ethere. The children, the aunts, the men, the servants, all of them, holding cups of atole and chocolate and grinning for no reason whatsoever. And then Ixcho was upon them, embracing them both and jumping up and down and clapping her hands with glee.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s an engagement party! I organized an engagement party! I know you\u0026rsquo;re not engaged yet, not \u003cem\u003ereally\u003c/em\u003e, but you will be! Koet, you have no idea how hard it was to keep this plan from you on the way over! Oh, Kaab, I have \u003cem\u003eso \u003c/em\u003emany ideas about the wedding, and I\u0026rsquo;ve got to tell you all about them! First, there\u0026rsquo;ll be \u003cem\u003etwo \u003c/em\u003eflute and drum bands, not just one, so that they can play in \u003cem\u003edifferent\u003c/em\u003e areas, isn\u0026rsquo;t that a good idea, and then we\u0026rsquo;ll have a feast of tamales with ant eggs and Muscovy duck stuffing, but spiced with epazote, not the \u003cem\u003eregular \u003c/em\u003ekind but from by the Ulua River, \u003cem\u003eyou \u003c/em\u003eknow, the kind that everybody says is so much better? I\u0026rsquo;ve never had it myself but I know you have some here, I asked Maas and she said there were \u003cem\u003ebaskets \u003c/em\u003eand \u003cem\u003ebaskets \u003c/em\u003eof it and that she was sure you\u0026rsquo;d be \u003cem\u003ethrilled \u003c/em\u003eto have it served at your wedding feast! And then\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab turned and glared at Koet. To her surprise, she thought she caught an aghast look that mirrored her own, before he felt her looking, and broke into a delighted smile. \u0026ldquo;My beloved,\u0026rdquo; he murmured. \u0026ldquo;This is only the beginning of a lifetime of bliss.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab could not help it: She knew her face was the picture of horror. And then she was dragged away by her little-sister-to-be, whose exuberant enthusiasm for the trappings of matrimony might have been specially designed to torment Kaab unto her death.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I beg you to forgive the audacity of the claim I am about to make,\u0026rdquo; said Rafe, reading the Chartili title on the scroll case as he brushed a finger down its deep vermilion, \u0026ldquo;but you cannot possibly have a book in your library by the title of \u003cem\u003eThe Duckling Catapult.\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza\u0026rsquo;s laugh was deep. \u0026ldquo;Such a title would not have been unthinkable in certain less illustrious eras of Chartili poetry,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;but, as it happens, you are correct.\u0026rdquo; The profusion of books and scrolls filling the shelves and spilling onto the tables had always made Reza\u0026rsquo;s library seem smaller to Rafe than it actually was, but the gloomy afternoon half-light and the heavy rain currently assaulting the glass of the windows rendered it almost cozy. \u0026ldquo;Your mistake, however, is understandable, as the Chartili word for \u0026lsquo;duckling\u0026rsquo; is indeed not at all dissimilar to the word for\u0026mdash;well, \u0026lsquo;general\u0026rsquo; would not be an utterly inaccurate translation. It is an old title that fell out of use some generations ago, when the Emperor of the Falling Shadow was disgraced for\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. certain indiscretions in his amours.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Alas,\u0026rdquo; said Rafe. \u0026ldquo;I suppose it was too much to hope for that noble blood elsewhere not be as sure a guarantee of foolishness as it is here.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza smiled. \u0026ldquo;The two words are in fact written exactly the same, with the exception of the determinative, which sits to the right for \u0026lsquo;duckling\u0026rsquo; and to the left for \u0026lsquo;general.\u0026rsquo;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe rolled his eyes. \u0026ldquo;Now I know why the Chartili make war all the time. Your language is so annoying to read that you are all perpetually in a bad mood.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza bowed his head. \u0026ldquo;I shall write my superiors, informing them that our secret has been laid bare, and await their instructions on what is to be done with you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I look forward to learning my fate.\u0026rdquo; Rafe turned back to the shelf. \u0026ldquo;All right. So \u003cem\u003eThe General\u0026rsquo;\u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003es Catapult. \u003c/em\u003eNow, let\u0026rsquo;s see. This next one.\u0026rdquo; He leaned forward, squinting at the characters brushed onto the next scroll case. \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eModern \u003c/em\u003esomething \u003cem\u003eWarfare\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza stepped forward and peered over Rafe\u0026rsquo;s head. \u0026ldquo;Siege.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eStep back just a hair, and I could\u0026mdash;\u003c/em\u003ebut no. Rafe locked the thought behind an iron door, as he had so many like it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBy now it was no difficult task to bridle what he felt for the ambassador from Chartil. He had certainly been doing it long enough.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut it was growing tedious.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe man had, after all, given no indication whatsoever of even the slightest particle of interest in the idea of what Rafe might look like unclothed and tossed casually on top of the bedding. On the very few occasions Rafe had thought he detected a flash of something else, it became very quickly clear that he had been mistaken, misled by a singular gift for seeing what he wished to see. The Chartili ambassador would never bed a woman; of that, Rafe was quite certain, though neither of them had ever given voice to the thought. But he seemed unlikely to bed Rafe, either. No, the only consummation of their friendship would be of the sort that had led the serving maids to make pointed remarks about Rafe\u0026rsquo;s sheets within his mother\u0026rsquo;s hearing.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was just as well, really. Rafe smiled to himself. He had, over the course of the years, as Joshua delighted in mentioning whenever it could possibly be relevant and occasionally when it couldn\u0026rsquo;t, ruined a great number of things for himself. He was determined that his friendship with the Ambassador Plenipotentiary of the Holy Empire of Chartil, Far-Reza ko Arezu ko Shirin-sa Chartili\u0026mdash;he had made enough progress in Chartili that by now Reza\u0026rsquo;s full name, ridiculously formal, dropped from his lips with ease\u0026mdash;not be one of them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eWill would hardly recognize me.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe thought was gone almost before Rafe realized it had arrived, and he marked its passing with a mixture of fondness and melancholy. The idea of Will, thousands of miles distant, no longer made him want to hurl himself headlong into the river. But that in itself was a loss of a kind, was it not?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe made his voice light. \u0026ldquo;Good god, is there any Chartili literature in this room that \u003cem\u003eisn\u0026rsquo;\u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003et \u003c/em\u003eabout how to kill as many men as possible?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Of course,\u0026rdquo; said Reza, just as lightly. \u0026ldquo;Why, this entire shelf here\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;he indicated a row of books on the opposite wall\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;is about how to kill a \u003cem\u003efew \u003c/em\u003emen as \u003cem\u003epainfully \u003c/em\u003eas possible.\u0026rdquo; Rafe snorted. \u0026ldquo;Come. Perhaps these will be more to your taste.\u0026rdquo; Reza led him to a case by the window. \u0026ldquo;Try this shelf.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe began with a shelf at the level of his eyes. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: the blissful image of \u003cem\u003ehis\u003c/em\u003e book on such a shelf. As ever, he thanked all the gods for Doctor Goodell, without whose respectable sponsorship no printer in the city would touch it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA dusky lavender case with silver characters drew his attention. \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eToward Better Glass. A New Theory of\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo; He looked at Reza, his brow furrowed. \u0026ldquo;That can\u0026rsquo;t be right. \u003cem\u003eA New Theory of Spilling Water\u003c/em\u003e?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis time Reza\u0026rsquo;s smile contained approval, and a thrill ran across the surface of Rafe\u0026rsquo;s skin. \u0026ldquo;Very close. \u003cem\u003eA New Theory of Irrigation. \u003c/em\u003eWritten last year. I see the Chartili system of determinatives is taking hold. It will serve you immensely well, especially when encountering new words.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe sighed. It was impossible to imagine a University doctor publishing anything with the word \u003cem\u003enew \u003c/em\u003eor \u003cem\u003ebetter\u003c/em\u003e in the title. \u0026ldquo;Ah, to be a natural philosopher in Chartil!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It is true,\u0026rdquo; said Reza, \u0026ldquo;that our engineers and natural philosophers look to the future rather than to the past.\u0026rdquo; He reached for another scroll, held it out. \u0026ldquo;Try this one.\u0026rdquo; Rafe took it, being very, very careful not to let his fingers touch the other man\u0026rsquo;s. \u0026ldquo;But in Chartil,\u0026rdquo; continued Reza, \u0026ldquo;your school would be impossible. Education is the bailiwick of the priesthood. The idea of a natural philosopher running a school or teaching children is\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. .\u0026rdquo; He trailed off.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s eyes ran hungrily down the silver ink brushed on orange. \u0026ldquo;Whatever it is that you have thought better of saying, I would prefer that you say it. I assure you that my constitution, however delicate, is quite capable of meeting the challenge.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza spoke carefully but clearly. \u0026ldquo;In Chartil, the idea of your running a school would be preposterous. You would live in the Imperial College, surrounded by others engaged in similar pursuits, and your work would be eagerly awaited by readers all over the country. But the training of children would be left to others.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSomething twisted in Rafe\u0026rsquo;s chest. \u0026ldquo;I am not absolutely certain,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;that such a turn of events would not be all for the best.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You are very gracious, pretending not to know exactly what I\u0026rsquo;m talking about.\u0026rdquo; Rafe\u0026rsquo;s voice grew quiet. \u0026ldquo;In the last year I have been forced to come to the conclusion that, while to burn with the desire to open young minds is one thing, to possess the ability to \u003cem\u003edo \u003c/em\u003eit is another entirely. To be sure, I have moments of occasional brilliance, but they are few and far between, and for the most part my lectures are simply too abstruse to arouse anything more than a polite curiosity from my students. Even the ones whose faces proclaim louder than any public crier that they are thinking of doing things to me they don\u0026rsquo;t even know how to do yet\u0026mdash;even them I am capable of lulling to a restful slumber.\u0026rdquo; The words sprang to his mind unbidden: \u003cem\u003eOf course, the things I think of doing to \u003c/em\u003eyou\u003cem\u003e, Ambassador, involve arts I have long since perfected.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNo.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s lip curled, and he picked up where he had left off. \u0026ldquo;So the idea of a life filled with nothing but research and theory produces in me a longing such as\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;A knock on the door. \u0026ldquo;Yes?\u0026rdquo; said Reza.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Far-Reza, forgive the interruption.\u0026rdquo; A servant in green silk stood in the door. \u0026ldquo;Your sister has sent another gift.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indeed.\u0026rdquo; Reza stood. \u0026ldquo;Would you care to join me, Rafe? You\u0026rsquo;ve seen many of Sezan\u0026rsquo;s gifts, but, if I am not mistaken, you have never had the experience of opening one of the exquisite boxes in which they arrive.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe looked curiously at his host. \u0026ldquo;The wonders your sister sends are always fascinating, to be sure, but surely a box is\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. a box?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You,\u0026rdquo; said Reza, \u0026ldquo;do not know Sezan.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe followed him out of the study, down the hall, and into a room he hadn\u0026rsquo;t entered before. Shipping crates of various sizes and woods lined the walls, many of them open, but when Reza lifted a polished contraption out of one of them and placed it on the table in the center of the room, Rafe stepped closer almost involuntarily. What he beheld was a cube with thick spurs jutting out in three directions from every corner, the spurs supporting raised plates on every side inscribed with Chartili characters. It was dark cherry wood, not rough with splinters and stained by the sea through which it had traveled, like the other crates in the room, but polished and strong, like the man in whose house he stood, rich and brown and smooth and\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eStop. It.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Would you care to try your hand at opening it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe stepped up to the table and reached out to handle the box. No latch or clasp presented itself immediately to his eye. The raised plates were loose, not fastened to the spurs, and yet, try as he might, Rafe could find no way to manipulate them. Finally he laughed, helpless. \u0026ldquo;If I remember correctly, you will be with us in the Land for another four months. I fear, Reza, that by the time I managed to get this box open, you would be long gone.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;In that case,\u0026rdquo; said Reza, \u0026ldquo;perhaps we should return to the study. I never know how long it will take me to open a puzzle from Sezan. It may take a few minutes. It may require days.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Why don\u0026rsquo;t you make a good-faith effort now?\u0026rdquo; said Rafe. \u0026ldquo;I really am interested to find out what\u0026rsquo;s inside as well.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;As you wish\u0026mdash;on one condition: that if gazing on as I fail to open the box gets so exciting you simply cannot bear it, you will amuse yourself with whatever else you find in the room. I am sent all sorts of things, by all sorts of people. If I can\u0026rsquo;t manage this in a quarter of an hour, why don\u0026rsquo;t we abandon it for now? I vow that, as soon as you leave this house, I will apply myself night and day until I have found the solution.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Your word,\u0026rdquo; said Rafe, \u0026ldquo;is my law.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd Reza started. His hands, dark, strong, capable, ran over the surface of the box, testing the plates, tracing the characters. With a movement Rafe couldn\u0026rsquo;t catch, he managed to make one of the plates slide from side to side.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfter a while, however, the movements \u003cem\u003edid \u003c/em\u003etake on a sort of sameness, and Rafe, immensely pleased at being thus neglected\u0026mdash;Reza would never turn his back on a guest, after all, but a friend was something entirely different\u0026mdash;found himself drifting toward a pile of crates and boxes in the corner. One was filled with scrolls in cases marked with Chartili characters; he opened one but could read no more than a few words. \u0026ldquo;Edict,\u0026rdquo; he saw. \u0026ldquo;Family, orders not to be disobeyed; danger.\u0026rdquo; Then a long string of characters he couldn\u0026rsquo;t read. Then \u0026ldquo;Careful.\u0026rdquo; He closed the scroll and moved to another crate, which contained a set of ornamental knives. Another held silks. Another\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe stopped short. Something smelled divine. He looked up and, yes, a small box that proved, upon his opening it, to contain dates stuffed with something he couldn\u0026rsquo;t identify. He popped a date into his mouth\u0026mdash;the stuffing was marvelous; a tangy fruit, with cinnamon and cloves, but a hint of\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA sharp, slamming pain on the side of his face knocked him down, the corner of a crate digging into his side, the date flying out of his mouth.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza had slapped him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eHard\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe sprang up, hot and furious and utterly bewildered, his hands in tight, tight fists. He wanted to leap forward and strike back, he wanted to cry, he wanted to run away, he wanted to\u0026mdash; \u0026nbsp;He did not know what he wanted to do. A detached part of his mind wished he could see the expression on his own face. \u0026ldquo;What in the Seven Hells\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza heaved a great sigh and bowed deep, deeper than Rafe had ever seen him bow. Somehow he had the box of dates in his hand. \u0026ldquo;I must beg a thousand pardons, Rafe Fenton, for the injury I have just done you. If, however, you will come with me, I will explain what drove my hand to your face, and you will, I think, be gladder in the end that I struck you than you would be had I not done so.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe raised a wary eyebrow. \u0026ldquo;If you say so,\u0026rdquo; he offered. \u0026ldquo;Lead on.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis jaw throbbed as they made their way through the halls of the house to the second story, to a room where Rafe had been but a few times before, dominated by an oaken desk strewn with letters and documents and scrolls, the walls covered in maps of lands unknown to him.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBy now the sun, its efforts to shine brightly already thwarted by the rain that still clattered against the windows, was halfway below the horizon, and when they sat down, Reza behind his desk, Rafe on a lacquer chaise upholstered in red-and-black striped silk against the wall, the ambassador\u0026rsquo;s face was beset by shadows. Reza called for candles and a slab of venison, offering Rafe the latter when it arrived; he lay on his back, holding the meat to his cheek, dripping down the front of his neck. Reza, meanwhile, templed his hands under his chin, the box of stuffed dates open before him on the desk. He was silent, pensive in the glowing candlelight.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFinally, Rafe, unable to bear the silence any longer, sat up. \u0026ldquo;Would you care to tell me just what I did to awaken your wrath?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Rather than telling you,\u0026rdquo; said Reza softly, \u0026ldquo;I have summoned a man who will show you.\u0026rdquo; As if on cue, a knock. \u0026ldquo;And here he is. Come in.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Sir.\u0026rdquo; The face of the man in the doorway was expressionless, but Rafe felt something pass between him and the ambassador.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Here,\u0026rdquo; said Reza, indicating with a nod the small box of stuffed dates that lay on the desk before him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe man glanced at the dates, inhaled, emitted a disdainful bark of laughter. \u0026ldquo;This is not a serious attempt. Emperor\u0026rsquo;s Dagger has an odor far too obvious to be used as anything but a statement.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe couldn\u0026rsquo;t help rising. \u0026ldquo;A statement?\u0026rdquo; he said, coming to join them. \u0026ldquo;A statement about what?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe man turned to him. \u0026ldquo;I am far-Reza\u0026rsquo;s taster. It is my duty to ensure that no poison passes his lips.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe felt faint; he found himself regretting he had stood, and sank into the nearest chair. \u0026ldquo;Poison?\u0026rdquo; Images of Will, and Kaab telling him about shadowroot, flashed, jumbled up, through his head.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes,\u0026rdquo; said Reza, absently. \u0026ldquo;The question is, who sent it? It\u0026rsquo;s far too soon since their last attempt for it to be anyone of ko Isanim. But I am too unimportant a personage for it to be retaliation by the Nourishing Moon for the loss of their patriarch.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eYou seem to have gotten hold of the wrong point, \u003c/em\u003eRafe wanted to cry out, but he limited himself to, \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry; you slapped me so that I wouldn\u0026rsquo;t be \u003cem\u003epoisoned\u003c/em\u003e?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indeed.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza\u0026rsquo;s calm made Rafe want to shake him, so he addressed himself to the taster instead. \u0026ldquo;If Reza had not, shall we say, persuaded me that the dates were a delicacy I should think carefully before sampling, precisely what effect would this \u003cem\u003estatement\u003c/em\u003e, if I may be so bold as to ask, have had upon me?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe taster cocked his head. \u0026ldquo;That would depend,\u0026rdquo; he said with a clinical air. \u0026ldquo;If your diet contained regular doses of the standard antidotes, as Far-Reza\u0026rsquo;s does, you would have been stricken with delirium and hallucinations along with excruciating muscle contractions; you might have come out of it mad and blind, but you would have been likely to survive it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe felt the blood draining from his face. He looked at Reza. \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eHas\u003c/em\u003e my diet contained regular doses of\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA tiny shake of the head.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Ah,\u0026rdquo; said the taster. \u0026ldquo;In that case, your death would have been quite painful, on the one hand, but mercifully quick, on the other.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That will be all, Etsin.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe stood, unsteadily, as the taster left the room; he didn\u0026rsquo;t fear he would fall, but he felt as if the force of gravity had somehow twisted in upon itself. \u0026ldquo;I must\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza stepped quickly around the desk, grabbed Rafe\u0026rsquo;s wrists, sending a thrill through his body. \u0026ldquo;You have never been in any danger.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt would require but a moment to take the ambassador\u0026rsquo;s hands in his, to\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe detached his wrists from Reza\u0026rsquo;s grasp and stepped back. \u0026ldquo;That is not quite true, is it? How many times have I dined here?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza\u0026rsquo;s voice was quiet. \u0026ldquo;That is not a number of which I have taken any notice.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And every single meal, I now discover, could in fact have been my last.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe turned away, running his hands distractedly through his hair. Every sentence seemed to cast him out into even deeper waters. And despite having spent his entire life next to a river, he had never learned to swim.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA new thought struck him, and he turned back and looked, startled, into Reza\u0026rsquo;s eyes. \u0026ldquo;Oh, but you\u0026mdash;you\u0026mdash;\u003cem\u003eyou\u003c/em\u003e are in danger, all the time, even here?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza stood quite still. Candlelight flickered warmly over his face. Rafe thought of him lying dead, and he wanted to weep, he wanted to slap him and kiss him at the same time, he didn\u0026rsquo;t know what he wanted. \u0026ldquo;But\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. wait. I still don\u0026rsquo;t understand. Why have you so many enemies? I mean, none of the stories you have told me about Chartil would lead me to think that the ambassador to the Land\u0026mdash;a place with no army, no threat to your country\u0026mdash;is a personage important enough to be worth poisoning.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza waited for a long time before speaking, the rain pelting the windows the only sound in the room. Then, reluctantly: \u0026ldquo;You know the meaning of my title.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes. Far-Reza: \u0026lsquo;Reza, beloved of the sun.\u0026rsquo;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And I told you that all Chartili ambassadors went by that title.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You did. Is that false? Have I been the victim of a pernicious deception?\u0026rdquo; He tried to find a light tone, but his voice trembled. What could Reza be about to tell him?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Not false,\u0026rdquo; said Reza. After a pause: \u0026ldquo;And not pernicious.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But Chartili ambassadors are not selected on the basis of merit alone.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Of course not. I\u0026rsquo;m sure there\u0026rsquo;s favor to be curried, debts to be repaid, imbroglios to be avoided. You forget, I spent years at the University. I am no stranger to the mud with which one dirties oneself when one descends to\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I forget nothing.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA silence.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s nostrils flared. Reza had toyed with him long enough. \u0026ldquo;By the Seven Hells, this tergiversation is unseemly. What are you not telling me?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza sighed, a long, slow sigh.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Chartili ambassadors are drawn from the ranks of the imperial family.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s forehead creased. \u0026ldquo;The imperial fa\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo; His eyes widened. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re\u0026mdash;you\u0026rsquo;re royalty? You\u0026rsquo;re a \u003cem\u003eprince\u003c/em\u003e?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That is not the title we use. But yes. I am \u0026lsquo;beloved of the sun\u0026rsquo; because the emperor\u0026rsquo;s brother is my father.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe stared at Reza, stunned. Reza waited.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. so that means,\u0026rdquo; said Rafe, suddenly feeling very far away, his lips dry, \u0026ldquo;that, for the last year, with every crack I\u0026rsquo;ve made about nobility and the foolishness of hereditary titles, though you could with a word have alerted me to the danger, you have instead, silent, allowed me to insult you.\u0026rdquo; Rafe was becoming aware that he was very, very angry. But instead of leaping up and shouting, as he might have when a younger man, he grew quieter. \u0026ldquo;Instead of giving me the information with which I could treat you courteously, you have reserved that privilege to yourself. The only conclusion I can draw from such behavior is that you consider me too uncultured to be \u003cem\u003ecapable \u003c/em\u003eof treating you as you should be treated. Or too unimportant to you to be trusted with the truth.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza stood, his eyes wide, his voice gentle. \u0026ldquo;You know that is not how I feel.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, that may not have been your intention in concealing your true rank from me. But how can the effect have been otherwise? You have treated me as a friend for more than a year, while in fact excluding me from your counsel and from your life, and thinking nothing of it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza bowed his head. \u0026ldquo;The rebuke is deserved. I did not think to examine it in that light.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Perfectly understandable, Your Highness.\u0026rdquo; Rafe kept the words free of bitterness, knowing that without it they would sting all the more.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis blow struck home.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Rafe. Do not. Nothing has changed between us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Forgive me, Your Highness,\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;oh, how powerful it felt to speak lightly, easily, to withdraw, and speak to the man opposite him as to a casual acquaintance!\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;but, as I cannot at the moment trust in my ability to behave as befits a guest in the imperial household, my only refuge can be to shelter in the courtesies I know to be appropriate.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe other man was still, placid as a lake of poison. Rafe couldn\u0026rsquo;t read his expression.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe rose, shaking, and bowed deeply. \u0026ldquo;I beg Your Highness will forgive me, but a sudden indisposition requires me to withdraw.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd he walked out of the room and out of the house, managing not to stumble until he reached the street outside.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe had not been to the docks for some time, and in fact his companions there that evening did not provide him the solace that they once had.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Balam household slept. The cousins, the aunts, the dogs journeyed through the house of dreams, learning or failing to learn whatever the gods saw fit to teach, safe in slumber, all, until the sun rose upon the next dawn.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll but one.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLate as it was, a lamp still burned in Kaab\u0026rsquo;s chamber, and she still paced the floor. That ghastly party had gone on forever, as she had endured the winking congratulations of all, eating and drinking what was pressed upon her and accepting all the good wishes until she could decently escape, to be alone and try to think. \u003cbr /\u003e There was a time she might have stormed out the moment she had understood what was happening, made a scene, declared she would marry if and who she chose. That Kaab had been tempered\u0026mdash;now she had enough self-control to conceal her feelings, and buy time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut time for what?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWeary, she threw herself back into a chair. How could she defy her family? Had she not sacrificed her love for Tess and so much more for their sake? Did duty require that she sacrifice \u003cem\u003eherself\u003c/em\u003e as well?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe groaned involuntarily and buried her face in her hands. At the sound of a soft knock at her door, she jerked up again and stood as, without waiting for invitation, Koet sidled into the room, closing the door behind him. Kaab bridled. \u0026ldquo;What the hell are you doing here now?\u0026rdquo; she hissed. \u0026ldquo;Do you know what time it is?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet took no notice of her tone. \u0026ldquo;Dearest, \u003cem\u003edearest\u003c/em\u003e Kaab,\u0026rdquo; he began, his voice throbbing. \u0026ldquo;I know you feel the same as I. How agonizing it is to have to delay! And why should we? I love you too much to wait another moment to hold you in my\u0026mdash;in my\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo; As Kaab gaped at him, his voice broke. He put his hand over his mouth and seemed to be gasping convulsively. What on earth? Was he having some kind of an attack?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd then she realized. He was helpless with laughter.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab\u0026rsquo;s eyes widened. Then she bore down on him, slapping him on the arms in a fury. \u0026ldquo;You! You\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. \u003cem\u003edemon!\u003c/em\u003e Was this another of your \u003cem\u003epranks\u003c/em\u003e?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003c/em\u003eChoking with laughter, he fended off her blows, staggered over to the chair, and fell into it. \u0026ldquo;Oh, oh, your \u003cem\u003eface\u003c/em\u003e! \u0026lsquo;Dearest\u0026rsquo;! \u0026lsquo;Beloved\u0026rsquo;! Oh, I don\u0026rsquo;t know how I kept it up so long!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab stared at him, and her outrage began to yield to an overwhelming surge of relief. \u0026ldquo;So you \u003cem\u003edon\u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u0026rsquo;\u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003et\u003c/em\u003e want to marry me?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eMarry \u003c/em\u003eyou?\u0026rdquo; said Koet, and the face he made was so incredulous that she burst out laughing\u0026mdash;and once she started, she found she couldn\u0026rsquo;t stop. She sat down on her bed across from Koet\u0026rsquo;s chair and doubled over, roaring with laughter. Koet managed to continue. \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eMarry \u003c/em\u003eyou? By Ahkin of the Waves, it would feel like marrying my sister. Hell, I\u0026rsquo;d \u003cem\u003erather\u003c/em\u003e marry my sister. At least she respects me enough not to fill my atole with salt while my back is turned.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs the laughter rolled out of Kaab, so did at least some of her worry. She might still be bound by the wishes of the heads of her family, she might still face poisoners, spies, and, above all, the Duchess Tremontaine, but at least Kaab was not entirely alone. A coconspirator had arrived.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well?\u0026rdquo; she said, when she could finally speak again. \u0026ldquo;What are we going to do?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe sobered, and for the first time seemed to reflect seriously. \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know. I mean \u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. honestly, Kaab, I\u0026rsquo;d be willing, if you were. If it had to be.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe looked at him, surprised.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I know it\u0026rsquo;s not what either of us wants. I just mean\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. I just want you to know, if it were necessary, I\u0026rsquo;d be\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. I\u0026rsquo;d be honored to stand at your side. And I would never\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. if you didn\u0026rsquo;t wish it, I would never\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab nodded hastily, cutting off his embarrassed and embarrassing stammer. \u0026ldquo;I understand. Me too. I mean, I appreciate it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey both took a breath, looking away from each other. Koet started again, in a very low voice. \u0026ldquo;Because, Kaab, I do know you, maybe better than you realize. I\u0026rsquo;m not a fool. I know you don\u0026rsquo;t care for men in that way.\u0026rdquo; She threw him a wry glance and he gave a short laugh. \u0026ldquo;Well, how can I blame you? I don\u0026rsquo;t, either. I also have no interest in a woman I grew up with and know to be a wicked tormenting brat!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab raised an eyebrow. \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eI \u003c/em\u003ewas not the brat!\u0026rdquo; Her face grew more serious. \u0026ldquo;So\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. what are we going to do?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. what if we wait until we\u0026rsquo;re ancient and decrepit and it doesn\u0026rsquo;t matter anymore? What skin is it off our noses if we\u0026rsquo;re married four days before we crumble into dust? We\u0026rsquo;d still be obeying them.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer brow furrowed. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m not sure they\u0026rsquo;d see it that way.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Of course they won\u0026rsquo;t. But if you and I together can\u0026rsquo;t find a way out of this, then we\u0026rsquo;re not\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u0026mdash;bold conquerors of the wicked Moon People?\u0026rdquo; They laughed together, and it felt wonderful. In one moment Koet had transformed from a problem to an ally, and Kaab felt quite giddy with relief.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen their laughter finally slowed, there was a quiet creak, and they turned to see the door cracking open and Cho peering around it, wide-eyed, before she stepped inside to glare at them, hands on her hips. Bundled up in a night-robe, her hair swept back in a single long plait for sleeping, she looked like a little girl, but for the steely gleam in her eyes. She spoke in a loud whisper. \u0026ldquo;What! Are! You! Two! Doing! You\u0026rsquo;ll wake up the house with your laughing. You\u0026rsquo;re not married \u003cem\u003eyet\u003c/em\u003e, you know!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab and Koet couldn\u0026rsquo;t help giggling at her tone. Kaab rose and closed the door, and drew her over to the bed to sit. She spoke gently. \u0026ldquo;Cho. Listen. Your party may have been a \u003cem\u003elittle \u003c/em\u003ebit premature.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What do you mean?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well. We haven\u0026rsquo;t even made promises yet.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, who cares about those? The family wants you to get married. What more do you need?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Sister,\u0026rdquo; said Koet, \u0026ldquo;you \u003cem\u003eare \u003c/em\u003egetting ahead of yourself.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I am \u003cem\u003enot\u003c/em\u003e!\u0026rdquo; she said, suddenly fierce.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Why is it so important to you?\u0026rdquo; said Kaab, genuinely curious.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Why? Because, well, of course it\u0026rsquo;s important! It\u0026rsquo;s, it\u0026rsquo;s\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; She trailed off, looking down. Kaab and Koet exchanged a glance, and then looked back at the girl.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCho raised her head again and rattled off without a breath, \u0026ldquo;Because Kaax and Chimes have spent \u003cem\u003eyears \u003c/em\u003emaking fun of me for all \u003cem\u003ekinds \u003c/em\u003eof things\u0026mdash;my teeth, my hair, my height\u0026mdash;and when I get back and I\u0026rsquo;m the sister-in-law of the first daughter of a first daughter, \u003cem\u003ethey\u0026rsquo;ll be sorry\u003c/em\u003e!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab was shocked into silence for a moment, then burst out laughing even harder than before. \u0026ldquo;Cho,\u0026rdquo; she said, \u0026ldquo;I promise you that, whether your brother and I marry or not, we will find a way for you to put Kaax and Chimes in their place.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCho looked unconvinced. \u0026ldquo;This will be a good marriage, for everyone. Without it, who knows if they\u0026rsquo;ll let Koet stay as head of trading here? And if he goes home a failure, what about me? It would be bad for our whole family. I don\u0026rsquo;t know why you and Koet have cold feet, but this \u003cem\u003ematters\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet reached across and squeezed her hand. \u0026ldquo;Listen, little sister. Do not worry. Kaab and I will figure something out. You and I will \u003cem\u003enot\u003c/em\u003e go home in disgrace. You can count on that.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs the brother and sister glared at each other, Kaab thought they looked very much alike\u0026mdash;and that she would much rather have them on her side than ever have to go up against them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThen Cho turned back to Kaab with a little puppyish wriggle and blurted, \u0026ldquo;Did you like the party?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab was speechless.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCho bounced with exasperation. \u0026ldquo;The party! This afternoon? The one I planned for you?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, Cho, yes! I\u0026rsquo;m sorry, didn\u0026rsquo;t I say? Yes, and did you really plan it all yourself?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe girl beamed. \u0026ldquo;I did! Of course I got everyone else involved, everyone helped, but it was my idea, and I planned the menu and the decorations and got everyone there in time to yell \u003cem\u003esurprise\u003c/em\u003e and\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. did you really like it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab put one arm around her shoulders and gave her a little hug. \u0026ldquo;I loved it.\u0026rdquo; Cho hugged back, grinning happily. Kaab went on, \u0026ldquo;So much that if I ever really do get married, \u003cem\u003efar\u003c/em\u003e in the distant future, I\u0026rsquo;ll ask you to do it again.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCho\u0026rsquo;s smile vanished in an instant. She stood, glared at both them. \u0026ldquo;This. Isn\u0026rsquo;t. Over,\u0026rdquo; she said, and flounced from the room, her long braid flying behind her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab collapsed breathless on the bed as Koet choked with laughter. She had forgotten how good it felt to be with old, old friends.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen the room was quiet again, Koet yawned. \u0026ldquo;Well, I suppose I should say goodnight,\u0026rdquo; he said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;In a bit,\u0026rdquo; said Kaab. \u0026ldquo;First, I must tell you about Diane, Duchess Tremontaine.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet raised an eyebrow. \u0026ldquo;Oh, are you going to trust me with real information at last?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab shrugged. \u0026ldquo;It seems you are not a complete idiot. And if I have to work with you, you may as well not be utterly in the dark.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet snorted. Kaab went to a small table by the window and poured two glasses of mint water from a decanter. She needed Koet to understand how the duchess and she were working together, using each other to influence\u0026mdash;to manipulate\u0026mdash;politics, the merchants, the Hill, all the complex changes in the City that would strengthen Balam interests and ultimately rebound to all Kinwiinik glory. But could she tell him Diane\u0026rsquo;s secret? And about their more intimate entanglement?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs she came back to where he sat and handed him the glass, she knew she would not. Yes, he was her ally. And perhaps a real friend. But their alliance was too new.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet sipped, and leaned forward intently in his chair. \u0026ldquo;Well?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd she began to tell him exactly as much as he needed to know.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess paused, walking home, to take the shawl off her head and wring the rain out of it. It had been pelting down all evening, but at last the skies relented for a moment. The quiet midnight, the air redolent of rain-washed stones and river murk, almost passed for pleasant. She shook the threadbare wool out with a snap, then raised her head, listening. The night was not so quiet after all\u0026mdash;there was trouble brewing, and not far off.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe walked briskly on, and soon she turned a corner to see a crowd gathered across from Madeline Teague\u0026rsquo;s house, seething and shouting.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe didn\u0026rsquo;t like the look of it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe didn\u0026rsquo;t like the sound of it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd she didn\u0026rsquo;t like the smell of it. It wouldn\u0026rsquo;t have been Riverside without a few drunks staggering their way home in the street. But there had to be at least twenty people massed there, and half of them stinking drunk. Some of them were standing in the doorway as though defending it, and some were squared off as though determined to get in.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Not like this is your house anyway!\u0026rdquo; somebody shouted, and another voice roared, \u0026ldquo;We got as much right to it as you do!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess caught sight of Madeline on the fringes of the crowd and hurried over. \u0026ldquo;For the Land\u0026rsquo;s sake, what\u0026rsquo;s going on?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Nothing good,\u0026rdquo; said Madeline. \u0026ldquo;Near a dozen roustabouts working on the damned bridge. Apparently they decided that it would be easier to stay in Riverside than\u0026mdash;wherever they\u0026rsquo;ve been staying. They went looking for a house. And they found this one, and they\u0026rsquo;ve decided to take it\u0026mdash;threw the folk right out!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, god. Who\u0026rsquo;s living there now?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMadeline said something that Tess couldn\u0026rsquo;t hear over the shouting and the rain. \u0026ldquo;Who?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eSlender Thea!\u003c/em\u003e And her brood.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess inhaled sharply. \u0026ldquo;Kids? They kicked kids out into the street?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Seems like it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe looked around\u0026mdash;there was Slender Thea huddled against the wall, one babe in her arms, the others clinging to her and wailing, all of them in their dripping night clothes, as her eldest girl tried desperately to soothe them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess looked back over at the milling crowd. Some of them were Riversiders she knew. Others not.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDefinitely not.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA shout: \u0026ldquo;Listen, you lot.\u0026rdquo; This was Lucky Luther, who was at least a head taller than the tallest in the crowd. The mass quieted down a little. \u0026ldquo;I think it\u0026rsquo;s time you get home.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess held her breath, hoping against hope that they would listen. Just two weeks ago she\u0026rsquo;d seen Lucky grab Sparky Marks by the pants and collar and toss him from the Broken Wheel into the street as if he were a sack of oranges. It might work.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s just the thing,\u0026rdquo; slurred one man. \u0026ldquo;I \u003cem\u003eam \u003c/em\u003ehome.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Damn,\u0026rdquo; Tess spat.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd the crowd surged upon Lucky and one another, and someone threw the first punch.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eYoung Bullseye ran by, and Tess, quick as a flash, grabbed his arm. \u0026ldquo;Go get Joss Clemsen, he\u0026rsquo;ll be two streets down, in the Brown Dog. Tell him I said to bring his crew.\u0026rdquo; Bullseye longingly eyed the fight, and Tess shook him. \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eNow\u003c/em\u003e,\u0026rdquo; she hissed. \u0026ldquo;You can come back and get your face rearranged right after.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd he spun on his heel and sped around the corner.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess and Madeline stood in silence, eyes moving back and forth from each other to what was now a full-fledged brawl. \u0026ldquo;Come \u003cem\u003eon, \u003c/em\u003ecome \u003cem\u003eon\u003c/em\u003e!\u0026rdquo; Tess whispered to the air.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Ah, it\u0026rsquo;ll be all right, don\u0026rsquo;t you think, Tess? So there\u0026rsquo;ll be a lot of men tomorrow with puffy eyes and split lips,\u0026rdquo; said Madeline. \u0026ldquo;Riverside\u0026rsquo;s seen much worse than what we\u0026rsquo;re looking at now.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess said nothing.\u003cbr /\u003e And there, finally, finally, splashing through the street to them, was Joss, with three barrel-chested, ragged-bearded toughs at his heels, Bullseye bobbing behind them. He owed Tess plenty of favors, and a glance at her told him what he needed to know. He cocked a meaty fist, eyed the nearest man he didn\u0026rsquo;t recognize, and felled him with a blow. Tess prayed it would be enough to calm the brawl down.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;We can take him!\u0026rdquo; shouted somebody she couldn\u0026rsquo;t see. And the roustabouts ran toward Joss.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut they were drunk, and he was a Riverside publican.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJoss and his crew began throwing hands, in a roaring melee. The outsiders fought back with ale-fueled gusto, but one by one they fell, onto dirt or stones or puddles, until there were enough groaning bodies on the ground for the rest of them to think twice about continuing. The shouts finally stilled, and within moments all the workmen were swaying in the downpour, defeated, staring at Joss.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe big man said nothing. Grim-faced, nursing his battered and bleeding knuckles, he jerked his head in the direction of the bridge. And they left, straggling, staggering, muttering. But leaving.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Can you see to Thea and the kids?\u0026rdquo; she said to Lucky Luther, who was grinning even as a goose egg swelled on his cheek.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe rasped, \u0026ldquo;Ah, now, that was a prime set-to!\u0026rdquo; and pushed off to guide Thea and her wailing children back into their home. \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess surveyed the scene. \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t like it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMadeline gave a short tired laugh. \u0026ldquo;What? A street full of brawlers? There\u0026rsquo;s nothing new.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess took a deep breath. \u0026ldquo;But this bridge they\u0026rsquo;re building, all the other chopping and changing.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well, it\u0026rsquo;s not as if any of it will touch Riverside, in the end. They\u0026rsquo;ll finish the bridge and these louts will all leave once there\u0026rsquo;s no more work for them.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s just the thing. What\u0026rsquo;s going on \u003cem\u003ewill\u003c/em\u003e touch Riverside. And much worse. I don\u0026rsquo;t know how, but it will. Before this is over, they\u0026rsquo;re going to find a way to fuck Riverside.\u0026rdquo; She shook her head. \u0026ldquo;For good.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\nA visitor from Kaab’s past arrived in the city, upending the balance of power in the Balam compound. Meanwhile, Tess confronted a City plan that threatens Riverside’s way of life. After a year of toil, Rafe finished writing his book, forcing him to consider his future. Diane sought to deepen some of her alliances.\n\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eWho's Who:\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah Heslop \u0026ndash; farm girl and brilliant mathematician trying to make sense of new opportunities\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess the Hand \u0026ndash; a talented forger working to keep Riverside safe\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.300","slug":"tremontaine-s4e02","audio":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/audio/season4/TremontaineS4E02.mp3","epub":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E02.epub","mobi":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E02.mobi","pdf":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E02.pdf","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b1821e1b467920001f6c8bb","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 2"},{"id":"5b18222bb467920001f6c8bc","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":4,"title":"Building Bridges","released_date":"2018-09-26T11:39:52.596+00:00","released":true,"strapline":"Kaab has a warning for Tess","byline":"Liz Duffy Adams and Delia Sherman","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/covers/season4/TremontaineS4E03_2.jpg","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/dividers/tremontaine_divider.png","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-09-26","body":"\u003cp\u003eThe day Diane, Duchess Tremontaine made her first address to the Council of Lords, it was raining. As it had the day before, and the day before that.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCity springs were famously a time of downpours and lingering mists. In other years, these had been interspersed with patches of clear sky, shafts of sunlight, and serene blue twilights that shaded into velvet nights studded with stars. This year, however, there was no relief. When it wasn\u0026rsquo;t raining, the sky was grey, the air was heavy and moist. Tempers soured, concentration wavered, and the laundry hung out in drying yards failed to dry. The roads to the country clogged with mud and fallen trees, keeping those nobles addicted to sport from their fishing and carriage races and those whose concerns were more practical from overseeing the spring sowing on their estates.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll of which explained not only why there were more nobles gathered in the Council Hall that morning than usual, but why they were far more fractious.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn one of the tiered banks of benches, Lord Reginald Berowne was lecturing Lord Peter Fitz-Levi. Lord Reginald had made a study of City architecture, and in Lord Peter, who was only sixteen, and attending Council for the first time with his father, he felt he had found a receptive audience. Eagerly, he recounted how King Alcuin had sent finely planed oak as a courting gift to Queen Diane. The negotiations over their betrothal had lasted long enough for the panels to be carved and installed in the ancient Hall of Princes, where the queen received her betrothed when he rode south to marry her. \u0026ldquo;The scrollwork and the gilding,\u0026rdquo; he said, gesturing expansively, \u0026ldquo;is from a later date, but is still Monarchical, unlike Bellerocque\u0026rsquo;s famous frieze, which is, of course, quite modern.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indeed,\u0026rdquo; said Lord Peter, very politely, very aware of his father listening for the slightest hint of boredom in his voice. \u0026ldquo;Very interesting,\u0026rdquo; he added.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLord Reginald beamed. \u0026ldquo;Isn\u0026rsquo;t it? That\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;he gestured at a painting just opposite\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;is David the King Killer himself, addressing the very first Council of Lords. He has a look of the late Duke William, I think.\u0026rdquo; His wrinkled cheeks drooped. \u0026ldquo;Poor man. It\u0026rsquo;s hard to believe there\u0026rsquo;s only a Duchess Tremontaine now\u0026mdash;duchess in her own right, if you please. Sitting in Council. I\u0026rsquo;ve never heard of such a thing.\u0026rdquo; His voice grew indignant. \u0026ldquo;It isn\u0026rsquo;t natural.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLord Nevilleson, who\u0026rsquo;d been examining his shirt cuff, sat up eagerly. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s a disgrace, is what it is. The woman is a menace.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;A menace?\u0026rdquo; Young Peter was startled. He\u0026rsquo;d met Diane, even flirted with her once or twice. She was much too old for him, of course, but very beautiful, with a little twinkle of mischief in her manner that made her damnably attractive. \u0026ldquo;I thought she was rather clever.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Clever!\u0026rdquo; Lord Nevilleson sniffed. \u0026ldquo;I dare say\u0026mdash;like a monkey or a parrot that performs tricks without understanding what it does. It\u0026rsquo;s impossible to take her seriously. I\u0026rsquo;ve said it before, and I\u0026rsquo;ll say it again: Women belong in the bedchamber and the salon, not the Council. She\u0026rsquo;s only going to make a fool of herself.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis speech, delivered with indignant force, drew the attention of Lord Lionel Chesney from his low-voiced conversation with his neighbor. Having been promoted to the Dragon Chancellor\u0026rsquo;s staff some months ago, he remained the charming dandy he had always been, but increasingly influential. \u0026ldquo;Re-ally?\u0026rdquo; he drawled. \u0026ldquo;I think you\u0026rsquo;re wrong there. She\u0026rsquo;s quite intelligent. She handled that business of poor William\u0026rsquo;s going off the rails well.\u0026rdquo; Lionel smiled to himself, remembering how reluctantly Diane had released him from their affair for the sake of his future. \u003cem\u003eYou will always have my vote\u003c/em\u003e, he thought sentimentally.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Poor William, indeed,\u0026rdquo; Nevilleson said stoutly. \u0026ldquo;He started off this fad for modernization, with his scientific interests and his University governorship. I don\u0026rsquo;t trust a noble who hobnobs with scientists and philosophers\u0026mdash;students, some of them, not even doctors, which is odd, to be sure, but\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; Catching Lionel\u0026rsquo;s expression of bright interest, he coughed and fell silent.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Quite.\u0026rdquo; Lionel\u0026rsquo;s smile was affable. \u0026ldquo;Still. Whatever poor William\u0026rsquo;s shortcomings as a duke, his wife is Tremontaine now. We just have to suffer it, it seems, whatever our private opinions concerning ambitious women.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt this juncture, Lord Fitz-Levi, Peter\u0026rsquo;s father, said, \u0026ldquo;I like the little Diane. She keeps a good table, and any man with an eye in his head can see that she\u0026rsquo;s no fool. She understands what\u0026rsquo;s going on in the City surprisingly well for a beauty.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Still,\u0026rdquo; said Lord Reginald Berowne, \u0026ldquo;it remains to be seen how well she understands this bridge business. I don\u0026rsquo;t understand it myself, truth be told. I see no reason to go messing about with new bridges, when the existing system works perfectly well.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Exactly,\u0026rdquo; said Nevilleson sourly, and then, \u0026ldquo;She\u0026rsquo;s late. How like a woman, to keep us all waiting!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the row above them, Lord Durant said, \u0026ldquo;So, too, is Arlen. In fact, he\u0026rsquo;s always late. The Duke of Hartsholt \u003cem\u003enever\u003c/em\u003e attends, and all Karleigh does is eat biscuits, interrupt, and refuse to vote on anything that doesn\u0026rsquo;t touch the North directly. \u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Speaking of at least one devil,\u0026rdquo; said Lord Lionel, \u0026ldquo;Here comes Arlen now.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe jackdaw chatter of a hundred and fifty men gossiping, arguing, instructing, and flirting sank to a murmur as the imposing figure of Geoffrey, Lord Arlen, the Serpent Chancellor, mounted the dais. He greeted the other chancellors with a civil nod, took his seat beside the Dragon, and templed his fingers before the golden snake embroidered on the deep blue velvet of his Chancellor\u0026rsquo;s robe. A moment, then another, and the great double doors at the end of the hall opened to admit Diane, Duchess Tremontaine, dressed soberly in rich green and gold, her only jewel the Tremontaine ruby glowing on one slender hand.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Magnificent,\u0026rdquo; breathed Lord Durant.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Harpy,\u0026rdquo; muttered Lord Nevilleson.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The show begins,\u0026rdquo; said Lionel, and leaned back against the bench, ready to be entertained.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane kept her eyes on the dais as she strode briskly between the banks of seated nobles. She carried her hands clasped at her waist, in case anyone might see them tremble and think her afraid when, in truth, she was half-drunk with excitement. Facing the Court of Honor when she was declared duchess\u0026mdash;that had been nothing next to the continual joy of taking a seat in the Council of Lords\u0026mdash;Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s seat, \u003cem\u003eher \u003c/em\u003eseat\u0026mdash;as was her right and privilege under the law.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe mounted the dais and bestowed a brilliant social smile on each of her Inner Council colleagues in turn. Automatically, they smiled back. Every eye in the hall was upon her, she knew, watching her demonstrate that the Inner Council approved of her, liked her, was with her. She moved to the chair at the end of the line of Chancellors and sank into her seat, with Arlen on one side of her and the bluff Duke of Karleigh on the other. She nodded graciously to the Crescent. Tremontaine was present. The Council could begin.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was almost funny watching dear Nicholas Galing realize that it must look as though he\u0026rsquo;d been waiting for her permission to open the proceedings. He frowned, smoothed his robes, and gestured to the heralds, who pounded their staves on the floor.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs the noise stilled, Diane surveyed the room. She\u0026rsquo;d seen the Council Chamber at convocations and Solstice balls, but only in the past year had she seen it in the daylight. At Solstice, the room was hung with boughs and garlands and smelled festively of wax candles and roasted meat. Diane preferred it as it was now: spare, severe, businesslike. The soft grey light from the long windows illuminated the massed nobility of the City, facing the dais in an open square of banked, cushioned benches. She saw Lionel Chesney, who was clearly coming up in the world, just as she\u0026rsquo;d planned. On the whole, she was pleased with the way she\u0026rsquo;d managed the business with him last year, and felt she could count on him, just as she could count on Lord Ferris to oppose her, as well as his cronies, like Lord Nevilleson and silly Reginald Berowne\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. oh, and Karleigh\u0026mdash;traditionalists to a man, viewing all change as a threat to their power.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThese men considered themselves powerful, no doubt, but none of them had half the power\u0026mdash;or the magnetism\u0026mdash;of Lord Geoffrey Davenant. Diane allowed herself a small, secret smile. Only two months since, her old lover had been laid low by an apoplectic fit\u0026mdash;not, of course, \u003cem\u003eat all\u003c/em\u003e related to that unfortunate business with the swordsman\u0026mdash;and was not expected to recover. A pity, of course, but a relief as well. The new Dragon\u0026mdash;pro tem, until the Council found time for a proper election\u0026mdash;was dear Basil Halliday, who was certainly on her side. And there was Lassiter smiling at her, and Perry and dear Lord Fitz-Levi\u0026mdash;men she knew supported both her and the bridge. She\u0026rsquo;d done the important work already, dropping words in the right ears. Today, she need only present her case clearly, demonstrate (with charm and wit, of course) how the Council\u0026rsquo;s permission to move the bridge was simply a formality.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGaling declared the Council open, paused, cleared his throat, and said, \u0026ldquo;Tremontaine has asked to speak to the bridge-building project. Duchess?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane nodded graciously. \u0026ldquo;My lords. The dredging project is proceeding well. I must only make you aware of a trifling change in the plans. It seems that we should be grateful that the dreadful weather we\u0026rsquo;ve been having has delayed the work on the new bridge. Master Robertson has informed me that due to unexpected limestone deposits discovered while digging, it is impossible for the piers for the bridge to be sunk where the original plan called for them.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA puzzled silence, and then Lord Berowne said, \u0026ldquo;How can it be impossible? I thought the man said it was the only place the damn thing could go!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShouts of \u0026ldquo;Hear! Hear!\u0026rdquo; from the anti-bridge faction.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane was prepared for this, and also for Karleigh breaking in to announce that the whole project was impossible and should be scrapped instantly. She spoke on, knowing what she wanted to say and knowing she was saying it well. As she spoke of pylons and stone, of riverbanks and currents and anchorage, she saw many thoughtful faces and nodding heads. Lord Fitz-Levi was actually smiling. A fig for Karleigh and Nevilleson and the rest of the diehards. She could win this, she was sure. One tricky hurdle to clear, and she\u0026rsquo;d be past the post, as the betting men said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Very illuminating,\u0026rdquo; said the Serpent\u0026rsquo;s smooth voice beside her. \u0026ldquo;So the bridge must be moved\u0026mdash;granted. May we know where?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHere was the hurdle. The new plan moved the western end of the bridge from an existing road that led from a landing stage a few yards downriver, through a small park containing a stone structure known as the Hall of the Companions. The Hall was just post-Union, roughly contemporary with the University building that had housed the Court of Wizards. It was monumental and windowless, with a narrow door in each wall, framed with carved trees and topped with a pediment depicting stags and bears. Once, it had stood isolated among thick-growing trees, but over the centuries, the city had gnawed away at the forest until all that remained was a little copse planted with elm and holly and one huge and venerable oak tree, which stood squarely in the middle of what would be the road leading to the new bridge. As far as Diane knew, neither building nor grove was of any interest to anyone except, perhaps, the occasional Master of Ancient History.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSatisfied, she sat back and let them study the beautifully rendered plan Robertson had prepared.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe banked seats were full of squinting eyes and frowns of concentration. Lord Nevilleson, she was amused to note, had recourse to a lorgnette. Karleigh, predictably, planted himself in directly front of the display, blocking it from view. The subsequent grumbling and cries of \u0026ldquo;Sit down, man!\u0026rdquo; and \u0026ldquo;Move aside, will you?\u0026rdquo; were cut off by Karleigh\u0026rsquo;s bellow of rage.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The Sacred Oak!\u0026rdquo; he roared. \u0026ldquo;They want to cut down the Sacred Oak!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis, Diane had not prepared for. \u003cem\u003eSacred Oak?\u003c/em\u003e What on earth was he talking about?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJudging from their expressions, the men in the hall not only knew what Karleigh meant, but were just as appalled. For a breathless moment, the very dust motes seemed to suspend their endless dance, and then the room erupted in a tumult of shocked cries and angry ranting. Diane, with difficulty, managed to retain at least an appearance of calm while the heralds pounded the floor with their staves and Galing shouted, \u0026ldquo;Order, my lords! \u003cem\u003eOrder\u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003e!\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt last things calmed enough for the most insistent voice to be heard\u0026mdash;Lord Nevilleson\u0026rsquo;s, afire with righteous indignation. \u0026ldquo;Very impressive,\u0026rdquo; he sneered. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s clear to be seen that you\u0026mdash;or Master Robertson\u0026mdash;have been more than thorough. It\u0026rsquo;s a pity such a mighty effort should have all gone for nothing.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eDamn the man\u003c/em\u003e. \u0026ldquo;Nothing, my lord?\u0026rdquo; Diane said doucely. \u0026ldquo;Raven Chancellor?\u0026rdquo; She appealed to Lord Ranulph Lassiter. \u0026ldquo;Has the Council not already approved the bridge? Do you have the power to rescind that permission?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLord Ferris rose. \u0026ldquo;My lady Duchess. The Council agreed to allow a bridge that would give onto an existing road. If you will remember, there was considerable opposition even to that.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis tone was smug, his attitude triumphant as a gamester throwing down a winning card. Something was at stake here, Diane realized\u0026mdash;something every man in the room understood and she did not. For a fleeting moment she regretted not discussing the exact placement of the bridge with Basil or Fitz-Levi, then let it go again. Regrets were futile. Summoning up a smile the wry twin of Ferris\u0026rsquo;s, she returned the bow.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLord Ferris went on. \u0026ldquo;Suffice it to say that you must accept that any plan affecting the Hall of the Companions or the Grove\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;the capital letters were clear in his voice\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;it stands on, most especially the oak at the northeast corner, will never meet with the Council\u0026rsquo;s approval.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCheers from the older nobles.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe issue, she thought, must be this Sacred Oak, as Karleigh had called it, like a noble title. Had William ever mentioned it? Not that she remembered. Still, every woman knew there were things men kept to themselves. Some of them might even be real secrets, unlike courtesans and whores. But that didn\u0026rsquo;t matter. The bridge did.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I understand your concern,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;It is a magnificent tree, of course, and very ancient. But surely the fate of one tree, however venerable, cannot stand in the way of a project of such importance to the future of the City\u0026mdash;indeed, of the whole country?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKarleigh begged the heavens to deliver him from women with ideas. Angry mutters swelled, then sank as Basil Halliday spoke.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Master Robertson cannot be expected to appreciate the historical importance of the Hall of the Companions and the Sacred Oak. Could not the bridge be built farther downstream?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The damn thing shouldn\u0026rsquo;t be built at all!\u0026rdquo; Karleigh shouted, and Nevilleson cried, \u0026ldquo;Hear, hear!\u0026rdquo; Pandemonium reigned; the heralds pounded their staves.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen order had been restored, Galing looked down the table at Diane. \u0026ldquo;Well, Duchess? Can the bridge be moved elsewhere?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane did not like direct confrontation. Arguments made her impatient and liable to lose control of her temper, which, she knew, would be disastrous. Karleigh could swear, Nevilleson could rage without anyone thinking the less of their sense or opinions. But Diane, Duchess Tremontaine, must retain her poise and her smile, come what may.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry,\u0026rdquo; she said gently. \u0026ldquo;Master Robertson was very clear. This is the best place for the bridge to be built.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNevilleson sprang to his feet. \u0026ldquo;What you ask is impossible. You know nothing about the Oak or the Hall of the Companions. And neither does that jumped-up mason. It\u0026rsquo;s my belief that you don\u0026rsquo;t care about the City at all. You care only about forcing us to bow to your whims! Yes, and opening our pockets to help pay for them, or I much miss my guess.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis elicited a low murmur that seemed, to Diane, to be entirely approving. Even Fitz-Levi looked thoughtful in a way she could not like.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Why,\u0026rdquo; Nevilleson went on, \u0026ldquo;would Tremontaine be so interested in bridge-building? Is it yet another tribute to the late duke? In that case, it can only dishonor his memory, as a noble of the Land, that the Companions\u0026rsquo; Oak must be felled to build it!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLord Ferris clapped, setting off a volley of applause. When it had died down, Diane said, \u0026ldquo;That is a strong statement, Lord Nevilleson. Can you tell me more of this oak, which I confess I have never heard mentioned before this moment? Instruct me, I beg of you, so that I may know how I have transgressed.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSilence. Diane looked from ally to ally. Their eyes slid aside. Basil Halliday positively blushed. \u003cem\u003eInteresting.\u003c/em\u003e Karleigh was ignoring her; Galing and Lassiter were whispering to each other. Arlen alone met her gaze, his expression both grave and amused. \u0026ldquo;You have put us in a quandary, I\u0026rsquo;m afraid. Your question is reasonable, but we cannot, in honor, answer it. You must accept that what you ask cannot be done, and that you cannot know why.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But the bridge,\u0026rdquo; Diane said, her voice more strained than she liked.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Is important,\u0026rdquo; said Fitz-Levi, levering himself to his feet. \u0026ldquo;Surely, if Master Robertson only understood the situation, he would be able to find another solution to the problem.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA sudden bark erupted from the Duke of Karleigh. \u0026ldquo;Put the damned thing on Riverside!\u0026rdquo; He\u0026rsquo;d been scowling at the ceiling since returning to his seat, like a man unaccustomed to thinking furiously chasing down a thought. Now he leaned forward fiercely, daring anyone to deny its brilliance.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGaling ventured, \u0026ldquo;My lord, I am not sure I understand your\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Couldn\u0026rsquo;t be more obvious! Can\u0026rsquo;t interfere with the Oak, bridge can\u0026rsquo;t be built by the dock\u0026mdash;run the damned thing through Riverside instead!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane remained outwardly serene, as if considering the idea, though she was sure that involving Riverside would prove disastrous. Riverside was trouble, always\u0026mdash;everyone knew that. Surely, the others would reject such a plan. They must. It was unthinkable.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFerris looked at Diane, as though his response would hinge on how much the new idea would annoy her. \u0026ldquo;Interesting,\u0026rdquo; he said slowly. \u0026ldquo;Worth considering.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThen Lionel spoke up, beaming at Diane as though fully confident he was riding heroically to her rescue. \u0026ldquo;Well, I think it\u0026rsquo;s a damned good idea. It would certainly make Riverside more useful than it is now.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA buzz arose, surprisingly favorable in tone. The entire Council seemed to agree that this new idea might offer a simple solution, and best of all would allow them to stop speaking of things never meant to be mentioned in front of a lady. Diane sent Lionel a smile that was anything but grateful. He didn\u0026rsquo;t notice.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNevilleson was on his feet again. Really, the man was like a child\u0026rsquo;s toy. Every time he was slapped down, he popped back up again, with his nasal drawl, his froggy eyes, and his over-elaborate coats. He\u0026rsquo;d approached Diane at the Perrys\u0026rsquo; Last Night ball with every confidence that she tumble into his arms at a word and a smile. She\u0026rsquo;d rejected him briskly, and perhaps more publicly than was prudent. Could this be his revenge?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;In any case,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;the whole proposal is ridiculous and always has been. The docks need rebuilding, granted. But we\u0026rsquo;ve done very well all these years with barges. What are the bargemen to do, pray, when their livelihood is taken from them? What of the loaders? These are rough men, remember, apt to riot. They\u0026rsquo;re already restive, with all these men coming in from the North, looking for work. Once the bridge is finished, what are we going to do with them?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe question was a repetition of everything he\u0026rsquo;d said when the project was first brought up before the Council, possibly even in the same words.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA surge of anger poured through her. \u0026ldquo;Lord Nevilleson,\u0026rdquo; she said through stiff lips. \u0026ldquo;We all know how \u003cem\u003efrightened\u003c/em\u003e you are of the rough, rough dockworkers.\u0026rdquo; Gasps, snorts. Someone sniggered. \u0026ldquo;I am confident, as were the greater part of the Council when the subject was brought up before, that the bargemen will have no trouble finding employment on the docks and that the Watch is more than competent to deal with any who do.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith that, Diane, Duchess Tremontaine rose, shook out her skirts, and left the Chamber, her hem rippling along the tiles, her heart pounding in time to her hurrying feet. Her face burned; her hands were chill. Her mind was a cauldron of disjointed thoughts: \u003cem\u003eStupid. Shortsighted. Self-centered. Damn them to the coldest of the Seven Hells! Why couldn\u0026rsquo;t they just do as they were told? \u003c/em\u003eAnd, finally: \u003cem\u003eI will have to tell Kaab.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab reached the middle of the bridge and paused. It was a fine spring afternoon; the sky was still streaked with grey, but the rains had relented for the moment, sunlight gleamed dully on the water, and a linden tree clinging to the stony bank had burst into pale flower, the scent overlaying the murky stink of the river. The bridge to Riverside was more crowded than ever, with all the newcomers to the City. But with the break in the rain, the throng had a relaxed, holiday air, even the groups of workmen walking shoulder to shoulder. It was the sort of day on which even a wary spy might be tempted to feel everything would be for the best. But Kaab was well aware that things were never that simple.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe was on her way to see Tess. It was one of their regular meetings as friends and allies to exchange information and confer about the areas where their allegiances and priorities overlapped. A useful source for both of them. For her part, Kaab looked forward to these encounters, now the sorrow and bitterness of their parting was long absorbed, and she could honestly enjoy her one-time lover\u0026rsquo;s company, her good sense and humor.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRegretfully, Kaab was aware that this meeting would almost certainly not be pleasant. What they had to talk about today would test their alliance, she feared. Diane had written a few lines straightaway to inform Kaab of the Council\u0026rsquo;s unexpected recalcitrance, and, almost in passing, of the new proposal, which would move the bridge to the southern end of Riverside.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab leaned against the balustrade and looked across the water to Riverside. Not far away, a line of barges bristling with equipment were tied up to the southern tip of the island. Above them, along the embankment, Riversiders were going about their business. Farther back, stone and timber tenements leaned against each other in jumbled promiscuity, laundry flapping from windows in the brief respite from rain. Kaab squinted, trying to picture a huge, wide, new bridge bulling its way onto the island, displacing all that, and carrying on westward to the other bank. It wasn\u0026rsquo;t easy to disregard the teeming life already in place.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut change was good, when it brought good things. The new docks and warehouses\u0026mdash;even the bridge\u0026mdash;would certainly benefit the City and the Kinwiinik. Her alliance with Diane, apart from bringing her a great deal of fierce pleasure, was proving well worth having; Diane\u0026rsquo;s placement on the Hill and access to its powers gave Kaab a satisfactory sense of covert influence. But her aims and Diane\u0026rsquo;s were complementary, after all. It was too much to hope that Tess would see the coming changes in the same way. Yet they\u0026rsquo;d benefit Riverside as well. Kaab just hoped she could get Tess to see how much.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA crowd of Riverside urchins jostled past her, their dirty faces gleeful with some mischief or other. Kaab felt reflexively for her purse and found it intact\u0026mdash;as well as a folded slip of paper, which she pulled out and examined. A penciled scrawl in a masculine hand she recognized as David Rook\u0026rsquo;s read, \u003cem\u003eHave discovered FS\u0026rsquo;s weak point. Investigating further.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe hissed an oath under her breath. What was this? Rook had his orders: \u003cem\u003eLeave. The merchant. Alone\u003c/em\u003e. No one on earth could want more than she to punish Frances Salford, the smooth-faced villain who had caused her aunt\u0026rsquo;s murder. But Saabim herself would have opposed any such vengeance if it conflicted with the fortunes of the Balam. The river project, the increase in trade, the subsequent incalculable benefit to the family\u0026mdash;all that was paramount, and any Balam connection to the death of a merchant would spell disaster.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs though in idleness, Kaab tore the note into tiny fragments and let them drift like snow down into the river. She liked David. His love and devotion to her aunt and now to her memory were laudable. That didn\u0026rsquo;t make his going rogue any less frustrating. Kaab was determined to be Salford\u0026rsquo;s downfall one day. But that day was not now, whatever Rook might think. She would have to make that clear to him once more.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab took a breath and walked on.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn Tess\u0026rsquo;s chamber, where only the trusted few were admitted, a small fire hissed in the grate against the lingering chill that clung to these damp old piles, even as the casement window was cracked open to the spring breeze. Tess\u0026rsquo;s desk, with orderly stacks of parchment and her inks and tools of the forgers\u0026rsquo; craft, stood against one wall. Tess settled herself in a ragged slump of an armchair, and gave her a shrewd look.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab leaned back against the doorframe with studied nonchalance. \u0026ldquo;Well, what?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess snorted. \u0026ldquo;Do you think I can\u0026rsquo;t read you by now? You usually come in with your airs and flattery and your \u0026lsquo;How lovely you look, my dearest maize-silk ant-egg\u0026rsquo; before we get to the real talk at hand. Today you are as solemn as a Middle City magistrate! What ails you?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab did not appreciate being so easily read, even by one who knew her well. She shrugged. \u0026ldquo;I have a head full of business, that is all.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess pursed her lips, a mocking look. \u0026ldquo;Ah, poor Kaab! International woman of mystery, spy mistress whose shoulders bear the fate of the world. To think that you were once a carefree, bloodthirsty pirate girl, dashing and slashing your way through the streets of Riverside!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab found herself laughing. \u0026ldquo;I was never a pirate\u0026mdash;what a mad picture you paint!\u0026rdquo; She came and sat on a stool. \u0026ldquo;And to think you were once a carefree, red-haired lass, lover and\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Tess held up her hand and shook her head. \u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t. I was never carefree, was I? Couldn\u0026rsquo;t be. Or if I was, I don\u0026rsquo;t want to remember just now.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e They regarded each other for a moment, measuring the changes in silence.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThen Kaab nodded briskly, and said, \u0026ldquo;Well, then, to business. I need to tell you that change may be coming, but it will be change for the good, progress for the City and the Land. And for Riverside.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess narrowed her eyes. \u0026ldquo;So? It\u0026rsquo;s already come, and we\u0026rsquo;re dealing with it. All that dredging and building on the other banks, docks and warehouses and all\u0026mdash;it\u0026rsquo;s brought change, all right, too many newcomers too damned fast, and some of them gormless, and some of them troublemakers. But like I said, we\u0026rsquo;re dealing, as we always do.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab felt an impulse to rise and pace the small room, to get a little distance between them, but she resisted, staying still and easy. \u0026ldquo;There is much more to it. You know, I am sure, of the tremendous new bridge to be built between the left and right banks of the City, just downriver?\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e Tess nodded, waiting trustingly to hear more.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It seems that it must be moved. There is a difficulty with the riverbed. The Council is like a kicked hive over it. And someone suggested\u0026mdash;although the plan has not yet been formally approved\u0026mdash;that they build it over Riverside.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess stiffened in her chair, her eyes fixed hard on Kaab. \u0026ldquo;Wait, wait. What do you mean \u003cem\u003eover\u003c/em\u003e Riverside?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well, not precisely \u003cem\u003eover\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo; Kaab swallowed. \u0026ldquo;They propose to land it \u003cem\u003eon\u003c/em\u003e the island. Across the southern end.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess spoke slowly, as though wanting to be sure she understood, while having trouble believing her ears. \u0026ldquo;But\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. there are people \u003cem\u003eliving \u003c/em\u003ethere. There are \u003cem\u003ehouses, \u003c/em\u003eall the way to the bank.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab nodded.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess stood, pushing her armchair back with a scrape along the floor. \u0026ldquo;You can\u0026rsquo;t be serious.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab stood too, to face her. \u0026ldquo;It would be \u003cem\u003egood\u003c/em\u003e, Tess! Money would come in, new building, new people\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Good? Do you understand nothing about us, after all this time? New people who don\u0026rsquo;t understand our ways, new buildings to shove out us of the old, new money that won\u0026rsquo;t line our pockets but rob us of all we have\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But is that the only way to perceive the matter?\u0026rdquo; Kaab interrupted. \u0026ldquo;You have your own ways, yes, and perhaps I still do not perfectly understand them, even now. But I do know you love your independence, and I know you are proud of your lawlessness. Well, would not all this mean grand new outlaw opportunities? If anyone could find a way to take advantage of\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNow it was Tess who interrupted. \u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t talk down to me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t mean to, but\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hells, look at you!\u0026rdquo; Tess said, wondering. \u0026ldquo;Bright as a penny, as happy as anything\u0026mdash;you can\u0026rsquo;t hide it. This means all kinds of advantages to your precious family, doesn\u0026rsquo;t it? It\u0026rsquo;s all for your ambition, your own folk\u0026mdash;you care nothing for what it\u0026rsquo;ll do to us here.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab took a breath. \u0026ldquo;I cannot pretend that I do not see the promise. The world is always changing, Tess. We must rule the change, not be ruled by it\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. What?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess was staring at her with a new understanding growing in her eyes. \u0026ldquo;Oh. Oh, wait, I see. You aren\u0026rsquo;t just telling me what you\u0026rsquo;ve heard. You\u0026rsquo;re telling me what you\u0026rsquo;ve caused to \u003cem\u003ebe.\u003c/em\u003e This is your doing, you and your fine new friends up on the Hill. You \u003cem\u003emade this happen.\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I swear to you, I did not even know of this idea of moving the bridge to Riverside until this very\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess interrupted her impatiently. \u0026ldquo;But everything that\u0026rsquo;s been going on, \u003cem\u003eall\u003c/em\u003e the new changes\u0026mdash;you\u0026rsquo;ve been up to your behind-the-scenes tricks\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab opened her arms, her hands out wide, in a helpless gesture. \u0026ldquo;My beloved friend, you must\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t call me \u0026lsquo;friend.\u0026rsquo; You don\u0026rsquo;t stab friends in the back.\u0026rdquo; Tess\u0026rsquo;s voice was taut with anger. She went to the door, opened it, and stood aside. \u0026ldquo;I thought we could work together. It was a foolish thought.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab\u0026rsquo;s jaw tightened. \u0026ldquo;Do you throw me out? After everything, do you wish us to be strangers?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey stared at each other, Tess stern, Kaab fighting her impulse to yell. She softened her voice, almost pleading. \u0026ldquo;I know this is new to you. I do not expect you to embrace it instantly. But change is coming, whether you wish it or not. May we not discuss it, seek compromise, find the ways in which our interests may yet be aligned?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess looked through the window into the distance, as though staring out at some imagined other Riverside, remade and transformed by relentless progress. She took a deep breath, and turned back to Kaab.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Go,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;Go for now, let me think about all this. There\u0026rsquo;s a lot to consider. I just\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; She looked bleak. \u0026ldquo;I should have known better. Our loyalties have never run in harness. They were always bound to clash.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab took up Tess\u0026rsquo;s hand, and kissed one rough knuckle. Tess let her. And so they parted, seemingly reconciled. But as Kaab went down the stairs and back out into the fragile sunshine, she was pursued by a sad, uneasy sense of something lost.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha walked out onto the garden terrace of Ambassador House, and felt her spirits lift. The morning clouds had cleared to the edges of the sky and today\u0026mdash;even if only for the moment\u0026mdash;it was spring at last, properly spring, not the spring of chilly, driving, dreary rain rain rain, but the rewards of it: lucid blue sky, gentle sun, delightful breeze bearing the scents of trees and flowers that had burst into delicate yet exuberant blossom as though in an instant. Now at last she could enjoy the fruits of her labors, as her redesign of the gardens began at last to come to life.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThroughout these past months, through fall, winter, this sodden spring, she\u0026rsquo;d been working partly from maps and papers, partly from walks under an oiled parasol, conferring with the gardeners who came with the house\u0026rsquo;s lease. No one in a position of authority had taken an interest in years\u0026mdash;most of the wealthy lease-holders had been quite indifferent to the grounds, as long as they yielded fruits and cut flowers for the house and were respectable enough for the sake of appearances. The gardeners were accustomed to going their own way, and at first they\u0026rsquo;d been decidedly frosty at being obliged to carry out orders from this interloper, a semi-permanent houseguest of uncertain status and obscure nationality. But to Esha\u0026rsquo;s delight, they\u0026rsquo;d warmed to her when they realized the sincerity of her interest and the soundness of her research, and all had been smoothed by her tactful praise of their skills.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the course of one of those damp, rambling consultations, she had uncovered a weed-choked rectangle of gravel, edged with stone. When she asked the head gardener what it was, he had shrugged and said, \u0026ldquo;Just a country game, matter of rolling balls about and shouting, far as I can tell. Not my cup of chocolate\u0026mdash;give me a pair of dice any day.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe then seemed to recollect he was perhaps talking to a lady\u0026mdash;it was plain enough he and the others were sometimes uncertain as to her rank, but as she was the ambassador\u0026rsquo;s particular friend, it was safer to err on the side of respectful\u0026mdash;and so he coughed and added, \u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s gear for it in storage, ma\u0026rsquo;am, if you\u0026rsquo;d like me to set it all up.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA conversation with Reza that evening had shed little more light. He had looked vague at first, and then said, \u0026ldquo;Ah, no, I remember. A Landish game. A matter of rolling balls around a court? I\u0026rsquo;m not quite sure I see the point of it. But if you\u0026rsquo;d rather a ball court than another flower bed, I bow entirely to your taste.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha smiled secretly to hear the gardener\u0026rsquo;s response echoed in that of the prince. And the next day, she ordered the little court cleaned up. It made a pleasing symmetry with a rectangular reflecting pool on the other side of the walk, and good design, she felt, was its own justification.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNow she was glad she had. For the restored court had given her the opportunity to press Reza to invite Rafe to come and play the game with them. She had framed it as almost a necessity. \u0026ldquo;My friend,\u0026rdquo; she\u0026rsquo;d said. \u0026ldquo;I remain curious about that no-doubt silly game, out in the garden. I\u0026rsquo;ve found the rules for it. If, as I hope and the gardener swears, the sun deigns to show his face tomorrow, may I challenge you to a match?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Of course, my friend.\u0026rdquo; He had smiled at her. \u0026ldquo;I would deny you no pleasure within my power to grant.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe had taken a sip of her tisane and added, \u0026ldquo;It seems that the game requires a minimum of three players to be most pleasurable. Perhaps you will invite our dear Rafe to join us?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA flicker, in Reza\u0026rsquo;s eyes. Ah, she had thought so. Something was amiss between the two. Inwardly, she had sighed. It was perfectly plain to her that they were ardently in love with each other. Yet neither of them would admit it to the other, nor even, perhaps, to themselves. No doubt they had their reasons. But there was also no doubt that neither of them would be happy until they were in each other\u0026rsquo;s arms, and if there was anything she could do to make that happen, she most certainly would.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs for her own happiness\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. there she was all at sea. For the first time in her life, she had allowed herself to drift. She had never meant to stay so long at Ambassador House, but the shock of Davenant burning down her house must have struck more deeply than she had realized. Perhaps the challenge of starting over, once again, stirred up echoes of her earlier flight from danger. Reza had kindly urged her to stay on and on, and she had done so, without plans, without a vision for her future. She found herself dreaming, more and more often, of home.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNow that rumor from Francis Salford, of political changes in Zeren\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. Might a return actually be possible, after all these years? But how? She felt the winds of change, but did not yet see how she could set her sails to ride them home.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll of which was, in part, why Esha had taken over the garden. She disliked above all things any sense of being in debt. And so, when she became aware of the gardens\u0026rsquo; benign neglect, she had seen a service she could do for Reza, to repay all his kindness. Perhaps he did not care deeply about nature, one way or another. But no doubt he had perceived that she needed to be\u003cem\u003e doing\u003c/em\u003e something, and treated her work as the greatest possible favor to him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe terrace doors opened and Reza and Rafe came through them together. They were a charming sight, both of them tall, dark, and extremely attractive in their different ways. Young Rafe\u0026rsquo;s curling hair was already in wild disarray from the teasing breeze, or perhaps he simply hadn\u0026rsquo;t remembered to comb it; his dark suit of clothes managed to be both well cut and carelessly worn. Reza, of course, was point-device in robes of spring green, his glossy locks of hair precisely looped and pinned, and as ever, she appreciated his combination of soldierly bearing and Chartili grace.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhat she also instantly noticed was a tension between them. They were not looking at each other, not speaking, and as soon as they saw her they both looked absurdly relieved to have a third person to talk to. Gods, she had her work cut out for her! But there was little time to waste. In a mere three and a half months, Reza would be gone, back to Chartil, and surely they would both always regret the wasted opportunity. Love was a precious thing in this hard world, and all the more precious for being brief.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe turned and smiled brightly at them. \u0026ldquo;Good morning, gentlemen! How fine you look! You shame the flowers with your splendor.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBoth men laughed at the compliment, a good deal more heartily than her teasing merited.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza held out his arm for her hand. \u0026ldquo;And how the garden shames me with its beauty, all due to you! At last, your brilliant work comes to fruition. Will you show us through it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs they set off across the sun-dried grass, Esha turned to Rafe, walking moodily beside her. \u0026ldquo;And how goes the book? Is it nearly finished?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eInstantly he brightened. \u0026ldquo;Oh, yes\u0026mdash;\u003cem\u003ejust\u003c/em\u003e finished! I wrote the last word of the final chapter only two days ago, got to the end faster than I expected\u0026mdash;it was like a horse running away from me\u0026mdash;and since then I\u0026rsquo;ve been going over and over it\u0026mdash;I really can\u0026rsquo;t believe it\u0026rsquo;s done. Of course, now it\u0026rsquo;s on to all the business of getting it published\u0026mdash;Doctor Goodell is going to help with that, thank goodness, it\u0026rsquo;s no easy matter\u0026mdash;but I have every reason to think that eventually\u0026mdash;gods, Esha, can you believe it?\u0026mdash;I will actually have the joy of holding the finished thing, printed and bound and all things glorious, in my hands!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha smiled affectionately at him. On her other side, Reza was silent, seemingly distracted by the orderly beds and blooming trees of his refreshed gardens.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBy the time Rafe had finished rhapsodizing, they had reached the ball court, where stone benches stood upon the grass at either end of a finely graveled space. Neatly stacked in a pyramid on the gravel were polished wooden balls, each with a bright stripe of color around its middle.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza stepped onto the court, picked up the top ball, striped orange, tossed it up, and caught it again, testing its weight. Rafe sat on one of the benches, elbows on knees. The light that had filled his eyes while talking about his book faded as he glanced at Reza and away again, biting his lip. \u0026ldquo;I can\u0026rsquo;t promise I\u0026rsquo;ll be any good at this,\u0026rdquo; he told Esha. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve always been rotten at games.\u0026rdquo; He went on rather stiffly, \u0026ldquo;I suppose you will be instantly expert, Reza, as you are at everything,\u0026rdquo; then added, \u0026ldquo;I mean, I don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026mdash;do I still call you Reza? Or what do I call you? Far-Reza, or\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha looked at him in surprise, and Reza frowned a little. \u0026ldquo;I am still Reza.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd that might have settled it, Esha thought, but Rafe was very much capable of making an awkward moment more awkward. \u0026ldquo;No, but\u0026mdash;I know, but\u0026mdash;of course you are, but what do I \u003cem\u003ecall\u003c/em\u003e you? Your Grandest High Majesty? Or no, that\u0026rsquo;s not right, is it? I\u0026rsquo;m not accustomed to hanging about with royalty; I don\u0026rsquo;t want to get it wrong.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAh. So that was it. He had learned at last that Reza was not merely (merely!) an ambassador, but a prince. And the mocking tone, as though making a jest of it, did not conceal that Rafe\u0026mdash;anti-monarchical as most Landish were\u0026mdash;was not dealing well with the information. He threw her a glance. \u0026ldquo;I suppose you\u0026rsquo;ve known all along.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I might have guessed,\u0026rdquo; she said, \u0026ldquo;even had I not been told.\u0026rdquo; But Rafe was too focused on \u003cem\u003enot\u003c/em\u003e looking at Reza to grasp her subtle rebuke.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza\u0026rsquo;s frown deepened. \u0026ldquo;As I said. Please call me by my name, as you have always done; nothing has changed between us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s expression named that a lie. But he just nodded, and palmed the stone bench, scowling at his boots.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza tossed the ball he gripped aloft, caught it again, and threw it down the court, his robes fluttering; his throw contained rather more force than the idle gesture suggested, and the ball banged loudly against the stone edging. He turned to Esha, ignoring Rafe. \u0026ldquo;Well! Will you teach us how to play?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eIf only I could\u003c/em\u003e, she thought.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAloud, she answered, \u0026ldquo;It is simplicity itself. One of us throws out the white-banded ball, called the \u0026lsquo;vanguard.\u0026rsquo; Each of us in turn then attempts to bowl as close to the vanguard as possible, without touching it. There are further details, that I will mention as we play, if you like?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza bowed his assent as Rafe rose, brushing off his hands and stepping down onto the court. \u0026ldquo;Who throws out the vanguard? \u0026lsquo;Vanguard,\u0026rsquo; such a warlike word! I suppose that\u0026rsquo;s your department then, isn\u0026rsquo;t it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe threw this remark at Reza, clearly attempting a bantering tone, but there was a rough edge in his voice. Was he still smarting from the blow with which Reza had saved him from being poisoned? Perhaps he resented the sense of obligation it placed him under? These were murky waters: how complicated male sensitivities were!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza\u0026rsquo;s jaw tightened, but he summoned a smile. \u0026ldquo;We are not at war here. Let our fair tutor throw out the vanguard, if she will.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd they began to play. After a while, just as Esha had hoped, the men began to relax in the distraction of the game. Reza was, as Rafe had predicted, effortlessly good at it. His martial training gave him the advantage: When he took his turns, he moved with an easy beauty and strength, and she could feel Rafe watching him with badly concealed desire. She herself was a challenge to Reza; the balance, strength, and flexibility of her sword dancing practice lent itself very well to this mildly athletic pursuit.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe had not been wrong about his own skills\u0026mdash;he was hopeless at judging distances and even directions, but good-natured enough to laugh at his own haphazard throws and stumbles. Once he threw his ball so wildly that it went bouncing right over the stone edge and careening over the grass and down a small slope. He ran after it, shouting, \u0026ldquo;Whoop! Come back, damn you!\u0026rdquo; as Reza and Esha laughed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha had never, in fact, ever seen Reza laugh so openly and helplessly. He felt her gaze and looked back, his face still alight with affectionate amusement. She said, before she could stop herself, \u0026ldquo;How I love to see you happy!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe laughter ebbed. Reza looked away, up at the nearby trees, sighed\u0026mdash;involuntarily, it seemed\u0026mdash;and looked back at her, the ghost of old sorrows in his eyes. She touched his arm and murmured, \u0026ldquo;Do you not deserve happiness again? Does not he?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe had overstepped: He cloaked himself in reserve again. He shook his head, less in disagreement than as though shaking off a vision, and stooped to pick up another ball, as Rafe came trotting breathlessly back to the court.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs they played on, happiness and moodiness intertwined, as if they swam through a river\u0026rsquo;s cool depths and warm shallows in turn. When Rafe did not notice Reza\u0026rsquo;s gaze, Esha could see in the older man\u0026rsquo;s drawn face a longing he would not admit to, and she realized what she should have seen before. Having lost one lover, how could he risk another? Rafe was no swordsman, no adventurer able to defend himself in Reza\u0026rsquo;s world. How could Reza protect him from harm?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWorse, perhaps: How could Reza protect himself from further grief, if he were to let himself love again, only to lose that love when he returned, as he must, to Chartil? And Rafe, whom she had seen struggle so over the last year to learn to control his more wayward impulses, surely Rafe was determined not to let reckless desire ruin this precious friendship?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll of this was no doubt sensible. And yet. It was Esha\u0026rsquo;s considered belief that the Goddess gave humanity love as her greatest gift. And it was always a mistake to refuse such a gift when offered.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was her turn. Esha skipped forward, winding up and releasing her pitch, relishing the smoothness of the wood, the smell of sun-warmed gravel and new-mown grass, her own supple strength. Her ball came to rest within kissing distance of the vanguard; Reza cheered and Rafe jokingly groaned; she had won the round.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha turned with an elegant little flourishing hop of triumph, and the three of them laughed. Then a shadow fell over them and they glanced up; dark rain clouds had moved in to cover the sun once more; a chill entered the air, with springtime\u0026rsquo;s fickleness. Rafe and Reza looked at each other, and then away. Rafe\u0026rsquo;s eyes were wounded. \u0026ldquo;I suppose we won\u0026rsquo;t have many more such days, \u0026rdquo; he said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza stooped and idly picked up one of the balls. \u0026ldquo;Why do you say that?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, my book\u0026rsquo;s done. I suppose you\u0026rsquo;ll want your study back.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe wanted Reza to say, \u003cem\u003eNo, of course not, I want you here every day, forever\u003c/em\u003e. She could see that so clearly; why could Reza not see it?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhat Reza chose to hear instead, she thought, was, \u003cem\u003eMy book is done, and I don\u0026rsquo;t need you\u003c/em\u003e. He began tossing the ball in his hand up and catching it again, in studied indifference. \u0026ldquo;I suppose you are right. As it happens, I have some guests arriving from the Tullan Empire shortly. They could no doubt use a room to work in, out of anyone\u0026rsquo;s way.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s eyes widened, then narrowed as he scowled to hide his hurt. Esha wanted to shout, \u0026ldquo;Oh, you foolish men!\u0026rdquo; It wouldn\u0026rsquo;t help, though: They were both too stubborn. She could only watch helplessly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry I\u0026rsquo;ve been in the way so long!\u0026rdquo; Rafe snapped. \u0026ldquo;I suppose I should stay where I belong, down among the riffraff I\u0026rsquo;m used to.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You know that is not what I meant,\u0026rdquo; Reza said wearily. \u0026ldquo;But perhaps it would be for the best.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe looked momentarily stunned. \u0026ldquo;Perhaps\u0026mdash;what\u0026mdash;what would be for the best?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You will be busy with your teaching and your plans for publication,\u0026rdquo; Reza explained coolly. \u0026ldquo;And I must begin readying for my return to Chartil. I am sure we both will be far too busy now to see one another.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe stared at him, hurt warring with anger in his face. Without another word, he whirled on his heel, and strode away back toward the house, as a spattering of raindrops began to fall.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza looked after him with naked longing in his eyes, then turned and hurled his ball as hard as he could overhead, in an uncharacteristic outburst. It went sailing off in a high, long arc, crashing through the branches as it disappeared into a birch grove.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd then he strode off after it, leaving Esha standing alone on the bare court, despairing of them both.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfter Kaab had gone, Tess spent the better part of the evening and night working on a job for a client wanting insurance against his aged and difficult uncle deciding to change his will. It was fiddly work, involving three styles of formal handwriting, not counting the signature. The stamps and seals she\u0026rsquo;d farmed out to Hollow-Leg Louis, who had worked for the Justiciary until he showed up drunk and incapable once too often. She used all her pens and most of her ink correcting mistakes she made because she was tired and distracted and should have gone to bed instead of falling asleep over her work, smearing it beyond rescue.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhat woke her, halfway through the next morning, was a loud tattoo on her door and Charlotte\u0026rsquo;s raspy voice calling, \u0026ldquo;Tess! Tess? Are you there? I got something to tell you!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGroaning, Tess straightened, stretched, noticed the ruin of her night\u0026rsquo;s work and her blouse, and swore. \u0026ldquo;Go away, Charlotte! I\u0026rsquo;m working. Shouldn\u0026rsquo;t you be in school?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s our day off. Anyway, I have one of Sally\u0026rsquo;s meat pies.\u0026rdquo; Pause, then, coaxingly\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s hot.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSilence, hopeful on one side, thoughtful on the other. Tess sighed. \u0026ldquo;All right. You can come in.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe door opened and Charlotte slipped through, carrying a shabby basket on her arm from which there came an enticing odor of rich gravy and warm bread. She set the basket on the end of the table Tess used for eating, and took out a steaming pie in a crockery dish and a loaf of crusty brown bread. \u0026ldquo;Fresh out of the oven,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;Sally swears the pie is lamb, but I\u0026rsquo;m betting on the lamb\u0026rsquo;s mother, or maybe its grandmother. Smells good, though.\u0026rdquo; She cast a knowing eye at the clutter of smudged papers and blunt pens. \u0026ldquo;When did you eat last?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe girl\u0026rsquo;s voice was brisk and helpful, like a mother or a kind mistress, neither of which Tess had ever had. Since she\u0026rsquo;d started school, Tess noticed, she was holding herself differently\u0026mdash;with confidence rather than defiance. She\u0026rsquo;d gotten a new secondhand dress, blue, that very nearly fit her. All in all, she looked older and more serious, a young woman to be reckoned with.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess combed her fingers through her hair and shrugged. \u0026ldquo;Sometime yesterday.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was remarkable, she thought as she dug into the pie (definitely lamb\u0026rsquo;s grandmother) and watched Charlotte\u0026rsquo;s quick brown fingers expertly trimming and repairing her pens, how nice it was to have someone in her life who was willing, even eager, to make things easy for her. Smart, too, and level-headed. She noticed details and drew conclusions from them\u0026mdash;a useful skill in a profession in which asking questions was not encouraged. And her hand was neat, considering how recently she\u0026rsquo;d learned to write. With practice, she\u0026rsquo;d make a good forger.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Feeling better?\u0026rdquo; Charlotte asked.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes.\u0026rdquo; Tess smiled. \u0026ldquo;Much. What did you want to tell me? Or did you just say that to get me to open the door?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte was shocked. \u0026ldquo;I wouldn\u0026rsquo;t do that! It\u0026rsquo;s Little Freddie. He heard something yesterday I thought you might like to know about. But if you don\u0026rsquo;t believe me\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry, I\u0026rsquo;m sorry,\u0026rdquo; Tess said. \u0026ldquo;I was teasing.\u0026rdquo; She forked up another mouthful of crust and meat. \u0026ldquo;What did Freddie hear?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You know all those barges tied up below the bridge? With all that machinery? Well, Freddie was fishing off the embankment, kind of under the bridge\u0026mdash;in the shade, you know\u0026mdash;and he heard these two guards talking. One of them said he\u0026rsquo;d heard the bridge was going to get moved to Riverside.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess forked up another bite of pie. Whatever Sally\u0026rsquo;s faults, she had a way with mutton. \u0026ldquo;I heard that too,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;I also heard it hadn\u0026rsquo;t been approved yet.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte expressed her opinion of that with a rude noise. \u0026ldquo;Freddie said one guy was talking about how his boss told him that half of Riverside was going to be knocked down and the other guy said at least\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;Charlotte\u0026rsquo;s voice grew indignant\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;\u0026lsquo;that rat\u0026rsquo;s nest will get cleaned out and make room for decent folk.\u0026rsquo; And the first guy said they were starting in two days. That\u0026rsquo;s tomorrow.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFor a moment, Tess couldn\u0026rsquo;t breathe. Her ears rang and cold ran tingling through her body. Kaab\u0026rsquo;s warnings, which had seemed distant and vague, were suddenly real and immediate.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Decent folk?\u0026rdquo; she cried, springing to her feet. \u0026ldquo;Decent butchers! These are our homes, goddammit! And how do they think they\u0026rsquo;re going to clean us out, eh? Poison our wells? Hire our own swordsmen to kill us? Tomorrow, they said?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer furious gaze fell on Charlotte, eyes round with alarm, a quill in one hand, the penknife trembling in the other.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess sat heavily on her bed and hid her face in her hands. \u0026ldquo;I scared you,\u0026rdquo; she said through her fingers. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry. I\u0026rsquo;m just so angry. And worried.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s all right,\u0026rdquo; Charlotte said. \u0026ldquo;I wasn\u0026rsquo;t scared. It\u0026rsquo;s just\u0026mdash;it doesn\u0026rsquo;t do any good, going off at your friends like a firework.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess rubbed her face hard. \u0026ldquo;I know. I need to think of a way to stop this bridge, or at least slow it down. We have to move fast. We don\u0026rsquo;t want things getting ugly if they don\u0026rsquo;t have to.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Right,\u0026rdquo; Charlotte said. \u0026ldquo;We had enough ugly during the siege.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I can\u0026rsquo;t believe,\u0026rdquo; Tess went on, \u0026ldquo;that the City really thinks we don\u0026rsquo;t know what\u0026rsquo;s going on. How stupid do they think we are?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte shook her head. \u0026ldquo;We\u0026rsquo;re poor, right? Everybody knows poor folk are dumb as dead fish \u0026rsquo;cause we \u0026lsquo;ain\u0026rsquo;t got no eddycation.\u0026rsquo;\u0026rdquo; Her voice dripped irony.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well, we sure \u003cem\u003eain\u0026rsquo;t\u003c/em\u003e got no money,\u0026rdquo; Tess said, \u0026ldquo;or at least, not enough to matter. They think they hold all the cards.\u0026rdquo; She shrugged ruefully. \u0026ldquo;I guess they do, at that, as long as we\u0026rsquo;re playing their game.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Then I guess we\u0026rsquo;ll just have to change the game,\u0026rdquo; Charlotte said. \u0026ldquo;They\u0026rsquo;re the stupid ones, though. I mean, Freddie watched all day, and he saw only a handful of guys guarding all those barges. Sleepy looking gits, too.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Really?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte grinned. \u0026ldquo;Really. And I got an idea about what we can do to put \u0026rsquo;em out of business. You want to hear it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes,\u0026rdquo; said Tess. \u0026ldquo;I do.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte slipped along the alley, one shoulder brushing the sooty wall, and peered around the corner at the end. Long after midnight, and well before dawn, the streets were quiet\u0026mdash;or as quiet as Riverside streets ever got. A drunk slumped against a wall across the lane and crooned a song of her childhood in an exhausted rasp, as though she\u0026rsquo;d been singing it for hours. In the distance, glass shattered and a dog howled. At the mouth of the alley an entire family slept, curled up and clinging to each other: newcomers who hadn\u0026rsquo;t found shelter yet. Charlotte and her following Rat crew did not disturb them, but slipped silently past and kept going, toward the southern end of Riverside, where their mission lay.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte\u0026rsquo;s plan had been hatched in glee, but now that they were on their way, she felt a new steely resolve take hold of her. Riverside was her home, it was her place; rough as it was, she loved it exactly as it was. Newcomers were one thing. They became part of Riverside, or they became part of its stories. But outsiders who wanted to pick Riverside\u0026rsquo;s bones for themselves, invade her island with bridges and what-ever-all, use Riverside as some kind of stepping stone? That was \u003cem\u003enot\u003c/em\u003e going to happen, not if Charlotte and her Rats had anything to say about it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;There it is,\u0026rdquo; Bullseye muttered in her ear as they came to the end of the lane, where it emptied into a cross street along the embankment. Over them loomed the bulk of the ramshackle tenements, silent and sleeping. Charlotte made a gesture and they all stopped, hanging back in the shadows. Bullseye loomed over her shoulder; he\u0026rsquo;d had a growth spurt and was now tall and, despite his limp, strong. She\u0026rsquo;d come to think of him as her right-hand man, a good one to have at her back. He\u0026rsquo;d stopped coming to school just last week, said he\u0026rsquo;d learned enough and he needed to earn. How exactly he \u0026ldquo;earned\u0026rdquo; was something he didn\u0026rsquo;t talk about, but he was still a loyal Rat, and game for any con or adventure Charlotte cared to propose.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt her side was little Jason, the other Rat who\u0026rsquo;d followed her to school. Since the attack on the school he\u0026rsquo;d grown a very little; he was still wiry and small, but he\u0026rsquo;d toughened up. Nevertheless, she didn\u0026rsquo;t like him to come on the more dangerous outings, but he\u0026rsquo;d begged to tonight, and she thought it ought to be all right. It was a good plan. They\u0026rsquo;d be in and out in no time, safe as houses. Well, safe as City houses\u0026mdash;the seven devils knew Riverside houses weren\u0026rsquo;t safe at all. Jason was jiggling excitedly from foot to foot and craning to look around her at the embankment.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnother near dozen Rats stood or crouched at her back, holding heavy soft sacks, and as ready and tense as a pack of those dogs the nobles hunted with. Quick-witted Freddie; little Marie, truculent and unstoppable; Willie, who could pick a pocket quick as kiss-yer-hand; Shut-mouth Harry, who never spoke, but always came through\u0026mdash;all of them ready to follow her at a word. Proud as Charlotte was of her schooling\u0026mdash;she knew what the moon was now, and how it spun round the world, of all wonders\u0026mdash;she was prouder of her gang, and their trust in her. She remembered well enough what it was to be a random girl, disregarded and liable to be kicked. She had a place now\u0026mdash;a place in that school, a place with Tess, and a place at the head of a powerful pack of River Rats. What all of this would lead to, she didn\u0026rsquo;t know. But it felt good and right for the time being.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSpeaking of the moon, it was a new one, which meant it wasn\u0026rsquo;t there. Or it was, really, it was just in the shadows and hiding, like them. This was perfect. There were no hanging lanterns, no lit windows here. It was terrible dark, and so she and her Rats were near invisible, shadows within shadows. Their eyes were used to the dark, though, and their ears were keen. The embankment was empty and silent. Listen as hard as she might, Charlotte heard nothing but the plashing of water as the river sloshed against the stones and the barges tethered below it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe tapped Bullseye\u0026rsquo;s arm, and Jason\u0026rsquo;s, and they tapped whoever was behind them, till all had gotten the signal. Then the little gang flowed across the open area to the low wall of the embankment. They spread out, felt for the iron rings, and found the thick heavy ropes looped there and stretching down onto the barges below. One by one, they climbed atop the wall, secured their sacks over their shoulders, and began to shimmy down the hempen cables, arm over arm, legs wrapped around the rope.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte waited till all the Rats were on their way, to make sure no one was too afraid to make the crossing. She herself was suddenly very dry in the mouth, and her palms were damp; her heart thumped so she could almost hear it. She was not afraid\u0026mdash;she wasn\u0026rsquo;t afraid of anything! But it was a long drop into the water from the top of the embankment. So she wouldn\u0026rsquo;t look down, that was all. She made sure her sack was securely looped around her shoulders from its strap, swung her legs around, quickly rubbed her palms on her shirt to dry them, and threw herself at her rope. She shimmied down it as quickly as she could, but squeezing with her legs so she wouldn\u0026rsquo;t go too fast and burn her hands.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSoon she was crouched on the deck of the barge. Nearby was the large shadow of Bullseye and the smaller one of Jason, also crouching and still. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t see the rest, but she knew that each barge in this row sheltered three or four stealthy invaders, awaiting the signal to perform a diabolical act of sabotage. Charlotte couldn\u0026rsquo;t help grinning in the dark\u0026mdash;this was serious business but hells, it was \u003cem\u003efun.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll was still and silent. The soft thumps of feet landing on the decks had not waked any guards, who must all be adoze in their wheelhouses at the sterns of the barges, not dreaming for a moment that Riverside was roused to action against them. They would know nothing till broad daylight, when they went to operate their infernal machinery, only to find nothing worked. Sacks of sand poured into the equipment would do for them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was time to give the signal, for them to empty their sacks just as they planned, and get away before anyone was the wiser.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte straightened. She lifted up her head and made the soft sound of a night bird, once, then twice in a row. Trusting she\u0026rsquo;d been heard, she padded toward the strange metal equipment secured in the middle of the barge\u0026rsquo;s deck. She climbed up, pulled her sack up over her head, and opened the neck of it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSuddenly all was noise and light and motion, more than she could take in at first. She froze in horror as shuttered lanterns blazed out\u0026mdash;men\u0026rsquo;s voices roared\u0026mdash;large male figures rushed toward them\u0026mdash;it was an ambush!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe saw Jason and Bullseye caught in the light for an instant, as by lightning, then all was a blur. A bulky guard was bearing down on her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe dropped her sack and sprang backward off the machinery, her knees buckling as she hit the deck. She heard Jason screaming and caught a glimpse of him being seized in a guard\u0026rsquo;s meaty arms, held firmly by his hair\u0026mdash;she whirled around at Bullseye\u0026rsquo;s shout to see him squaring off with another guard, aiming a furious roundhouse at the man\u0026rsquo;s jaw. Before she could see if he connected, she was up and skipping back again as her man came charging at her\u0026mdash;she feinted to one side and danced behind him the other way, then ran and climbed up to the roof of the wheelhouse, trying to see what was happening on the other barges. It was the same\u0026mdash;horrible bright light, men shouting, Rats dodging or being grabbed. She saw Willie and Marie and a couple more Rats swarming back up the ropes and escaping\u0026mdash;there Freddie shrieked as he fell off his barge\u0026mdash;could he swim? So few of them could!\u0026mdash;others being knocked to the decks and their arms tied behind him. And there was Bullseye\u0026mdash;the man he\u0026rsquo;d punched raising up a cudgel and swinging it with vicious strength at the boy\u0026rsquo;s head.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;BULLSEYE!\u0026rdquo; Charlotte screamed, and heard a terrible crack as the cudgel landed on his skull. The boy crumpled to the deck.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe wheelhouse roof rocked under her feet and Charlotte whirled to see the man who\u0026rsquo;d been chasing her clambering over the edge of it. She backed up to the edge, looked desperately around her. He stood up and came right at her, his face set in an ugly scowl.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWithout hesitation, Charlotte turned and leapt right out into the black night.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe seemed to hang there for a moment. Black water below her, the catastrophe unfolding on the barges before her, beyond that, the stones and tumbled roofline of Riverside, and above, the pinpricks of light she had so recently learned were other suns, blazing too far away to feel their heat.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThen she was plunging deep into shockingly cold water. Thank all the gods she knew how to swim. Clawing off her shoes, she swam underwater away from the barge until her burning lungs forced her up in the shadow of the old bridge. She bobbed up, wiped the water out of her eyes, trying to breathe silently and look about her. There were the barges, there were some three or four of her Rats being dragged, bound and beaten, up ladders to the embankment\u0026mdash;Jason, Harry, she couldn\u0026rsquo;t see who else. Off to the Chop, no doubt. Some had escaped, Freddie drowned, maybe, but with luck finding his way to shore, and oh gods, there was Bullseye\u0026rsquo;s body across the shoulders of one of the guards, hanging limp and lifeless.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte began to shiver violently\u0026mdash;this springtime river was much too cold to linger in, and her waterlogged clothes were getting heavier. She thrashed her way to the embankment and crept sideways in the water, her fingers clinging to cracks in the stone, until she came to a set of river stairs, slippery with weed-scum, and crept up them to the lane. She stood, rubbed her legs and arms hard to get her blood moving again, and then began to stagger along, and as she warmed, to run.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eI\u0026rsquo;ve got to tell Tess\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane sought to placate the bridge designer in charge of the river project, turning it further to her advantage. Kaab\u0026rsquo;s family threw an unwelcome surprise party for her to celebrate her expected engagement. An attempt on Reza\u0026rsquo;s life put Rafe at risk. As the rains continued, Micah worried about her family going hungry.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003eWho's Who:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess the Hand \u0026ndash; a talented forger working to keep Riverside safe\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha Jayasuriya \u0026ndash; a foreign courtesan with a spiritual relationship to the sword\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.301","slug":"tremontaine-s4e03","audio":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/audio/season4/TremontaineS4E03.mp3","epub":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E03.epub","mobi":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E03.mobi","pdf":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E03.pdf","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b18222bb467920001f6c8bc","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 3"},{"id":"5b18226b07839400014de76b","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":5,"title":"A World of Change","released_date":"2018-10-03T11:36:49.809+00:00","released":true,"strapline":"Kaab discovers a terrifying new threat","byline":"Karen Lord","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/covers/season4/TremontaineS4E04_2.jpg","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/dividers/tremontaine_divider.png","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-10-03","body":"\u003cp\u003eThe kettle had been steeping on the hearth for a while. Taking up the cloth-wrapped handle with care, the Salamander poured tisane into two cups. The kettle went back to the warm bricks of the hearth and the Salamander returned to sit at the table. They moved with a quiet, almost reverent grace, so that the only sound in the room was the noisy rasp of angry tears.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tess,\u0026rdquo; they said at last, sounding almost weary. \u0026ldquo;Drink something.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess stared defiantly at the cup before her and ran her fingers roughly through her hair. She could imagine how she looked: flushed face, disheveled locks, red and streaming eyes. A tisane would do nothing to improve her appearance, and it certainly couldn\u0026rsquo;t improve her state of mind.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Everly, I could really use something stronger,\u0026rdquo; she said, her voice staccato with subsiding sobs.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s nine in the morning, Tess. Strong drink will create more problems than it solves. Drink the tisane now, and I\u0026rsquo;ll reward you later.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess knew she was being treated like a child, but Everly\u0026rsquo;s tone was all sympathy and no condescension, so she obediently drank a quarter of the herbal concoction. The effect was swift. Her lungs stopped spasming and her face cooled. Of course, with Everly\u0026rsquo;s recipes, the tisane might be one part medicinal and three parts mere suggestion.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe looked around the room and let her mind go blank. It was just an ordinary room, as ordinary as someone like the Salamander could manage when there was no need to project an image of power and danger. Soft draperies hung open at the small window, letting in a peek of cloudy sky. The unplastered walls were a tawny artwork of many-shaded brick enhanced by the glow of the small fire and the cluster of fat candles in the middle of the table. When one considered the shelves and layers and niches of curiosities in the uppermost rooms, this space was astonishingly bare of ornamentation. Everly called it a thinking room, but Tess didn\u0026rsquo;t want to think.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;They say Bullseye hasn\u0026rsquo;t woken up yet,\u0026rdquo; she heard herself say in a dull voice. \u0026ldquo;They don\u0026rsquo;t know if he will, but if he does he\u0026rsquo;ll face a flogging and a month in the Chop like Jason and Harry and the rest who got caught. Freddie\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. they haven\u0026rsquo;t found his body yet.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer throat closed. She took a few deep breaths and drank another quarter of her tisane.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I failed them,\u0026rdquo; she said at last. \u0026ldquo;I tricked them into starting a war they couldn\u0026rsquo;t win.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eTricked?\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo; Everly chided. \u0026ldquo;Really? As bad as that?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSo she would not be permitted to wallow. Tess shrugged. \u0026ldquo;Goaded. \u003cem\u003eEncouraged\u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003e.\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander took a considering sip from their own cup. \u0026ldquo;It might have worked. We underestimated the City\u0026rsquo;s dedication to this project. Backed by nobles, funded by merchants, even foreign powers to assist\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. a gang of street waifs is expendable against those odds.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess felt her face go hot again. \u0026ldquo;And I should have known that. I should have sent someone else.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEverly set down their cup with a thump. \u0026ldquo;Who?\u0026rdquo; they demanded.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess thought about it. She tried without success to picture her friends\u0026mdash;Kate, Madeline, Betsy, and Mrs. Waterhouse\u0026mdash;taking up arms and throwing the usurpers into the river. Not Anna Chapman, not while her properties were full and rent was pouring in like a flood of gold. But that wasn\u0026rsquo;t right; wasn\u0026rsquo;t Mrs. Waterhouse making money too, provisioning the new workers? \u003cem\u003eShe \u003c/em\u003eknew the situation wasn\u0026rsquo;t good, and personal luck and wealth weren\u0026rsquo;t going to sway her opinion. Tess thought about the network of swordsmen and protectors in Riverside, who were at present mainly engaged in brawling for rank and pay before the Council Hall, hoping to enhance their reputation or catch the eye of a noble who would give them a salaried position as house swordsman. Riversiders always stuck together, but they rarely \u003cem\u003epulled\u003c/em\u003e together, and in these lean times self-interest was too high for any Riversider to care enough about interlopers \u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. until it would be too late.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;More than half of them escaped. Charlotte escaped,\u0026rdquo; Everly noted consolingly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;If she has any sense, she\u0026rsquo;ll never trust me again.\u0026rdquo; Consolation refused; she would not indulge herself. \u0026ldquo;I never thought I\u0026rsquo;d say this, but I\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. I miss Reza. He didn\u0026rsquo;t understand Riverside, but he thinks like a general and he\u0026rsquo;d figure out a way to fight this. Riverside has no wealth, no influence, and no real sense of how to cooperate. If we don\u0026rsquo;t change, the City will take whatever they want from us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess paused and waited for a soothing phrase, but the Salamander said nothing. Tess felt a pang of fear. It was one thing for her to flirt with despair, but was the Salamander truly at a loss? Were they simply going to \u003cem\u003eagree\u003c/em\u003e with her grim assessment of Riverside\u0026rsquo;s flaws and chances?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;If you want Riverside to be the kind of place with citizens who care about the common good, obey the rule of law, and trust the authorities to have their best interests at heart, I submit to you that it would no longer be Riverside but merely a copy of the City.\u0026rdquo; Everly swirled the liquid in their cup and paused to take a sip. \u0026ldquo;If that is what you want, all we have to do is wait for the City to subsume us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No,\u0026rdquo; Tess protested weakly. \u0026ldquo;Not that. Definitely not like that\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. but how? How do we change and survive without losing who and what we are?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander drained the cup and upended it with a flourish onto the saucer. They turned the inside of the cup toward Tess so she could see how the dregs had traced rivulets through the soggy remnants of chopped herbs and petals. \u0026ldquo;What are we, Tess? Riverside is chaos, ever-changing like the river. You can try to dam it, but it will break out beyond your control. If you would redirect chaos, you have to think larger. You have to embrace a level of chaos that transforms the world completely, that destroys to create anew, that brings death to make way for life.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess stared at the meandering patterns in the cup, like supple spokes in a freakish wheel. Chaos kept Riverside rolling forward. Chaos could not be controlled, but it might be sustained.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhat would it take, she wondered, to keep Riverside in chaos, and how could she be sure that would save it?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe swordsman and the footman lounged with the comfortably upright grace of men keeping up appearances while awaiting their employer. Dusk had fallen, but abundant lamplight surrounded them in a golden halo of illuminated drizzle. The large plaza outside the Council Hall had always been busy around this time, when merchants, bureaucrats, nobles, and common folk passed by and passed through on their way home, or to the tavern, or to the next entertainment or employment. Nowadays, the heart of the crowd was far less mobile, gripped by an unusual spectacle that was fast becoming the usual. Public fights between swordsmen were common and served to maintain the ranking from best to worst that informed clients seeking to employ and gave swordsmen a basis on which to set their fee. But they had been small scale, taking place in locations frequented by the cognoscenti of the way of the sword\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. select taverns, private grounds, outside the theater. Lately, however, the northern floods had affected nobles and common folk alike, and commissions were harder to come by. The only other option was to compete with the hundreds of new hands eager to work for pittance on the docks and in construction.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAny swordsman worth his salt would literally rather die than make that choice, but fortunately there were plenty of bored nobles who might not want to risk their own house swordsmen for a mere show, but were happy to wager smaller amounts to watch new hands spar. The swordsman got a cut of the wager if he won, and now every hard-up fool wanted to try their luck with a rapier. There was a veritable glut of swordsmen on the market; fights were plentiful, but wages were paltry.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003ePublic fights tended to be showy and crowd-pleasing, with enough blood to satisfy but no messy deaths to complicate things. Well, a \u003cem\u003efew\u003c/em\u003e messy deaths, but Renfrew had been asking for it, insulting Farnum\u0026rsquo;s sister like that. Renfrew had been desperate to ease up in the rankings and hoped to rattle his opponent into a mistake, but instead he\u0026rsquo;d rattled him into a cold-blooded and clinically homicidal rage.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe swordsman\u0026rsquo;s mouth twisted in memory. There had been a lot of blood. The stain was still faintly visible on the slick paving stones of the plaza. His comrade saw his expression and mistook its meaning.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t sneer, Duncan lad, don\u0026rsquo;t you dare sneer. That could have been you down there, scrambling to catch the eye of some patron or get a commission.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDuncan FitzDaniel Duncan, second-best house swordsman of Tremontaine, smoothed a hand over his chest, caressing the crest of Tremontaine with slightly damp fingers. No need for him to stoop to such measures, by the Horned God! Good fortune and good connections had landed him in a position that he freely admitted was far above his ranking. He moved gracefully, looked handsome, wore his garments well, and cut an imposing figure with his above-average height. What more did a noble need? They certainly didn\u0026rsquo;t need to know about his tendency to get winded after fifteen minutes, or the lingering back problem that had slowed his footwork to a dangerously mediocre level. At least he was upright and alert, unlike poor Miles Kent, Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s top swordsman, who had been laid low these last three weeks with a lingering congestion in his lungs. Some people simply didn\u0026rsquo;t do well in all the wet.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Poor devils,\u0026rdquo; he said with magnanimous condescension. \u0026ldquo;Times are hard for us all, I suppose. Going to make a bet on that one, Grayson?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe pointed with his chin at the newest challenger, who was about to take on a higher-ranked swordsman.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGrayson glanced surreptitiously at the coachman and the other footman standing by the Tremontaine carriage, stationed a few yards away with other waiting carriages and sedan chairs. They were keeping up appearances quite a bit better in dignified silence. \u0026ldquo;Why not?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDuncan slipped him a few silvers. \u0026ldquo;Put a few down for me as well. Pollard\u0026rsquo;s quicker on his feet, but he\u0026rsquo;s tired after his last challenge and young Jones looks hungry enough to get past him.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGrayson moved away discreetly, managing somehow to blend into the fringes of the crowd in spite of his livery, and made the bet. The bout was fierce, short, and not in their favor. Maybe Pollard knew just how tired he was and realized he had no time to waste, but he dispatched Jones ruthlessly with a pinked shoulder and an elegant disarming. Duncan shrugged off the loss. He didn\u0026rsquo;t mind much; he was finally in a position to lose a little. Grayson looked less at peace with his bad choice, but he kept his curses low and returned to stand calmly beside Duncan as if nothing untoward had happened.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe crowd did not quite disperse, but it spread out slightly, waiting for the draw of the next bout, distracted by small things and small talk. Until, that is, Lord Tyrone passed by in his carriage and flung a handful of coin into the nearest knot of spectators. A group of scholars looked offended, one of them brushing a brass minnow out of a fold of his robes as if it disgusted him, and a merchant frowned bemusedly at the departing carriage before returning to his conversation with a swordsman. Others were less picky, rushing shamelessly to grab the coins to augment their betting options. It might have all ended there if someone in Lord Durant\u0026rsquo;s carriage had not also tossed coins to the crowd, clearly not wanting to be outdone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Fools,\u0026rdquo; Grayson murmured, and their folly was proven when a third carriage went by sans largesse and was met with jeering and scraps of thrown trash. Within minutes, the crowd had found a new, compelling focus, and that was the intermittent stream of carriages exiting the plaza as nobles seized the chance for an early escape at the end of their meeting.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;This doesn\u0026rsquo;t feel right,\u0026rdquo; Duncan said quietly. \u0026ldquo;Go find Sarah. Don\u0026rsquo;t frighten her, but tell her to ask the duchess to leave now, before things get out of hand.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGrayson nodded and dashed off. Duncan walked casually over to the Tremontaine carriage and hailed the footman. \u0026ldquo;Mr. Leigh, get us ready to move, if you please. Halton, staff in hand, self-defense only for now.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHalton blinked in surprise, but wordlessly took his five-foot ceremonial staff in hand and stationed himself on the back stand of the carriage. Leigh eyed Duncan suspiciously. He\u0026rsquo;d been a Tremontaine coachman for many years, and he did not allow himself to be ordered about unnecessarily. Duncan immediately chose the diplomatic approach. He nodded at the crowd.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Things are a bit tense out there,\u0026rdquo; he said. \u0026ldquo;Might want to have the whip handy. I\u0026rsquo;ll stand near the front and mind the doors, Halton and Grayson can handle anyone who tries to climb on the back.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGrayson returned after ten minutes, but within those ten minutes the crowd had grown, and the swordsmen, scholars, and merchants had retreated to quieter corners of the plaza. Even the food vendors, ever vigilant of the moods and whims of the crowd, had taken their wares to sheltered nooks and stable walls at the sides farthest from the Council Hall. The carriages passing by were subjected to increasingly harder jostling until they, like shaken money boxes, let go some amount of brass or silver as safe-passage fee for the crowd to fight over. Grayson\u0026rsquo;s face froze a moment in horror at the sight, but he quickly gathered himself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The duchess is ready,\u0026rdquo; he said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDuncan swung himself up beside Leigh and off they went. His thoughts briefly wandered. The duchess. How he wished that she were the type of lady to line up a staff of handsome young men and use them as needed for duties of a more intimate nature. No doubt she had her pick of men among the nobility, but some women had been known to sample the lower orders for a little variety. He had seen her eye rest on him admiringly once or twice. He must show her that he could be loyal and discreet and maybe, someday\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe great doors of the Council Hall stood open facing the plaza, and everyone could see the moment when the duchess came forth with her maid Sarah beside her, and began her elegant glide down the flight of shallow steps that led to the plaza. Leigh smoothly drew the carriage up to the bottom of the steps, and Grayson and Halton had the door open and waiting scant seconds before the glide was concluded. The duchess and her maid did not move with visible haste\u0026mdash;none of them did, Duncan was sure of it\u0026mdash;but he was grateful that somehow, regardless, in the moment it took him to glance around and note the crowd\u0026rsquo;s shift in their direction, Leigh was already shaking the whip and urging on the horses and the footmen had returned to their rear station with both women safely seated.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere was no hiding the elegance of the carriage, however, nor the Tremontaine ducal crest it bore. Soon they were surrounded and Leigh was forced to slow the shying horses with a firm hand on the reins and a gentle murmuring that sounded like reassurance but was in fact a low stream of cursing.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Give us a few coins before you go, milords and ladies,\u0026rdquo; a man urged. \u0026ldquo;A little brass and we can drink to your health.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Minnows?\u0026rdquo; a woman cackled. \u0026ldquo;This one can spare silvers, maybe even a royal or two. Come on, milady, show us you\u0026rsquo;re as kind as you are pretty.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNary a twitch came from the small curtains at the carriage doors. Duncan kept his sword in its sheath and his hand on the hilt. Words did nothing. Let them talk and jeer as they pleased. When one man, running nimbly alongside, laid a hand on the carriage door, \u003cem\u003ethat\u003c/em\u003e was his cue. Hanging on by one hand, Duncan leaned down from his seat and dealt the wayward knuckles a warning tap with his sheathed blade.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLeigh gave him a quick, worried look. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;ll only provoke them.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Mind the horses,\u0026rdquo; Duncan snapped. Trying to tell him how to do \u003cem\u003ehis \u003c/em\u003ejob, like he didn\u0026rsquo;t have enough on his own plate. He stretched himself to glare at the crowd over the carriage roof, as if daring them to misbehave on that side, but his glare was blocked by a sodden woolen sleeve and a pale hand gripping the corner of the roof. Its owner turned and gave him a cool nod while casually smacking down an urchin who was trying to scramble up to the driver\u0026rsquo;s perch.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tell your man to make haste,\u0026rdquo; he said, wielding his sword to rap and prod in much the same manner as Duncan had. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll keep things clear on this side as best I can.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHow the horses managed them all, at twice the pace and the roads all wet, Duncan never knew, but the strange swordsman kept with them all the way, balancing Duncan\u0026rsquo;s weight on the opposite side as they rattled off into the night. Looking for some recompense when they arrived, Duncan assumed, and who could blame him? As long as he did not presume to ask for more. Tremontaine had enough swordsmen for now.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe gates to Tremontaine house opened and closed behind them, and Duncan descended in time to face the duchess as Grayson handed her down from the carriage. The duchess looked serious, but unalarmed, as if the past few moments had been a mere annoyance rather than an actual risk. She looked keenly at their faces in the lamplight of the entrance (Duncan made sure to project a calm stoicism to match hers) and thanked them for a safe ride home.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But where is the swordsman who helped clear the way for us?\u0026rdquo; she asked at last.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDuncan looked around. \u003cem\u003eHere it comes\u003c/em\u003e. A light rain blurred his view, but he could see clear to the closed gate\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. and there was no one there, no swordsman with hat in hand awaiting a reward.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;He must have jumped off outside the gate, my lady.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe duchess glanced quickly over her shoulder at the empty driveway, and continued without pause up the steps and into the house, dismissing the mystery of the unknown swordsman with an ease Duncan envied. \u0026ldquo;Grayson, arrange for a light meal to be sent to my study in half an hour. Let it be known that I am not to be disturbed.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWas she more shaken than she appeared? Duncan felt the excitement of the night draining from him, leaving his muscles with the slight tremor of sudden exertion and tension released. She might sip wine and nibble cakes by herself and that would be enough, but he needed more than that to distract him. A mug of strong ale, the attentions of a willing maid\u0026mdash;with luck he\u0026rsquo;d find both in the kitchens.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe duchess, alas, didn\u0026rsquo;t seem to need anyone to comfort her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003ePity.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHalf an hour later, Diane had changed into a comfortable lounging dress of pale blue silk\u0026mdash;a gift from her dear Esha\u0026mdash;and dismissed her maid. She was prepared to retreat from the world for a while. It was bad enough that the Council was driving her to distraction without the added indignity of being accosted on the very threshold of the Council Hall.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe opened the door to her eyrie and sighed in satisfaction at the sight of the light repast her servants had brought in on a serving tray: wine to steady her nerves and bread to settle her stomach, tartlets of fruit and custard, cold cuts of beef and chicken, sweet and savory preserves, and a wedge of good cheese. She closed the door behind her and took two eager steps forward.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;My lady.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane jumped back, her heart in her throat. The voice was polite, but it was no voice that she recognized, and the sword leveled at the knotted sash of her dress was not polite at all.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe fiery points of the candelabra in the room were shining directly into her eyes. A figure pivoted slowly around the unwavering point of the sword and eclipsed the light enough for her to see a face\u0026mdash;sober, almost middle-aged, and frowning. It looked like the face of a man who recognized unpleasant duties, but exerted himself to carry them out regardless.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;My lady, compose yourself. I am here on behalf of Lord Nevilleson, bearing a challenge to Tremontaine.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane tried to speak, swallowed nervously, and finally managed to croak, \u0026ldquo;Nevilleson? Why?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You insulted him.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane tried to focus on memories of those frustrating Council meetings instead of the cold steel snagging her lovely silk dress. \u0026ldquo;Did I? When? I\u0026rsquo;m sure no offense was intended.\u0026rdquo; She tried a light laugh, but the swordsman only scowled more fiercely.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Nevertheless, Lord Nevilleson demands satisfaction and he has contracted me to see that it is obtained. My lady, I must insist that you either call your house swordsman to take up the challenge on your behalf, or admit defeat.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane gazed into the shifting shadows beyond the candlelight and raised a hand in a plea for time. \u0026ldquo;You must forgive me,\u0026rdquo; she said with a stronger voice. She was still terrified, but she was also increasingly bemused by the entire situation and the calm, businesslike, yet slightly irritated demeanor of the swordsman. \u0026ldquo;I have witnessed many challenges between noblemen, but none that involved a noblewoman. How is honor to be satisfied in this situation?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Lord Nevilleson would be content with the usual remedy\u0026mdash;an apology and withdrawal to your country estates.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll nervousness left Diane\u0026rsquo;s body. She felt herself slowly straightening as the last of her fear transmuted to anger. \u0026ldquo;I see. And he would miss me dreadfully at Council, I am sure, but at least his honor would be satisfied.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe swordsman looked relieved, as if the night might go to plan after all. \u0026ldquo;Exactly, my lady. So, if you would be so kind as to call your swordsman, we can proceed.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane straightened a little more, just enough to press slightly into the point of the sword, and fixed him with a glare. \u0026ldquo;And if I refuse to play?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSilence. The swordsman blinked. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. don\u0026rsquo;t understand.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was a gamble, but there was logic behind it. The swordsman was clearly true to his code and was not a common assassin come to murder her. Duncan was impressive as a decorative swordsman and bodyguard but, according to Kaab, really not that effective in an actual swordfight. Perhaps an accommodation might be reached.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;If I do not call my swordsman,\u0026rdquo; Diane coolly clarified, \u0026ldquo;and I do not concede, then what?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe tip of the sword rose and settled in the hollow of her throat. She watched it with a curiously emotionless fascination.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Then, my lady, I will assume that you mean to take up a weapon and answer the challenge yourself.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis flat tone reminded her painfully of Vincent. This swordsman appeared to be cut from the same cloth, utterly dedicated to his code. If he had had any insurmountable concerns about fighting a woman, he would never have taken the commission. Diane looked into the shadows again and sighed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe shrugged and said more gently, \u0026ldquo;It is only to first blood, my lady. Why not permit me a small cut on your hand, no worse than your own sewing needle could manage, and then you can retire to the country to spend more time with your family? Only Lord Nevilleson need know the truth, and thus you save face for Tremontaine.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Only Lord Nevilleson and you,\u0026rdquo; Diane pointed out, her voice trembling just a little. She sagged against the door and extended her hand.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe blade left her throat as the swordsman stepped back and rested the point on her hand. Again he gave that unassuming shrug. \u0026ldquo;I am of no account, my lady.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane shook her head in disagreement and whispered, \u0026ldquo;I am sorry.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd then, at last, Kaab stepped out of the shadows and struck the swordsman a single blow on the shoulder with the hilt of her obsidian dagger. She did it so swiftly, so cleanly, that the sword dropped straight down to the floor and Diane\u0026rsquo;s hand was completely unharmed. The swordsman twisted sideways, his sword arm swinging as if numbed, and faced Kaab with a grimace of pain and fury. There was a confused moment when both of them were diving for the blade on the floor, and later, no matter how many times she replayed the scene in her mind, Diane was never quite certain if Kaab had intended that low, fatal thrust that took her adversary\u0026rsquo;s life. He lay curled like an infant on her expensive Chartili rug. There was less blood than she imagined, but enough to stain the piece past salvaging. For an instant, she resented the honorable swordsman for ruining her rug almost as much as for his failure to tell her his name.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDazed by the sudden shift from peril to safety, Diane felt sharp words take over her tongue unbidden. \u0026ldquo;Why did you wait so long?\u0026rdquo; she demanded. \u0026ldquo;Talking and talking, and trying not to look at you when you came in\u0026mdash;it was torture! I thought he would turn around at any moment.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab almost snarled at her. \u0026ldquo;He had a sword pointed at your gut, and then your throat, and you ask me why I took care to move slowly?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe words had barely left her mouth when Diane lunged forward and made speech impossible with a desperate, biting kiss. Kaab returned it eagerly, pushing back and crushing Diane\u0026rsquo;s pliant body against the door.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You saved me,\u0026rdquo; the duchess said between breaths, between kisses, over and over. \u0026ldquo;You saved me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Xamanek\u0026rsquo;s grace saved you,\u0026rdquo; Kaab replied gruffly. \u0026ldquo;If my desires had not been guided to dwell upon you, if I had not wanted to surprise you this night\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane laid gentle fingers over Kaab\u0026rsquo;s mouth. \u0026ldquo;Shhh. Do not chide me.\u0026rdquo; She rubbed her thumb over Kaab\u0026rsquo;s full lower lip and watched in pleasure as Kaab\u0026rsquo;s eyes glazed over. \u0026ldquo;When I saw you in the shadows, I knew. Perhaps even before. Your scent in the air. I could smell you. I can smell you now.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSo close a brush with death was sufficient excuse for the filthy words that poured from her as she told Kaab what she wanted, and ordered her to strip and stand just so. Kaab was beautifully obedient, letting Diane press her against the door, and dropping the Landish trousers to her ankles. Diane kneeled swiftly and Kaab leaned her hips toward Diane\u0026rsquo;s ready mouth. Quiet moans were the only noise that came from Kaab\u0026rsquo;s parted lips; the rest was all Diane working out her passionate joy of survival with tongue and fingers in the slick heat between Kaab\u0026rsquo;s strong thighs. She kept a frantic pace until Kaab\u0026rsquo;s gasps and uncontrolled grinding told her she had successfully given her reward, then lapped and stroked lazily until Kaab\u0026rsquo;s breathing slowed and her body calmed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eStill on her knees, Diane looked up at last and realized that Kaab was staring over her head at the swordsman\u0026rsquo;s body.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab absently pulled up her trousers and adjusted her clothing. \u0026ldquo;I, as your champion, will deliver the body to Lord Nevilleson\u0026rsquo;s house.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well, then,\u0026rdquo; Diane said, internally screaming at their mutual descent into cold pragmatism, \u0026ldquo;I must write a note to accompany your delivery.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe stood gracefully and shook out her skirts. Moving with careful steps around the dead swordsman, she went to sit at her desk, pushed the tray of food aside, and pulled out a few sheets of thick ivory paper.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u003cem\u003eMy dear Lord Nevilleson,\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eYour challenge arrived this evening and was answered by my champion; the results are as you can see. \u003c/em\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e \u003cem\u003eI do understand if you feel compelled to withdraw to your estates in the country, but with the roads in such a shocking condition, it would not surprise me if you decided to stay in the City. In that case, I would so welcome your support in Council. \u003c/em\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e \u003cem\u003eWhatever you may decide, be assured that I remain, as ever, your humble servant,\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eDiane de Tremontaine\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe passed the note to Kaab, who read it, laughed briefly and bitterly, and handed it back. \u0026ldquo;Diane, you cannot take this too lightly. We live in strange times, and swordsmen come cheaply now. You must consider how best to protect yourself.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane could not reply. Her heart was still beating rapidly, her mouth was filled with the savor of Kaab, and she felt light-headed\u0026mdash;whether from hunger, lust, or lingering fear, she could not tell. She fussed with addressing and sealing the envelope and pretended not to hear Kaab\u0026rsquo;s words. \u0026ldquo;Go quietly and call Grayson. He knows you well, and he\u0026rsquo;s getting harder to shock.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEarlier, the rain had been sprinkling lightly and forming charmingly picturesque halos around the lanterns at the gateposts. Now it fell hard enough to be a nuisance, which at least meant that the streets were clear of passersby who might ask inconvenient questions. Kaab drew her damp hood further over her head, sneezed, and swore. \u0026ldquo;How far to Lord Nevilleson\u0026rsquo;s residence?\u0026rdquo; she demanded.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGrayson wheeled the covered handcart along with grim determination and no hint at all of a suffering sigh. \u0026ldquo;Just a few minutes, my lady. Um, if I may ask\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. why did you choose me to help and not Duncan? He\u0026rsquo;s the house swordsman, after all.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I asked the duchess for her strongest, most discreet servant,\u0026rdquo; Kaab lied sweetly, \u0026ldquo;and it appears that was you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOn arrival at their destination, Kaab did not knock on the great door to announce their presence. She helped Grayson take the corpse off the cart and laid it out with all possible dignity on the rain-slick pavement beside the Nevilleson House gate. Diane\u0026rsquo;s note was tucked into an unstained portion of the swordsman\u0026rsquo;s garments. Diane had not been able to tell her the man\u0026rsquo;s name, but Kaab remembered him vaguely from her days of training with Vincent Applethorpe. He was respected among swordsmen as a survivor, an example of what it might look like if you dodged death for long enough and didn\u0026rsquo;t drink or gamble away all your earnings. Still, he too must have felt the pinch of hardship, because in those days he had been known for a \u0026ldquo;no women\u0026rdquo; policy.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe gazed down at his body. Strange, how time and circumstance could reshape your commitment to your own personal code. Once she would have felt obligated to play by the rules. Now she would kill anyone who threatened her family, or Diane, without question and definitely without standing on ceremony.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;There,\u0026rdquo; she said to Grayson. \u0026ldquo;Our duty is done. Return to the duchess, but remember this. Tremontaine has enemies. Tremontaine has always had enemies. Your duty is to keep the duchess safe, and you do not have to carry a blade or a title to do so.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe came closer to Grayson and clapped him soberly on the shoulder. \u0026ldquo;Let your enemies stay wary of Duncan. That way, they will overlook \u003cem\u003eyou\u003c/em\u003e until it is too late.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGrayson gave her a look of mingled terror and pride. \u0026ldquo;As you say, my lady.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTwo full days had passed since the unfortunate incident with the swordsman, and all Tremontaine staff had been thoroughly briefed on the security aspects of the performance of their duties.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe duchess had come very close to dismissing Duncan, but in the end two things kept him safe. First, although he had been lax in losing sight of the swordsman and allowing him entry into Tremontaine House, he had also given excellent service in extracting her from the mob. Second, Grayson had made a suggestion that was both effective and elegant. He recommended hiring a former Watch sergeant as a footman. \u0026ldquo;If you\u0026rsquo;ll pardon my saying so, my lady, those in the Watch are used to dealing with men without scruples. You want a house swordsman for flashy fights and matters of honor, but if you want to be safe, you get a man who\u0026rsquo;s survived the City streets.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane had been doubtful, but Grayson persisted. \u0026ldquo;He\u0026rsquo;s no ruffian, my lady. He\u0026rsquo;s dealt with merchants and scholars and bureaucrats as well. I would never suggest anyone who would be an embarrassment to Tremontaine.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eServants were the background machinery of a noble household, and Diane knew that she was guilty of treating them as such in spite of her own origins. However, Grayson\u0026rsquo;s words made her look at him a little more closely, long enough to make him blush.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Very well,\u0026rdquo; she said at last. \u0026ldquo;I will give instructions for him to be interviewed for a position on Tremontaine staff.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDismissing Grayson from her office, she turned her thoughts to her day\u0026rsquo;s appointments. Extraordinary times called for extraordinary meetings, apparently, and she had to prepare herself to face another round of Council wrangling, this time inspired by the public disturbance that had marked the conclusion of their last session. The issue of food riots in the country, once overlooked by a Council fixed on the City\u0026rsquo;s infrastructure, had suddenly gained a higher priority. Restless crowds were now on their very doorstep, and the nobles were paying attention.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe felt unusually tired at the thought. Not anxious, certainly not. She had no reason to be. A new guard detail had been assigned to the Council Hall plaza; they would keep the steps and carriages safe and ensure the crowd stayed within bounds of good behavior. The Council Hall was safe. Tremontaine was safe. Nevilleson was \u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. gone, allegedly departed on urgent business to his country house. Oddly enough, with the continued flooding and related problems, it might even be true\u0026mdash;ha, let \u003cem\u003ehim\u003c/em\u003e spend more time with his family. Regardless, he was no longer her concern.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNothing and no one could stop her from going to the Council Hall, and yet she felt no sense of victory. In fact\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. she realized that she would rather not attend Council today.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhat was it that kept her from the Council Hall? The fear of another petty enemy? Or the burden of all those well-known faces, openly disdaining her or, worse, humoring her, caught up in their selfish goals and barely tolerating her mere presence. Demanding that she be ornamental and nothing more, expecting her not to take advantage of the pity vote that made her duchess in her own right. The duke was dead and had been mourned and they no longer had any pity to spare for her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe was not afraid, never that, but she was incredibly weary. She doubted she could find the energy to fling an insult, far less storm out of another Council session. Esha was right. Kaab was right. She could not play this game as the men did. Every action of hers incurred a disproportionate reaction because of who and what she was.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe drifted to her desk and passed a light finger over the pages of creamy stationery that she had neglected to put away after writing the Nevilleson note. A moment of musing was followed by a bitter laugh. She sat and began to write.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFive minutes later, she sent Grayson to the stables to cancel the preparations for the carriage.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTen minutes later, Halton was on his way to the Council Hall, bearing her message of regrets to the Council of Lords for her non-attendance.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane sighed and returned to her chambers to change her clothes. She was not afraid, but she was concerned, and she needed time to think.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Excellent,\u0026rdquo; murmured Koet. \u0026ldquo;Thank you so much for bringing me here.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab gave him a suspicious look. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. welcome? Why are you so grateful?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe waved a hand at the room. The Devonish family had built their fortune over generations with a focus on imported wines, preserves, and pickled regional delicacies. The gallery of their well-appointed townhouse was a marvel of understated wealth. Rare woods paneled the walls, expensive marbles tiled the floor, and the fabrics of the furniture and drapery incorporated Chartili silk linings and Kinwiinik feather trim. The touches were subtle, but the message was clear to any who knew the language of trade.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eToday, this elegant space was being used to show off the art of the City\u0026rsquo;s finest portraitists, and the guests for the occasion were as varied and rare as the Devonish possessions. The professional poise of a high-level courtesan accompanying her widower bureaucrat contrasted with the slightly rumpled insouciance of a minor noble and his small, ugly dog (mercifully, both were well-behaved). An earnest young governess was explaining certain elements of the art to a bored trio of noble misses dressed for their schoolroom age, and a middle-aged model was smiling with bittersweet memory at a series of sketches from twenty years prior. Koet observed them all with a mild countenance and a keen eye.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It is a perfect microcosm of the City\u0026mdash;nay, the entire Land. In two brief conversations and a passing greeting, I have learned that the merchant class approaches the level of nobility by acquiring heirlooms and portraiture to record their rise to wealth. I see that some artists are now more than ready to accommodate them, because times are hard and the nobility may pay richly, but not always promptly, and far less regularly. And in between those two groups there are many fish swimming past to catch what crumbs are available. This one,\u0026rdquo; he pointed out a young nobleman, \u0026ldquo;is hoping for a dalliance with a rich merchant. That one,\u0026rdquo; he indicated an elegantly dressed young woman, \u0026ldquo;is an aspiring muse, hoping to gain the favor of an artist and thereby a kind of immortality.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Happy to see you enjoying yourself,\u0026rdquo; Kaab said dryly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet gave Kaab a knowing look, made a face at her, and walked off by himself. Proving that he was confident enough to get by without introductions, that she did not need to keep him under her wing? Fine, she would let him try. She turned away in exasperation and saw immediately the perfect distraction: the ever-glorious Esha Jayasuriya seated on a small couch with her maid and a female Chartili slave attending her. Esha had just seen off a pair of admirers; Kaab seized the opening and walked boldly toward her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Mistress Jayasuriya.\u0026rdquo; Kaab greeted Esha with a slight bow, a slight smile, and openly admiring appraisal. Folds of rich Zeren and Chartili silks draped the former courtesan\u0026rsquo;s lithe figure, precious gems studded her long, thick hair, all of that finery worn with such charm that it seemed light and effortless. Kaab wondered where she was getting her money these days. Her wardrobe was certainly not suffering from any cut in income. Common gossip declared that the attentions of the Chartili ambassador were all that Esha needed to maintain an excellent quality of life, especially when she was granted a status that was more wife than mistress. She played hostess of Ambassador House and companion to the ambassador as if she had never known the restrictions of the demimonde. Kaab, however, knew that the reality was a little more complicated.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Ixkaab Balam,\u0026rdquo; Esha said, her voice warm as she extended a hand for Kaab to grasp in friendship. \u0026ldquo;It is so good to see you here. Will you be sitting for a portrait soon? It would be a shame not to make some permanent record of your time here in the Land.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab released Esha\u0026rsquo;s hand with slow regret, idly noting the contrast of petal-soft skin on the back of her hand and sword calluses on the palm. \u0026ldquo;I had not thought further beyond an afternoon\u0026rsquo;s pleasant society and the opportunity to introduce my kinsman to more of my friends and colleagues. But surely \u003cem\u003eyou\u003c/em\u003e have not needed to commission a portrait? Any artist should count it an honor to paint you and invite you as muse rather than client. Or is Lord Reza so jealous of any who might show you favor that he keeps all competitors at bay?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha laughed lightly. She enjoyed Kaab\u0026rsquo;s flirting, but never took her seriously. They knew too much about each other\u0026rsquo;s lives and loves. \u0026ldquo;I have no time, as you well know.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes, Diane has mentioned how little time you have. I think she is slightly hurt that you visit her so infrequently.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha\u0026rsquo;s eyelashes lowered and she gave Kaab a teasing, sidelong glance. \u0026ldquo;How flattering. Is this an invitation from Diane, or from both of you?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere was a stuttering, hot-faced moment as Kaab tried to tame the images that took over her mind\u0026mdash;Diane and Esha joined in delicious nudity, tangled in sheets of ivory silk, playfully beckoning to her. Esha chuckled mischievously at her embarrassment and Kaab ruefully joined in.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But in seriousness,\u0026rdquo; Kaab continued more somberly, \u0026ldquo;the duchess needs your friendship, your care, more than ever. We do\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. enjoy each other\u0026rsquo;s company, but when it comes to wisdom, she truly counts on you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Does she?\u0026rdquo; Esha said coolly. \u0026ldquo;I have had to repeat myself many times for Diane to hear me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But she \u003cem\u003edoes \u003c/em\u003ehear you, and now, more than ever, I think she will listen to you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA woman of Esha\u0026rsquo;s intelligence knew how to read beyond words. \u0026ldquo;What has happened?\u0026rdquo; she asked sharply.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab shook her head and spoke more softly. \u0026ldquo;You may have heard of the challenge she saw off? In this case, rumor has run more tamely than reality. It was a bit\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. complicated.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha held her gaze for a while, then slowly nodded. \u0026ldquo;I will make time to visit the duchess.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey looked casually around them in mutual acknowledgement of the openness of the venue and wordless agreement to say nothing further.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So,\u0026rdquo; Kaab said, restarting the conversation on a safer route. \u0026ldquo;I understand that you have indeed been very much occupied. You are busy designing the ambassador\u0026rsquo;s gardens?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha blinked, and Kaab worried for a moment that her words had unwittingly touched a sore point. \u0026ldquo;Busy indeed. Lord Reza does not allow his friends to feel idle or useless. But I am grateful for his attention to me, as our remaining time in the Land is so short.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Our? I had heard that Lord Reza\u0026rsquo;s term was drawing to an end, but you\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I must consider my own future in his absence, and I believe it lies homeward. Zeren hostilities have raged on and off for decades, but there are occasional lulls, sometimes as long as a generation\u0026rsquo;s span. My connections tell me hope is strong that the present truce will stand for a while longer. I would love to go home. I miss it terribly.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab sighed. \u0026ldquo;I feel that same pull. What I would give for the bright colors of Binkiinha, the drifts of plumeria and jacaranda petals in the streets, the smells\u0026mdash;sweet florals, rich chocolate, and such food! Fresh and full-flavored, no skimping on spices. But as much as I desire it, there is still so much to do before I can depart. One does not wish to arrive home with empty hands swinging, with no treasure, no conquests.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes,\u0026rdquo; Esha said vehemently. \u0026ldquo;I cannot return with less than what I left behind and lost. There must be\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;A triumph,\u0026rdquo; Kaab declared.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;A triumph,\u0026rdquo; Esha confirmed. \u0026ldquo;Something to make the exile worthwhile.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey exchanged a silent look of perfect understanding.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Would you like to meet my kinsman, Ahkoet Balam?\u0026rdquo; Kaab said, shaking herself free of homesickness.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I would,\u0026rdquo; Esha said, \u0026ldquo;and would you likewise do me the honor of extending greetings to these gentlemen from your side of the world? They are staying at Ambassador House as guests of the Chartili Empire, here to observe the construction project and consult with the engineers.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab followed the line of Esha\u0026rsquo;s gracefully subtle glance and nod, and saw two men standing at the edge of a group being shown a family portrait by the celebrated artist Guy Monfort. She froze. They were clearly not of the Land, but everything about them clashed and confused her thoughts. They wore robes of Chartili silk under cloaks\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. and yet, when she focused on the brown of their eyes and skin, the familiar cut of their lineaments, and the bright spot of color that was a turquoise earplug, the cloak was not merely a cloak, but a tilm\u0026agrave;tli, with shimmering feathers woven into the geometric border.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe lost track of time as she stared at them, but eventually she heard her own voice responding with dull, automatic courtesy, saying the correct thing. \u0026ldquo;Mistress Jayasuriya, I have just recalled an urgent appointment that my kinsman and I must not miss. Forgive my rudeness, but perhaps another time.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe whirled away without giving Esha another glance and walked straight to Koet\u0026rsquo;s side, pulling him away from listening to a lively discussion with an artist, three merchants, and a professor from the University. \u0026ldquo;We are leaving now,\u0026rdquo; she murmured in Kindaan.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But why? I am enjoying myself,\u0026rdquo; he protested just as quietly in the same language.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Look to your left, discreetly, and ask me again if you dare,\u0026rdquo; Kaab said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe did so, and froze much as she had done, assessing the robes, the features, and the tilm\u0026agrave;tli and finally making the same connection. Strange how long it took to recognize an unanticipated enemy in an unexpected place.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tullans,\u0026rdquo; he growled.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Here. In the Land. In the \u003cem\u003eCity\u003c/em\u003e,\u0026rdquo; Kaab confirmed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet leaned toward them, appeared to think better of it, and nodded. \u0026ldquo;As you say, time to leave.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOne of the Tullans, sensitive to the weight of their stares, turned his head to return look for look. Kaab and Koet kept their expressions neutral as they held his gaze and exited the gallery without haste. Once outside, they let their fa\u0026ccedil;ades fall as they kept walking and picked up the pace.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Xamanek lead us. Ekchuah protect us,\u0026rdquo; Koet breathed fervently.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Why here? Why \u003cem\u003enow\u003c/em\u003e?\u0026rdquo; Kaab\u0026rsquo;s mouth twisted bitterly, remembering her dreams of triumph. \u0026ldquo;This changes everything.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFour customers entered the old bookshop, two in master\u0026rsquo;s robes with the green stripe of the Humane Sciences marking the sleeves, one in some variant that was too plain for a master but not quite the usual cut for a student, and one in a serviceable but elegantly tailored wool dress whose dark cuffs well hid the ink stains and paint sprinkles. All four bore the crest that proclaimed them staff of the City Academy, but Brooks needed no markers to identify them. He had known Masters Fenton and Easom from their student days, and young Master Heslop as well, though the connection was a little more distant. Miss Fenton was of more recent acquaintance, but she had such exquisite taste in bindings and cover design that she had quickly become his favorite. They were among his best customers now, doing innovative things with old university texts past repair, and salvaging fragments of books to create teaching materials for their pupils.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Always a pleasure,\u0026rdquo; he greeted them. \u0026ldquo;Miss Fenton, those zoological illustrations you were asking about are in aisle two, second shelf from the bottom. Master Heslop, I have a fresh batch of mathematical texts in the south corner cabinet. Master Easom, can I interest you in some slightly used Northern history?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton looked around with a discerning eye, swiftly noting what Brooks had hoped was not yet obvious. His stock was robust, his shelves overflowing. \u0026ldquo;Hard times for University students?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And I\u0026rsquo;ve had a few sales from personal libraries,\u0026rdquo; Brooks admitted. \u0026ldquo;If you\u0026rsquo;re willing to overlook a touch of flood damage, there are some excellent titles available.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMaster Fenton followed him eagerly and was soon happily stroking a fat volume of translated Zeren poetry. \u0026ldquo;And how is the Academy doing?\u0026rdquo; Brooks asked.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA cloud came over Master Fenton\u0026rsquo;s features. \u0026ldquo;The finances have been\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. challenging, but we\u0026rsquo;ve been blessed with steady funding. We support students with scholarships whenever we can, and sometimes that means stipends not only for school materials, but also for food and clothing. A child cannot learn if they are starving\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. or sick. We\u0026rsquo;ve lost some, but we have gained more.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBrooks could not fully grasp the emotion shading Master Fenton\u0026rsquo;s words, but he recognized a conflicted mind when he heard one. He paused for a while, and tried a different tack. \u0026ldquo;And what of your own work, Master Fenton? Ready for publication, no doubt?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA brilliant smile transformed the scholar\u0026rsquo;s face. \u0026ldquo;Yes indeed, thank you for asking. It shouldn\u0026rsquo;t be much longer now, but it\u0026rsquo;s a tedious process, getting University approved\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well, you \u003cem\u003edid\u003c/em\u003e manage to make some enemies in your time.\u0026rdquo; Brooks smiled reminiscently.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMaster Fenton\u0026rsquo;s self-deprecating smirk showed far more pride than apology. \u0026ldquo;I may have done.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Good thing Doctor Goodell is in your corner, then. Mark my words\u0026mdash;three, maybe four years from now you\u0026rsquo;ll walk in and I\u0026rsquo;ll say to you, \u0026lsquo;cabinet at the end of aisle four, recent acquisitions, in slightly worn binding but excellent condition, a title by noted scholar Doctor Rafe Fenton.\u0026rsquo;\u0026rdquo;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe was only making light conversation, but Master Fenton looked so unspeakably delighted at the prospect that Brooks felt a wave of fondness for the young man.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I hope there will not be too many in your cabinet, Master Brooks. We want people to appreciate the text and keep it, not discard it.\u0026rdquo; Miss Fenton appeared with three large books in her arms and a teasing glint in her eye, ready to puncture her brother\u0026rsquo;s good mood. \u0026ldquo;We\u0026rsquo;ll take these.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;We?\u0026rdquo; Master Fenton asked pointedly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe sighed. \u0026ldquo;Fine. \u003cem\u003eI\u0026rsquo;ll\u003c/em\u003e take this one, and the Academy will take the rest.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMaster Heslop came with two smaller books on basic geometry and algebra, and a very slender volume titled \u003cem\u003eMathematical Pedagogy and the Developing Mind\u003c/em\u003e by Henry Marsden\u003cem\u003e.\u003c/em\u003e Brooks squinted at it with interest. \u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s a rare text, Master Heslop. Very limited run, very niche subject, but Doctor Marsden was quite popular in his heyday.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I know,\u0026rdquo; Master Heslop said briskly. \u0026ldquo;He taught Doctor Goodell. I\u0026rsquo;ve heard all about him.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMaster Easom strolled back from browsing with hands empty. They all looked at him expectantly. \u0026ldquo;Oh, the history text? Clearly written by a Southerner. I would have to correct too many errors, but Master Brooks, could I trouble you for some of the loose pages? The maps, at least, are accurate. And what\u0026rsquo;s that you have there, Rafe?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMaster Fenton started slightly and his face flushed as he set a slim volume beside the pile of Academy purchases. \u0026ldquo;Some Northern poetry,\u0026rdquo; he said casually.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMaster Easom glanced at the binding. \u0026ldquo;Not \u003cem\u003eThe King\u0026rsquo;s Run\u003c/em\u003e? Rafe, you know that by heart\u0026mdash;at least all the risqu\u0026eacute; bits.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s not for me,\u0026rdquo; Master Fenton said quickly, his flush deepening.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBrooks wrapped their purchases and wrote up the bills, paying them no further mind as their teasing banter continued. He wondered idly if he had ever been so very young.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe office that Kaab had once shared with Chuleb and then briefly with Ahoen was largely unchanged\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. except that it now had a new partner, Koet, sitting on the reed mats and studying the dispatches and documents on the low desk between them. Kaab watched him and noted once more how at home he appeared\u0026mdash;yet she felt no resentment, but rather an odd kind of gratitude.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;We have a busy day,\u0026rdquo; he noted blandly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes,\u0026rdquo; Kaab replied. \u0026ldquo;We must draw on all our resources to counter this threat.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTheir words were flat, banal, with none of the wit and sparkle of their usual banter, but such trivial conversation did not feel appropriate, not now. Apparently, Koet had learned when it was time to stop joking and get serious.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab set herself to inform her entire network. Informally, there were three levels of spying in the Balam network. First there were the known entities: Kaab herself, various elders of the Balam household, both semi-retired and active, and the young trainees not yet in the inner circles of knowledge. Kaab met with the elders face-to-face in the Balam compound and gave them information and orders to pass to their juniors.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThen there were those hidden in plain sight, domestic agents and those farther afield. Lower-ranking Balam who served as maids and valets for their guest quarters; minor Chel spies who shared information across compounds as it benefitted them; and Kinwiinik suppliers, Land-born and of mixed Balam, Chel, and Cocom heritage, who frequented the docks and markets\u0026mdash;all agents and colleagues of the Balam spy network. In most cases, Kaab had only to speak to a handful of lieutenants who would pass the information on to their subordinates, but there were others whom she saw in quick, private meetings around the City in warehouses, chocolate shops, and quiet back rooms to busy establishments.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFinally there were the deep spies, like David Rook, of unexpected origin and in unlikely settings, whose identity would be a shock to Landish and Kinwiinik alike. A secret meeting or message would be needed to bring them up to speed, and Kaab\u0026rsquo;s schedule was already full of meetings. Besides, the message did not need to be long.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eBe on the alert. Our enemies from the Tullan Empire are in the Land.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhat more could she say? The visitors\u0026rsquo; motives could not yet be discerned. She could only advise her network to observe closely, report swiftly, and stay vigilant.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet\u0026rsquo;s task was less complicated in theory, though not necessarily in execution. He convened a meeting of the Kinwiinik merchants, \u003cem\u003eall\u003c/em\u003e Kinwiinik, and dropped the bombshell without preamble. Kaab sat off to the side behind a screen and watched their reactions with interest. Surprise and fear reigned first, but then the discussion quickly turned to what markets the Tullan Empire might be seeking in the Land or in the Chartili Empire, and how it would affect the chocolate trade and other Kinwiinik imports. A full hour of rambling, ranting opinions followed as Koet tried with varying success to keep order. Eventually he dismissed them with promises of further meetings as more information came to hand. The majority of them stayed behind in the meeting room and lingered in conversation and speculation while he escaped to his office for a moment\u0026rsquo;s respite.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And why didn\u0026rsquo;t you help me?\u0026rdquo; he demanded of Kaab afterward, half jesting, half hurt.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I would not undermine your authority, Koet,\u0026rdquo; Kaab replied soberly. \u0026ldquo;Especially not now. For good or ill, you are here and you must be seen as fully engaged in your position.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Be that as it may, we share the next act.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Of course,\u0026rdquo; Kaab reassured him. \u0026ldquo;United as Balam.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey exchanged quick grins in a brief celebration of solidarity, and then, prompted by some familial sixth sense, they turned to see Cho standing in the doorway of the office with her hands clasped together and a misty smile on her face.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Ixcho Moe, wipe that foolish look off your face and come here. I have work for you to do,\u0026rdquo; Koet threatened. \u0026ldquo;Several pieces of correspondence to Binkiinha require your excellent penmanship and brilliant composition.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey left Cho at Koet\u0026rsquo;s desk, sweating away at her new assignment, and went to their final meeting. The main peristyle of the Balam compound was filled with Kinwiniik of every family and class. Kaab had requested the attendance of all the family heads, and in spite of the short notice, each had brought a suitable entourage.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab nodded to Koet, and together they walked out to address the crowd. Koet spoke the words of welcome while Kaab took time to exchange a steady gaze with every head of family, every elder and heir. At last Koet completed the courtesies, and fell silent. Anticipation hushed the crowd, tension stilled them, all were poised to listen.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Many of you have already guessed the purpose of this meeting,\u0026rdquo; Kaab began, \u0026ldquo;but for those of you who have not, let it be known by all Kinwiinik that Tullans have been seen in the City.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe tension broke into a storm of anxious murmuring.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab raised her voice over them. \u0026ldquo;I charge you by Ahkin, by Ixchel, by Xamanek, and all the gods in the firmament, let us have peace and mutual support until our mortal enemies have been vanquished and the Land is once more ours to enjoy undisturbed.\u0026rdquo; She looked sternly at a few key offenders as she drove home her point. \u0026ldquo;No feuds. No fights. No trivial causes like overcharging or imagined disrespect. From this day on, we are one family.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet continued. \u0026ldquo;The Tullans must not see us as weak or divided, for they will surely report it to their homeland. Perhaps they are visiting the Land for reasons that have nothing to do with us. Perhaps their presence here is a random occurrence. But perhaps this is the start of something larger. Whatever the situation, let us give them no reason to engage with us. We will watch; we will neither provoke nor instigate.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;We must share information, pool resources. I pledge to do all that I can on behalf of all Kinwiniik, and I ask you to do the same,\u0026rdquo; Kaab finished. Her voice was level; this was not the time for a rallying cry. They were not yet in open warfare with the Tullans in the Land. She needed people to be alert, aware, and extremely careful.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe chant began from the back, started by a group of Land-born Kinwiinik, and it spread from the margins to the core. Koet understood what they were saying before Kaab did, and he gave her a quick, grim smile. Then she too heard it; they were chanting her family name like a word of power: \u003cem\u003eBalam, Balam, Balam!\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut not all of them. In the front of the crowd, where most of the elders of the families were clustered together, Kaab sensed a pool of silence. She pushed down the stirring of her liver-spirit, forced a kind of calm to her face and bearing, but she knew, she \u003cem\u003eknew\u003c/em\u003e that some of those elders had heard about her disastrous mission in the Tullan Empire. She could imagine what they were thinking, for she had been thinking it herself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003ePerhaps they are here for other reasons, but what if the Tullans are here because of me?\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha remembered when she had been unable to imagine entering the front door at Tremontaine House. Now, crossing its threshold had become a step so unremarkable, so commonplace, that she could not count the number of times she had done so. Somehow, during the past year, she had gradually traveled from the shadow society of noblemen\u0026rsquo;s mistresses to the public illumination of an ambassador\u0026rsquo;s regard and respect. Lord Reza had become her passport to societal approval, and she was tolerated, even welcomed, as long as she accompanied him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAlways accompanied\u0026mdash;polite society would never invite her solo. If she wanted her own friends, she had to once more follow Lord Reza\u0026rsquo;s example and dress in simple attire to escape into Riverside for an afternoon of light refreshments and conversation with a group of extremely fascinating businesswomen. Esha always felt her ambition and resolve strengthen after a session with them, and Goddess, she needed the encouragement to strive for her own financial independence. The lazy hedonism of the demimonde had never been entirely to her taste, and the Riverside women understood both how to live in the moment and to prepare for an uncertain future.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd now she also had a foot in the houses on the Hill as Lord Reza\u0026rsquo;s designated hostess and goodness knew what else, beautiful and charming, an asset to any gathering. Or so Diane had told her with only a little wistfulness. Esha felt the sweet pull of memory as well, but she did not regret her choice of Ambassador House over Tremontaine House. The former had opened her world, the latter would have closed her in and made her completely dependent on Diane. She would have grown to hate her beautiful duchess, and all sweetness of memory would have been tainted.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane caught Esha\u0026rsquo;s eye from the head of the table and favored her with a sly smile as if guessing her thoughts. With renowned engineer Sa-Anzu ko Amid ko Shirin on her left and Far-Reza ko Arezu ko Shirin-sa Chartili on her right, the duchess was in fine, witty form. Esha sat beside Sa-Anzu, and across the table, next to Lord Reza, was Huitzilin of Tultenco, one of the Tullan envoys invited to observe the bridge works by the Chartili government. Huitzilin was fluent in Chartili and spoke passable Zeren, but the language of the Land was still a struggle. She admired his determination to make an effort to socialize regardless. His compatriot, Tlacaelel of Xacaltitlan, was more fluent but less outgoing, preferring to pore over technical reports and schematics and observe the working crews from a clinical distance.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt present, Huitzilin had perfected the slight smile and interested nod that would get him through ninety percent of all social interactions in the City. He gazed at the duchess with that slight smile, and nodded every time she laughed or gave particular intensity to the conclusion of a sentence. Only once did he react otherwise; Diane\u0026rsquo;s brief mention of Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s excellent cooperation with Kinwiinik traders caused a blink and a narrowing of the eyes. Esha noted it and filed it next to the memory of Kaab\u0026rsquo;s strange, strangled farewell after Esha pointed out Tlacaelel and Huitzilin at the gallery. Perhaps there were some questions to be asked, although she was not confident of getting full and frank answers.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You are ignoring me,\u0026rdquo; Diane teased her later that evening, after the party had retreated to the drawing room to sip liqueurs and play cards and other games.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;My lady, say not that I am ignoring you, say rather that I am respectful of your present attachment,\u0026rdquo; Esha countered archly. \u0026ldquo;It appears you have a predilection for women with swords.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane blushed prettily, and Esha felt glad that she could still affect her in some small way.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Besides, you hold all power in this friendship. Ambassador House is not truly mine, and I can only invite you at Lord Reza\u0026rsquo;s wish. Tremontaine is yours, and I will be pleased to present myself whenever you summon me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane laughed in approval. \u0026ldquo;You are all diplomacy and grace, my dear Esha. Of course I will invite you until you grow tired of me. And yet I think you are not telling me the entire truth, for Lord Reza let slip that this dinner party was your idea. Of course, since I was last at Ambassador House, it was my turn to host Lord Reza, so when he suggested it, I insisted on inviting you all here.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I may have said something,\u0026rdquo; Esha admitted. \u0026ldquo;In fact, Kaab may have said something.\u0026rdquo; She paused and watched the duchess stiffen, then exhale. \u0026ldquo;What is it, Diane? Kaab is worried about you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane shook her head. \u0026ldquo;It is nothing\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. and yet\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. oh, Esha, I am so tired. The Council exhausts me. I missed the last meeting. I was simply fed up. Remember when I relied on young puppies like Lionel to attend those tedious gatherings for me and bring me all the news?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And do \u003cem\u003eyou\u003c/em\u003e remember how young puppies like Lionel will eventually soil your rug and chew your slippers?\u0026rdquo; Esha answered.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe was rewarded with a giggle that all too soon turned into another sigh. \u0026ldquo;I am tired of fighting them, Esha. So tired.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane did look miserable, which was astonishing in a woman so accustomed to wearing a charming mask and wearing it well. Esha impulsively took the duchess by the hand. \u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t worry, Diane. We will come up with something.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEarlier that evening, in the twilit streets of the Middle City, the brisk trot and gleaming harness of Lord Reza\u0026rsquo;s mounted guard had drawn the usual attention. Lord Reza rode near the front, and a small carriage\u0026mdash;Esha\u0026rsquo;s usual transport\u0026mdash;brought up the rear. Kaab had paused to watch the small cavalcade as it made its way toward Tremontaine House. Ixchel\u0026rsquo;s blessings be on Esha; she had moved quickly to arrange time with Diane.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab felt no jealousy, only relief. She had never been skilled at dealing with the complicated emotions of her lovers. Later that night, should she perhaps slip into Tremontaine House and see how the duchess was faring? Find out if talking to Esha had helped? And perhaps, whether or not the talk had gone well, Kaab could ease Diane in the way she knew best, with the distraction of physical release.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA tempting proposition, but one she could not consider until she had completed another task.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDespite the late hour, the chocolate shop welcomed her as warmly as they would any regular customer. Kaab bought her usual pastries, making sure to include all the favorites, and went upstairs to pay a visit to David Rook. The room was dark except for what little lamplight made it through the small window. Rook was stretched full-length on the bed and snoring, still dressed in his Watch uniform. No doubt he had had a long, hard day, and she was not going to improve it for him. She looked around, found and lit a single candle, and drew up a stool beside the bed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Wake up,\u0026rdquo; she said. She didn\u0026rsquo;t have to shout. Rook jumped to his feet instantly, too much the watchman and the spy to be comfortable with unexpected voices in his room. Kaab didn\u0026rsquo;t flinch. She unwrapped one of the pastries and began to eat unhurriedly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRook calmed, settled himself on the edge of the bed, and scrubbed his hands over his face. \u0026ldquo;Thank the Green God it\u0026rsquo;s you,\u0026rdquo; he said fervently. \u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s so much I have to tell you\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;If it\u0026rsquo;s about Salford,\u0026rdquo; Kaab interrupted, raising her voice slightly and infusing it with steel, \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t care.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe looked at her in pure bafflement, as if she were a dream-remnant that had failed to dissipate when he opened his eyes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab leaned forward. \u0026ldquo;Did you learn \u003cem\u003eanything\u003c/em\u003e from Ixsaabim about the Tullan Empire?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe looked indignant. \u0026ldquo;Of course!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Then you\u0026rsquo;ll understand that when I inform you two Tullans have come to the City as guests of the Chartili Embassy, what I am in fact saying is that Francis Salford is not to be interfered with until he is no longer of any use to the Balam, or to any of the Kinwiinik.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRook\u0026rsquo;s eyes widened. \u0026ldquo;Kaab\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo; he began.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab let her voice go up a little more in volume and steel. \u0026ldquo;You told me once that you belonged to the Balam.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Beyond question,\u0026rdquo; he insisted angrily.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And that you also belong to the Watch,\u0026rdquo; she continued.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe fell silent for a moment. \u0026ldquo;If you would just let me explain what I\u0026rsquo;ve found out about Salford\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Salford is a dead man. For his crimes to our family, his life is forfeit. You already know this. But I will not let my family and my nation be destroyed simply because I could not wait to take my revenge at the appropriate time. You loved Ixsaabim; you were loyal to her. Do you truly understand your loyalties now?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis eyes glittered in the dim light and she wondered if she had pushed him too far. \u0026ldquo;I understand. But if you will not allow me to be a watchman, then you must promise me one thing.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab frowned. \u0026ldquo;Go on.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Let me be the one to kill Salford.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe hesitated. He was demanding a kinsman\u0026rsquo;s right on behalf of Ixsaabim, a woman from no ordinary lineage. In spite of all he had learned, it was impossible that he knew the enormity of what he was asking.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I will consider a dual blow,\u0026rdquo; she replied cautiously.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe exhaled. \u0026ldquo;That will do.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe left half of the pastries with him as a peace offering and walked toward the Hill to start the second act of her night. Soon, her feet were on the steps of Tremontaine House with a skip of familiarity and gladness, and its door opened for her to warmth and welcome.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;My lady Ixkaab Balam!\u0026rdquo; Grayson greeted her cheerfully.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab grinned at him. He was never quite sure how to correctly address her, but Diane was right. He knew her well, and she had gained his trust and favor after their shared adventure with the swordsman\u0026rsquo;s body. \u0026ldquo;Is the duchess still with her guests?\u0026rdquo; she asked.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes, but I am sure she will be pleased to see you. Shall I announce you?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere was an awkward pause.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;My lady Ixkaab? Are you\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. do you not wish me to announce you?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab shook herself out of her daze and pointed vaguely to the hooks that held the cloaks and outer garments of Diane\u0026rsquo;s visitors. \u0026ldquo;Perhaps another time. The party is sizable and it would be rude for me to turn up unannounced.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe turned away quickly before her face could betray her. There, nestled amid the Chartili and Zeren clothing, was that same tilm\u0026agrave;tli that had shocked her so badly at the gallery. She cursed herself as she hastened from the house. Had she somehow forgotten the link between the Tullans and the Chartili Embassy? Had she completely failed to foresee that by involving Esha she might unwittingly expose Diane to the sworn enemies of the Kinwiinik? And how could Kaab blame her, when she had not spoken a word of the political situation in Binkiinha? Esha, of all people, from a place riven by civil war, would not judge her and would have found ways to be careful. But Kaab had said nothing, and so there was a Tullan eating and drinking with Diane in Tremontaine House while Kaab slunk away like an unwanted beggar.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe had not felt jealous of Esha before, but now, in spite of herself, she felt a deep, irrational resentment toward all of them. How dare they show hospitality to her enemies!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eMathematical Pedagogy and the Developing Mind \u003c/em\u003ewas not an easy text to read, but it was helpful when placed side by side with actual experience, and so Micah had placed herself at the back of Doctor Goodell\u0026rsquo;s math class, noting his use of the techniques of his old professor.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;This is boring. When are we ever going to use this?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah raised an eyebrow. That was new. The troublemakers, skylarkers, pranksters, and dawdlers of each class had already been identified this far into the school year, but, as Marsden noted in his book, a developing mind was subject to personality change, and it was to be expected that a pupil\u0026rsquo;s behavior might change.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eStill, she would never have expected that tone from Charlotte.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDoctor Goodell barely blinked. He continued in his gentle way. \u0026ldquo;Force diagrams have many applications, from the theoretical to the practical.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte swept her desk clear. The sound of her slate shattering on the floor shocked the entire class into silent attentiveness. Martin jerked upright from his habitual half-slumber, Franklin stopped flirting with Charlie and stared at her in awe. Beakis calmly picked up a fragment of slate that had settled near his feet and pocketed it as a memento of the occasion.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What use are they \u003cem\u003eto me\u003c/em\u003e? I can\u0026rsquo;t take them to university because I can\u0026rsquo;t \u003cem\u003ego\u003c/em\u003e to university, ever. And it\u0026rsquo;s not as if they\u0026rsquo;re any good in Riverside.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDoctor Goodell sighed. He took a crumpled silk handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped his face. \u0026ldquo;You mustn\u0026rsquo;t say \u0026lsquo;ever,\u0026rsquo; Charlotte. Things can change, and\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;They never change for the better!\u0026rdquo; she snapped. \u0026ldquo;I was supposed to come to school to \u0026lsquo;better myself\u0026rsquo; and you know what? It\u0026rsquo;s all a lie. None of you can make good on these promises of a better life. You can\u0026rsquo;t even fix what\u0026rsquo;s wrong with my life now. You can\u0026rsquo;t get Jason out of the Chop, or wake up Bullseye, or bring Freddie back\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo; Her voice broke there, but she pushed on in pure fury. \u0026ldquo;Why did you make me want more when it wasn\u0026rsquo;t true?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah rubbed her sleeves reflexively, discomfited by the growing tension. The other students kept silent, some in shock, some in sorrow. The Academy staff had known about Jason and Bullseye, but a few of the pupils were hearing it confirmed for the first time. That wasn\u0026rsquo;t the only thing that worried her. Doctor Goodell, crushing his handkerchief between restless fingers, leaning slightly against his desk, worried her. The expression on his face worried her. His forehead was creased in concentration, but likely also in pain. Sweat gathered and rolled down his temple. He was slow, so slow, in bringing the handkerchief to his face that she kept her gaze on the trembling motion of his hand and barely noticed when the angle and direction of his lean changed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte saw. Her face transformed from anger to horror. \u0026ldquo;No!\u0026rdquo; she cried, and she was the first to reach him as he tumbled to the floor.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah froze. Mere seconds passed, but numbness congealed time and weighted her limbs. She fought it, stood, moved, and reached the front of the room at last. She had to push children away to get to him. His face was mottled, red and white, and his half-opened eyes looked sad and a little surprised.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah blinked, and there was the same face before her, but now the eyes looked empty and unknowing. She had to pause to remember how to speak.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Charlotte, get Master Fenton or Master Easom, quickly!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Do something!\u0026rdquo; Charlotte said frantically. \u0026ldquo;He\u0026rsquo;s not breathing. Make him breathe!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s enough! Shut up and run!\u0026rdquo; Desperation, not anger, sharpened Micah\u0026rsquo;s voice. She could already tell it was too late. Charlotte was right; Doctor Goodell was not breathing. She put her hand on his chest, and she could feel nothing.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe kept her hand there, resting lightly over his heart. She did not know what else to do.\u003c/p\u003e","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane was thwarted during a contentious Council meeting, causing the path of the bridge project to take an unexpected turn. Kaab sought out Tess to warn her, but the meeting was not a pleasant reunion. Esha realized Rafe and Reza might both be too stubborn for their own good. Charlotte and the River Rats moved to protect Riverside with disastrous consequences.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003eWho\u0026rsquo;s Who:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah Heslop \u0026ndash; farm girl and brilliant\u0026nbsp;mathematician\u0026nbsp;trying to make sense of new opportunities\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess the Hand \u0026ndash; a talented forger working to keep Riverside safe\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha Jayasuriya \u0026ndash; a foreign courtesan with a spiritual relationship to the sword\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.302","slug":"tremontaine-s4e04","audio":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/audio/season4/TremontaineS4E04.mp3","epub":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E04.epub","mobi":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E04.mobi","pdf":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E04.pdf","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b18226b07839400014de76b","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 4"},{"id":"5b1822d597be280001eff36d","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":6,"title":"The Turning of the Tide","released_date":"2018-10-10T11:34:53.146+00:00","released":true,"strapline":"The Salamander has an appointment","byline":"Liz Duffy Adams and Joel Derfner","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/covers/season4/TremontaineS4E05_2.jpg","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/dividers/tremontaine_divider.png","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-10-10","body":"\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander sighed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey had been in Riverside for so long, it seemed, that they could no longer remember their arrival. Which put them in good company, of course; no one else in Riverside could remember it either, and in fact, it very well may have been the case that no one else in Riverside had been alive to witness it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNevertheless, although over the years the faces of those who came before the Salamander to beg assistance or mercy or absolution changed, they did so with such frequency and regularity that they seemed to blur into a single, rather tedious, visage. The effect of this blurring was, on occasion, to afflict the Salamander with a sense of great weariness of which, though they knew that there was nothing whatsoever to be done about it, they would have been deeply glad to be rid.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSuch were the thoughts of the Salamander as the man who stood before them today, dripping from the relentless rain, continued to weep. \u0026ldquo;But you see,\u0026rdquo; he blubbered, \u0026ldquo;I broke my arm in a brawl a couple weeks ago\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;he nodded unnecessarily to his arm, which was wrapped in a filthy sling\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;and all we were doing was looking for a place to stay while we did the bridge work.\u0026rdquo; He grew briefly hot with indignation. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;d think from the way people got upset that we were trying to eat their children.\u0026rdquo; He sighed dramatically; then, as if remembering where he was and before whom he stood, his voice began trembling again. \u0026ldquo;But since then I haven\u0026rsquo;t been able to work, and if I haven\u0026rsquo;t gotten paid I can hardly feed my kids \u003cem\u003eand \u003c/em\u003epay you back, can I?\u0026rdquo; He laughed weakly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander did not.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe men and women who had been streaming into Riverside all season from the sopping-wet countryside were an annoyance to the Salamander, who kept having to exert themself all over again to spread their reputation far enough abroad for it to be of any use. They succeeded, of course, in terrifying each new crop of arrivals\u0026mdash;hence the feebleness of the man\u0026rsquo;s laugh\u0026mdash;but they much preferred their exertion to be a thing it was within their power to choose, rather than a burden forced upon them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut about this, too, they knew that there was nothing whatsoever to be done.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe man\u0026rsquo;s laughter shaded into a whimper, an unpleasantly wet sound, merging with a trickling near the doorway; a rivulet of rainwater had found its way in and was winding across the dusty cracked tiles of the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s front room, dimly lit by a handful of small, begrimed panes and a single candle on the table. The smell of urine joined those of mold, rat droppings, and dust, and they found themself wishing it would all be washed away, all the detritus of so many long years.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander\u0026rsquo;s voice, as always, was soft and sibilant. \u0026ldquo;I can hardly be responsible,\u0026rdquo; they half-whispered, \u0026ldquo;for the disregard you display for physical danger and the consequences thereof. I am afraid that, broken arm notwithstanding, I must insist that you pay me what you owe me today.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe man sobbed. \u0026ldquo;But I don\u0026rsquo;t \u003cem\u003ehave \u003c/em\u003ewhat I owe you! I just don\u0026rsquo;t!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander sighed a sigh of infinite boredom. \u0026ldquo;But you have many other things,\u0026rdquo; they said. \u0026ldquo;You have a wife and children, empty though their stomachs may be, you have a full complement of limbs, more or less, you have\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey broke off. A new scent in the air, a breath where before there had been stillness.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSo. The work was set in motion.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNot unexpectedly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander went several moments without saying anything, the only movement in the shop the shadows cast on the wall by the guttering candle flame.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What?\u0026rdquo; said the man, his voice trembling with panic. \u0026ldquo;What do I have?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander turned to him and fixed him with eyes that, had he been able to perceive them more clearly, would have terrified him far more than he thought possible. \u0026ldquo;It seems,\u0026rdquo; they said, impassive, \u0026ldquo;that Fate has granted you a reprieve, at least for today. Begone. I have matters far more important to attend to than your dereliction.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe man was out the shop door, back into the streets slick and muddy with the water pouring from the skies, before the last words had ceased sounding in the air.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut the Salamander didn\u0026rsquo;t mind.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBecause at some point before the sun rose on the morrow, along with all the hearts shattered, the lives thrown away, the infants conceived, the wagers staked, the vows broken, the pleasure taken, the insults borne, they were going to have a visitor.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOne they had not seen for a very, very long time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003chr\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eIt was said on the grounds of the University, and not without reason, that the relative importance of any given doctor could be measured by the number of enemies he had managed to acquire. Doctor Lefi\u0026egrave;vre, by far the most distinguished man in the School of Humors, was hated not only by every doctor in the College of Physic but also by every scholar of medicine at the University of Cham, as well as quite a few at the Royal Academy of Erland. The charismatic Doctor Higginbotham, despairing of his chances to be held in such odium, had arranged to feign a feud with another doctor in his faculty; unfortunately for Doctor Higginbotham, the ruse had been discovered by an enterprising student, and upon its revelation he had become a laughingstock.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhat could be deduced, then, from the fact that so many doctors and students at the University wished to attend the exequies of Mortimer Goodell, Professor of Mathematics, that the ceremony had to be moved from the modest confines of the Choir Chamber to the considerably grander Great Hall, other than that the good doctor had been a figure of complete and utter insignificance?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eImmense tall windows marched down both sides of the wood-paneled long hall, and yet admitted little light; the morning was dark with rain. There had been no time to let down the overhead candelabra, though University servants had hastily lit candles in the sconces along the walls, and the steam rising off everyone\u0026rsquo;s rain-dampened outer clothes lent a humid halo to each of the candles, further dimming their small radiance. The damp perhaps explained the persistent coughing to be heard here and there in the crowd, or perhaps it was the illness that had begun to make itself known in the University this unhealthful spring. But few, if any, had chosen to stay away.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was an almost entirely masculine gathering, though a trio of female servants stood against a far wall, defiant in their grief; they had known the doctor long enough to mourn him as a friend. Or more. The older woman in the center of the three, tall and gaunt-faced, gazed steadily at Goodell\u0026rsquo;s casket, plain oak draped with his scholar\u0026rsquo;s gown, where it stood on a long table in the center of the room. Her face was wet with silent tears, and a friend on one side held her hand, while the woman on the other clasped her shoulder, giving her the dignity of chief mourner. No one noticed her at all.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDoctor Dixon was there\u0026mdash;among countless professors\u0026mdash;the chair both of the College of Natural Philosophy and the School of Mathematics, somber in yellow sleeves. Doctor Chauncey was there, unable to keep from reflecting that the doctors of his generation were succumbing to the assaults of time ever more quickly and wondering when would come his turn to fall. Doctor Martin, his latest amour an almost respectable distance from his side, wondered who would now explain to him the math he had never thought would be necessary for his work; Doctor Featherstone, who had long since given up hope that he could persuade Goodell to smile on him in any but the most collegial of ways, sat beside Martin. Behind the professors sat the students, both aspiring mathematicians and young men engaged in non-mathematical pursuits who had nonetheless been the recipients of Goodell\u0026rsquo;s kindness on needful occasions.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAmong them, too, were recent graduates, including young Rafe Fenton, whose new school, though it had not kept Goodell from his University duties, had nonetheless upset so very many people in so very many ways, and Fenton\u0026rsquo;s fellows, Joshua Easom and Micah Heslop, the three of them standing with lowered heads. And near them a half dozen children, their students, no doubt, and by their overawed demeanor suggested that they were the carefully selected few who could be trusted to behave properly. One of them, a thin, dark girl, wore a too-large black shawl over her faded blue dress, and looked wide-eyed at everything\u0026mdash;the great room, the windows, the coffin, the crowds\u0026mdash;as though she meant to memorize it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd behind them came, oddly enough, a veritable horde of men whose affiliation with the University was years if not decades in the past: innumerable Pierres, Jacks without measure, profusions of Williams and Johns and Edwards who had either proven unequal to the challenge of a career in academia or who had thought better of it in time, to make room in their lives for that measure of happiness which the single-minded pursuit of knowledge rarely suffers to tarry for long.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll these and more gathered in the gloom of the Great Hall as the pipers piped, the drummers drummed, the orators eulogized, the mourners filed one by one past the coffin, weeping tears whose salt they did not grudge, swallowing past knots in the throat they found themselves unable to dislodge, mourning each in his own way a man whose like the University would not see again for some time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003chr\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;To Doctor Goodell.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe raised his cup, and Micah and Joshua echoed, in somber tones, \u0026ldquo;To Doctor Goodell.\u0026rdquo; Rafe drank, and shuddered. Milk. Joshua wiped the line of white off his lip and shuddered too, while Micah tipped her head back, draining her cup.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know how he could stand it,\u0026rdquo; said Rafe.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt had hardly seemed right to toast their absent friend with anything but his customary drink. But\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;Barman!\u0026rdquo; Rafe waved, the gesture unnecessary in the little room. \u0026ldquo;A round of ale, as quick as you can, for the love of all the gods.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe three of them sat in the tight back corner of the Unequal Triangle\u0026mdash;where, after all, would they have been able to procure Goodell\u0026rsquo;s favorite drink but in Goodell\u0026rsquo;s favorite watering hole? It seemed fitting that he had chosen this, the tiniest tavern in the district, literally a triangle crammed into the angle between two un-square buildings, with room for just half a dozen tables and a narrow bar along one wall. Goodell, after all, had been something of an unequal triangle himself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe friends had the place to themselves for the moment, along with the evidently weary bartender, a lanky fellow who until Rafe\u0026rsquo;s call had been napping with his head on the bar, his long drooping moustaches soaking up a puddle of beer; the usual publican, an elderly man who had served Goodell for decades, was apparently far too sorrowful to work today, and it was his son who now lifted his dripping face, nodded without looking at them, and bestirred himself so far as to pull three pints. Rainy afternoon light filtered dimly\u0026mdash;very dimly\u0026mdash;through an utterly insufficient window at the front of the tavern.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe pushed his milk away, a thin wash of white on the scarred wooden table following it. They sat in silence. Micah leaned back and stared in an unfocused way at the window, the way she did when she was thinking. Of course, when was she not thinking? Joshua rubbed his thumb absently into a carved graffito, then squinted at it, tilting his head, and read aloud, \u0026ldquo;Red\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. Tom\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. is\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. a\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. Oh.\u0026rdquo; He grimaced. Rafe leaned over and read it upside down; any another time they would have guffawed. Rafe sat back, too sad to speak.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt wasn\u0026rsquo;t just that Goodell had been the headmaster of the school. Not too long before, that would have been sufficient, but now that the institution that had for so long been a dream of Rafe\u0026rsquo;s had begun to assume a different place in his imagination, the death of its headmaster would have proven to be tragic, certainly, but not much more. Goodell, however\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. Goodell had somehow represented to Rafe the very best of scholarship. The purity, the \u003cem\u003eholiness \u003c/em\u003eof the endeavor. The thirst for knowledge, for understanding, for a sense of what held the world together, and the tireless quest to quench that thirst. All these things, Goodell had somehow not merely represented but \u003cem\u003ebeen\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd now he was gone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eTo say nothing of\u0026mdash;\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Rafe shut the door on that thought. Goodell\u0026rsquo;s death was bad enough as it was.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe bartender slouched over to the table and thumped down the pints, slopping ale onto the table, and then slouched back to his drowsy perch. Rafe pulled a glass toward himself and drank half of it down in a series of eager gulps. The first swallow, mixing with the milk aftertaste, was vile, but after that it was just welcome drink, with the promise of sorrow eased and cares lightened, if only for a time. His friends drank too, still in silence, until, one after another, the three cups were back on the table, empty.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJoshua met Rafe\u0026rsquo;s eye. \u0026ldquo;One more round,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;and we may feel we have begun to drink away our grief. Just begun, understand. I don\u0026rsquo;t mean to suggest Goodell deserved less than outrageous drunkenness.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I suspect,\u0026rdquo; said Rafe, \u0026ldquo;that the third round may be the starting point. Alas, I have brought nothing with which to write, that we might keep a record of the experiment. But let us pursue it all the same, as earnestly as we can.\u0026rdquo; He raised his hand at the bartender again, and once more the lugubrious fellow was prompted into reluctant motion.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eHe is exactly the right attendant for this informal wake.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe light slid almost imperceptibly across the room as the time passed, the afternoon growing if anything darker and more gloomy. A day drinker came in now and then, shaking the rain off his clothes, had his dose, and sloped off again. And Rafe, Joshua, and Micah sat and drank, past their second round and even their third, and finally reached the place of tipsiness that allowed their grief to speak.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Did he ever do that, that trick for you?\u0026rdquo; asked Joshua. \u0026ldquo;With the, with the \u003cem\u003ecoin\u003c/em\u003e?\u0026rdquo; He began to giggle helplessly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What? A trick, a what?\u0026rdquo; Rafe had to work his mouth quite purposefully to form the words.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eYou\u003c/em\u003e know. A magic trick!\u0026rdquo; Joshua punctuated his words with a hiccup. \u0026ldquo;He pulled it out of my \u003cem\u003eear\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe roared with laughter. Joshua grabbed his forearm on the table and shook it to get his attention. \u0026ldquo;No, no, truly, I am \u003cem\u003enot\u003c/em\u003e making it up. He did\u003cem\u003e a magic trick\u003c/em\u003e! It would have been tragic in anyone younger but you know, you, you had to find it\u0026mdash;\u003cem\u003ehic\u0026mdash;\u003c/em\u003eendearing.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe caught Joshua\u0026rsquo;s hand and gripped it, nodding emphatically. \u0026ldquo;Yes. Yes. \u0026lsquo;Endearing,\u0026rsquo; that, that\u0026rsquo;s the word. Gods, he was like no one else. No one, no one.\u0026rdquo; This set them both off again in giggles.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe caught his breath, rubbing his hands over his face. Micah, he dimly realized, was quiet, had been quiet all along. She had drunk more slowly than he and Joshua, but he felt in her stillness her own form of drunkenness. And now, as he peered at her through the deepening gloom of the bar, he was horrified to see her eyes glistening.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah never wept. He couldn\u0026rsquo;t even say she wept now, exactly, but in the\u0026mdash;he tried to count the years he had known her\u0026mdash;two? Three? No, two? Never mind\u0026mdash;in the time he had known her, he didn\u0026rsquo;t remember seeing her eyes well up in this way. Joshua followed his gaze, and they both stilled. Rafe reached out to her, then withdrew his hand. Touch was no comfort to Micah.\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJoshua, in silence, rose and moved around the table. He didn\u0026rsquo;t touch her, didn\u0026rsquo;t even look at her. He sat beside her, leaned his forearms on the table, lowered his head as though listening to something Rafe couldn\u0026rsquo;t hear.\u003cbr /\u003e Micah took a long, quavering breath and said, \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s just that I don\u0026rsquo;t understand how he could be here and then now he\u0026rsquo;s gone and we\u0026rsquo;ll never see him again\u0026mdash;I mean of course death is ordinary, of course it is, animals died all the time on the farm, Uncle Amos said don\u0026rsquo;t name them you\u0026rsquo;ll only be sadder, but I thought, I\u0026rsquo;ll be sad anyway and they ought to have names, so I did, and then when they died at least you know \u003cem\u003ewho\u003c/em\u003e died\u0026mdash;but you\u0026rsquo;d only be sad for a little bit\u0026mdash;and Grandmother Heslop died and Auntie Gert when I was little and everyone was sad but I didn\u0026rsquo;t know them that well, not as well as Ginger the pig so I really was sadder for Ginger, though I didn\u0026rsquo;t say so because everyone else was much much sadder\u0026mdash;and so of course I know everyone dies, and it\u0026rsquo;s not a surprise for Doctor Goodell to die, he was quite old, he was older than Ginger was and even older than Auntie Gert and so there\u0026rsquo;s nothing surprising about it\u0026mdash;but, but, but I miss him. I \u003cem\u003emiss\u003c/em\u003e him. \u003cem\u003eI\u003c/em\u003e \u003cem\u003emiss\u003c/em\u003e \u003cem\u003ehim\u003c/em\u003e. I want him to come back and be here and drink milk and do a magic trick and talk about mathematics in a way that is so much smarter than either of you can, and fall asleep in his chair when the students are writing, and wink at the buttery workers when he gets his cheese and bread and, and, and just \u003cem\u003ebe. \u003c/em\u003eI don\u0026rsquo;t know why I feel like this now when I never did before but I do. Death is terrible. It just is.\u0026rdquo; She came to an abrupt stop, and heaved a deep sigh. The water in her eyes spilled over and ran down her round cheek, and she knuckled it away, and took a long slow drink of her warm ale.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe and Joshua drank too, and a morose silence settled back over them, like a heavy, wet-through wool blanket. The barman had lit a couple of lanterns and, as the tiny bar filled, seemed to cast off his fatigue, like a badger with nightfall. Someone drummed a rhythm on the bar with his hands, and the barman blew through his moustaches and sang hoarsely, \u0026ldquo;With a hey, and a hey, and a ho ho ho! You can suck my prick till the winter\u0026rsquo;s snow!\u0026rdquo; A woman laughed like a bell, on and on, ringing through the crowd\u0026rsquo;s hum. All the cups on their table were empty.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eDeath is terrible.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah was looking directly at Rafe, he realized. \u0026ldquo;What?\u0026rdquo; he said sharply.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I said, what\u0026rsquo;ll you do now?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe pretended not to know what she meant. \u0026ldquo;Go home and sleep it off, what else?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No, I know, but I mean, about your book?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Micah,\u0026rdquo; said Joshua, his eyes on Rafe. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m not sure now is the time to\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know what you mean,\u0026rdquo; said Rafe. His stomach clenched. \u003cem\u003ePlease, Micah. Don\u0026rsquo;t.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You know,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;Doctor Goodell was going to help you get it published. Put his name behind it, sign the imprimatur. Don\u0026rsquo;t you need that? Didn\u0026rsquo;t you say, \u0026lsquo;Thank goodness for Doctor Goodell otherwise all my work would be in vain the University hates me I\u0026rsquo;ve made too many enemies I\u0026rsquo;d never get it published?\u0026rsquo; Isn\u0026rsquo;t that what you\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes!\u0026rdquo; he shouted, and she flinched. He realized he\u0026rsquo;d been holding his breath while she talked. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry, I\u0026rsquo;m so sorry, I just\u0026mdash;yes. That\u0026rsquo;s all\u0026mdash;yes.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe had, as if bent single-mindedly upon the task, alienated every professor in the College of Natural Philosophy with the exception of Goodell.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWho was now in no position to sign the imprimatur, without which no printer would produce his book.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe could feel Micah and Joshua gazing at him. The room started to spin, and he felt the ale sloshing in his guts, threatening to return violently whence it had come. He pressed both his hands against the edge of the table, stared fixedly at his ink-stained fingers, willing the nausea to subside. Because it was true.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWithout Goodell\u0026rsquo;s sponsorship, what hope did he have?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe got up, ignoring their cries of concern, and staggered out into the rain.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003chr\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eKaab, Diane thought, looked as though she were trying very hard to remember something important that was nevertheless proving elusive. Then she gasped, on the edge of a cry, her breath ragged at the end. Diane leaned over her, her hand down Kaab\u0026rsquo;s trousers, flush with a fierce, prideful pleasure. They lay across Diane\u0026rsquo;s bed\u0026mdash;on the actual bed, which made a refreshing change\u0026mdash;still clothed, Kaab sprawled on her back where Diane had tossed her. Diane leaned down and kissed Kaab hard, her lover\u0026rsquo;s teeth seizing her lower lip, and then felt that soft mouth melt into her own, as she worked her fingers and felt Kaab arch and writhe beneath her. She pulled back to watch the beautiful dark face as her lover closed her eyes, tipped back her head, and opened her mouth in an almost noiseless cry\u0026mdash;as though she had long schooled herself to silence even in a moment of such abandon\u0026mdash;her breath catching with the tiniest sound. A triumph, to have wrung that sound from her. It was a moment that seemed to go on and on, before Kaab released her breath and all the tension in her body, sinking back onto Diane\u0026rsquo;s arm.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis had not been Kaab\u0026rsquo;s attitude upon her arrival. Then she had been tense, almost shivering with it, obviously come to talk about something quite serious. But at the sight of her tight jaw, Diane\u0026mdash;rather tense as well, from her own unsuccessful efforts to determine an appropriate course of action after Nevilleson\u0026rsquo;s gall in sending a swordsman after her\u0026mdash;had let wild impulse guide her, and beguiled her unexpected guest into setting aside her business for a little while. With a satiated Kaab in her arms now, she could not regret it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab opened her eyes and offered her a lazy smile.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well,\u0026rdquo; she murmured. \u0026ldquo;It seems that I am now in your debt.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I would never dare to suggest such a thing.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Perhaps not,\u0026rdquo; said Kaab. \u0026ldquo;But that does not mean you do not believe it.\u0026rdquo; She smiled, her teeth bright against her face. \u0026ldquo;And so I must keep careful track, lest I find myself in arrears.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indeed.\u0026rdquo; Diane affected a serious expression. \u0026ldquo;It is why I so much enjoy doing business with you\u0026mdash;oh!\u0026rdquo; She uttered an involuntary squeak as Kaab seized her waist in both hands and threw her onto her back, scrambling up and on top of her. Diane laughed with sheer delight, hot with the delicious weight of the other woman pressing her into the down of the bed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd then Kaab stopped. Her gaze slid sideways, as though she were listening to some secret Diane could not hear. She slid off Diane and off the bed, crossed the room swiftly and noiselessly, and, to Diane\u0026rsquo;s amazement, slipped straight out the window into the rain, climbing down and out of sight. Diane sat up and stared after her. Then came the quiet knock on the door.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe stood, straightening her clothes, as young Sarah came in and said, \u0026ldquo;Madam, Esha Jayasuriya is here to see you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAh. Diane sighed a little, pressed her palms down her dress to soften any wrinkles, gave her skirts a little shake, and nodded at the girl. \u0026ldquo;Show her in. And bring chocolate.\u0026rdquo; She crossed to the window and looked out, as she deliberately slowed her breathing; there was no sign of Kaab, of course. She pulled the casement shut, and turned back to greet her friend. The problem of what to do about the fact that she had nearly been gutted in her own home would have to wait.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane could not help regretting that Esha had chosen Ambassador House as her refuge rather than Tremontaine. But Diane was not a woman who had much use for regret, so she left it alone and accepted what could not be changed. At least now Esha, come out of the shadow of the demimonde to associate herself with Reza, could visit her openly and respectably.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNow here she was, lovely in poppy-patterned silks, and Diane kissed her on the cheek. She smelled of delicate sandalwood and geranium. \u0026ldquo;I beg you to forgive me for coming unexpectedly,\u0026rdquo; said Esha. She took Diane in at a glance, and gave a small smile. \u0026ldquo;Especially now that I see I have interrupted you while you were engaged in other pursuits.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane felt a warmth rise to her face. \u0026ldquo;I was quite finished,\u0026rdquo; she said, smiling, and drew her guest to the chairs by the window. \u0026ldquo;And even if I had not been, my dear friend, no forgiveness would be necessary; you are always welcome.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I am glad.\u0026rdquo; They smiled at each other in perfect understanding.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe chocolate came in, and as Diane poured for them both, Esha settled herself down. \u0026ldquo;I hope you will not take it amiss if I say that you are looking more content than you were the last time I saw you.\u0026rdquo; Diane tilted her head. Esha shrugged. \u0026ldquo;I had a perfectly lovely time at your dinner,\u0026rdquo; she said, \u0026ldquo;as did, I have no doubt, every other guest in attendance, but I am not sure I can say the same for you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane leaned back in her chair and sipped her chocolate. \u0026ldquo;How gauche of me, to allow that to become evident.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha stirred her cup, the spoon clinking against the porcelain. \u0026ldquo;It cannot have been evident to anyone else. But for one who knows you so well\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; She licked her spoon with a cat-like little lap of the tongue, as Diane felt an old familiar glow.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eHow does she manage to be so risqu\u0026eacute; \u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003eand so decorous in the same moment?\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Will you not confide your distress to me,\u0026rdquo; continued Esha, \u0026ldquo;that I may help if I can?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eOf course. \u003c/em\u003eDiane set her cup down. The swordsman must have upset her even more than she realized. \u0026ldquo;The very fact that I did not think immediately to call on you and request your counsel,\u0026rdquo; she said, \u0026ldquo;is evidence of how much I am in need of it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You have but to ask,\u0026rdquo; said Esha, \u0026ldquo;and if it is within my power it is granted.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane bit the corner of her lip, and then leaned forward and said, \u0026ldquo;It has all been \u003cem\u003eawful.\u003c/em\u003e That pompous ass Lord Nevilleson, whose feelings I apparently wounded past bearing in Council, sent a swordsman after me, of all things\u0026mdash;I was faced with his blade right here in this house.\u0026rdquo; Esha\u0026rsquo;s eyes widened. \u0026ldquo;Yes,\u0026rdquo; Diane said, \u0026ldquo;it went that far. Of course, my\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. my own swordsman rescued me and killed him\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;the image of Kaab\u0026rsquo;s blade dripping blood flashed across her mind and she shuddered\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;and Nevilleson, as you may have heard, has slunk off to the country, and good riddance to him.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe threw herself to her feet and twitched her skirts aside, pacing to the door and back. Esha looked up at her with concern. \u0026ldquo;So all is well again, no?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That is just the difficulty!\u0026rdquo; said Diane, frustration thickening her voice. \u0026ldquo;If only I could say so! No. No, the entire sordid incident made it very clear to me how unsustainable my current tactics are. It all used to work so nicely with William\u0026mdash;I would lay out the proper course of action, he\u0026mdash;an eminently sensible man\u0026mdash;would \u003cem\u003esee \u003c/em\u003ethat it was the proper course of action, and he\u0026rsquo;d follow it. I didn\u0026rsquo;t even have to go to the trouble of making him think it was his own idea! He respected me, and knew he had to make a showing in Council. It suited everyone\u0026rsquo;s needs and inclinations.\u0026rdquo; She sighed. \u0026ldquo;I thought that as duchess in my own right I might perhaps be able to take up the reins, if I did it in a careful way.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And such has not proven to be the case?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane clenched her fists. Unclenched them\u0026mdash;what use was anger, here? \u0026ldquo;Now that I have waded directly into the action, as it were, I find that I have sacrificed the power of concealment and gained nothing in return, to the point where I may have been killed, or, more likely, forced to retire myself to the country to gnaw upon my own heart in idleness and failure.\u0026rdquo; She shook her head. \u0026ldquo;It is not to be borne!\u0026rdquo; Esha had kept her eyes fixed on her, seeming to wait patiently for Diane to reach the conclusion and say, as she now did, \u0026ldquo;So. The fact is inescapable: I must withdraw entirely from political life. Or, rather, I must appear to withdraw entirely from political life. In another world, perhaps I could ably act for myself.\u0026rdquo; \u003cem\u003eIn another world. Better not to think such things. \u003c/em\u003e\u0026ldquo;But who will act for Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s interests? Must I lose everything I\u0026rsquo;ve built, watch all I\u0026rsquo;ve worked for be washed away?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha reached out her hand, and Diane came back to take it, and sit again beside her. Her friend shook her head a little and said, \u0026ldquo;You are jesting with me, I believe.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I assure you that I am not.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Surely the solution is obvious? You are a consummate puppeteer\u0026mdash;you lack only a proper proxy to send onto the stage for you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane felt a rush of disappointment. Did Esha really think she hadn\u0026rsquo;t considered such an option? \u0026ldquo;What, such as Lionel?\u0026rdquo; she said, pulling back her hand and sinking back against the cushions. \u0026ldquo;You recall, I\u0026rsquo;m sure, exactly where that got me!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha laughed and shook her head. \u0026ldquo;Well, yes, but Lionel is\u0026mdash;how shall I put this\u0026mdash;more pretty than he is sensible. I had thought he had promise of more aptitude, but alas\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. There it is, though. Don\u0026rsquo;t you see, dear Diane? You need someone \u003cem\u003eclever\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Clever? That\u0026rsquo;s just the trouble! If he\u0026rsquo;s clever I cannot trust him within a hundred miles of Tremontaine secrets, and if he\u0026rsquo;s foolish it\u0026rsquo;s worse!\u0026rdquo; Esha\u0026rsquo;s laughter was infuriating. \u0026ldquo;Stop it at once and take this seriously.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha leaned forward and touched Diane\u0026rsquo;s forearm lightly. \u0026ldquo;Forgive me. I do take it seriously, and believe me, I know quite well the dangers presented by men who are either too clever or too foolish. But there are many men on the Hill with whom I am\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. somewhat better acquainted than you. I have faith that the right knife, neither too sharp nor too dull, will serve your purpose, and that he is there to be found.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane took a breath. \u0026ldquo;Very well. Let us consider\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. Fitz-Levi is much \u003cem\u003etoo\u003c/em\u003e dull; it would be Lionel all over again, only less ornamental.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha laughed. \u0026ldquo;Agreed. What about Lord Arlen?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA shiver ran over Diane\u0026rsquo;s flesh at the very idea. \u0026ldquo;Absolutely not.\u0026rdquo; And then a thought struck her. \u0026ldquo;Wait\u0026mdash;you don\u0026rsquo;t mean to say that you and \u003cem\u003eLord Arlen \u003c/em\u003ehave\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, good gracious, no!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;He is too sharp by half. I\u0026rsquo;d cut myself on him, and almost certainly fatally.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Of course.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve even brought myself to consider Asper Lindley\u0026mdash;I could do it, but it would be such an effort to tend a reed of such slender quality\u0026mdash;and worse, I enjoy his company so little, I don\u0026rsquo;t think I could bear it. Whoever it is, I will have to spend a fair amount of time with him. Even if pleasure isn\u0026rsquo;t the object, it can\u0026rsquo;t be out of the running \u003cem\u003eentirely\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha nodded, and then something seemed to strike her. She tilted her head and regarded her friend. \u0026ldquo;What about Lord Octavian Perry?\u0026rdquo; Diane\u0026rsquo;s eyes widened. \u0026ldquo;I believe the rogue might be perfectly suited to your needs.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eOctavian Perry?\u003c/em\u003e \u0026ldquo;Oh! Oh, but he\u0026rsquo;s so\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. so\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. \u003cem\u003eunhandsome\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo;\u003cem\u003e And he\u0026rsquo;s a \u003c/em\u003ePerry. \u003cem\u003eSuch a tedious family.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know.\u0026rdquo; Esha smiled slightly and glanced aside, as though caught in a pleasant memory. \u0026ldquo;I think he has qualities that may compensate for what might be considered an ugly face. He is, for example, an accomplished flautist. Very agile lips.\u0026rdquo; Diane prepared to raise an eyebrow, but Esha went smoothly on as if she had said nothing out of the ordinary. A pleasure, this, to spend time with friends who trusted one to appreciate their wit without requiring one to make a grand display of it. \u0026ldquo;Though in any case,\u0026rdquo; Esha continued, \u0026ldquo;you need not take whomever it is as your lover. Seduction, however effective a weapon it is for you, is hardly the only arrow in your quiver.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane smiled at the compliment. \u0026ldquo;That is true, of course. And perhaps it would be better to simplify matters this time. Still, Octavian\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. The man is such an eccentric. And that absurd dog!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Perhaps. Such eccentricity would, however, make an exceedingly effective disguise for a man who chooses not to be known.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane knew better than to ask her how exactly she knew his qualities so intimately. \u0026ldquo;I cannot deny that he is amusing company\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha took another sip of chocolate. \u0026ldquo;And I do think he would be responsive to an overture. He\u0026rsquo;s bored, I think. He may not know it, but he is. Perhaps he\u0026rsquo;d be happiest in the country with a muddy pack of dogs always at his heels, and his evenings spent quietly in his library. But his elder brother inherited the estate, of course. And his duties keep him in town.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;His duties? What can they possibly be other than showing up to vote in Council, which, unless I am misinformed, he rarely deigns to do.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;He has\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. other interests.\u0026rdquo; Esha\u0026rsquo;s voice grew careful. \u0026ldquo;Interests in common with Tremontaine.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane set down her cup, and Esha lowered her voice. \u0026ldquo;I do not know the particulars. And of course no one else knows of this. But the fact is, he dabbles in foreign trade and shipping. And he does it well enough to afford a life that should be beyond the means of a second son, keeping himself in rare books and good wine.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane sat up very straight and stared at her friend. \u0026ldquo;You surprise me! What a dark horse he is\u0026mdash;I had no idea.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indeed. Truly, the more I think of it, the more perfect it seems. He\u0026rsquo;s one of the most intelligent men of my acquaintance, and, if even you knew nothing about his mercantile pursuits, one of the most discreet.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane turned her ring around and around on her finger. Of course it would be far wiser to uncouple business from pleasure. Nevertheless, the thought of combining the two in concert with that witty, quirky man had a certain attraction. \u0026ldquo;Well. Perhaps you\u0026rsquo;re right. Perhaps he\u0026rsquo;s both clever and trustworthy. Perhaps he\u0026rsquo;s ready for a challenge and can be willingly drawn into my affairs. But suppose\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; She leaned toward Esha and lowered her voice, in her most confidence-inviting tone, \u0026ldquo;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;suppose I \u003cem\u003edid \u003c/em\u003econsider taking him into my bed?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha laughed, and smoothed the silks over her knees. \u0026ldquo;That,\u0026rdquo; she said demurely, \u0026ldquo;is not for me to reveal. Some things, as you of all people know, one must discover for oneself.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Of course.\u0026rdquo; Diane was quiet for a moment, then reached out and touched the chocolate pot. \u0026ldquo;But I have been unpardonably self-absorbed since you walked into this room. I am grateful that the chocolate, at least, has not had time to grow cold. Still hot. Will you take a second cup, and allow me to be absorbed in you for a time?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Even if you \u003cem\u003ehad \u003c/em\u003ebeen self-absorbed, which of course you have not, it was I who drew you out with leading questions. But thank you, I will take another cup.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane poured, and waited. But Esha did not lift her cup. Eventually she rose and went to the window, facing the blurred silhouette of the city beneath the gentle, unrelenting rain. She spoke abruptly, without turning around. \u0026ldquo;I have been thinking of going home.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane started. She stood and crossed to her friend, to see her face. \u0026ldquo;Home? To Zeren?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha turned to her and nodded. Diane frowned, confused. \u0026ldquo;But I thought\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You thought it was impossible. Because that is what I thought. I fled my home for a very good reason, and did not expect I would ever return. But perhaps I should have been more farseeing. If we know anything of the affairs of men and nations, it is that they are changeable. There is news of a peace treaty, and rumor has it that this will be a lasting one; the balance of power has shifted. For the first time, I have begun to imagine a possible return.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane put her hand on Esha\u0026rsquo;s forearm, and shook her head in wonder. \u0026ldquo;I cannot consider your leaving us forever a happy event. But I \u003cem\u003eam\u003c/em\u003e happy for you, if returning to your country is truly what you desire.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It is. Oh, it is! More than I allowed myself to know, when I thought I never could.\u0026rdquo; Esha\u0026rsquo;s voice caught in her throat with sudden feeling, and Diane impulsively embraced her, and felt Esha\u0026rsquo;s head rest lightly against her shoulder. They stood in the stillness of that comfort for a moment, until Esha\u0026rsquo;s ribs swelled beneath Diane\u0026rsquo;s arms with a deep steadying breath, and she withdrew a little.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But I am afraid we are leaping too far ahead of the possible. My life here is comfortable, thanks to the ambassador. But when our sometime Dragon set a torch to my home and all my worldly belongings\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;Diane noticed Esha did not care to mention Davenant by name\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;I lost all that I had saved. And there is nothing waiting for me in Zeren\u0026mdash;no lands, no income. I cannot, I \u003cem\u003ewill\u003c/em\u003e not, return a pauper. I must have a plan, a greater purpose than to rush back like a lost pup who has caught the scent of home.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I do see that\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; Diane bit her lip, musing. She drifted back to the table, poured herself another cup of chocolate, and sipped. \u0026ldquo;I have a thought. It hardly rises to the level of a plan, much less of a sense of purpose. But it might serve to replenish some of your lost wealth, or begin to. If I may make a proposal?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha returned to the settee and looked up at her. With a rustle of silks, Diane took her place beside her. \u0026ldquo;The fact is, you have a great deal of expertise, in a number of areas, expertise that some might eagerly pay to acquire. I feel certain that your sword dancing is too sacred a skill to sully with commerce?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha nodded firmly. \u0026ldquo;I would not profane the sacred dance by turning it into a gewgaw for the amusement of bored aristocrats who would drop it after a season.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;As I thought. But of your other talents\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. I have heard, often enough, ladies on the Hill lamenting the ignorance in which their mothers had left them before they were wed. And yet these very ladies seem quite content to leave their own daughters in exactly the same ignorance. Perhaps it is a characteristic of noble motherhood, to feel an absurd reluctance to enlighten one\u0026rsquo;s daughters in advance. A shame; it can have such a sad effect on the early days of a marriage.\u0026rdquo; She shrugged. \u0026ldquo;Men, of course, have an inexplicable preference for virginity in brides, but it does leave the girls at rather a disadvantage.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha began to laugh. \u0026ldquo;I am surprised to find myself in the position of having to point out to you that I am ill equipped by nature to deflower noble virgins.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane blushed a little. \u0026ldquo;Oh dear, that\u0026rsquo;s not at all what I mean! But I do believe there are a number of fine Hill matrons who would be very happy to pay for what we might call\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. marriage lore. Their daughters all learn dancing, and etiquette, and all the social graces, after all. Why should they not have some instruction in the more intimate arts?\u0026rdquo; Esha\u0026rsquo;s brow shot up. \u0026ldquo;I do not, of course, mean instruction by \u003cem\u003eexperience.\u003c/em\u003e Merely\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. lectures, perhaps, about what they might expect when they are wed.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha tilted her head, considering. \u0026ldquo;And do you think the matrons would truly pay?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane smiled. \u0026ldquo;I do. I believe they send their daughters unarmed with knowledge, as it were, not because they wish them ill but because they themselves cannot begin to imagine how to broach the subject with them. I think that, if I were to have a number of them to chocolate one day, and tactfully introduce the topic, there would be keen interest in my refined and worldly friend, a member of the exiled Zeren aristocracy, shall we say, and intimate friend of the Chartili ambassador, who would condescend to converse with their daughters on delicate matters in my reception room\u0026mdash;for, of course, a modest honorarium.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha laughed again. \u0026ldquo;Oh, my friend, what a gift you have for reinvention!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane smiled, and said nothing.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha leaned back and gazed up at the ceiling for a moment. A fleeting expression Diane couldn\u0026rsquo;t quite interpret passed over her face: a wry amusement perhaps, and a sense of rapid calculation. Then she lowered her gaze again, to meet Diane\u0026rsquo;s. \u0026ldquo;It is\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. worth considering.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003chr\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eRafe walked very, very slowly through the streets of the Middle City.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was getting him very, very wet, which he found annoying, but he considered it a perfectly reasonable price to pay if it meant that he could delay hearing the words he knew would greet him once he got where he was going.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBecause there was no one he could turn to for help.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe couldn\u0026rsquo;t very well ask Reza to intervene. Even if it were within the ambassador\u0026rsquo;s power\u0026mdash;which it very likely wasn\u0026rsquo;t\u0026mdash;the two of them weren\u0026rsquo;t exactly on the friendliest of terms at the moment.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane de Tremontaine?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe let out a bitter laugh.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis father? What influence would a spice merchant, no matter how thriving his business, have over a printer of books?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd then, despite the sloth\u0026rsquo;s pace he had taken through the streets, he reached his destination.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe knocked. His knuckles stung when they struck the door, and the pain made him feel sorry for himself, so he did it again. And again. And aga\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Good god, man, I\u0026rsquo;m not deaf, you know, and I\u0026rsquo;d prefer to remain that way!\u0026rdquo; The man into whose face he peered was wiry, balding, and irritable of expression. \u0026ldquo;Well? Are you coming in? Or may I return to my work?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe stepped through the door. Clogg\u0026rsquo;s Printing House occupied a small set of rooms, made smaller by the gargantuan press and the cases and cases of letters that lined the walls. A cheerful fire flickered in the hearth in the corner. Rafe resented it. \u0026ldquo;I presume you\u0026rsquo;re Clogg?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes, and what of it? Who are you and what do you want?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere was something bracingly abrupt about the man. \u0026ldquo;Forgive me,\u0026rdquo; said Rafe with a heavy sigh. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m Rafe Fenton. Doctor Goodell spoke with you about my book.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, yes, yes. Come to deliver the manuscript and the imprimatur, have you? God, I hope it\u0026rsquo;s not full of maps and charts and diagrams. Tell me it\u0026rsquo;s not full of maps and charts and diagrams.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It is, I\u0026rsquo;m afraid\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eDamn \u003c/em\u003eit.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u0026mdash;but I still have to read it over to make sure I haven\u0026rsquo;t introduced a ghastly error somewhere along the way.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Then what the hell are you here for?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s throat dried up. He coughed. Still dry. Coughed again. But he would have to speak at some point. Finally: \u0026ldquo;An unexpected turn of events has\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; He coughed one more time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eClogg gave an exasperated sigh. \u0026ldquo;Out with it. What?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Doctor Goodell has died.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, now, that\u0026rsquo;s a shame. I always did like him. Well, thanks for letting me know. I\u0026rsquo;ll see you when you\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No, you don\u0026rsquo;t understand. Doctor Goodell was to have signed my imprimatur from the University.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA shrug and a grimace from the printer. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;d say he\u0026rsquo;s not very likely to be doing that any time soon.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe didn\u0026rsquo;t want to speak. If he didn\u0026rsquo;t ask the question, he wouldn\u0026rsquo;t get the answer. \u0026ldquo;But now I have no one to sign it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eClogg barked a dismissive laugh. \u0026ldquo;What are you talking about?\u0026rdquo; He waved vaguely. \u0026ldquo;The University is crawling with more doctors than a Riverside strumpet\u0026rsquo;s head with lice. Just get somebody else to do it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe forced his voice out. \u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s just it.\u0026rdquo; Clogg looked at him, expectant. \u0026ldquo;Doctor Goodell was the only one willing to sign it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eClogg\u0026rsquo;s eyes widened. \u0026ldquo;Wait, you\u0026rsquo;re \u003cem\u003ehim\u003c/em\u003e?\u0026rdquo; He began to chuckle. \u0026ldquo;The hothead natural philosopher that none of the doctors can stand?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe grimaced. \u0026ldquo;I feel quite certain I am he.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eClogg laughed, more heartily now. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry, man, I really am, it\u0026rsquo;s too bad, but you\u0026rsquo;re going to have a tough time getting that book printed anywhere in the City.\u0026rdquo; He clapped Rafe on the shoulder, not unkindly. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m certainly not willing to risk the University\u0026rsquo;s censure, and if even \u003cem\u003eI\u003c/em\u003e won\u0026rsquo;t print it, then there\u0026rsquo;s absolutely no way those poltroons Noall or Unsworth will even let you through the door, much less start setting type.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe said nothing.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eClogg sighed. \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know what to tell you. If it\u0026rsquo;s like most doctors\u0026rsquo; books, not more than four people would have read it, anyway, and one of them would have been your mother. Maybe you can just have some manuscripts copied and bound.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve had it copied already.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Even before you finished it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;A few of my friends who are still students demanded that they be allowed to read however much of it I\u0026rsquo;d finished, so I had a few copies made. But you don\u0026rsquo;t understand. This \u003cem\u003eisn\u0026rsquo;t \u003c/em\u003elike most doctors\u0026rsquo; books. It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; An image came to him of Thaddeus and Larry, a few others hunched over the manuscript in their rooms, their faces in the shadows cast by the candles that lit their reading. \u003cem\u003eAnd they are the only ones who will ever see it.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe thought was like a knife in his gut.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe looked up into Clogg\u0026rsquo;s eyes. He hesitated a moment.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut only a moment. What other options did he have? It was coin he had never valued much, anyway.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re sure there\u0026rsquo;s no way I can get you to reconsider?\u0026rdquo; Rafe\u0026rsquo;s voice was low, and his doleful tone had changed to something decidedly more coy. \u0026ldquo;No\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. inducement I could offer? To sweeten the pot?\u0026rdquo; He offered a knowing smile, bit his lip very lightly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eClogg wasn\u0026rsquo;t an unattractive fellow, after all. Not that that had ever particularly mattered to Rafe; in the dark an ugly man was as good as a beautiful one. There was a time he wouldn\u0026rsquo;t have hesitated to bed the printer with no other inducement than entertainment; why should he scruple to do so now?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eClogg narrowed his eyes and asked brusquely, not pretending he didn\u0026rsquo;t understand, \u0026ldquo;Are you sure?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe nodded, and stepped closer. The printer reached out, touched Rafe\u0026rsquo;s cheek with ink-smudged fingers. \u0026ldquo;Well, I\u0026rsquo;m only human; I won\u0026rsquo;t say no. And if it means that much to you\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; Rafe caught his breath. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll see what I can do. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, I seem to remember that Doctor Goodell may have signed the imprimatur already.\u0026rdquo; Rafe reached up to stroke Clogg\u0026rsquo;s hand with a thumb. \u0026ldquo;Yes,\u0026rdquo; continued the printer with a grin, \u0026ldquo;I really believe he may have done so.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe gave a sleek smile, like a cat who had finished the cream. It did not fit as well as he remembered. He bent to Clogg\u0026rsquo;s mouth, finding the man\u0026rsquo;s breath sweeter than his speech. This was a familiar dance, and he fell into step.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, yes. And\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Let me unbutton this.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No, here.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Lift your arms, untuck this\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So smooth, so\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But here; certainly this will help you remember\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I think it might.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Or this\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes, and\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd all of a sudden an image of Reza flashed through Rafe\u0026rsquo;s mind, Reza the ambassador, Reza the prince, lying on a bed, smiling up at Rafe, half-clothed, his hair flowing down his shoulders.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe opened his eyes, saw the pale face before him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was not the face he wanted to be looking at.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe shut his eyes again. Nothing had changed. He could do this. \u003cem\u003eJust keep your eyes closed\u003c/em\u003e. \u003cem\u003eThink of the book.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s eyes flew open.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry\u0026mdash;I\u0026mdash;I\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd he turned, snatched up his doublet, and ran back out into the rain.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003chr\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eSamuel Clogg was hurt; no denying that. But he was a practical man, and he shrugged it off. Writers were queer creatures, after all, at the best of times. He locked the door, therefore, kicked up the fire, poured a glass of port, and settled into his most comfortable chair, prepared to take advantage of the image of the shirtless Rafe in a solitary but quite satisfactory manner.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003chr\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eIn a small room in the Middle City, two men were plotting the fate of an island.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And the bridge,\u0026rdquo; said Francis Salford, \u0026ldquo;rather than running from here to here\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;he pointed to the map on the table between them\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;will move north and cross from here to here.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You don\u0026rsquo;t have to show me pictures,\u0026rdquo; said Moses Robertson, his voice as tight as a newly strung bow. \u0026ldquo;I understood it when you explained it the first time. And my answer is the same: absolutely not. The bridge that I have envisioned is perfection. The slightest change, of any sort, will ruin it utterly. And besides, with the inevitable torque, there\u0026rsquo;ll be hell to pay in high winds.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You know as well as I do how trivial an adjustment that is,\u0026rdquo; said Salford, who knew nothing of the kind, \u0026ldquo;and I must say that I am surprised at you, sir.\u0026rdquo; His voice was as smooth as unwhipped cream. \u0026ldquo;The bridge that you have envisioned in the place you have envisioned it is perfection. If you envision a bridge elsewhere, you will envision a different bridge, and it, too, will be perfection. I find it highly unlikely, in fact, that you are capable of envisioning anything \u003cem\u003ebut \u003c/em\u003eperfection.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;An outrageous piece of flattery,\u0026rdquo; said Robertson, \u0026ldquo;and nicely done. I would have taken anything subtler as an insult.\u0026rdquo; The pelting rain outside made this conversation feel somehow more intimate. \u0026ldquo;And, as it happens, I am very slightly mollified.\u0026rdquo; Salford opened his mouth, and Robertson held up a hand. \u0026ldquo;Not enough to agree to what you propose, not at all. But enough to listen.\u0026rdquo; Salford shrugged and smiled. \u0026ldquo;Continue. Describe the Riverside you have in mind once this bridge is completed.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGood. The fish, if not yet hooked, had scented the bait. \u0026ldquo;We\u0026rsquo;ll knock down all of these wretched shacks here\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;he waved to a wide swath of the map\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;and replace them with shops, eating houses, haberdashers, that sort of thing. Then these houses toward the middle, we\u0026rsquo;ll carve up into flats. At first only a few of the most daring, the libertines, the dandies, will choose to move, but the shops, eating houses, and haberdashers will be truly first-rate, so move they will. Then, since daring and fashion are one and the same, others will begin to follow. And soon, where currently lies a pit of filth and refuse, the City will boast instead a thriving, shining new quarter. You, of course, will design as much of it as you like.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe continued, and before long, Robertson\u0026rsquo;s eyes had started to gleam.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It would require turning thousands of people out of their homes,\u0026rdquo; said Robertson feebly, \u0026ldquo;and casting them into the night to survive on their own devices.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You express an almost decorous amount of disapproval,\u0026rdquo; said Salford. \u0026ldquo;Yes. It would require that. It would also make a great deal of money.\u0026rdquo; He cocked his head. \u0026ldquo;Money that would, of course, be shared among all those who had a hand in bringing the project to fruition.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRobertson remained silent for a moment. \u0026ldquo;And the bridge would have the financial support of the merchants?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA dismissive wave. \u0026ldquo;A trifle. Not even worth mentioning.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRobertson smiled. \u0026ldquo;It seems to me,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;that this is a plan of whose merit I might conceivably be persuaded.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford put out his hand. \u0026ldquo;One must keep one\u0026rsquo;s priorities in order, after all.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003chr\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eKaab handed the boatman a coin, unhooked the loop of rope tethering the small rowboat to the dock, and stepped lightly down into the middle, unshipping the oars as she sat and pushing quickly off into the current. And as soon as she was out on the river she wondered why she hadn\u0026rsquo;t done this sooner. Here, at last, she could be alone with her thoughts.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt home in the Balam compound, everyone wanted something from her. Cho clamoring to discuss wedding plans, Koet eager to talk about all the ways deeper mooring and expanded warehouses could increase Balam profits, Cousin Maas demanding to know how they would protect the compound from Xanamwiinik illnesses\u0026mdash;rumors had reached them of some sort of fever, no doubt the result of the never-ending rain\u0026mdash;servants with problems or questions she had no interest in solving. Gone were the days when she could count on being left in peace in her own household! Just when she thought she would explode with exasperation at the constant interruptions, she found herself longing to be out on some water in peace, and it occurred to her that renting a boat was absolutely a thing that could be done, in this river city.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd so here she was. The afternoon light was pearly and diffused through high clouds, turning the river an answering grey under a drift of fine rain, scarcely more than mist. After all the rains of spring it was running full and fast, and Kaab had to navigate smartly to gain the middle current, plying her oars more as rudders than to propel the boat, which was eager to flow along unbidden. She inhaled deeply, relishing the bright weedy scent of riverine air. On the far side of the river, dark machinery rose up from the water like the bones of ancient oceanic leviathans.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe insistent waters shoved at the bases of the cranes and pulleys suspended around the unfinished pylons of the new bridge, dragging at the machinery as if the water itself did not welcome such progress. The river dragged, too, at the new docks, at everything, pushing against the abandoned dredging boats tied to the shore. It moved too fast for dredging, the river immediately replacing removed silt with more silt from upriver.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe more the City worked to build up around the river, the more the river worked to undo their progress.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIf only the river were the sole force working against them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab had been unsure, upon setting out to visit the duchess, how much she ought to reveal about the Tullan\u0026mdash;or, indeed, whether she ought to reveal anything at all, mostly because she had no idea how Tremontaine could help her. It wasn\u0026rsquo;t as if Diane could invite Reza to dinner and casually inquire, over a glass of Ruthven red, whether the Tullan had come to the Land in an effort to destabilize the Kinwiinik in anticipation of a declaration of war. And even if she could, it wasn\u0026rsquo;t as if Reza would tell her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe mood in which she had found Diane, of course, decided the question for her. A smile crept across her face: a welcome surprise, that. But it had brought her no closer to understanding what her enemies were about and what she might do to counteract it, if counteraction should prove necessary.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe narrowed her eyes at the middle distance, thinking. Then her gaze refocused, for there, slouching moodily along the City embankment, was Rafe. Rafe, who spent a great deal of time with Ambassador Reza, in whose home the Tullan lodged; Rafe, who might know something worth knowing. She dug an oar into the water to stop her forward progress, swung the boat around, and shot toward a set of river steps dug into the stone, near where Rafe was walking. \u0026ldquo;Hey!\u0026rdquo; He didn\u0026rsquo;t hear her, apparently lost in miserable thought, his shoulders hunched under his damp-looking jacket. What was the matter now? \u003cem\u003eWhere Rafe goes, drama follows\u003c/em\u003e, she thought affectionately. She shouted his name this time and his head jerked up; he looked wildly around, everywhere but down on the river, but she gave a third shout as she reached the steps, and at last he saw her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What on earth are you doing?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Rowing, what does it look like?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It looks terrifying, if you want to know.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Nonsense. Get in.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Get in\u0026mdash;get in the boat? Oh hell no.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I mean it, Rafe, get in. I want to talk to you and there is no mooring here.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No, no, I can\u0026rsquo;t swim.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I am not asking you to swim, fool! I have spent half my life in boats; I am not going to capsize on an inland river! Get in.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe hesitated a moment longer, then came down the steps, grimacing. Kaab reached out her hand to steady him\u0026mdash;he took it and more or less fell into the seat facing her. \u0026ldquo;Well,\u0026rdquo; he said, frowning at the puddle sloshing about his feet, \u0026ldquo;this is\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. fun.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab shoved off and away from the embankment again, and guided the boat once more out into the middle of the broad waters, taking them far enough downriver to be clear of the densest boat traffic, where the light fishing coracles and pleasure craft were easy to avoid. Kaab slowed the boat to a drift and regarded her friend.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Are you all right? You look terrible.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe shrugged, his arms wrapped around himself. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve been better.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOf a sudden, Kaab remembered what she ought to have before. The Tullan could wait a bit. \u0026ldquo;Oh, Rafe. I\u0026rsquo;m sorry, how could I have forgotten? Your elder, your scholar who died. Please accept my apology and my most profound condolences for your sorrow.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe sighed heavily and shook his head. \u0026ldquo;Thank you and don\u0026rsquo;t apologize; you didn\u0026rsquo;t know him.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But I know \u003cem\u003eyou\u003c/em\u003e. It must be a great loss to you and your school.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Damn the school!\u0026rdquo; he burst out, and then caught himself. \u0026ldquo;No, I don\u0026rsquo;t mean that, but, oh, Kaab, everything is \u003cem\u003ejust terrible\u003c/em\u003e. It\u0026rsquo;s my book. Without Goodell no one will publish it, \u003cem\u003eno one\u003c/em\u003e, all that work for nothing and there\u0026rsquo;s nothing else I care about, or almost nothing\u0026mdash;well, it doesn\u0026rsquo;t matter who or what I care about, I have \u003cem\u003enothing\u003c/em\u003e, my book is all I have and if I have to shove it back into a drawer and go on just, just \u003cem\u003eteaching\u0026mdash;\u003c/em\u003e \u0026rdquo; He ran his hands through his hair distractedly, then buried his face in them before flinging his arms out wildly. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll run mad, Kaab!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You won\u0026rsquo;t,\u0026rdquo; she said firmly. \u0026ldquo;Listen, my friend, there is no trouble that cannot be solved if you are patient and savvy. And no, you are not patient and you are only selectively savvy, but let me help you think. What is your book about, anyway?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe stared. \u0026ldquo;What is it about? Haven\u0026rsquo;t I told you?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab laughed a little. \u0026ldquo;You have told me of your agonies of creation and your hopes and fears for its future, but nothing of its content. Perhaps you thought I would not understand it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh no\u0026mdash;anyone can understand it\u0026mdash;that\u0026rsquo;s how lucid my prose is.\u0026rdquo; A glimmer of humor had come back into his voice. \u0026ldquo;But it\u0026rsquo;s the same book I was working on a couple years ago, the one about how the current astronomical paradigm is idiotic because the earth in fact revolves around the sun instead of the other way around. God, the University has such a stranglehold on \u003cem\u003eknowledge \u003c/em\u003ein this city, I should have been born a butcher rather than a scholar; this is knowledge that the world needs, and, Kaab, it will\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd finally, he looked directly at her and stopped short, seeing her face. The world seemed to freeze. Kaab stared at him, as still as a fishing heron staring into a pool.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eThis? \u003c/em\u003eThis was the material of his book, knowledge she had long thought suppressed for good? Knowledge that the Kinwiinik had hoarded, knowledge she had worked tirelessly to protect, knowledge that indeed would change the world, change navigation, destroy her people\u0026rsquo;s advantage, leave them open to ruinous competition, even invasion\u0026mdash;her belly was cold and clenched with horror. This man. This one man held the key that could unlock destruction. No influence she could wield through Diane would be enough to stop the unfolding of consequences. And no matter what he said about his difficulties getting it published, it would come out, she knew\u0026mdash;nothing could stop such a discovery, so valuable to so many, from emerging. For now, only Rafe knew, but\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd that was when a terrible thought crossed her mind.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eRafe can\u0026rsquo;t \u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003eswim.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe schooled her face instantly\u0026mdash;but it was too late.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe had seen the thought, and his eyes widened in horror.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey sat in silence, motionless, the boat rocking gently in a small wake from a passing craft. Rafe sat, rigid, on the other end of the boat, not seeming even to breathe.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab lowered her head, leaned forward, dug the oars in, rowed them back to the shore, a muddy spot where the stone embankment had receded. Without looking up, she growled, \u0026ldquo;Go.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe boat rocked as he scrambled out, splashed hurriedly through the shallows, and was gone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe jerked the nose of the boat around and rowed back into the main, where she leaned on her oars, staring into nothingness as the current bore her along.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003chr\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eThe time had come.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd a curious time it was. The hour of the wolf, as the more credulous here in the Land and in innumerable other lands were pleased to call it, was long since past, yet there remained enough of night before daybreak for even the most debauched of rou\u0026eacute;s to sleep off the greater part of the excesses of whatever revelry had engaged them the evening before. The darkling moon was hidden by a web of clouds, unable to illuminate the sleep of those beneath. Babes were visited in dreams by visions to which they clung or from which they shrank back in horror; boys, whether ragged and lousy or highborn and pale as fresh cream, traveled roads on which they bested and were bested by highwaymen dressed and undressed; sober men passed the night laughing as they plunged their hands into inexhaustible heaps of silver coins or weeping as, in dungeons filled with air dank and foul, they beheld the rusted manacles that would hold them for the eternity until they awoke; women young and old\u0026mdash;ah, but who can say what the women dreamed? For their counsel is their own to keep.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat, at least, was the thought of the one man who did not slumber. He would have preferred, as it happened, to be abed, but he did not grudge the night the lost opportunity; his charge was too vital, and he was the only one who could carry it out.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe rose, therefore, from the chair, and closed \u003cem\u003eChronicles of the City\u003c/em\u003e with a sigh at the folly of those whose lives were unfolded within. Time flowed only forward, and it was the Land alone that determined where it slowed, where it was diverted, where it eddied, where it raged. Men were merely carried along on its tide, to thrive or to drown as fate pleased.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNo, not the Land alone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Land and the River.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd that was exactly why, once he had shed his dressing gown and pulled on his sober wool doublet and mantle, his well-oiled boots and waxed broad-brimmed hat, once he had scratched the heads of his brace of hounds and seen them settle back down before the fire, once he had opened the great doors of his house on the Hill, shut them behind him, and descended the grand stairs that led to the street below, it was toward the river that he turned his steps.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe rain-soaked air of the Hill was thick with the scent of spring blossoms, nurtured by nobles\u0026rsquo; gardeners for generations. Lord Arlen walked down the center of the empty and glistening street, and breathed it in. Night breezes rustled the great trees behind the walls; a hired guard watching at a back gate followed him with his eyes and said nothing, knowing him at a glance for one of the rulers of his world. On Arlen walked, down the airy streets of the Hill and on into the Middle City, where the gardens were smaller mimics of the nobles\u0026rsquo; plots, the houses solid, diminished echoes of the ancient, grand piles of stone uphill. The rain, which had been drumming on the brim of Arlen\u0026rsquo;s hat, eased, and he knew he had entered the University district by the sound of young men singing in a tavern as he passed, the glow of lantern light through its window rippling over the damp wool of his mantle. The streets narrowed and grew more winding, the well-tended stones in the higher neighborhoods now turned to rough cobbles, slick and rough in turn under his boots; he walked carefully, stepping over the occasional rain-filled hole where a stone had been knocked loose. Near to the river he found he had to stop and go wide around a puddle that could nearly be called a pond, and leap across its narrow end, still nimble for all his years.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen he reached the bridge that led to Riverside he stopped. How long had it been since he had been seen on the island? Days? Years? Decades? It felt like centuries. Millennia. And perhaps it had been. A dizzying succession of the victories and defeats and betrayals and ruins and deaths to which he had been witness sped through his thoughts. Yes. Definitely millennia.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe set his foot on the bridge.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn Riverside, the springtime air smelled not of flowers but of smoke, of mold, of roasting meat and stale beer, and for all that he liked it just as well, for it was the smell of humanity. The river slapped restlessly against the sides of the island, under the rain\u0026rsquo;s tumult; somewhere two dogs snarled in combat and nearer a tomcat howled a song of agonized desire and was sworn at out a window. The clouds denied Arlen any moonlight, and no lanterns lit these dark streets. But he knew where he was going, and what he was looking for: a scarred and ancient sign, which, even if he could have read it in the dark, had no legible words, only a faded black and orange\u0026nbsp;shape suggesting an elaborate amphibian creature.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd finally he stood in front of the place to which he had been destined to come for at least a year, if not since the beginning of time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOnce he took another step, there was no turning back. And what would be set in motion tonight would ripple through the fates of countless others.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOh, but there had never been any turning back, had there?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe opened the door into the dark shop; the only light was coming up through the iron spiral staircase nearby. Down he went, around and around, the ancient iron creaking and rattling with each step, announcing his presence, and found himself in a wide, low-ceilinged room, the limits of which were lost in shadow and may have been immense; shelves lined every visible wall to the ceiling, crammed with all manner of trash and treasure, dull and glittering, dusty and resplendent. Arlen cast the briefest glance around the room, though a part of him would have liked the chance to explore; instead he followed the source of the light, and walked halfway toward the back of the room, where he stood, looking into a pair of eyes curiously like his own, ageless and infinite. These eyes, too, were illuminated by a trembling candle.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Everly.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander nodded and closed the book in front of them. \u0026ldquo;Lord Arlen.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Serpent nodded toward the book. \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eChronicles of the City\u003c/em\u003e?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander shrugged. \u0026ldquo;What else would be appropriate on this day? He\u0026rsquo;s the only one, after all, who got it right.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eArlen sighed. \u0026ldquo;That is a thing,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;whose importance I have begun to question.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander inclined their head. \u0026ldquo;That,\u0026rdquo; they said, \u0026ldquo;is unlike you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eArlen shook his head regretfully. \u0026ldquo;I wish the world were such that you could understand me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander smiled. \u0026ldquo;I think you do not,\u0026rdquo; they countered. \u0026ldquo;The only world in which I could understand you is one ungoverned by the laws of natural philosophy.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Another thing whose importance I have begun to question.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander laughed, a soft sound in the quiet dark. \u0026ldquo;Alas,\u0026rdquo; they said. \u0026ldquo;If only that mattered to the laws of natural philosophy.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey both stood in silence for what to others would have felt like a very long time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So,\u0026rdquo; the Salamander finally said with a sigh. \u0026ldquo;I assume you have brought what is needful.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I have.\u0026rdquo; Arlen smiled. \u0026ldquo;It has been amusing, has it not, to watch this play out?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander said nothing. At last: \u0026ldquo;\u0026lsquo;Amusing\u0026rsquo; is not the word I would have chosen. You have been much farther removed from it than I.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eArlen cocked his head. \u0026ldquo;I would not have expected you to be sentimental, my friend.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You are not the only one of us,\u0026rdquo; said the Salamander, \u0026ldquo;whom the laws of natural philosophy forbid the other to understand.\u0026rdquo; A moment. \u0026ldquo;But yes,\u0026rdquo; they relented. \u0026ldquo;There is a certain pleasurable irony in knowing what they are about has all been for naught.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMore silence. \u0026ldquo;Well.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indeed.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eArlen stepped forward and held out his hand, and the Salamander moved out from behind the table where they had been sitting to take what was in it. As they accepted the key\u0026mdash;iron, heavy, ancient, carefully wrought for just such a time as this\u0026mdash;a shiver passed through them of something like delight, of excitement. This had been a long time coming.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe pact was fulfilled. The two embraced each other, Serpent and Salamander, and kissed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Perhaps,\u0026rdquo; said the Salamander, \u0026ldquo;we will see each other again.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Perhaps,\u0026rdquo; said Arlen.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd then he was gone, back into the downpour, and the Salamander stood, looking after him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey sighed, stepped back behind the table, and opened \u003cem\u003eChronicles of the City\u003c/em\u003e. Found the place they had left off. Began to read again.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey were not worried; they had trained Tess well.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eStill, they would miss this place when they were gone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOr, they reflected, when \u003cem\u003eit\u003c/em\u003e was gone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was not theirs to know which would come to pass.\u003c/p\u003e","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane faced the consequences of the recent disaster in Council. The Salamander counseled Tess after the defeat of the River Rats. Kaab was confronted with her past. Esha began planning for a future without Reza\u0026rsquo;s support. Rafe\u0026rsquo;s school faced an unexpected loss.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003eWho's Who:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah Heslop \u0026ndash; farm girl and brilliant\u0026nbsp;mathematician\u0026nbsp;trying to make sense of new opportunities\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha Jayasuriya \u0026ndash; a foreign courtesan with a spiritual relationship to the sword\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.303","slug":"tremontaine-s4e05","audio":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/audio/season4/TremontaineS4E05.mp3","epub":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E05.epub","mobi":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E05.mobi","pdf":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E05.pdf","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b1822d597be280001eff36d","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 5"},{"id":"5b18230b85bbcd000125c319","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":7,"title":"What Light in the Houses Beneath the Earth?","released_date":"2018-10-17T11:57:06.161+00:00","released":true,"strapline":"Rafe and Reza come to some realizations","byline":"Tessa Gratton","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/covers/season4/TremontaineS4E06.jpg","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/dividers/tremontaine_divider.png","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-10-17","body":"\u003cp\u003eAs quietly as the mouse for which she was named, Ixcho Moe slipped out of the main building, dashed along the courtyard pillars, and scurried into the garden.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe sky dawned clear!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the six weeks since she\u0026rsquo;d arrived in the Land, every morning had been a dreary affair\u0026mdash;rainy, rainy, rainy. But this was the second day in a row born as a cloudless sky. The vivid black-purple of night peeled slowly away from the arcing sunlight, with nothing to interfere.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCho was due every morning to the kitchens to help fry maize cakes for breakfast, but first she made her way into the courtyard to watch the sun rise. The moments when light spread across the sky, painting the world one color, then another, and then another, inspired her to be bright herself, to display her inner rainbow for all to see.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSighing prettily, head tilted up, Cho imagined these clear dawn colors as banners for her lady Ixchel. For this blessing of a beautiful day, Cho would drip blood onto her offering tamale at the Rainbow Lady\u0026rsquo;s shrine, giving thanks.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJust as Cho turned to skip toward the kitchen, an odd sound caught her attention: a scratching, and a soft thud at the side door.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCut into the exterior wall of the Balam compound, the door was used for quiet exits and deliveries that did not require the wider front gates. Perhaps it was a cat. There had been so many seeking shelter from all the rain, from the flooded gutters, searching for scraps and begging food. Cho unhooked the heavy bar across the door. She was not supposed to let any cats in, but there couldn\u0026rsquo;t be harm in checking, and perhaps petting it for just a moment.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs she dragged the door open a man\u0026rsquo;s body fell halfway across the threshold.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFlinging her hands up to her mouth, Cho managed to gasp back her scream. She panted hard, staring. He was no Kinwiinik, not with that dark blond hair and City-pale face. And his uniform\u0026mdash;he was one of the City Watch!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCarefully, Cho crouched, sweeping the feathered hem of her skirt away from a pool of blood beneath the man\u0026rsquo;s torso. She touched his cheek, which was hot, as if fevered. Terror shot through her\u0026mdash;so many in the City had fallen deathly ill. But those sick did not bleed like this.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe groaned. Cho noticed some of the blood was smeared carefully, and splattered on the outside of the wooden door, as if he\u0026rsquo;d tried to write something.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe young man\u0026rsquo;s eyelids fluttered, revealing glassy blue irises. \u0026ldquo;Saabim,\u0026rdquo; he whispered\u0026mdash;in Kindaan!\u0026mdash;then grimaced. \u0026ldquo;Where is Saabim?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eTHREE DAYS AGO\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe stench was intolerable.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCorporal David Rook of the City Watch breathed shallowly, though everyone had become more accustomed than usual to bad smells this summer, thanks to the constant rain. Minor flooding kept drowning the rats in cellars, everything near the river stank like dead fish, and there were puddles of piss and filthy gutter water along the docks and throughout the Middle City. Not to mention the sickness sweeping through every neighborhood. It wasn\u0026rsquo;t an epidemic yet, but it was bad enough that some of the Watch had been diverted to dealing with unclaimed dead bodies. Like this one.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Rook.\u0026rdquo; Clipper crouched beside the body that was sprawled across the patched rag rug, the sleeves of his uniform shoved up to bare his forearms.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Who is he?\u0026rdquo; David asked, taking a handkerchief out to turn the dead man\u0026rsquo;s face toward them. Blood brightened the whites of the corpse\u0026rsquo;s staring eyes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;According to the woman downstairs, he just rented the room three days ago, said he wanted the third story because there\u0026rsquo;s a view of Riverside from the window. She didn\u0026rsquo;t know his name, but he was doing a survey for that fancy architect in charge of the new bridge. She didn\u0026rsquo;t notice him having any of the fever signs.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNodding, David pushed the corpse\u0026rsquo;s chin down. The lips peeled apart and, though it was stiff, the jaw moved. Dead more than a day, then. And David was fairly certain now it had been poison. The tongue wasn\u0026rsquo;t just swollen, which could happen to a dead body, there was also a vivid purple tinge to the muscle. Could be the man had suffocated, but there were no marks on his neck from physical strangulation. The blood in the eyes could happen with suffocation, too. But no injuries, so he hadn\u0026rsquo;t fought. No vomit, no flecks of blood\u0026mdash;both of which David had seen at the deathbeds of those dying of this fever.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe stood. \u0026ldquo;All right, thanks for letting me know.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;This the kind of thing you\u0026rsquo;re looking for?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid sighed, feeling grim. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll tell that new kid downstairs to come help you with the body.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eClipper grunted. \u0026ldquo;Be glad to get back to knocking heads when this damned rain ends. Too many people. Too much rain. My toes are rotting in my boots.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eQuickly, David dashed down the narrow stairway to the building\u0026rsquo;s landing, grabbed his still-wet uniform cloak, and slipped out through the handful of curious onlookers\u0026mdash;less than half the number he\u0026rsquo;d expect in normal times. He considered telling them it was murder, which these days would cause less hysteria than fever.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut then, even his own captain wasn\u0026rsquo;t convinced anymore that there was a serial murderer in the City poisoning people who got in his way. When Kaab had taken care of Ixaavin last year, Francis Salford had been forced to switch his preferred poison, and the telltale symptoms had changed. David had pored through evidence in every suspicious death he could find, and mapped out plenty, but the inconsistency was enough to convince the captain David had been wrong. He\u0026rsquo;d been officially ordered to stop barking up the wrong tree. \u003cbr /\u003e Then Kaab, too, had ordered him to stop investigating. Despite the fact that two murders this past winter were directly connected to Salford\u0026rsquo;s business with the river project.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid jerked the oiled hood up over his head and squinted against the rain. Xamanek\u0026rsquo;s light, he had to stop Salford! Not months from now, not when Kaab decided it was the \u003cem\u003eproper time\u003c/em\u003e for vengeance, but \u003cem\u003enow\u003c/em\u003e. David understood Kaab had her reasons, and they were vital to Balam interests; he was even sure Saabim would have agreed with her niece. But innocent people were being killed! Because they were Landish people, Kaab didn\u0026rsquo;t care. But David cared. He\u0026rsquo;d sworn to serve the Balam, but the Xanamwiinik were his people, too.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt least this was an avenue of inquiry nobody could complain about. The overcrowding, the fever, the rising river, the chaos on either bank\u0026mdash;all of it provided him plenty of cover to take his investigation in whatever direction he chose. He was forbidden to chase after Salford, but a man was dead, and it was Corporal David Rook\u0026rsquo;s job to pursue the culprit.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eMy dear Lord Octavian, \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eAfter our charming conversation a few weeks ago during the unfortunate balloon incident, I was remarking to a mutual friend how comforting it is that there are peers such as yourself in the City, and that I should like to solidify our friendship. She, who knows well how distressed I am at the disuse to which my husband\u0026rsquo;s library has woefully fallen, suggested there might be some tomes of interest to you. The late duke was an avid collector of all manner of histories, in particular, as well as certain family charts and genealogies from the unification of the Land, including some touching upon the creation of that broad, admirably incorrigible Perry line from which you yourself hail. If you would be inclined, you\u0026rsquo;re welcome to my home and the Tremontaine library to pursue an investigation. I would only ask that in return you join me for chocolate. There is a stretch of the gardens that would suit pleasantly as a dog run, if darling Solange would attend. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eWith hope,\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eDuchess, \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eIt would be my and Solange\u0026rsquo;s pleasure to accept your invitation. How well you anticipate my interests, in family history as in well-appointed chocolate. I have not had the pleasure of witnessing your attendance in the chamber of our esteemed\u0026mdash;though usually under-qualified\u0026mdash;Council of Lords, as I rarely attend myself, and would welcome the opportunity to enjoy your humor in less oppressive company. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e Should the weather prove deleterious to garden pursuits, no doubt Solange can make a run of the fine Tremontaine halls.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eAll anticipation, \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eOctavian Perry \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDeep in the heart of Riverside, beneath leaning old townhouses and the crumbing remains of ancient nobility, beneath the sleeping, dreaming bodies of generations of criminals, impoverished saints, and the children of that marriage between filth and fancy, the Salamander wandered by touch alone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was the dead of night: the river pushed hard against the island\u0026rsquo;s dark corners, even the loudest voices had settled into silence, all the pounding footsteps of island denizens had dulled. The behemoth that was Riverside slept.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe door had been hidden, a secret within the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s already secretive lair. Beyond the maze of antiques, tables, goods, and odd ends, they\u0026rsquo;d shoved aside a rickety shelf to reveal an arch of limestone. Cradled within the stone was a small iron door, streaked with vivid orange scabs of rust. In the door\u0026rsquo;s heart a lock was set, thick and surrounded by an ancient molded creature that might have been a long fish, or a lizard, or a serpent.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey\u0026rsquo;d never held the key before.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith a clutched breath, the Salamander put the key exactly where it belonged; they released their breath slowly as they turned it. The door groaned soft as a lover.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRemoving their boots, the Salamander slipped into the tunnel.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eInto the caverns they descended, embraced by damp limestone and the echoing drip, the pressures of darkness and promising destiny.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTheir fingers skimmed along rough stone, and the Salamander closed their eyes, sliding bare feet forward carefully. Down and down the passage led, to another iron door.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith a low laugh, they tried the key again. For a moment no tumblers turned\u0026mdash;the Salamander hoped in a flash of lightning: Perhaps this was not the time! Perhaps this\u0026mdash;but with a little more strength, the second iron door unlocked.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey passed through it, too, ducking.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe tunnel branched; two doors blocked the way. With nothing but instinct and a guess, the Salamander unlocked the leftward path. Through again, and down rough-cut stairs, through yet another door.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhat strange philosophy this was, a rabbit warren of tunnels, locked and locked and locked away.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSoon, this would be a place for drowning.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander sensed a change in the darkness, a widening of its maw. The tunnels had opened into a chamber; they pushed away from the wall, moving with arms outstretched. They turned slowly in a spiral, then forward again, searching for the boundaries in a silent, dark dance.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA toe touched it first, then one long-fingered hand.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMachinery, deep in the center of the island. A wheel to open its heart.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey breathed deeply and tasted the angry, wild river hanging in the very air.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eTWO DAYS AGO \u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid had not planned to stop at Mahana\u0026rsquo;s house on his way to work his shift.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut then, he\u0026rsquo;d not planned to fall in love with her, either.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt had begun six months ago as a ruse: David had needed to get closer to the Cocom branch of the Landish Kinwiinik for his work with Kaab, as well as wanting to invent a reason to master Kindaan, and so had begun a gentle, slow courtship with Ixmahana Cocom. The second daughter of a second daughter of the Cocom, Mahana was not particularly important politically, nor beautiful, but she was sweet, with a round, light brown face that readily smiled. She worked in one of the two Cocom chocolate shops in the City\u0026mdash;five blocks from the Chel shop David lived above. Like many of her generation born in the City, she was eager to befriend Landish young people her age, and dressed in Landish clothing, her accent smooth and soft. Mahana\u0026rsquo;s heart-spirit had revealed itself to be extremely practical, and she\u0026rsquo;d immediately seen through his flirtations and falsehoods, refusing to give in to pretense. So David did what all good spies do, and built his lie upon a fragment of the truth: He confided to Mahana that when he was small he had met Ixsaabim Balam and she\u0026rsquo;d done him a great kindness by instilling within his young heart a respect for the mysterious Kinwiinik that grew, as he grew, into a compelling fascination.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMahana had accepted that\u0026mdash;because it was true.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWithin a month, David himself had been forced to accept that his feelings for Mahana were also true.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe tapped the shop window three times quickly, then ducked around into the alley to wait under a narrow balcony. Rain fell in sheets, and David leaned from one foot to the other, alternating which boot soaked in the water coating the muddy lane. The rickety door beside him opened, and Mahana tugged him through the wall into the small garden. They grasped hands, hurrying onto the brick steps safely protected by a wide awning.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;David,\u0026rdquo; she said, brushing her hands on her apron.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn Kindaan he said, purposefully stilted, \u0026ldquo;Hello, good morning, my sunrise butterfly.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMahana smiled and corrected his pronunciation as she moved just a little bit too near him for propriety. She smelled like bitter chocolate and the Kinwiinik lilies so many of the families grew for their altars. David leaned in, hands carefully caressing her arms, and repeated her words with a better accent.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer smile was all he could see for a moment, and then she hopped up to her toes and put her lips to his.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid relaxed into her kiss, sliding his arms around her waist, wishing he had no reason to be anything but hers.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Mahana gently, firmly, pushed him back. \u0026ldquo;You are very wet, David. Are you hungry, too?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe nodded, and she brought him inside. The kitchen was warm and dry, and populated by Mahana\u0026rsquo;s mother Ixcocat and her aunt Ixelim. Mahana pressed David into a chair and handed him warm spiced milk; Ixcocat pursed her lips, uncertain as ever at her daughter courting a Landish boy. But Aunt Ixelim, wrapped in traditional Kinwiinik mantle, peered at him and put her finger in his face.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You are exhausted, boy! Too young for such bruising under your eyes!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid smiled wearily. \u0026ldquo;I am, I am, Auntie, but there is so much work to do in the City this summer. The rain, the construction, the fever\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. the Watch is spread very thin these days. I am investigating a murder, but there is so little evidence, I feel there is too little I can do.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey put a hot bowl of sweet-smelling soup before him, and Mahana brushed her knuckles against his cheek when her aunt and mother had glanced away. \u0026ldquo;Trying is all the gods ask of us,\u0026rdquo; she murmured.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer hand settled on his shoulder, and he reached up to squeeze it before tasting the soup.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAunt Ixelim said, \u0026ldquo;Your heart-spirit is strained, boy, because the City to which you are bound is strained.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid nodded, her words loosening the knot in his worry. It was what Saabim would have said, had she lived.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Mahana\u0026rsquo;s mother Ixcocat said, \u0026ldquo;Too strained, if you ask me. And tying my daughter into it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It will not always be so,\u0026rdquo; David said quickly, looking at Ixcocat. In slow Kindaan he said, \u0026ldquo;I will hold my line, second daughter.\u0026rdquo; In Xanamwiinik he added, \u0026ldquo;I know I must be positioned well to even consider\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; His gaze slid to Mahana.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe young woman\u0026rsquo;s eyes bent at the corners with a smile that was not quite a smile.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was bold, and David knew better than to press further. If only he could tell them he served the Kinwiinik by serving Ixkaab Balam, and had served beloved Ixsaabim before her, may she always be remembered.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs he ate, the women chattered in Kindaan, about him, thinking he understood only every third word. They teased Mahana, and her mother demanded she be more exacting in her favors, but Ixelim scolded her older sister that David was a fine young man, and maybe someday would be worth something.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid knew if he brought justice to doorstep of an enemy of the Kinwiinik, he would be worthy. He\u0026rsquo;d be up for sergeant soon, and would earn it for his investigations and success. Then he could move out of that room over his \u0026ldquo;mother\u0026rsquo;s\u0026rdquo; chocolate shop, find his own place, and be able to afford a wife. Kaab would support him, even, he knew she would.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs he left for his shift, David kissed Mahana\u0026rsquo;s cheek in a promise, and said, \u0026ldquo;Ixana Chel told me a phrase of Kinwiinik poetry.\u0026rdquo; Then for the three women he softly recited the line, which was specifically \u003cem\u003eengagement\u003c/em\u003e poetry: \u0026ldquo;My spirits and yours will dance together.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMahana blushed, her mother scolded him, and Ixelim harrumphed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith a laugh, David departed, grateful to feel these sparks of hope.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton was \u003cem\u003enot\u003c/em\u003e supposed to end up at the front gate of Ambassador House.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRain fell constant and cool, soaking Rafe\u0026rsquo;s hair until it plastered against his skull, ends falling out of the neat tail in great dark hunks that clung to his jaw and neck. His sodden pine green jacket weighed heavily on his shoulders, the hem of his trousers was soaked through.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe\u0026rsquo;d been wandering the City all morning. All day. All night? Rafe had no idea how long it had been, and he wasn\u0026rsquo;t even drunk.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLast night, maybe, his father had asked about the future of \u003cem\u003eOn the Causes of Nature. \u003c/em\u003eRafe had no answer but that the book was over. Unpublishable. Goodell\u0026rsquo;s death had ended any hope of University approval, and without such, no credible bookseller would carry it. Rafe would be forced to raise funds and publish it as a pamphlet or a chapbook or\u0026mdash;or simply yell his discoveries on the corner like a madman. And if he did any of those things Kaab might murder him. He\u0026rsquo;d seen it in her eyes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eUntil that question, Rafe had thought he\u0026rsquo;d been holding himself together extremely well. How wrong he\u0026rsquo;d been. Undone by his innocent father\u0026rsquo;s innocent question.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eIt could be worse\u003c/em\u003e, he\u0026rsquo;d told himself as he stared at his bedroom ceiling and tried to sleep, drunk on his father\u0026rsquo;s best liquor. Everything spun. He imagined he was dying of poison. Terrible Chartili poison. He imagined a strong hand hard against his face, and then soft. A caress.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt dawn, exhausted, he dressed and walked out of the house and into the Middle City, from tavern to tavern. Trying to flirt. Trying to be what he\u0026rsquo;d been. He didn\u0026rsquo;t even want to see Joshua or Micah. He didn\u0026rsquo;t want to see anyone, except\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRight, it \u003cem\u003ewas\u003c/em\u003e worse.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe book, his future, Kaab\u0026rsquo;s enmity\u0026mdash;none of those things kept Rafe awake at night. None were the thing his aching head circled back to again and again. No, that was\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e I\u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u0026rsquo;m sure we both will be far too busy now to see one another.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis Absolute Royal Highness the Prince of Chartil.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt had been weeks since they\u0026rsquo;d gritted their teeth through that old game in the garden. Yet still the words rang in Rafe\u0026rsquo;s ears, and the expression on Reza\u0026rsquo;s face, the indifference, had been branded in his memory forever. Like this damn rain. It would probably last forever, too. The entire world would drown.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe left the taverns, figuring he might as well get his drowning over with.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe\u0026rsquo;d tried to forget the longing, had tried to drag himself back toward that perfect, easy friendship they\u0026rsquo;d shared for an entire year. Before he\u0026rsquo;d learned Reza had been lying to him about so much. The book of poetry he\u0026rsquo;d bought in Brooks\u0026rsquo;s shop lay tossed in the corner of his room at home. Every time he imagined handing it over, something inside him cracked slightly deeper. Reza was leaving, and didn\u0026rsquo;t want to see him. Prince Reza.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfternoon had come as he wandered, and the rain was grey instead of black. The bricked alleys smelled like watery piss. Rafe couldn\u0026rsquo;t eat. He walked on numb legs. He clenched his jaw as if releasing it would mean he\u0026rsquo;d start shivering and never stop.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRain.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRain.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRain.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen he finally stopped walking, the gates of Ambassador House rose before him. He couldn\u0026rsquo;t bring himself to go in, but he couldn\u0026rsquo;t leave.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe knew it was stupid to be angry at Reza. The man couldn\u0026rsquo;t help being a prince. He couldn\u0026rsquo;t help his country and upbringing and having to return home. But Rafe couldn\u0026rsquo;t help being hurt that Reza had kept the truth of his family, his identity, from him. It felt like proof that there had never been anything real between them. That there never \u003cem\u003ecould\u003c/em\u003e be anything between them. Because Rafe had never mattered to Reza enough for Reza to tell him the truth.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe wanted to say: \u003cem\u003eWhen you go back to Chartil, I want you to know I\u0026rsquo;m not missing you. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat was childish, too.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Rafe needed to say \u003cem\u003esomething\u003c/em\u003e. End this, so he could get back to his own life. Sleep. Fuck whomever he wanted!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe rain fell, and Rafe shivered, stuck.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Lord Octavian,\u0026rdquo; Diane called, hands out, smiling welcome.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian bowed and then took her hands, bringing them together between his own. \u0026ldquo;Duchess\u0026mdash;I had been missing the sun, you know, but now that I have arrived your bright visage will do quite nicely.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCordial humor sparkled in his light brown eyes, and Diane found herself laughing, pleased. She knew herself to be cool and shaded, bright like the moon rather than the sun. But recalling Kaab\u0026rsquo;s delicious compliment a few weeks ago, comparing her eyes to the storm, Diane tilted her head girlishly, one icy-blond brow winging up, and said, \u0026ldquo;Perhaps one angle is sunnier than the other?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTo her surprise, Octavian leaned down and brushed his lips to her knuckle. It was only a glance of a kiss, polite and friendly, but still, Diane had not expected it yet, and she caught her breath.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian smiled and his long face bent with lines. He tucked her hand against his arm, and glanced over his shoulder at the footmen just inside the door of Tremontaine House, one passing Solange\u0026rsquo;s ruffled cushion to another, as a third addressed the dripping umbrella that had defended the terrier\u0026rsquo;s scrappy fur from the weather.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Perhaps,\u0026rdquo; Diane said, \u0026ldquo;Solange would like to rest at the hearth in the east drawing room with a cookie while I show you the duke\u0026rsquo;s library. She can recover from her damp ordeal before making a run of my hallways.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe terrier\u0026rsquo;s master agreed, and after they saw Solange ensconced, Diane led the way up the curl of grand staircase toward the library.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe\u0026rsquo;d had the curtains thrown open from the narrow, tall windows, and despite the rain, milky light filtered in. Ceiling-high shelves of buttery wood held a muted rainbow of books in bindings of leather or gold-embossed cloth. The hearth was cold, but beside it deep red armchairs waited, and a lounging sofa beside a glossy wooden table. Beneath it all was a huge floral rug to cushion the sounds of footsteps.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Glorious,\u0026rdquo; Octavian Perry murmured.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The genealogies are on the bottom two shelves there by the south window,\u0026rdquo; Diane said, but Octavian had already disengaged from her to wander in that direction.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe said, \u0026ldquo;I recognize the bindings. The work of Darius Caffery some sixty years ago\u0026mdash;I\u0026rsquo;d have liked to shake his hand.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane hummed her acknowledgement gently and perched upon the sofa. She\u0026rsquo;d staged a book there, a slender collection of three plays she rather enjoyed. A diversion for herself as he buried himself in family trees, yet one whose familiarity allowed her to observe her guest more than read.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs he slid a finger along the tall spines and finally selected one with a slight\u003cem\u003e ah-ha\u003c/em\u003e, Diane lifted the dramatic volume. \u0026ldquo;Please consider the use of the table there,\u0026rdquo; she said, gesturing at a round table between two windows, set with an antique oil lamp. It had seen little use in its time, for William had preferred to work in his study, dragging books there when he needed them, and often leaving piles here for a secretary to tend to, as if the library were a storage shed rather than a handsome repository for the written word.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere was no need to say more. Octavian Perry settled into the genealogies, opening them eagerly, skimming down lists with one long finger tracing his path. Occasionally he murmured to himself as he read, or laughed a little bit. Diane found herself watching him openly, in fact, he was so animated in his reading.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis hands, in particular, drew her attention: His long fingers cradled the books with care, but were neither delicate nor hesitant. Diane hoped he could be exactly so with the Council of Lords, if she managed to convince him\u0026mdash;seduce him\u0026mdash;into being her partner and agent there.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was a subtle dance she intended. Play the frilly society woman, fascinations reserved for her holdings and fashion, only engaging with politics as absolutely necessary; yet simultaneously manipulate a lover into being her voice without, perhaps, their realizing it. Octavian Perry would need to be convinced not only toward Diane\u0026rsquo;s opinions, but to attend Council in the first place. He\u0026rsquo;d a reputation for rather disdaining it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane was confident she could manage. He was pleasant, intelligent, and appeared to have no agenda of his own. Agendas had ruined her in the past. Sweet, ambitious, stupid Lionel; aggressive, ambitious, powerful Davenant: It had been the ambition that hurt. Octavian was certainly not ambitious. And he was unexpected. He struck none as seductive, or even very attractive. He was odd, engaged with society only when it occurred to him, and maintained a rather ridiculous dog. Nobody would suspect him to be Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s tool. Besides which, Esha approved. Esha had always been right before.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA few afternoons such as this, and Diane would have him. Their conversation was easy, and he seemed perfectly willing\u0026mdash;and capable\u0026mdash;of indulging in flirtation. She could take him in hand. If it was not satisfying, well, she had Kaab for satisfaction.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane held a soft smile on her lips, and was careful to maintain her pretty pose as she glanced over her plays.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfter some time, Octavian\u0026rsquo;s rustling became a bit louder, and Diane said, \u0026ldquo;Perhaps some chocolate, Lord Octavian?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Something sweet, certainly,\u0026rdquo; he muttered, withdrawing from the study of the volume before him. He smiled. \u0026ldquo;Chocolate, yes. You stayed.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane laughed gently at him. \u0026ldquo;I did not wish to deprive you of your glancing sun.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian Perry blinked, studied her for a moment too long, then, as if discovering an answer suddenly, said, \u0026ldquo;Ah.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSetting her book down against the sofa cushion, Diane stood and swept to the library door. \u0026ldquo;Shall we enjoy our something sweet here or join Solange, Lord Octavian?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNo answer immediately followed, and instead of pulling the rope to summon a servant, Diane paused, then turned.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian stood directly behind her. Near enough that she smelled a gentle trace of cloves clinging to him, and saw the glint of individual silver hairs at his temples.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I believe you ought to call me Octavian,\u0026rdquo; he said simply, watching her with those light brown eyes, expression open, \u0026ldquo;if we are to continue on as we are.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;As we are?\u0026rdquo; Diane repeated, voice breathy. His nearness did not threaten, but somehow filled her up with sudden expectation. The way Octavian had positioned himself did not trap Diane between him and the door\u0026mdash;no, she could step away easily. Instead, with his broad shoulders and straight frame, he seemed to be holding her close, an embrace rather than a cage. This was not mere linguistic flirtation. He used his body. In perfect possession of himself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane\u0026rsquo;s artfully constructed timeline crumbled into irrelevancy.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Octavian,\u0026rdquo; she said, and put her hand against his chest. She pressed there, over his heart, her sensitive palm scratching on the embroidered edge of his jacket.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Diane. You are a magnificent creature, and have made your interest clear, which I appreciate, not being terrible skilled at subtleties myself. Moving forward with an affair seems the obvious path, given our current circumstances: You a respectable widow, I an ugly Perry with an appetite. It shall be a worthwhile experiment.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFor a moment Diane, Duchess Tremontaine did not know what to do. Such bluntness both refreshed and intimidated her. But, always one to rise to the occasion, she gathered herself and reached behind her to lock the library door.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian smiled, put his large hands to her waist, and pulled her against him. Diane lifted onto her slippered toes and, without further ado, kissed his mouth. He kissed her back like an adventurer\u0026mdash;like a curious scholar, overtaken by his subject. His lips were warm, dry, and he opened her up easily. Heat flushed Diane\u0026rsquo;s skin and she leaned into him. To her surprise, Octavian swept her off her feet, cradling her easily. He did not end their kiss as he walked with shocking strength back to her sofa and set her down.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane\u0026rsquo;s cheeks were warm, and she leaned back, but Octavian stopped her. \u0026ldquo;Turn,\u0026rdquo; he said, nudging one of her shoulders. She obeyed, sitting rather primly on the edge of the sofa, back turned to him, but she craned her neck to watch his face as he began to undo the long line of silk-covered buttons down her back. He flicked his gaze to hers with every new button, and halfway down her back he traced her spine with that same long finger with which he\u0026rsquo;d marked his reading. Diane arched her back as a shiver coursed through her body. Her breath came faster, and she allowed her lips to part, to taste the air, and fluttered her lashes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThen he put his mouth between her shoulder blades, just at the top of the sheer linen shift. His tongue was hot through the thin material, and he skimmed his lips up to her neck. Diane crossed her arms over her breast, where her dress had loosened. \u003cem\u003eThis is madness\u003c/em\u003e, she thought, \u003cem\u003eand so very fast\u003c/em\u003e. She had not truly intended for his dusty genealogy to be the appetizer to Diane herself as the main course today!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian Perry methodically undressed her, one item of clothing at a time, until she was entirely nude, panting delicately at the stunning titillation of the cushions against her skin, the library air, the grey light pouring in, and Octavian\u0026rsquo;s appreciative study of her body with both his eyes and his hands. He was uninterested in hurrying, skimming his hands along her thighs and calves, up her ribs, around the curve of her breasts and furled nipples, and Diane\u0026rsquo;s head fell back, neck exposed for his mouth.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eStill he remained clothed. His hair flopped forward against her cheek, and he pressed his hand to her inner thigh, walking his fingers to her slickest places for exploration and adoration.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe lounging sofa was made an altar, and Diane felt worshipped.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe gave her pleasure with hands and mouth, then draped her creamy leg languidly over the arm of the sofa, sitting back on his heels. Diane rolled her head and reached lazily with one arm to point at him. \u0026ldquo;Now you, Octavian,\u0026rdquo; she said, flicking her fingers at his jacket, pouting just a little with mouth and eyes. It was all the motion she felt capable of.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith a soft chuckle Octavian stood and removed his jacket, then his boots, setting them nicely aside. His vest, shirt, and finally his pants and smallclothes. Naked, as Diane stared, he folded everything, and Diane found herself laughing happily at the ridiculous nature of this moment. He was a bit hairy, his belly soft, but those thighs were hard and his shoulders broad. She wanted to touch him, and gestured him nearer so she could. Her nails teased up from his knee toward his groin, and she flattened her fingers along the jut of hipbone. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;d like all of this, if you please,\u0026rdquo; she said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Some, I suppose,\u0026rdquo; he said, and Diane was gratified to hear the struggle to maintain an even tone in his voice. \u0026ldquo;But we should be careful\u0026mdash;the last thing the world needs is a child with your brains but my looks.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis frank nature was so stimulating. Diane sighed and flung her hand up to her forehead, posing again. \u0026ldquo;Have it your way, then, Octavian Perry.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I believe I shall, Duchess Tremontaine.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eAnd later\u003c/em\u003e, Diane thought with a satisfied smile, \u003cem\u003eI will have you my way\u0026mdash;on the Council of Lords. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBy the Beloved\u0026rsquo;s grace, Reza hated these closed carriages. He was unable to see in any direction but through the small window\u0026mdash;and that obscured by rain.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNo bucolic rolling hills were worth this weather. Reza looked forward to the dry plateaus and rocky mountains of Chartil. Only three short months and he\u0026rsquo;d never be this damp again. It seemed to sink into the cracks of everything, molding and rotting away the ground beneath his feet. Even the slabs of stone in his garden were growing moss.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe\u0026rsquo;d thought to improve his mood at luncheon with Francis Salford, allowing himself to leave Ambassador House for the first time in a week. The entire compound was locked down on his order\u0026mdash;even Sa-Anzu was trapped. There was too much sickness in the City, and Reza refused to allow the river fever a grip within his household. Yesterday, he\u0026rsquo;d nearly given orders to begin stripping Ambassador House, packing it all up to return early to Chartil. Everything about the Land made him cranky. The halted progress of the river project, the Tullan who\u0026rsquo;d been positively foisted upon him by his uncle the emperor, the ruined gardens. Even Esha put him off lately, having refused to accept further aid from him for her future when he departed. Or even to discuss her plans.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd that damned empty office he\u0026rsquo;d \u003cem\u003enot\u003c/em\u003e, in fact, allowed the Tullan to use.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen the invitation arrived from Salford, Reza had accepted out of desperation, hoping to be diverted with pleasant conversation and philosophical arguments\u0026mdash;though they could not be as diverting as Rafe Fenton would\u0026rsquo;ve been. But Salford was stuck on a new quest to construct that bridge Moses Robertson was building across Riverside.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOf all the misguided ideas Reza had heard a City man suggest, that had to be the worst. Riverside would never tolerate it\u0026mdash;Reza had only been in the City for eighteen months and even he knew that. He\u0026rsquo;d been too irritable to couch his disagreement in politeness, and quickly found himself in testy debate with Salford about the character of Riversiders, and the viability of such a ridiculous plan.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I hadn\u0026rsquo;t realized you were a patron of thieves, Ambassador,\u0026rdquo; Salford had eventually snapped, to which Reza responded, \u0026ldquo;Given your position under my patronage, you surely ought to have recognized it sooner.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAppalled with himself, Reza had apologized, blamed the dreary weather, and taken his leave. It was true, though, he thought angrily as he noted a leak in the rear corner of the carriage, that the entire merchant class was well acquainted with larceny.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe needed to get out of this country.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe carriage slowed and Reza prepared a mask of calm for his men. He peered through the wet window at the looming shape of Ambassador House and the glare of light shimmering through the grey afternoon. The carriage stopped. Outside the gates. His driver thumped on the roof, and Reza frowned, falling into preparedness: Something was wrong. He shifted and slid his sheathed tach into the sash around his waist, then pushed out of the carriage into the rain.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReady for danger, he gripped the hilt of the tach and narrowed his eyes against the drizzle. But the soldier at the gate waved him over casually, no hint of alarm.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe had Rafe Fenton by the shoulder.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe younger man was soaked, all his layers of clothes plastered against his body, dark hair streaming with water, and he was dreadfully pale. Reza\u0026rsquo;s heart squeezed: Rafe\u0026rsquo;s cheeks were bright pink and he shuddered violently.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Rafe\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; Reza began.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Your Royal Highness\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Bring him in,\u0026rdquo; Reza ordered, gritting his teeth. He rather roughly took Rafe\u0026rsquo;s arm and pulled it over his shoulder to prop him up. Rafe immediately melted against him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Reza,\u0026rdquo; he murmured. \u0026ldquo;I am\u0026mdash;I must tell you\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; But Rafe\u0026rsquo;s whole body shivered and his teeth clattered.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIrritation sapped away as Reza realized the meaning behind those pink cheeks.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe river fever was \u003cem\u003ekilling\u003c/em\u003e people in the lower parts of the City.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCold with fear, Reza half-carried Rafe across the courtyard into the bustling concern of Ambassador House. Calling for a hot bath, Reza shrugged off his servants\u0026rsquo; hands and helped a stumbling Rafe up the stairs and into an unoccupied guest room.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Are you drunk?\u0026rdquo; Reza asked, dropping him down into a chair.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No, just\u0026mdash;just wet and\u0026mdash;and angry.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza hummed his own anger, hiding the fear, and crouched to untie Rafe\u0026rsquo;s boots. He tugged them off and put them aside as behind him slaves hauled in a tub and hot water. Then Reza stood up and pulled Rafe forward to get his jacket off. The young man helped limply, staring at Reza with big, round, bright eyes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe sneezed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza clenched his jaw, anxiety suffusing him. \u0026ldquo;Get up,\u0026rdquo; he said gently, pulling Rafe to his feet. With careful hands, Reza untied the collar of Rafe\u0026rsquo;s shirt, drawing the laces quickly. He tugged at the linen, made sheer by water, and shook his head: Rafe might\u0026rsquo;ve been tossed in the river, he was so wet. The shirt dragged against Rafe\u0026rsquo;s stomach as it was untucked, and suddenly Rafe gasped. Reza glanced up from his work and froze: They were a breath apart. Rafe\u0026rsquo;s eyes, his splotched-pink cheeks, his parted lips. Right there, for the taking. Just a taste.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThen Rafe was pushing Reza\u0026rsquo;s hands away, shaking his head.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReleasing him, Reza backed up. But Rafe swayed, and Reza dove back in to catch him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Not you,\u0026rdquo; Rafe whispered, clutching Reza\u0026rsquo;s arms. \u0026ldquo;I can\u0026rsquo;t bear it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll of him went rigid. He wanted to ignore Rafe, to pretend he didn\u0026rsquo;t understand, to keep undressing him and put the stubborn man into the bath himself, take care of him. But instead, Reza bowed shallowly. \u0026ldquo;As you wish,\u0026rdquo; he said, and jerked his chin at one of the men to take his place.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza strode down the hallway to his own chambers and rather violently divested himself of sword and robes and trousers\u0026mdash;all damp, too\u0026mdash;then allowed himself a very shallow bowl of peach liqueur. He dressed again in fine house clothes, and ran barefoot through a slow sword dance to center himself. Deep breaths, alignment, flowing motion. All would be well. He would care for Rafe through the night, see him healthy.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll would be well.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAn hour later, Reza returned to the guest chamber carrying a tray with hot water with orange blossoms, chocolate, and spiced tea, not knowing which Rafe would prefer, but determined to put warmth into his body.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe was in the bed, curled on his side with his cheek pressed into the silk pillow.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza set the tray down and gently perched at the edge of the mattress. Grey-orange evening light poured in from the windows, as the lightest of rain splattered the glass. Rafe\u0026rsquo;s breathing was smooth, the flush on his sharp cheeks somewhat faded. His dark brown hair flared behind him, loosely curled and still damp. The blanket covered him to the shoulder, and Reza could see the line of his clavicle, the hollow of his throat.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs the ambassador stared, his frustration, his anger, his fear, all of it slowly drained away. Rafe slept, and Reza felt\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. peace. \u003cem\u003eThis\u003c/em\u003e was where Rafe belonged. Here, with him. Reza\u0026rsquo;s ire and irritation of the past few weeks came all from this single source. Not the weather, nor merchants, not the Tullan or the inexorable journey home.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt had all been missing Rafe.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe\u0026rsquo;d known, it, too, but lied to himself again and again that he could manage alone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReaching out, Reza touched the back of his hand to Rafe\u0026rsquo;s forehead: He did not seem so feverish as before. Nor did he shiver and shake in sleep. Perhaps he\u0026rsquo;d only been cold and exhausted, not ill. Beloved\u0026rsquo;s grace, Reza hoped so.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe allowed his knuckles to skim down along Rafe\u0026rsquo;s jaw, then touched his thumb to the corner of the younger man\u0026rsquo;s mouth.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s lashes fluttered and Reza withdrew his hand. He wished to touch those soft lips, but Reza\u0026rsquo;s hands were hardened from war, the pads of his fingers and palms calloused. There were so many reasons Reza should not love him. What future did they have? Rafe would never be safe at Reza\u0026rsquo;s side. He deserved a place to thrive, a lover who could hold his hand in the light, who could be proud, be free. Besides, Rafe had made clear how bitterly he resented royalty and Reza\u0026rsquo;s status. It was no use. They were fish and fowl, destined for different worlds.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Rafe also deserved honesty. He deserved better than Reza\u0026rsquo;s distance.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBetter than this cowardice.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza\u0026rsquo;s eyes closed in shame.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe was Far-Reza, one of Chartil\u0026rsquo;s most admired warriors, an undefeated general, son of princes. Brave, willing, strong. And yet the Beloved would be so disappointed with him, His most cowardly servant.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the morning, when Rafe was awake, whole, Reza would make his confession. Offer Rafe the full truth, and give him the space to make his own choices. That was what Rafe Fenton deserved.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Sleep well, pretty dove,\u0026rdquo; Reza said in Chartili, and quietly took his leave.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was a winding dream, a dream of a path that stretched so far ahead of him as he flew, he could not see the end. He did not even know what land this was, for the dark trees bent thickly overhead, their leaves waxy and broad, the trunks ribbed. From the shadows behind curling ferns eyes watched, slit-pupiled and small. But dangerous.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe was cold, and smelled water, so much water: muddy brown rapids, roiling in the distance. Either a flood or waterfall, and hidden within the hissing words were voices whispering in Kindaan. \u003cem\u003eDavid, be careful; David, it is too soon. David David David, little bat, do not chase that fly. I cannot get to you. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA massive, sleek ferret with familiar brown eyes, a mother\u0026rsquo;s eyes, walked the path beneath him as he fluttered and flew; he wished to ride upon her back, but was unable to still his leathery wings to land.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eDavid. David, little bat\u003c/em\u003e, the water-whispering voices chanted, and he woke with their words hissing in his ears.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe sun was out.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eONE DAY AGO\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe day dawned beautifully.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSunlight shone from a clear blue sky, edged in silver, glinting ferociously red, orange, yellow off the battered flowers in the Ambassador House gardens. The lawn was striped with rich brown mud and emerald grass, the hedges and decorative trees somehow appeared a bolder green than any Reza had ever seen.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe stood at the tall windows in his study, hands folded behind his back. The ambassador had not slept, but watched the clouds depart, watched stars gleam in the black night, watched the first slivers of dawn appear to gild the rooftops of the Middle City and then fill his garden with light.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMino had come in those thin silver hours to deliver the news that Rafe had woken without a fever, then eaten a large bowl of honeyed oats. When he was dressed and ready, he would come here, to Reza\u0026rsquo;s study.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSlowly, Reza reached out to unlatch the window. He swung it open and a thick breeze wandered in, smelling of river, of fertile earth, and heady floral perfume. The wind caressed his cheek, fluttering the ends of his loose hair. A perfect morning to make a poem.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eBrave color\u003c/em\u003e, he thought. \u003cem\u003eBold color. \u003c/em\u003eHe would be brave this morning.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt had been brave to come here to the Land in search of Vincent\u0026mdash;reckless, some might say. But he\u0026rsquo;d done it in love. For love. What would the end of his story be if he allowed his failure with Vincent Applethorpe to define his actions forevermore? To keep him from love?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis was the room where last he\u0026rsquo;d been with Vincent. There, in a nest of blankets and rugs beside the fire. A holy passion, theirs had seemed to Reza. Soldiers curved together like a perfect pair of swords. And like swords, they\u0026rsquo;d inevitably clashed. It had been delicious, and volatile. That wasn\u0026rsquo;t what Reza needed anymore.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza wanted to talk about who he\u0026rsquo;d become. He wanted to understand how he\u0026rsquo;d changed. And the only person he wanted to discuss it with was Rafe. Because Rafe understood passion, and philosophy. He understood the drive to pull everything apart, to analyze, to wonder at meanings and possibilities.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut in order to deserve the chance, Reza had to be brave now.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA knock sounded gently against the door, and he called a plain, \u0026ldquo;Come.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe door swept quietly across the polished parquet floor. \u0026ldquo;Ah. Good morning,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said after a moment.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza turned smoothly to greet the young scholar, expression schooled, but he stopped in frozen admiration at the sight of Rafe in Chartili clothing.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA peacock-green robe embroidered with grey and pink feathers along the left breast and down the hem wrapped the scholar\u0026rsquo;s shoulders and torso, over flowing white trousers and thin black house slippers. His waist was cinched by a vivid white sash. Rafe\u0026rsquo;s hair was pulled back in a tail, but a few wisps fell around his ears, too keen and short to remain as put.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s, ah, very comfortable,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said, spreading his hands out from his body and glancing down at himself. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve never seen you in this color.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eIt was invented for you\u003c/em\u003e, Reza thought. He opened his mouth to make himself say it, too.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Rafe smiled awkwardly and broke the moment by stepping forward. \u0026ldquo;Um, thank you. I feel better. I shouldn\u0026rsquo;t have been such a fool, standing out there so long.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Why were you waiting?\u0026rdquo; He hoped Rafe could not hear the rawness in his voice.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe crossed his arms, glanced past Reza out the window, stepped forward, stopped, uncrossed his arms. \u0026ldquo;Balls,\u0026rdquo; he muttered.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe two men stood there in silence, studying one another. Birds sang outside, light and airy.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m trying to be mature. I don\u0026rsquo;t want to leave it like this,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said, waving a hand wildly. \u0026ldquo;Between us. My life has been falling apart since we stopped speaking, and I know it\u0026rsquo;s not your fault\u0026mdash;you didn\u0026rsquo;t make Doctor Goodell die, or the University be such bastards, you aren\u0026rsquo;t responsible for Kaab\u0026rsquo;s politics, or\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. it\u0026rsquo;s just\u0026nbsp;. .\u0026nbsp;. I think if we weren\u0026rsquo;t arguing, maybe none of it would feel like it was the end of the world.\u0026rdquo; The splotches of color appeared again on Rafe\u0026rsquo;s cheeks and Reza thought he might die if he did not touch them. \u0026ldquo;I miss you, and I\u0026mdash;you\u0026rsquo;ll be gone, and I\u0026rsquo;d rather have your friendship before you leave. If that\u0026rsquo;s all I can have.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThen Rafe cleared his throat, and his eyes flicked down to the floor.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza might have arrived under the pretense of being an ambassador, but he was a soldier. Language was a tool, diplomacy another form of war. There were no words for this moment.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd without words, there was only action.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eQuite suddenly, Reza strode across the five paces between them and put his hands against Rafe\u0026rsquo;s face, cupping his jaw. He stroked his thumbs over that delicate pink flush, taking a moment to feel the light scratch of unshaved skin, the warmth in his palms, the sigh of surprise that slid from Rafe\u0026rsquo;s lips. Then Reza looked at Rafe\u0026rsquo;s eyes, at their wide uncertainty, and kissed him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIf Reza had imagined this kiss repeatedly, he\u0026rsquo;d also imagined Rafe would be an eager partner, open and taking, but Rafe hardly moved except his hands, which fluttered up to Reza\u0026rsquo;s elbows like butterfly wings.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza held Rafe\u0026rsquo;s head carefully, his fingers sliding back into the scholar\u0026rsquo;s hair. Rafe made a soft sound and Reza pushed Rafe\u0026rsquo;s lips apart: He took his taste, finally. Warm, soft, slightly bitter with Chartili coffee.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThen he let go, stepping back slightly, and his hands drifted slowly to his sides. Reza stared at Rafe\u0026rsquo;s closed eyes, at his still-parted lips.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNothing happened. Rafe didn\u0026rsquo;t move.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHad it been terrible? Reza was out of practice\u0026mdash;had never, in fact, been particularly practiced at all. He\u0026rsquo;d only had two lovers in thirty-five years of life. Reza\u0026rsquo;s heart pounded suddenly, and he licked his bottom lip.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat was the moment Rafe opened his eyes; Reza saw him see the flash of tongue, and Rafe said, \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eBalls\u003c/em\u003e,\u0026rdquo; again, with levels more passion than moments before.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Master Fenton,\u0026rdquo; Reza murmured, compelled toward formality in this sudden attack of nerves. \u0026ldquo;I must apologize.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Surely not for \u003cem\u003ethat.\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo; Rafe winced. His voice was breathy, his fingers curling and uncurling.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza shook his head in denial. \u0026ldquo;I have treated you poorly. My behavior has been that of a coward. I felt I needed to distance myself from you, to protect myself\u0026mdash;and you\u0026mdash;but it was unfair, and so much less than a man like you deserves.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You felt\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. the\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. why? Because I\u0026rsquo;m not\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. because I\u0026rsquo;m just a teacher? You\u0026rsquo;re a prince.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No, \u003cem\u003eno\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo; Reza did not know if he should take Rafe\u0026rsquo;s hand, so he did nothing. \u0026ldquo;None of that matters to me, not between us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Between us,\u0026rdquo; Rafe repeated lightly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The strength of my feelings for you threatens to overwhelm all other considerations.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s mouth fell open. \u0026ldquo;The strength of\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. I thought you were \u003cem\u003eindifferent\u003c/em\u003e. I thought you didn\u0026rsquo;t care at all. You pushed me away. You\u0026rsquo;re so goddamn good at hiding all this! And everything I feel is always streaked across my face!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA frown pulled at Reza\u0026rsquo;s mouth, but before he could ask anything embarrassing about Rafe\u0026rsquo;s feelings, Rafe reached out and tenderly touched that frown. Reza caught his breath, and then lifted his hand to Rafe\u0026rsquo;s, pressing Rafe\u0026rsquo;s fingers into his kiss.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe shivered, and his feelings were indeed plastered there, just as he\u0026rsquo;d said: longing, desire, joy. Then he laughed, almost ruefully.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat laugh, so soft, but so true, cracked Reza open again, and he drew Rafe nearer, kissing his palm, then slid Rafe\u0026rsquo;s hand along his own cheek, until the scholar\u0026rsquo;s hand found his hair. Reza kissed Rafe\u0026rsquo;s cheek, breathed him in, and put his lips near Rafe\u0026rsquo;s ear.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn Chartili he whispered, \u0026ldquo;Love comes like the season of rain, drowning me in you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Gods, not rain,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said, laughing, gripping Reza\u0026rsquo;s hair. \u0026ldquo;No more rain, even if it\u0026rsquo;s helplessly romantic.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza smiled and pressed his cheek to Rafe\u0026rsquo;s, reveling in being allowed to do so. In Landish he said, \u0026ldquo;It means I have fallen in love with you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I know what it\u0026mdash;I\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo; Rafe laughed again, brightly, then pulled away to slap a hand over his heart as if his pride were wounded. But his eyes remained ardent, and this time when Rafe kissed Reza it was as eager and open as Reza could possibly have dreamed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe stones of the townhouse\u0026rsquo;s facade glared brilliantly under the afternoon light, causing David Rook to wince away. Surely it was not so bright as all that; his eyes had only grown accustomed to grey, dreary rain, and would need to readjust to summer sun.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe house belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Gen and Lexandra Faulks, the parents of the deceased Thomas Faulks. They were associated with the Merchants\u0026rsquo; Confederation through Lexandra Faulks\u0026rsquo;s family, the Kellings, who had regular voting rights on that council. Gen Faulks was good friends with the St Vier bankers, rich folk highly invested in the river project\u0026mdash;and therefore in bed with Francis Salford.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid had spent all morning speaking with a variety of Middle City contacts, trying to tie those pieces together, and none of it was evidence of anything except how tightly networked the merchant class of the City tended to be. Thomas Faulks very likely had been on that side of the river to make a survey for one of the factions looking into moving the new bridge upriver and onto Riverside\u0026mdash;a contentious plan that was only slowly trickling out of the Council of Lords, who for whatever reason were determined to see the bridge moved. David knew he could ask Kaab for information. But that would lead to a fight when she inevitably asked why.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReluctantly, David jogged up the stone steps and onto the landing. He didn\u0026rsquo;t wish to bother these people with questions when they\u0026rsquo;d just lost their son, but more people would lose loved ones if he didn\u0026rsquo;t nail Salford as fast as possible. He needed hard evidence, and he needed to prove to Kaab that she didn\u0026rsquo;t need Salford on any level anymore. His death served the Balam better than any damned merchanting business.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe lifted his fist to knock on the door just as it opened.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid Rook came face to face with the last person he\u0026rsquo;d have expected: Francis Salford himself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMouth open, fist still raised, David froze, then anger flared his nostrils and clenched his jaw. This man had murdered Saabim.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Pardon me,\u0026rdquo; Salford said in his deep voice, as he set his hat upon his head.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid forced himself to step aside. \u0026ldquo;Salford,\u0026rdquo; he said, through his teeth.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe merchant\u0026rsquo;s eyebrows rose swiftly. \u0026ldquo;Do we know each other?\u0026rdquo;\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eDamn.\u003c/em\u003e Surprise had made David reckless. He shook his head, trying to shake off his anger, too. \u0026ldquo;No, sir, I\u0026rsquo;m only familiar with you for work I\u0026rsquo;ve done around the Confederation building.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hmm, well, Corporal\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere was no way around it. \u0026ldquo;David Rook, sir.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You must be a credit to your profession, to keep track of details and faces like that.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I keep track of a lot of things,\u0026rdquo; David said, holding Salford\u0026rsquo;s eye. The man seemed forthright and charming, exactly what he was supposed to be. Not a viper.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford said, \u0026ldquo;I see. Well, on to your business, then. Be kind to the Faulks family\u0026mdash;I assume you\u0026rsquo;ve come about their son. Any idea what happened to him?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe desire to tell Salford that he knew Thomas Faulks had been poisoned, that in fact he knew about at least six murders in the past two years, including that of Ixsaabim Balam, may she never be extinguished, flushed through him like a fever. He swallowed, but couldn\u0026rsquo;t hide the belligerence he felt when he said, \u0026ldquo;Probably the river sickness, but I\u0026rsquo;m just following up. We find, with sudden death, even if it\u0026rsquo;s not murder, that showing the family that we are investigating can be a consolation. Did you know him, sir?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Mildly. His uncle has done work in my offices. A death like this can send shock waves through our quarter.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes, sir.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well, keep it up,\u0026rdquo; Salford said with a small nod. Then he stepped swiftly down the stairs and turned up the street, vanishing into the crowd.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid slouched against the rough stone beside the front door, suddenly light-headed. That had been unexpected, and too near a call for a man who was supposed to be a spy.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe sun set behind Tess the Hand as she stood at the northern pier of Riverside, her shadow a wavering grey creature that stretched toward Everly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe\u0026rsquo;d been summoned, pointed here by a series of neighbors who\u0026rsquo;d spotted the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s sister singing to herself, a wayward, off-kilter tune, and disturbing everyone they met. Tess had called their name, but for long minutes nothing had happened except Everly stared north at the heavy river and swayed as if to internal music, their skirts shifting around their boots. Tess sighed and put her fists on her hips. She didn\u0026rsquo;t have time for this. Not when it had finally stopped raining after nearly two solid weeks. The sky was sleek, dark purple to the northeast, and cloudless. Tess felt like it had been a lifetime since she\u0026rsquo;d seen such a clear twilight gradient, and tonight there would be stars.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Salamander,\u0026rdquo; she said, wary of using their given name up here on the surface of the island where any passerby could hear it without earning it. Riverside was alive this evening with folks out in the streets, enjoying the dry air. Likely there\u0026rsquo;d be barrel fires on every corner soon, raucous drinking, impromptu celebration that could turn violent if the newcomers to the island didn\u0026rsquo;t get the hang of Riverside charm fast enough.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander spun gracefully, smiling with painted lips. It was a wary, weird smile, and their eyes were too bright.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess forced herself not to step back. \u0026ldquo;What do you want?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, Tess, Tess, Tess.\u0026rdquo; They clasped their hands together in appeal, head falling back to gaze into the heavens.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Are you high? I didn\u0026rsquo;t think you to be the type for Delight.\u0026rdquo; Tess tried to put disapproval in her tone, but she was disconcerted more than anything. The Salamander did not lose themself in emotion, nor display themself like this, wild and strange. Their act was cool mystery. They wore no hat tonight, and their hair streamed around their shoulders. Their bodice was patched with yellow stars and skirts layered blue, grey, brown as the river.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tess, I am alive.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So am I.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander suddenly fell somber. \u0026ldquo;What is the river, Tess?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;A huge pain in my ass.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey gave a sharp laugh.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess sighed. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s a channel of water.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And? And?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Life. The river is life, our protection, our beating heart. Happy?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith a little skip, the Salamander darted forward and kissed her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander\u0026rsquo;s mouth was cool, and tacky with red lip paint. The kiss only lasted a moment, and they whispered, eyes glittering with sparks from Riverside fires and open windows, \u0026ldquo;Yes, Tess, the river is life. The blood of the Land. But it is also devastation. The river is wild, it is cleansing chaos, and it is angry! Oh, Tess. It is time.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess pushed away, worried. \u0026ldquo;Time for what?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEverly held on to her hands. \u0026ldquo;You understand what the river is. But do you know what Riverside is?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Home,\u0026rdquo; Tess answered simply. No tricks.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander crooned softly, a tuneless song. \u0026ldquo;Oh, this is home, a wide-mouthed gutter, a channel to save us\u0026mdash;no, not \u003cem\u003eus\u003c/em\u003e, not me, but you, and everyone. I\u0026rsquo;ve found the gates, Tess, and Riverside must open, must \u003cem\u003ebe\u003c/em\u003e opened, free of rules, free of permanence. I\u0026rsquo;ll be gone, and you\u0026rsquo;ll be here, Riverside\u0026rsquo;s own Hand, to pick up the pieces. When the flood comes, I\u0026rsquo;ll be ready.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess shook her head, unsettled deep in her gut.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes\u0026mdash;oh, oh my darling Tess, the flood is certainly coming.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was late. Midnight, and David had just been released from his shift, having finished the report to his sergeant about the fistfight he and Clipper had broken up on the middle of the Bridge between a few dockworkers and builders new to the City. That had been after he\u0026rsquo;d joined a temporary gang protecting a small square near the University where a dozen fever-sick students were being tended to, and where their frightened neighbors had tried to burn them out before they were even dead. Thank Chaacmul the rains had ended this morning. David wearily trudged away from Billet Square, praying quietly in a murmur of Kindaan that the storm god was finished here, and the sun had come to remain the rest of the summer.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe paused at a crossroads. Even though it was the middle of the night, folk remained out, enjoying the fine air and the freshly starry sky. On their ways home from friends\u0026rsquo; gatherings or impromptu parties, laughing and summoning lantern boys to light their path. Many homes still glowed with light from the windows, gilding the bricked streets in this part of town.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid wanted to go to Mahana. Take her out of her family\u0026rsquo;s kitchen, just to see the starlight on the high river, or to the roof of the Sweet House to point out to her a few of the constellations he knew, hold her hand, wrap the end of her braid around his wrist like a bracelet, kiss her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut he needed to signal Kaab for a meeting instead.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfter his encounter this afternoon, it was his duty to inform her that he had possibly been compromised.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAngry at himself\u0026mdash;and at Kaab for taking this lingering path to revenge\u0026mdash;David headed west, toward the Balam compound.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe turned a corner, hand on his club, and knocked into a taller, broader man. Something sharp cut into his side. David grunted and flung himself away, lifting his weapon. Just before he called out a Watch warning, he heard his name in a familiar voice.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hello, Rook,\u0026rdquo; said Francis Salford, smiling under a cowl. He bowed slightly, eyes on the Watchman.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Salford,\u0026rdquo; David said, clutching at his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, but it didn\u0026rsquo;t feel deep. It felt aflame. He squinted through the darkness, which suddenly was darker. His ears roared. \u003cem\u003eOh no. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford was beside him suddenly, and David jerked away. He\u0026rsquo;d dropped his club from numb fingers. Something crawled up his side, hot and slick. Inside\u0026mdash;under his ribs. He grimaced; the street beneath his boots tilted.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCatching him, Salford said loudly, \u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s right, friend, I\u0026rsquo;ll get you home.\u0026rdquo; The merchant laughed, deep in his chest. \u0026ldquo;Maybe not a seventh pint next time! Ha!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDavid pushed away. His limbs behaved, but weakly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSoftly, lips against David\u0026rsquo;s ear, Salford said, \u0026ldquo;I learned some interesting things about you this afternoon. What a curious young man you are. Patient. Too bad you don\u0026rsquo;t work for me. This is a new concoction, just for you, Corporal. It\u0026rsquo;s been a long while since I did the work myself, and you\u0026rsquo;ve my thanks for presenting the opportunity.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No,\u0026rdquo; David said, tongue thick. He blinked and had difficulty opening his eyes again.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen he did, he was alone on the dark street.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGripping his side, David clenched his jaw and stumbled west. Toward the Balam compound. He had to\u0026mdash;he had to\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. David knocked his shoulder into the wall of the nearest building, knees weakening. He should sit. Rest. Yes, he\u0026rsquo;d feel better then.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;David.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer voice came from a few paces away.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSaabim!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe searched for her in the shadows, but couldn\u0026rsquo;t see her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Little bat. Get up.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe couldn\u0026rsquo;t collapse when Saabim was calling him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSlowly, woozy, David struggled on. He stepped, one foot at a time, toward her. \u0026ldquo;Saabim,\u0026rdquo; he whispered. But she only said his name, lovingly, and remained a half-block ahead of him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;This way, David.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThrough the dark Middle City he dragged himself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBuildings loomed, staring at him with pity, he thought. But their judgment didn\u0026rsquo;t matter. Only Saabim mattered. His side didn\u0026rsquo;t even hurt anymore, and the blood was sticky against his fingers\u0026mdash;not flowing. If he could get to Saabim, if he could only tell her, maybe it would be all right. Get to the compound, spill his blood at their altars.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere, the long wall. David fell against it, hitting his knee hard on the brick street. He clawed up to his feet again, smearing a thin streak of blood against the stone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;David.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m coming,\u0026rdquo; he said, propping himself up against the wall. There was a door. A side door through which none would see him enter. Saabim had showed him once. Or\u0026mdash;or told him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was so very, very dark. Shouldn\u0026rsquo;t the sun be coming up soon?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe stone beneath his hand changed suddenly to wood, smooth and\u0026mdash;the door.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHere David fell and let himself fall, slapping the wood. He slumped. He gasped. He scratched at the door, then slowly pressed his hand to the bloody gash in his side and wrote \u003cem\u003eSaabim\u0026mdash;\u003c/em\u003ethe ferret\u0026mdash;on the wall.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe door suddenly jerked open and David couldn\u0026rsquo;t catch himself. \u0026ldquo;Saabim,\u0026rdquo; he said. \u0026ldquo;Where is Saabim?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA woman cried out, not Saabim, but he heard Kindaan, he heard Balam voices, and his jaw clenched. He had to tell her. \u0026ldquo;Saabim,\u0026rdquo; he said through his teeth.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSuddenly she was there. Her black hair fell all around her face, waved from being in braids, tenderly brushing his cheek. She touched his face. \u0026ldquo;David,\u0026rdquo; she said, tight and anxious. He reached up to touch her brown cheek. She was so beautiful\u0026mdash;just like the day she\u0026rsquo;d found him, starving, furious, sick, and had offered her hand. Sheltered him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Saabim. It was Salford\u0026mdash;Sal.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. but\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. we thought. I\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; His words slurred. He widened his eyes: Behind her shadowed silhouette, the sky was so light! Silver and violet. Beautiful. \u0026ldquo;The sky is so beautiful,\u0026rdquo; he said. \u0026ldquo;A rainbow.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Ixchel greets you, David,\u0026rdquo; Saabim said. \u0026ldquo;And I\u0026rsquo;m here.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I miss you, Saabim. I loved you. You saved me and\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. I never told you, I should have.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I know, David,\u0026rdquo; she said, and he felt a drop of rain fall against his forehead. But the sky was so clear, so immaculate.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere were others around, someone pressing at his side, but he barely felt it. He smiled, or tried to. \u0026ldquo;Find Mahana. I was going to marry her. Mahana. Ix\u0026mdash;Ixmahana Cocom. You will like her, I think. I do.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSaabim laughed a little. \u0026ldquo;I hope you more than liked her, if you wanted to marry her, David.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe laughed, too, but it strangled from his thickening throat. \u0026ldquo;She and I were going to dance, our\u0026mdash;our spirits. All of them.\u0026rdquo; Sudden pain bowed his spine, and David gasped back a groan. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s so hard.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s all right, David,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;You don\u0026rsquo;t have to fight anymore.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Saabim\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. I didn\u0026rsquo;t\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. didn\u0026rsquo;t think there would be so much light in the houses beneath the earth.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSaabim did not say anything else but his name, impossibly soft and sad; she bowed over him, holding him as close as she could.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs the sun rose through a clear sky, blinding the City with refracted light, Ixkaab Balam, first daughter of a first daughter of the House of Balam, cried out in mourning. Her wail echoed high, over the wall and throughout the compound, snaking through the nearby streets of the Middle City. The smell of blood filled her nose, and she bent over her friend\u0026rsquo;s body again. Someone touched her back\u0026mdash;Ahkoet, and he said her name gently.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab did not let go of David Rook, but she tilted her face up to the family around her. \u0026ldquo;We will bring him inside, to be cared for by Balam hands. He died one of us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDr. Goodell's legacy was honored. Rafe realized his book may never be published. Kaab spared Rafe despite realizing his manuscript\u0026rsquo;s threat to her people. Esha helped Diane plot a new strategy. Lord Arlen and the Salamander met.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003eWho\u0026rsquo;s Who:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess the Hand \u0026ndash; a talented forger working to keep Riverside safe\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.304","slug":"tremontaine-s4e06","audio":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/audio/season4/TremontaineS4E06.mp3","epub":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E06.epub","mobi":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E06.mobi","pdf":"https://serialbox.cachefly.net/tremontaine/ebooks/season4/TremontaineS4E06.pdf","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b18230b85bbcd000125c319","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 6"},{"id":"5b182346b467920001f6c8bd","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":8,"title":"What the River Wants","released_date":null,"released":false,"strapline":"Kaab and Tess have a reunion.","byline":"Ellen Kushner","featured":false,"coming_soon":true,"background_image_url":"","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-10-31","body":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No,\u0026rdquo; the Duchess Tremontaine managed to say. \u0026ldquo;No, Octavian, you do not want to meet my family.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian Perry played a little tune on her backbone. She thought she recognized it from the serenade he had been playing for her after supper on his flute, at which he proved to be very adept. Where was the flute, anyway? She remembered rolling onto it at some point, and throwing it across the room and miraculously nothing breaking in\u0026mdash;what room were they in, anyway? What time was it? She needed chocolate. Or possibly more wine\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But I \u003cem\u003edo\u003c/em\u003e want to meet them. I most certainly do.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane flipped herself over and propped herself on one elbow. Gold-and-cream-striped curtains met her eyes. That\u0026rsquo;s right, they had dined in the little salon with the dog Solange, feeding her scraps from the table and laughing at her antics, and arguing about whether the Council needed a strong leader or a biddable one, and how soon Chartil could be convinced that the Land\u0026rsquo;s long-staple wool was of value to them\u0026mdash;because to her amazement, Lord Octavian Perry was the only other noble the duchess ever met who not only took an interest in commerce, but turned out to be profiting greatly by it (which finally explained his substantial rare book collection, Diane thought with satisfaction)\u0026mdash;and somewhere in there Solange had to be taken for a walk in the wet garden, just so Octavian could kiss Diane in the rain with the smell of roses all around them, so silly! So there followed a hot bath, and, yes, that\u0026rsquo;s when the flute had appeared, she\u0026rsquo;d made him stand behind a screen not to watch her bathe, but of course he\u0026rsquo;d cheated and she could tell by the way his breath caught while he played that he was looking at her, and he knew that she knew it, and that must be when the flute was tossed into a corner, and the screen came down, at that\u0026mdash;\u003cbr /\u003e Yes, they were definitely in the salon. Because her boudoir had gotten soaked. And the sun was weakly trying to stream in the windows, so the day was not too much advanced, and she needed chocolate, but first she needed to argue with her new lover.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Good heavens, Octavian. Why on earth do you want to meet my daughter and her brood?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Selfish curiosity.\u0026rdquo; He handed her the silver beaker of water from the floor, still half full. The duchess drank from it directly, resting her elbow on his flank. \u0026ldquo;After all, my dear lady, if I am going to concede to your awful request\u0026mdash;nay, insistence\u0026mdash;that I take it upon me to begin attending Council\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eIf?\u003c/em\u003e But you just \u003cem\u003eswore\u003c/em\u003e you would!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I would have sworn anything at that particular moment. As well you know.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e \u0026ldquo;Oh, I do know. And yet you swore. By some very powerful gods, too.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian Perry groaned, and shivered with the memory. \u0026ldquo;You are a complete and utter bitch.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I am. So I\u0026rsquo;m going to hold you to your promise.\u0026rdquo; She ran her free hand across his chest. \u0026ldquo;Land, Octavian, you\u0026rsquo;re nearly as hairy as Solange!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s a good thing I like bitches, then.\u0026rdquo; He pulled the hand down farther, and Diane allowed herself to hope he\u0026rsquo;d forgotten all about her family when he said, \u0026ldquo;Two children, yes? Two possible little heirs\u0026mdash;after their mother, of course? The Lady Honora?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe said haughtily, \u0026ldquo;I am the Duchess Tremontaine. The ducal houses have the right to choose their own heirs. Honora knows to expect nothing from me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But the little ones? Don\u0026rsquo;t you want to see how they came out? Heirs or no heirs, they are your blood, and Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eIf only you knew what my blood was, you would not be so insistent, my silly Perry.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was always there, lurking in the background: the fear that her base ancestry would reveal itself in her descendants. Now that she was duchess in her own right, with William gone, Diane sometimes allowed herself to wonder if that had been the real problem with Honora.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe stretched herself luxuriously on the carpet to distract him from his question. \u0026ldquo;How will having my dreary daughter, her boring husband, and squalling brats here do me any good?\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e \u0026ldquo;It is the logical next step in your plan to convince the city that you have suddenly gone blindingly and boringly domestic. Unnerved by the superior brains and diplomacy of the Council Lords, realizing your proper sphere is in the home and resolved to take no further interest in politics\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. what would be more natural than to wish to see your dear daughter and her darling little ones?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe couldn\u0026rsquo;t help laughing. \u0026ldquo;Octavian Perry. You. Are. Dreadful.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So they say. But really: Unless you\u0026rsquo;re planning to make me Duke Tremontaine and start popping out new little heirs with ugly faces and beautiful minds\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe duchess shuddered.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Precisely,\u0026rdquo; he said. \u0026ldquo;Unless that is your ultimate plan, then you will want to start grooming and evaluating the next generation. Of course you will outlive us all, but your lovers won\u0026rsquo;t be around forever to ensure the fortunes of Tremontaine in Council.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOh, this man was too clever. Much too clever by half. Esha was more right than even she knew. Maybe Diane shouldn\u0026rsquo;t have been so quick to take her advice\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Diane!\u0026rdquo; he said suddenly, urgently.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eSomeone\u0026rsquo;s come in\u003c/em\u003e, she thought in panic. She reached blindly around for her skirt, her chemise, something to cover herself, a story to tell whoever it was\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGently, Octavian drew her to him, and draped the gold-and-cream-striped curtain around both of them, so that they stood in the window shamelessly naked to the vast expanse of garden, looking out at the rolling green that led down to the sparkling river below.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Diane,\u0026rdquo; he said softly, but she could feel the thrill in his chest against her cheek: \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s the sun! The sun, and blue sky. Look, there are even shadows on the grass.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Duchess Tremontaine chuckled with glee. There was nothing to be afraid of. The rain had stopped, and this unique, intelligent man was hers, oh, definitely hers\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I will hold a party!\u0026rdquo; she said, over his attempts to kiss her again. \u0026ldquo;A celebration of the sun\u0026rsquo;s return.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;How delightfully domestic.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I am known for my parties, although I do not think you ever attended one,\u0026rdquo; the duchess said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd then she wished she hadn\u0026rsquo;t; she sounded like a schoolgirl flirting, like a debutante fishing for compliments\u0026mdash;she hid her flushed face in his chest, and heard him rumble there: \u0026ldquo;I do not think you ever noticed when I did attend, Diane.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe kissed him long and hard, then, standing on tiptoe to press his back to the window. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;ll come to this one, though?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So soon? What will people think?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That you will do anything\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. \u003cem\u003eanything\u003c/em\u003e to continue having access\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. to my library.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe hooted a sharp laugh. \u0026ldquo;Because you have such magnificent boo\u0026mdash;boo\u0026mdash;books!\u0026rdquo; She couldn\u0026rsquo;t talk when he was tickling her. \u0026ldquo;All right, I\u0026rsquo;ll come. If you invite your family, too.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Of course.\u0026rdquo; She\u0026rsquo;d won. Honora was deep in the country, and would never get there in time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton was fairly sure he was dreaming. He was floating in silks, on a bed that smelled of sandalwood, and he didn\u0026rsquo;t hate himself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe was alone, but that was good, too. He didn\u0026rsquo;t need to be glued to anyone like a limpet. He had been kissed by a man he loved, who appeared, against all odds, to love him, too. And to \u003cem\u003elike\u003c/em\u003e him. Rafe Fenton was, as it turned out, likable\u0026mdash;likable to a man of grace and erudition and wisdom and calligraphy. A man who could coldly strategize a battle plan one minute, and a passionate poem the next. A man whose soul was composed equally of poetry and fire, intellect and honor. The most beautiful man in the world, and Rafe loved him with all his heart; it was safe to admit that now. And if a man like that loved Rafe Fenton, then maybe\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. maybe there was hope for him in this world.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe sun made long stripes from the hall windows. At this time of day, Reza was most likely in his study. So that is where Rafe went, imagining his beloved at his lacquered desk, elegant brush in hand.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Reza was not alone. Standing before the half-closed door, Rafe heard voices: Reza\u0026rsquo;s clear tenor, the bass rumble of the old engineer Sa-Anzu, and some accented speech Rafe recognized as belonging to their Tullan visitors.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was not a gathering Rafe felt he should walk in on. But he couldn\u0026rsquo;t help listening\u0026mdash;to improve his Chartili, of course. They\u0026rsquo;d only be having another of their dry discussions about the bridge project. But to Rafe\u0026rsquo;s dawning horror, he began to recognize words here and there, words he\u0026rsquo;d last heard when Reza read him a Chartili battle epic:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eSwift taking of the \u003c/em\u003esomething\u003cem\u003e land\u003c/em\u003e\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. \u003cem\u003eIf we conquer\u0026nbsp;\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. \u003cem\u003eRiches and glory\u003c/em\u003e\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. \u003cem\u003eA people humbled\u003c/em\u003e\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. And then, words from a dirty marching song he\u0026rsquo;d heard one of the guards singing and innocently asked Reza to translate: \u003cem\u003eThey\u0026rsquo;ll never know what hit them!\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWas it more poetry? Some kind of game?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;This city,\u0026rdquo; he heard the younger Tullan say\u0026mdash;he was easy to understand because his halting Chartili was nearly as basic as Rafe\u0026rsquo;s\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;what the Kinwiinik call Xanamluum\u0026mdash;it is almost too simple, too easy to take.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Exactly,\u0026rdquo; the older, more fluent Tullan said. \u0026ldquo;Easy to take and hard to defend.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Like a pretty woman, eh?\u0026rdquo; Sa-Anzu laughed his deep, dry laugh.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza made a comment Rafe couldn\u0026rsquo;t quite hear, and Anzu cackled. Reza knew how to be a Chartili prince, to give people what they expected of such a one, always.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And then there\u0026rsquo;s all this rain,\u0026rdquo; the young Tullan was complaining.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Also like a woman! Endlessly weeping!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Just a little more rain, and they fall like grass before a farmer\u0026rsquo;s scythe.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indeed,\u0026rdquo; Far-Reza said with the flat disapproval he used on Rafe when he\u0026rsquo;d gotten his Chartili grammar wrong. \u0026ldquo;Just a little more rain, and the river carries all our work away.\u0026rdquo; Someone coughed uncomfortably. \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eEasy\u003c/em\u003e does not mean \u003cem\u003euseful\u003c/em\u003e, gentlemen,\u0026rdquo; he went on relentlessly. \u0026ldquo;We do not pick up cities as a child picks up frogs in a pond, for no reason.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s heart slammed in his chest. This was no game. The flower of the Chartili military was discussing \u003cem\u003einvasion\u003c/em\u003e with the foreign visitors.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the study, a chair scraped back along the floor. Were they finished? Were they leaving? Rafe bolted, negotiating the hallways of Ambassador House until no one could imagine he\u0026rsquo;d been anywhere near Reza\u0026rsquo;s study.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA Chartili invasion. Should he tell his father? Warn the merchants? The Council? The duchess, even?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe put his hand against the cool marble of a wall column. He breathed in deeply. There was time. There could be no invasion with the river this wild, Reza had said as much.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBack in his room, Rafe changed from his Chartili silks into his city clothing. He picked up pen and ink, took out a sheet of paper, and wrote:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eLord Reza: I must go to my school to see if all is well. The piece of myself that I leave here belongs to you. I\u0026rsquo;ll return for it as soon as I can. R.F.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe sun continued to shine. The rains had clearly stopped, and while the river was still high, it would surely be just a matter of days until it had receded to a navigable calm, the roads dry enough for the nobles to leave this dull and waterlogged city, and enjoy the summer pleasures of their country estates.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Duchess Tremontaine announced a farewell party: farewell to the rains, farewell to the gloom, farewell to the people already polishing their traveling coaches, who would not be assembled together again until the fall\u0026rsquo;s Council opening. Her little fete would begin in the late afternoon, when the gardens of Tremontaine House shone with westering sun over the river.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eInvitations bearing the Tremontaine swan crest went out all over the Hill, and the nobles rejoiced that the Duchess Tremontaine had once again taken up her rightful role as the Hill\u0026rsquo;s preeminent hostess.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;About time the woman learned her place,\u0026rdquo; Malcolm Deverin, Lord Ferris, said, and his friend Karleigh agreed: \u0026ldquo;Let the duchess play to her strengths, and leave the thinking to us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn a house on the lower edge of the Hill, Honora Campion was sitting in a sunny window alcove, taking chocolate with her friend Natalie Berowne, when a servant brought in a letter.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt the sight of the Tremontaine swan seal, Lady Honora downed the last of her cup in one gulp. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s Mother,\u0026rdquo; Honora said in a thin, high voice. \u0026ldquo;How did she know I\u0026rsquo;m here?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;She\u0026rsquo;s a witch,\u0026rdquo; Natalie said, \u0026ldquo;plain and simple. You\u0026rsquo;ve always said so, and now you have proof.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Honora was in no mood to be fanciful. \u0026ldquo;She bribes the servants. You know she does.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer friend was amused. \u0026ldquo;Which ones?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know\u0026mdash;all of them\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNatalie put her hand on her friend\u0026rsquo;s arm, seeing her badly shaken. \u0026ldquo;Open it, Nora. Open it, and see what it says. I\u0026rsquo;ll ring for more chocolate.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHonora broke the swan seal with shaking hands, and read, \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eThe Duchess Tremontaine most cordially invites you\u003c/em\u003e\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. It\u0026rsquo;s a party invitation! A party at Tremontaine House, to celebrate the return of the sun, three days from now.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What fun,\u0026rdquo; said Natalie dryly. Recently widowed, she did not expect any party invitations. It had been kind of Honora to come to the city to keep her old friend company, and the children were lively and diverting. Though the rains had kept the Campions in town far longer than expected, now that they could soon travel again, Natalie found she\u0026rsquo;d miss the children\u0026rsquo;s funny little ways.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s something more, here, down at the bottom. Written in her own hand, can you believe it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What does it \u003cem\u003esay\u003c/em\u003e?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHonora looked up, her face pale. \u0026ldquo;She wants to see the children\u0026mdash;to meet them, rather. To meet them at last.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNatalie nodded. This was an old grievance. Before Honora could start up with the full force of her not inconsiderable indignation, her friend asked, \u0026ldquo;But not at the party, surely!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No. No, the day before. Oh, Nattie, do you think I have time to have a new dress made for Janine? And David\u0026rsquo;s a disgrace, you put him in a clean shirt and an hour later it looks like he\u0026rsquo;s slept in it, not to mention his hair\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer friend stood up decisively. Honora was a handful when she got like this, but she was a dear and honest person; they\u0026rsquo;d been friends from childhood, and such friends demanded sacrifice. \u0026ldquo;Of course there\u0026rsquo;s time. I\u0026rsquo;ll just bring in a couple of extra sewing maids. And if you like, we can make Davey a new little suit in the satin my aunt Devereux just sent me. He\u0026rsquo;ll look sweet in yellow, don\u0026rsquo;t you think? Like a little primrose.\u0026rdquo; Honora Campion nodded, breathing hard, still panicking. \u0026ldquo;And you, my dear!\u0026rdquo; Natalie said bracingly. \u0026ldquo;What are you going to wear to the Tremontaine Sun Return Party?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHonora\u0026rsquo;s face hardened and her shoulders stiffened. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll borrow something of yours, Natalie, if I may. Whatever the duchess has in mind, it is time we took our rightful place in the city again. I must stop hiding whenever we come to town. I am going to that party, and mother cannot stop me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhich, for a woman holding a party invitation in her hand, was a funny thing to say.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab had given David Rook\u0026rsquo;s body the Kinwiinik honors he deserved. She had summoned the girl Ixmahana to the Balam compound to help observe the rites of cleanliness and purification of her sweetheart\u0026rsquo;s body, and held her tightly afterward as she cried, and told anyone in the compound who objected to any of this which part of the Ever-Dripping Snake-Ridden Lands they could visit and fail to return from, for all she cared.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTo her amazement, her cousin Ixkoet did not press her for reasons; he even sent his sister Ixcho to go into their stores to fetch the incense and ointments she needed. And she heard him respond to the little knot of cousins on whom Kaab had used her entirely unsuitable language:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;If Ixkaab Balam has some intelligence relevant to this man and does not choose to reveal it to us, that is her right, as ranking agent in the service. Who presses the mecaxochitl blossom before it is ripe? Ixkaab is keeper of the garden of secrets. In the meantime, let us honor this Xanamwiinik with all the dignity she says is due him.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe had not told Koet about Francis Salford. Now she almost wished she had. She wanted someone to rage with her at the desperate injury that stinking calabash of a man had done, first to their beloved Ixsaabim, then to her foster son, a member of the service as much as Sawayak or any of them. She wanted Koet to tell her that \u003cem\u003enow\u003c/em\u003e was the time to strike\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. and maybe even to tell her that it was not her fault that this true-spirited Xanamwiinik friend lay dead because she, Ixkaab Balam, had told him to stay his hand, allowing the monster Salford to sharpen his blade in the shadows while she prepared\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe rites completed, with regret she asked Ixmahana\u0026rsquo;s mother and auntie to do what must be done with David Rook, so that his friends on the Watch would find his remains, and never know how he had been loved and honored by the Kinwiinik. His secrets Kaab would keep until her own descent to the houses of the earth, but his revenge from now on would be swift, Kaab swore, burning incense on Chaacmul\u0026rsquo;s altar for his passing there.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab let some of her blood, and watched the smoke for signs as it rose, for any wisp of comfort that Chaacmul would care to give her. And she saw not sharp knives or honor, but the tresses of Tess Hocking\u0026rsquo;s hair, lit red by a trick of the new-risen sun.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess the Hand lived the life of a criminal in murderous, lawless Riverside, a place even Kaab was wary of, now that she\u0026rsquo;d felt its bite herself. They were both safe\u0026mdash;and even their friendship, while bruised, was still miraculously alive.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut who knew how long that would be? The gods held the book of eternity, and none knew how long one\u0026rsquo;s name was inscribed there. She had to see Tess. She had to apologize for being always at odds with a woman she respected, to tell her that she valued her friendship and her person, her spirit and intelligence, almost as a Kinwiinik. Almost family.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess was, after all, her first friend here in this cold, white land. Tess would understand what even Ixkoet and Ixcho might not.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab looked up as the smoke dispersed into the pale blue sky, nothing but smoke again, and wondered at her own thoughts.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHad Ixkaab Balam, first daughter of a first daughter, been changed here in this white country? Changed for the worse? Grown sentimental and\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. Landish?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eOh, little bee\u003c/em\u003e, her mother crooned, and Kaab lowered her head and let the altar be wet with tears at last. \u003cem\u003eOnly now are you beginning to understand what it is to be in the Service. If you cannot think like a Stranger, how can you make any sense of the wide world as you move through it? \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What about the Academy?\u0026rdquo; the other scholars kept asking him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs if Rafe had all the answers. Joshua, Anselm\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. even Micah\u0026rsquo;s silent scowl meant she was worried. \u0026ldquo;With Doctor Goodell gone, what legitimacy do we have? Can you find a replacement?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWell, he had gotten them into this. Capable as they all were, it was Rafe\u0026rsquo;s dream they were enacting. He owed it to them to find out.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd he owed it to the Duchess Tremontaine to tell her that their chief University master was gone, and ask, \u003cem\u003eWhat now?\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut first, Rafe thought, he owed it to his city to go and confront Far-Reza ko Arezu ko Shirin-sa Chartili with what he knew.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eIf you want to see me, come to Riverside. I will be at home, working\u003c/em\u003e.\u003cbr /\u003e As soon as she received Tess\u0026rsquo;s reply, grubby and crumpled as it was, having passed through several hands to reach her, Kaab put on a fresh shirt, gave her boots a quick shine, and set out for Riverside. In the pale morning sunlight, she noted the darkness of the river, how it flowed quick and fast with detritus, still. Whatever anyone said, the water did not look like it was going down any time soon.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWork on the dredging had come to a halt, of course, and she had heard that the construction of the new bridge was mired in more than mud, these days. It was a pity. What there was of the new erection was a sight to see: stones cut sharp and clean from northern granite had been floated down the river on huge barges this past spring; she remembered the city folk lining the banks to watch them come in. There most of those stones rested still, covered in canvas on those selfsame barges, while what there was of the bridge so far hung from the north bank as if in mid-air.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe dredging instruments themselves were not so pretty to view: wood and rope and weights against the sky, a tangle that made no sense to the untutored eye. Surely they used to be more upright? It did look as though the wind and rain, and even the river\u0026rsquo;s strong flow, had shifted them some. The river bottom would be filling up with silt again. Like every major construction, the dredging project was likely to take four times longer than anyone had hoped.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNear the construction, the banks were thick with families, living nearly in the open, under whatever shelter they\u0026rsquo;d managed to cobble together from random shutters, planks, old doors, and scraps of wood. Country folk, Kaab observed, with their striped handwoven skirts and shawls, dirty and patched, now, and children wrapped in whatever could be found. They\u0026rsquo;d come here to the city in search of employment, or food, but with construction halted, the extra work was gone. The men were out looking for jobs\u0026mdash;\u003cem\u003eO\u003c/em\u003e\u003cem\u003er drinking in Riverside\u003c/em\u003e, Kaab thought, and made a note to be particularly careful as she crossed the bridge.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab mounted the familiar stairs of Tess\u0026rsquo;s place, wracked with memories. But at the sight of her friend, sitting at her desk in the room with the best light, work spread out before her, Kaab realized much had changed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess\u0026rsquo;s face was pale as the moon. Even her glorious hair had a twilight color to it. And though her figure was a little less full, she somehow seemed to take up more space than she had before.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You came,\u0026rdquo; Tess said. \u0026ldquo;I didn\u0026rsquo;t think you would, right away.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I know you\u0026rsquo;re busy working,\u0026rdquo; Kaab said gently. \u0026ldquo;So I brought the chocolate here to you. It is good for concentration, and for steadying the hand.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess half-stood to go to the fire, but Kaab stopped her. \u0026ldquo;No, my flower, sit. Let me do it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe built up the fire, and put the kettle on to heat. Behind her, Tess ground her inks for her latest project, while Kaab took out chocolate, grater, and the mix of hand flower, pepper flower, pataxte, and vanilla bean.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs she grated it, the chocolate scented the room, and she heard Tess\u0026rsquo;s indrawn breath. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re going to make it \u003cem\u003ethat\u003c/em\u003e way? The whole thing?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The whole thing,\u0026rdquo; Kaab said. \u0026ldquo;Just because I\u0026rsquo;m not trying to seduce you this time, doesn\u0026rsquo;t mean we can\u0026rsquo;t honor Ixcacao together properly.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;A long time ago,\u0026rdquo; Tess said dreamily. \u0026ldquo;In this same room. I knew you wanted me, but I wasn\u0026rsquo;t sure \u003cem\u003eyou\u003c/em\u003e knew you did.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab poured the hot water over the mix of ground chocolate and spices in the tall pot. \u0026ldquo;How could you think that? After all my passionate kisses?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Some women just kiss. I was afraid you were one of those. Are you going to do the pouring thing, now?\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m going to do the pouring thing now. Try to pretend you\u0026rsquo;re not afraid I\u0026rsquo;ll spill it all over your floor, eh?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess laughed. \u0026ldquo;As if that ever crossed my mind. You are many things, but clumsy is not one.\u0026rdquo; She watched, suitably rapt, as Kaab poured the chocolate from vessel to vessel, and the froth mounted until it was time to bring out the molinillo.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Do you want a turn?\u0026rdquo; Kaab said, and Tess spun the wooden handle between her hands like any village girl, bringing the foam right up in its vessel until Kaab could fill a bowl with it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So,\u0026rdquo; Tess asked brightly, \u0026ldquo;who are you making this for these days?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No one, Tess. I\u0026rsquo;ve never made this for any Xanamwiinik but you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey toasted each other and the blessings of Ixcacao in a mix of bitter foam and the drink of the gods.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe good chocolate did its work. Soon they were laughing, recalling their first meeting, when newcomer Ixkaab Balam couldn\u0026rsquo;t tell a swordsman from a pimp, and challenged him anyway, to impress a red-haired beauty with breasts like twin moons, and skin \u0026ldquo; \u003cem\u003e. . . \u003c/em\u003ethe color of ants\u0026rsquo; eggs,\u0026rdquo; Tess finished triumphantly. \u0026ldquo;I still haven\u0026rsquo;t tasted those, you know.\u0026rdquo; And, before Kaab could offer: \u0026ldquo;And with any luck, I never will!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You don\u0026rsquo;t know what you\u0026rsquo;re missing.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, yes I do! Vincent told me they tasted\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo; Tess stopped.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s right,\u0026rdquo; Kaab remembered, smiling. \u0026ldquo;I did give some to Vincent once. He claimed to like them.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe name hung in the air. And the pointless duel between him and Kaab that had dealt him his mortal wound.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It wasn\u0026rsquo;t your fault, Kaab.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Only a fool says that,\u0026rdquo; she said woodenly. \u0026ldquo;We have to accept our actions, whatever they are. Whatever their cause.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I had something happen, too,\u0026rdquo; Tess said, so softly Kaab wasn\u0026rsquo;t even sure it was meant for her to hear. \u0026ldquo;I had some kids here, and I let them do something dangerous. Because I\u0026mdash;because we thought it needed doing.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;They were Riversiders, Kaab! We don\u0026rsquo;t get caught!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;They got caught, then.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Jason and Harry and Bullseye. The little ones just got sent off with a flogging. Bullseye\u0026rsquo;s in the Chop, but at least he wasn\u0026rsquo;t beaten. But Freddie\u0026mdash;he could swim like a fish! And he\u0026rsquo;s gone . . .\u0026rdquo; Tess knuckled away a tear and went on: \u0026ldquo;Charlotte escaped. But she\u0026rsquo;s not speaking to me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab took her hand. \u0026ldquo;If it was your fault, or it wasn\u0026rsquo;t your fault, believe me, Tess, it doesn\u0026rsquo;t matter. We do not control what happens, and we still have to live with it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Easy for you to say.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e \u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t fight me on this one, Red Tess. I know what it\u0026rsquo;s like, when the jaguars prowl your head-spirit at night, in the early hours before dawn, stinking up your liver \u0026rsquo;til you feel you\u0026rsquo;ll never sleep again.\u0026rdquo; She stared at a patch of sunlight, remembering a blistering day across the sea, when all that she had done came home to her, the death of agents, the death of a woman she\u0026rsquo;d had no business trusting on their behalf\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I never told you what happened to me,\u0026rdquo; Kaab said, looking off still into the distance of the sea. \u0026ldquo;In Tultenco. The real reason that I came here with a foreign sword and the mistrust of my own people.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So tell me now.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Not now. Another time.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Riversider put her hand on Kaab\u0026rsquo;s. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;Whatever it is, I\u0026rsquo;m sorry for you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab kept her hand very still, so Tess would have no reason to release it. Tess\u0026rsquo;s warmth was oddly comforting\u0026mdash;not just a warmth of the body she knew, but a warmth of spirit between them, more precious even than the body\u0026rsquo;s love.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab looked at the floor. \u0026ldquo;Are you with anyone, now, Tessie?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No,\u0026rdquo; Tess said. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m too busy.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What about a protector?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No need.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere was a look Tess had, and Kaab knew it. Like a priestess of Ixchel, a woman with a secret she could not reveal. \u0026ldquo;Drink your chocolate. There\u0026rsquo;s a little more left in the pot, still.\u0026rdquo; It didn\u0026rsquo;t do to pry into the mysteries.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOn the other hand, the mysteries weren\u0026rsquo;t everything. \u0026ldquo;No lover, no protector\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. good!\u0026rdquo; Kaab said. \u0026ldquo;Because now I can freely ask you to go dancing!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Dancing?\u0026rdquo; Tess looked like she\u0026rsquo;d never heard the word before.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I know your feet are light as foam,\u0026rdquo; Kaab plowed on. \u0026ldquo;You can dance to anything; you even danced to the Kinwiinik pipes that night on the ship. We should find a good dance hall to celebrate the rains\u0026rsquo; end.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. there\u0026rsquo;s a new fiddler at the Maiden\u0026rsquo;s Fancy\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab hesitated. Riverside didn\u0026rsquo;t want her. Riverside knew too much, and fiddler or no, she\u0026rsquo;d be mad to go there. To her surprise, Tess read her look, and said, \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s all right. You\u0026rsquo;ll be with me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab leaned back, stuck her thumbs in her belt, and drew a long, deep breath. \u0026ldquo;Tess, Tess, Tess. You are truly amazing. It is an honor to call you friend.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well.\u0026rdquo; Tess tried not to smile, and failed. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m glad we\u0026rsquo;ve finally got that settled.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab laughed. \u0026ldquo;So you will do it? You will come out with me?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;After the floods. When all this nonsense is over and I can leave.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So we will dance?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;We will dance.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab leaned in and gave her a soft, chaste kiss. \u0026ldquo;Until then.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza practicing his fine-edged weapon in the yard was disconcerting, concerning the purpose of Rafe\u0026rsquo;s visit: It reminded Rafe that the ambassador was, in truth, a warrior. It was also distracting as hell, as the older man wheeled and spun, thrust and swung the fine blade, his muscles flexing, his knotted hair loosing in strands from its bond. Sweat had begun trickling down his face\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. and the smell of Reza in his exertions made Rafe want to abandon all thoughts he\u0026rsquo;d had of anything else in his short, foolish life.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut he kept a grip on his desires. He wasn\u0026rsquo;t a schoolboy anymore.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza noticed him and stopped, panting, taking a dry cloth from an attendant to towel himself off. Rafe noted that the man was an inner house servant, one with very few words of Landish. Reza dismissed the servant \u0026ldquo;for a little while\u0026rdquo; and came forward to greet him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t say anything,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said. \u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t touch me, even. I need to know.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe poured out the disjointed narrative of what he\u0026rsquo;d heard, of what he thought he\u0026rsquo;d heard, of what it had seemed to mean to a man not fluent in the language. And waited for an answer that would make things better again.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re right,\u0026rdquo; Reza said. \u0026ldquo;That was the conversation you overheard, rude guest that you are. Your Chartili is improving!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe refused to be charmed. \u0026ldquo;Your friends\u0026mdash;your guests\u0026mdash;your countrymen are planning to invade and conquer my land? Then let\u0026rsquo;s hope my Chartili improves even faster, for I\u0026rsquo;ll surely need it then!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003ePlanning\u003c/em\u003e, yes. It\u0026rsquo;s what we do.\u0026rdquo; Rafe nodded, trying to appear as calm as Reza, as sophisticated in the wars between nations, something he had never studied, with his head always in the sciences. \u0026ldquo;We are a military nation, you know.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So this business of you being the ambassador; it was just a ruse? A cover for you to spy out our defenses?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I came for many reasons, Rafe Fenton, as well you know. Come here.\u0026rdquo; Rafe took a small step forward. He would not let Reza kiss him into forgetting or ignoring what he had heard. \u0026ldquo;Come closer. I will not touch you. But listen to me.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t want to insult you, friend, but your country has little to offer the Chartili Empire. Your placement is not strategic, nor your natural resources particularly, ah, overwhelming. What we want, we can get in trade, without wasting military resources.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe nodded, prepared to be satisfied\u0026mdash;but another thought occurred: \u0026ldquo;If we are so beneath your notice, why all this help improving the city infrastructure? Why Sa-Anzu?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza smiled slowly, real warmth in his brown eyes. \u0026ldquo;Ahhh\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. we play a long game, we Chartili. In a generation or two, or even three, there may be something here worth fighting for. But you and I will long have rested in the Beloved\u0026rsquo;s embrace. Right now, neither I nor Anzu would recommend to the Emperor the conquest of this land.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And the dredging? The bridge?\u0026rdquo; Rafe asked doggedly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Easier shipping will be good for trade.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What about those other ones, then? The Tullans, your guests? Were they just \u003cem\u003eobserving\u003c/em\u003e your strategies?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;Pfft.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e He loved it when Reza made that dismissive noise. \u0026ldquo;The Tullans are a nuisance, but they arrived as guests of my Emperor, and so I must be kind to them. And I must listen very, very carefully to what they say. And how they say it.\u0026rdquo; Reza took a long gulp of water from a bronze vessel brought for the swordsman\u0026rsquo;s refreshment. \u0026ldquo;In their own land, the Tullans are great warriors, strategists, and conquerors. But that land is far away.\u0026rdquo; He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. \u0026ldquo;They have heard of the riches of Chartil, and of our grace in battle. We believe this little group came to evaluate us, to determine whether we Chartili would be easy takings, or potential allies on this side of the great sea.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And are you?\u0026rdquo; Rafe asked.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;They are not in Chartil, now, are they? Does that answer your question?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe training in the sciences that had allowed him to pick apart a thesis, Rafe considered, was useful in the world\u0026rsquo;s politics, too, if he took the time to apply it. \u0026ldquo;Half of it, Lord Reza. I know you don\u0026rsquo;t want them in Chartil, as enemies or allies. Why did your Emperor choose to send them \u003cem\u003ehere\u003c/em\u003e, though?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza grinned. \u0026ldquo;I ask myself the same question. To annoy me, perhaps? My family wishes me home. They\u0026rsquo;re afraid I\u0026rsquo;m enjoying myself too much in this city.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe fought the desire to grin in sympathy. \u0026ldquo;Your guests seemed awfully interested in the theory of invading our pointless little country.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Perhaps.\u0026rdquo; Cooled from his practice, Reza shrugged himself into the loose robe the returning servant handed him. \u0026ldquo;But without our active support, they are too far from home to make the attempt. No, the Tullans should emulate the clever Kinwiinik. \u003cem\u003eThey\u003c/em\u003e know how to play in the world\u0026rsquo;s arena when they leave the Western Lands. They make friends with the new peoples they find, bringing prosperity and fresh delights. The Tullans would do well to take a lesson from them, when they cross the open sea.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The Tullans come from the same place as the Kinwiinik? Then how can we know what sort of partnership they have there?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The Kinwiinik are no friends to the Tullans,\u0026rdquo; Reza said, following his thought. \u0026ldquo;No Kinwiinik would back a Tullan invasion here. They are the bitterest of enemies back home. In fact, I\u0026rsquo;m impressed there\u0026rsquo;s been no public hostility so far.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe stood for a moment, thinking. No invasion, then. Nothing to report to anyone, other than that Far-Reza was a wonderful man, who played a long game for his country.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza watched him. He did not try to persuade, to seduce, to hurry Rafe as he thought.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What does Chartil do,\u0026rdquo; Rafe asked, \u0026ldquo;to its conquered people?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza threw back his glorious head and laughed. \u0026ldquo;Ah, Rafe, Rafe my beloved, your head is in the skies. You wander amongst the stars, and why should you know of the sordid policies of earth? We exact tribute, my heart: of men to fight our wars, of crops to feed them, of goods for the Empire to enjoy.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said, \u0026ldquo;I can see why you\u0026rsquo;re not that interested in us, then.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And, once we are secure, we share knowledge, Rafe,\u0026rdquo; Reza said softly, almost seductively. \u0026ldquo;Our scholars are respected, our thirst for knowledge endless. There is no ban on thinking, in Chartil, as long as thought follows reason and reason leads to action that will benefit the Empire.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well then,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said brightly, \u0026ldquo;maybe I had better encourage you to come and conquer after all.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza raised his eyebrows, with the enquiring look Rafe found so irresistible. And so finally, finally it all spilled out: the impossibility of publishing \u003cem\u003eOn the Causes of Nature\u003c/em\u003e\u0026mdash;leaving out, of course, the humiliating incident with the printer, but emptying his heart of the frustration and worry and dismay.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza nodded slowly, but did no more to respond. Instead he said, \u0026ldquo;Listen, Rafe. I am glad you came to me, glad, even, that you asked what you did. And let me ask you now: Are you satisfied with my answers?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said. Reza\u0026rsquo;s deep dark eyes, looking directly into his, made him shiver. \u0026ldquo;I believe you. And I thank you for answering honestly this time.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAware of the servants attending once more, Reza gave him a comradely pat on the back. \u0026ldquo;Good. That\u0026rsquo;s good. Now, will you walk with me? I need a bath, and there\u0026rsquo;s one more thing I have to tell you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWalking through the halls of Ambassador House, Rafe felt grown-up and serious. Not even inclined to make jokes about wishing he could stay for the bath. And Far-Reza spoke to him as a partner.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;In addition to our invasion scenario, Sa-Anzu discussed the condition of the river. It is high, so high that, despite the bright weather that has come upon us, he fears a flood. Heavy rain up north, or the breaking of a dam, could push the river over the edge.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was hard to imagine that hovering at their borders, with the rain departed and the wayward sun now busily drying everything in sight. But Rafe listened as Reza continued, \u0026ldquo;That could be devastating; or, like our guests\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo; Reza nodded pleasantly to the Tullan man they passed in the hall, the one who spoke no Landish\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;merely a nuisance; but either way, the warehouses would be inundated. You should tell your father, and\u0026mdash;do you have friends in Riverside? That island, too, would be deep under water.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey stopped at the bathing-room door. \u0026ldquo;Here I leave you,\u0026rdquo; said Reza. Rafe was pleased to see that he held his robe closed at precisely the place that would most easily reveal his regret at doing so.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eStill, Rafe could not resist bowing to him, and lightly kissing the knuckles of Reza\u0026rsquo;s right hand, as he\u0026rsquo;d seen some guards do. Surely it denoted deep respect, no more? And the color rising to the ambassador\u0026rsquo;s cheeks was from the heat of his practice?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe turned and left Ambassador House, the sensation of his beloved\u0026rsquo;s skin still tingling on his lips.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfter that, why fear the Duchess Tremontaine?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine, surveyed the woeful trio arrayed before her in the sunlit morning parlor: the unfashionable mother and her two ridiculously overdressed children, all standing awkwardly together on the carpet in freshly shined shoes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe girl had come in holding her little brother\u0026rsquo;s hand, dropping it only when her mother nudged her sharply\u0026mdash;\u003cem\u003eMake your curtsy to the duchess, Janine\u003c/em\u003e\u0026mdash;and taking it up again directly after. The girl, maybe five or six years old, was pretty, with long brown hair carefully brushed to a sleek, otter-like shine. Her eyes were big, her face solemn as she looked at her grandmother, clutching her brother\u0026rsquo;s hand tightly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe boy\u0026rsquo;s eyes were everywhere. His sister held him to keep him from running about the room. He fidgeted\u0026mdash;well, he was barely four, if that. His look was lively, interested, unruly\u0026mdash;and, when his mother glared at him, sulky.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Welcome,\u0026rdquo; Diane said, as if to strangers. She wondered if Honora had even told the children who she was. \u0026ldquo;Will you take chocolate?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe girl\u0026rsquo;s eyes got very big, and the little boy jiggled. \u0026ldquo;The children are not allowed chocolate, Mother,\u0026rdquo; Honora said. \u0026ldquo;It overexcites them, and is bad for their growth.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I want chocolate!\u0026rdquo; the little boy said loudly. Diane laughed, mainly to annoy Honora\u0026mdash;but there was something taking about his absolute force of will. \u003cem\u003eIs he like me?\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;In my house, everyone has chocolate.\u0026rdquo; Diane wafted to a table, rang the small silver bell for service. Honora fumed. This was going to be much more fun than Diane had imagined.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And how was your journey?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHonora drew breath to answer, but the little girl got in first:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It was so exciting! The coach had four horses, and Brown Honey got a stone in her hind hoof and we nearly overturned and Nurse screamed like a night ghast but Hal Coachman got it out, and then Davey got sick and threw up all over everything so I told him all about the robbers who were chasing us so we had to go swift as the wind and not get sick again until we came to the city\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s enough, Janine!\u0026rdquo; Honora snapped. \u0026ldquo;I had sufficient of your nonsense in the carriage, thank you. The duchess doesn\u0026rsquo;t want to hear about your robbers and fairies and heaven knows what.\u0026rdquo; She smiled anxiously at her mother. \u0026ldquo;She\u0026rsquo;s a clever girl. Do you know, she\u0026rsquo;s already taught herself to read? Father would have been proud.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane heard the defiance, and let it go. Their daughter had always been closer to William, she did not deny it. He would have spoiled the girl, if she\u0026rsquo;d let him. Even when Honora had run off in her first season with that dull Campion fellow, William had been inclined to forgive her. Diane knew her husband had sent them presents behind her back.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMaids came in with the chocolate set and four painted cups. They set down the tray on the table, right at the children\u0026rsquo;s eye level.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I want the bunny!\u0026rdquo; the boy cried. Diane peered. The girl looked longingly at the cup with the bluebirds.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You will have the bunny,\u0026rdquo; Diane said, \u0026ldquo;and your sister the birdies.\u0026rdquo; Honora\u0026rsquo;s lips were pressed tight. Of course, she was worried they would break them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane did not deceive herself; her daughter was there because she had been summoned, and she wanted the children to have their grandmother\u0026rsquo;s patronage. She wanted them to make a good impression. But Honora could not control them, and she knew they were too young to behave well, or to interest the duchess.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane decided to be very interested. She leaned down to the little boy. \u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s your name?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Davey.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Davey what?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHis sister prodded him gently. \u0026ldquo;Go on. You can say it.\u0026rdquo; He lifted his head, and said loudly, \u0026ldquo;David Alexander Tielman Campion. My grandfather was the Duke Tremontaine. His name was William Tielman.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So it was,\u0026rdquo; the duchess said with approval. \u0026ldquo;Would you like to sit in my lap?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Why not?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You said we could have chocolate.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;We\u0026rsquo;ll do both.\u0026rdquo; Diane lifted the squirming bundle and settled him on her knees, amongst the crisp folds of her gown. \u0026ldquo;There. I\u0026rsquo;ll pour the chocolate now, and then you will have some.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHonora positively vibrated with worry. He was not a good little boy, Diane could tell that already. But was he clever? Or amusing? She did not know much about small children. Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s nurses had clothed and cleaned and raised Honora \u0026rsquo;til she was old enough to sit at table and be conversable.\u003cbr /\u003e The child was soft and warm against her breast. Like a large cat. Or a small dog. Diane smiled to think of Octavian and Solange. How amused he would be when he arrived later, to see her with a creature of her own!\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe previous evening, Octavian had given her a silver bird, an exemplar of the jeweler\u0026rsquo;s art, precise in every feather. Diane took it from the table to show it to the boy. On the bird\u0026rsquo;s underside was a small key. \u0026ldquo;Do you know what this does?\u0026rdquo; She turned the key. \u0026ldquo;It sings.\u0026rdquo; The tiny beak opened, and a brittle tune tweeted out. \u0026ldquo;Just like a real bird.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe children were spellbound. \u0026ldquo;It \u003cem\u003eis\u003c/em\u003e a real bird,\u0026rdquo; Janine breathed. \u0026ldquo;A wizard found it, and turned it to silver, and\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hush,\u0026rdquo; Diane told her, but the boy said mutinously, \u0026ldquo;I want to hear the story.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You can hear the story later. Here, would you like to hold it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe took the bird solemnly. It sang a little more. Then, when the tune slowed to nothing, the boy raised his pudgy fist and flung it across the room.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe bird fell on the carpet with a \u003cem\u003eclunk\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the silence that followed, \u0026ldquo;It wasn\u0026rsquo;t a real bird,\u0026rdquo; he said. \u0026ldquo;It couldn\u0026rsquo;t fly. See? Want me to show you again?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane started laughing\u0026mdash;not just because it was funny, which it was, but because Honora and the girl were so utterly terrified of what she\u0026rsquo;d do next.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I grasped it the first time,\u0026rdquo; she told him. She kissed the top of his head, to keep him from wriggling down off her lap after the bird. \u0026ldquo;You are a terrible child. Look, here comes the chocolate. Do you like sugar?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe did indeed. Far more than he\u0026rsquo;d probably ever had in his life before went into the rabbit cup, to judge by his mother\u0026rsquo;s expression. His sister Janine was quaintly polite, for such a little thing. A bit like a wild rabbit herself, she looked covertly at both her mother and the duchess every time anything was offered her, to see if it was all right to say yes. Maybe Honora had gotten to her already, Diane reflected. Or maybe she was just naturally timid. Other than her wild stories, which the girl would certainly grow out of, there was not much there to interest her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe boy watched with fascination the mound of grated sugar dissolving slowly into the chocolate. \u0026ldquo;You can\u0026rsquo;t take that out again,\u0026rdquo; he informed her. Diane took a reviving sip of her own dark chocolate and asked the child on her lap, \u0026ldquo;Are you going to drink it, or just look at it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s mine,\u0026rdquo; he said, as if afraid someone would take it away from him. He picked up the cup, and took a deep gulp.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd shrieked and spat it out and threw the cup down on the floor, causing a mess so enormous that for a moment the duchess could only stare, before she jumped up out of her seat to dump the child off her lap. He was already squalling before Honora came and slapped him, hard, more than once, crying, \u0026ldquo;How dare you? How dare you, you little wretch? Look what you\u0026rsquo;ve done, just look at it!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s awful!\u0026rdquo; he wept. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s awful! You said it was good and it\u0026rsquo;s awful!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe did not, it seemed, like chocolate after all. Even with lots of sugar.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe little girl tried to come between his mother and him, putting her arms around him and saying, \u0026ldquo;Stop it, Davey, stop it, it\u0026rsquo;s all right\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo; but he screamed the louder, and lashed out at his sister: \u0026ldquo;I hate you! I hate you all!\u0026rdquo; Whereupon Honora tried to get at him again, at the same time crying, \u0026ldquo;There, Mother, I told you how it would be! But you never listen to me, never!\u0026rdquo; to Diane, who just stood there, for once, at a complete loss as what to do.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSuddenly, the boy broke loose, just as a footman opened the door to see what the racket was. The boy bolted like a ferret out through the doorway.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Catch him!\u0026rdquo; Diane heard herself cry, as if it was indeed a ferret-hunt. The footman stumbled, recovered himself, and gave chase.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere was shouting in the hall. The youngest Tremontaine had bitten someone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Let me go after him, please!\u0026rdquo; Janine said. But her mother gripped her so firmly by the wrist that the girl started crying as well.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane wondered helplessly how to make them all go away.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton stood before the gates of Tremontaine House, realizing how little he wanted to enter it. His lover Will had first embraced him there; there they had been very happy and extremely foolish, and Will had paid the price. The equal memories of bliss and of true horror that Tremontaine House held for him froze Rafe in his tracks, staring up at the magnificent edifice of stone and glass. He realized he really would rather discuss a foreign invasion with Far-Reza ko Arezu ko Shirin-sa Chartili than bid a simple good morning to Diane de Tremontaine.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThrough the gate pelted a small yellow demon who turned the corner, fell against Rafe\u0026rsquo;s leg, then started kicking and biting it. Rafe grabbed the child\u0026mdash;for such it turned out to be\u0026mdash;under the arms, and lifted him up for a closer look. The child writhed in his grasp, and screamed in sheer fury at this latest indignity.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe was dressed in the sort of fancy suit Rafe remembered hating to be squeezed into when he was small. This one had an even stiffer collar, and many more ruffles. Not a poor man\u0026rsquo;s child. \u0026ldquo;You look,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said, \u0026ldquo;like a lemon tart.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I do not!\u0026rdquo; the boy shouted. His green eyes blazed, magnified by tears\u0026mdash;and suddenly, with a shock of recognition, Rafe knew just who this little one was.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hey!\u0026rdquo; Rafe said, over the child\u0026rsquo;s shouts of rage. \u0026ldquo;Hey, look here!\u0026rdquo; He held up one hand, maintaining the struggling child with the other. \u0026ldquo;Can you count?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe child gasped, and caught his breath to say, affronted, \u0026ldquo;I can count to a hundred!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Good!\u0026rdquo; The tempest dimmed. Rafe moderated his voice: \u0026ldquo;Look at my hand.\u0026rdquo; He raised two fingers in a \u003cem\u003eV\u003c/em\u003e. \u0026ldquo;How many fingers do you see?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe child stared. \u0026ldquo;Two.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Ahhhh,\u0026rdquo; said Rafe, just like his Uncle Max used to when he was small, \u0026ldquo;so you don\u0026rsquo;t see the other three?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFor a moment, he thought he\u0026rsquo;d misjudged, and the child was going to lose his temper at the trick. \u0026ldquo;Get it?\u0026rdquo; He wriggled them again. \u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t you see the other three?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Five!\u0026rdquo; the boy shouted. \u0026ldquo;I see five!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe started pummeling Rafe, but in a way that was almost affectionate, and made it possible for them to negotiate putting him back on the ground on his own feet.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s your name?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;David Alexander Tielman Campion,\u0026rdquo; the kid said, putting to rest any doubts Rafe might have had.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Good,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said, as though the child were a student who had just given the correct answer to a problem\u0026mdash;which, in a way, he had: This was Will\u0026rsquo;s grandson, the boy he had spoken of but never seen.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGuards came bursting out the gate. \u0026ldquo;There he is!\u0026rdquo; As the boy turned to run, Rafe easily reached out and grabbed him. \u0026ldquo;Wait!\u0026rdquo; Rafe said. To the guards, he gave a wave meaning \u003cem\u003eBack off and hold on\u003c/em\u003e, and for a wonder, they did. Maybe they didn\u0026rsquo;t want to be seen on the street chasing an infant.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe crouched down to eye level with the tiny Tremontaine. The child looked fractious, ready to bolt again. \u0026ldquo;Can I show you something?\u0026rdquo; The little boy stared mistrustfully. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s something good.\u0026rdquo; Rafe took from his inner pocket a tiny wax tablet, one he used for taking quick notes. \u0026ldquo;See this?\u0026rdquo; He hastily rubbed the wax blank with his\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003estylus. \u0026ldquo;Now watch carefully.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe made five dots on the wax. \u0026ldquo;Do you know what those are?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Spots.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Spots will do. In geometry, they\u0026rsquo;re called points. Now watch\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. carefully\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; He drew the stylus from point to point, low to high to low, up again, across, and down. \u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eNow\u003c/em\u003e what is it?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe young Rafe Fenton had spent hours doodling stars in the margins of his copybooks. He watched the child\u0026rsquo;s face as he recognized one. \u0026ldquo;Gimme!\u0026rdquo; he said. \u0026ldquo;I want to make it!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe held the tablet out of reach. \u0026ldquo;Come in the house, and I\u0026rsquo;ll let you try.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No. They\u0026rsquo;re liars in the house. I hate them.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I hate them, too,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said. The child stared. \u0026ldquo;But I have to go in anyway. Will you come with me?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe boy took the hand Rafe held out.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd so Rafe Fenton and David Alexander Tielman Campion walked together up the steps of Tremontaine House.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe could tell that no one in Diane\u0026rsquo;s salon was particularly happy\u0026mdash;unless it was the big unkempt nobleman with the scrappy dog, trying to get the animal to do tricks for the overdressed little girl, who had clearly been crying and wasn\u0026rsquo;t quite over it yet.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe little boy\u0026rsquo;s hand tightened in Rafe\u0026rsquo;s. Before anyone could scold the child, Rafe said grandly, \u0026ldquo;I believe this belongs to you?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Davey!\u0026rdquo; the little girl cried.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe boy kept hold of Rafe. \u0026ldquo;I found the young scholar trying to teach himself geometry in your courtyard, Madam Duchess. I suggest you get him started with tutors right away.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe girl hugged her brother, the dog yapped, the big man remonstrated with it, the younger woman thanked Rafe for returning her son, and the duchess tried to look bored.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll wait outside,\u0026rdquo; said Rafe. Fascinating though the situation was, he was not eager to be drawn into more Tremontaine family drama. Halfway to the door, the look on the boy\u0026rsquo;s face stopped him. It was a look of pure rage, impotent and furious.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe thought he had really stopped disappointing people. He did not want it to be his natural state. Speechless, he took the tablet from his jacket and gave it to William\u0026rsquo;s grandson to keep.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane de Tremontaine looked at the mess that was her descendants. She was actually glad Octavian had witnessed the last of it. He\u0026rsquo;d understand, now, why they were almost entirely useless to her. Unless the boy grew into something, and learned to control himself. She\u0026rsquo;d keep an eye on him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer pride up before the strange nobleman\u0026rsquo;s presence, Lady Honora Campion showed her mother a full and sweeping curtsy before taking her children\u0026rsquo;s hands to go.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Goodbye, Honora,\u0026rdquo; Diane said. \u0026ldquo;Have a safe trip home.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHonora stopped cold. \u0026ldquo;Oh, no, Mother. I will be seeing you again before I go. Don\u0026rsquo;t you remember? I have an invitation to a party at Tremontaine House.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe girl had always been overly dramatic. Diane allowed her the sweeping exit, before setting herself down on the sofa in a sea of periwinkle silk folds. She turned to Octavian. \u0026ldquo;Could you ring for more chocolate? I have the most pounding headache.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfter cooling his heels in the Duchess Tremontaine\u0026rsquo;s anteroom while she inflicted whatever miseries she enjoyed on her relations, Rafe\u0026rsquo;s own eventual conversation with the duchess had been short and relatively sweet.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe strange nobleman was still there, with the ugliest dog Rafe had ever seen, and it sniffed Rafe\u0026rsquo;s crotch and Diane and Lord Whoever It Was had laughed, and the duchess said not to worry about the Academy money going away, and so Rafe left.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWalking out through the doors of Tremontaine House, he prayed with all his heart that it was for the last time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe cup with the dregs of the chocolate Kaab had poured her remained on Tess\u0026rsquo;s desk, a dark stain at the bottom of the cup, still smelling faintly of \u0026ldquo;the liquid of the gods.\u0026rdquo; It was a promise, Tess thought, of better days to come; of a time she would go dancing with Ixkaab Balam, the two of them friends, good friends who\u0026rsquo;d seen a lot together, endured, survived, maybe even prospered. But for now, there was work to do.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAll through the clear, bright day she worked, turning out painstaking pages of whatever people needed from her. After all that rain, it was almost like a penance, and a welcome one, to stay indoors while the bright sun shone on the roofs of Riverside, on the old, old buildings to the east, and the newer ones to the west, separated by a glittering river that showed no signs of abating, despite the fine weather.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;She\u0026rsquo;s coming down from the North,\u0026rdquo; blind Aelfgwyn said, from his seat by the low fire at Rosalie\u0026rsquo;s new tavern. \u0026ldquo;Every mountain has her rill, every rill her brook, every brook her stream as they tumble down from the high forests where the deer still run\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. She\u0026rsquo;s coming down from the North.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Who is?\u0026rdquo; Tess the Hand asked sharply. She\u0026rsquo;d popped her head into Rosalie\u0026rsquo;s to see how her friend was getting on\u0026mdash;or maybe for some beer, or stew, or conversation; she didn\u0026rsquo;t know what.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No one you know,\u0026rdquo; Rosalie told her cheerfully. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s just Aelfie\u0026rsquo;s river again. I swear he loves her more than he loves me\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBut Tess didn\u0026rsquo;t hear the rest of what her friend was saying. Her ears were full of what the Salamander had been telling her, out on the pier. \u003cem\u003eThe river is life, is wild, is the blood of the land, is time, it is time\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe crouched down in front of the old blind Northerner.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Is it time, Aelfgwyn?\u0026rdquo; Tess asked him. \u0026ldquo;Aelfie, is it time?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It is time, Tess Hocking. She is coming from the North.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWithout another word, Tess left the tavern.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess Hocking walked the periphery of the island. The river was rising. All along the banks, where there was a wall and where there was no wall and the water slopped up along pure mud, the water was higher, just a little, than the last time she had looked with the eyes the Salamander had given her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Beautiful day, Tess!\u0026rdquo; Anna called out from the rickety balcony where she was hanging clothes to dry in the sun at last.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd Dirk the Fish looked up from the bank where he was searching for washed-up treasures. \u0026ldquo;Some great stuff in there going by, but I don\u0026rsquo;t dare take the raft out with that current,\u0026rdquo; he said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was as though they were saying something else entirely, though she didn\u0026rsquo;t know what it was. She should have stayed at Rosalie\u0026rsquo;s and had a drink, settled her nerves.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eInstead, Tess was not surprised to find herself standing in front of the door to the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s lair. It was where she had been going all along. Not just today, but forever.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s almost a pity,\u0026rdquo; said Asper Lindley, now the young Lord Horn, \u0026ldquo;that the river will start going down soon. Our hostess\u0026rsquo;s barge looks so\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. sweet, somehow, floating there amongst the roses.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indeed.\u0026rdquo; Lord Caspian Lassiter had joined Horn at the window, looking out over the Tremontaine gardens as the late afternoon sun gilded the upper slopes. But mostly he was looking at Horn\u0026rsquo;s profile, which was exquisite. Asper Lindley was just the sort of delicate blond who made his mouth water. Lindley had been the exclusive property of Nicholas Galing, the Crescent Chancellor of the Council of Lords, for so long that Caspian had hardly bothered to look. But he was fairly certain now that Horn had been flirting with him since he\u0026rsquo;d arrived at the Tremontaine party, and he wasn\u0026rsquo;t going to lose the chance if it was offered.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt the next window embrasure, Lord Basil Halliday could be seen chatting amicably with a handsome young woman dressed in a pink-and-violet-striped gown two years out of date. The woman seemed nervous. She looked over her shoulder, caught Caspian\u0026rsquo;s gaze, and he nodded formally to her, not at all embarrassed to be caught looking. \u0026ldquo;If only she\u0026rsquo;d do something with her hair,\u0026rdquo; Horn said. \u0026ldquo;The daughter of our sweet late Duke William and his exquisite duchess could at least make the effort toward the beauty of her parents. Honora married tragically young. Do you not agree, Perry?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLord Octavian Perry, who had come up beside them, said, \u0026ldquo;I have no opinion.\u0026rdquo; He nuzzled the head of the ridiculous terrier he carried in his arms, as ever. \u0026ldquo;And Solange has only just met the lady, so she reserves judgment.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;A cautious animal,\u0026rdquo; Caspian observed. He wished the peculiar Perry fellow would go away, so he could get serious with Horn. Two more steps and they\u0026rsquo;d be half-hidden by a curtain that would allow a little more direct engagement. But to his vast annoyance, Perry remained in their company until who should appear but Galing himself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Asper,\u0026rdquo; the Crescent said, \u0026ldquo;I thought that you were fetching Lady Honora a drink.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCaspian recognized the sign of cracks in the relationship, and dared again to hope.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHorn said airily, \u0026ldquo;As no one else was offering, I did. But we know it is Halliday who is the hound of Tremontaine. When I saw him approach her I knew she was in good hands, and left our hostess\u0026rsquo;s disgraced daughter to that good fellow\u0026rsquo;s kindness.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Disgraced?\u0026rdquo; asked Perry. \u0026ldquo;Solange wishes to know what that woman with the enticingly bony fingers could possibly have done to disgrace herself?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Solange,\u0026rdquo; said Horn, \u0026ldquo;is a naughty dog with a nasty mind. You only pretend that she is innocent, we know.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHorn was drunk already, Caspian realized, and also furious with the Crescent. It was time to break up this little party.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Asper, look!\u0026rdquo; he cried. \u0026ldquo;The barge! See how it bobs there amongst the roses? Let us go down and make sure that it is securely tied. It wouldn\u0026rsquo;t do to disappoint the duchess. I\u0026rsquo;m sure she has plans for it next season.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess Hocking peered into the gloom of the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s shop. Nothing. And no one. She waited a little for the shop\u0026rsquo;s mysterious owner to pull their favorite trick: acknowledging your presence before you were even aware of theirs. But not this time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was a miracle the place was still dry; some Riverside cellars dug less deep into the earth had already begun to seep, sending their residents begging for refuge with friends on higher floors. The river couldn\u0026rsquo;t go down soon enough.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHolding up the lantern she always brought to the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s windowless lair, Tess saw a little movement at the back of the labyrinthine room. The Salamander kept no cats. Mice and even rats feared the Salamander.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eOh, Everly\u003c/em\u003e, Tess thought gleefully. \u003cem\u003eI finally spy you first\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt would be trick, a game. Something. Everly was never caught unaware. But Tess thrilled to the idea that they could be, just this once. She moved silently among the treasures and bric-a-brac, knowing exactly where everything was.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt the back, near the stalactite\u0026mdash;still dripping, Tess observed, at the same regular rate, rain or no rain\u0026mdash;she saw that something had been moved: a rickety shelf, once covered with lidless chamber pots, was shoved aside to reveal an oak door banded with rusted iron.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess drew in her breath. The door was open, left slightly ajar, an invitation for her to follow.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer lantern showed her a ripple of stairs, leading even deeper into the earth. The ceiling was low, but the air clean.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess Harding kilted up her skirts, raised her lantern, and passed under the doorway she\u0026rsquo;d never seen before.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIf Caspian Lassiter had hoped to be alone with Asper Lindley in the duchess\u0026rsquo;s gardens, his hopes were thoroughly dashed by the concatenation of circumstances that wound up with nearly a dozen men and one determined woman splashing through the floating weeds of the lower garden\u0026rsquo;s paths toward the Tremontaine swan barge.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs Lassiter had tried to lead Horn out through the double window and onto the terrace, whose formal stone steps led downward to the gardens, Octavian Perry had given a distracting shout. His little mutt had shot on past them, running toward the water, and could soon be seen swimming enthusiastically in the flooded shallows toward the river.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;Solange! Solange, come back here!\u0026rdquo; \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian bolted after, and a few other men followed suit, delighted to be active and amused and out of doors at the end of the day. Horn started pelting down the slope, not even bothering with the steps, howling \u0026ldquo;Sola-a-a-ange!\u0026rdquo; in mockery of Perry. Caspian pursued him, untroubled by the terrain; at home in the country he was an enthusiastic hunter, as sure on foot as he was on horseback. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lord Galing doing his best to follow, though his knees and legs could not really keep pace with the younger men. Behind him came Basil Halliday, clearly bent on keeping the Crescent Chancellor from harm.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCaspian threw back his head and laughed, and gave a hunting cry. This might go down in history as the best party ever.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOther men took up the cry. Horace Durant and Terence Perry followed behind, carrying three bottles of wine in each hand.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Good girl!\u0026rdquo; Perry cried. \u0026ldquo;Look!\u0026rdquo; Everyone looked. Tired of paddling, the little dog was trying to scramble up onto the swan barge, right behind its starboard swan\u0026rsquo;s wing that covered half the side of the barge. The terrier\u0026rsquo;s legs weren\u0026rsquo;t really long enough; but her master strode down through the river, party shoes and all, and lifted her up onto the safety of the barge.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhereupon the other men realized where the true fun was, stripped off their shoes and stockings, and made haste to join Solange and Octavian.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAbout half of them had made it on board, and already the wine was flowing freely. Caspian was having an excellent time feeling up the sublimities of Asper Lindley\u0026rsquo;s thighs and ass under the excuse of helping the other man up into the barge. But the barge seemed to be getting higher. And Caspian realized that the water that had been around his knees was creeping steadily up his thighs.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe thrust Lindley over the gunwale, hearing him land on the deck with a \u003cem\u003ethump\u003c/em\u003e, and turned to see Galing and Halliday skidding down the hill toward them. Halliday was shouting something, and Galing was waving his arms madly, and at last Lord Caspian began to realize that the water was rising, rising quickly, the swan barge bucking against its moorings, and that if someone didn\u0026rsquo;t do something, the Tremontaine barge was going to do one of two things: rise in the river \u0026rsquo;til no one could dismount without swimming, if swim they could in the flooded waters, or break free of its moorings entirely and head down the increasingly turbulent river, bearing the flower of the city\u0026rsquo;s nobility with it to whatever fate the water decreed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe breath of Riverside was damp limestone, and Tess was moving through its lungs, breathing it into her own, as she followed the Salamander\u0026mdash;it must be the Salamander! Who else would move so surely through these eerie passages? Unlocking each ironbound door, leaving each open behind them for Tess to pass through?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe didn\u0026rsquo;t know how long the trek went on, through narrow passage after narrow passage, each leading to a set of stairs and another small, heavy, ironbound door.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt the ninth door, and through it, there was light.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA carefully built cavern deep under Riverside. A square room, heavy beams supporting walls and ceiling. Tess thought she should be frightened, but instead she felt a deep exhilaration. She was alone here, in the belly of the world.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNot quite alone. The Salamander stood naked at the far wall, shadowed in the flickering gleams of their own lantern. With a swift shake of their head, they loosened their long hair to fall around them like night\u0026rsquo;s own mantle.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEverly stood before a huge iron wheel, a ring connected by a heavy rod to a series of gears and then another rod that went through the wall. Still they did not look at her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer heart beat hard. This had to be it: the moment all her strange training had been leading up to. Tess would know everything now, what Riverside wanted her for, and what the Salamander needed her to become\u0026mdash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess raised her lantern, casting light over the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s form. Still Everly did not turn. They must know she was there, they must! This was part of the test, then. Tess waited and watched as Everly raised long, wiry arms to the iron wheel, and turned it\u0026mdash;or tried to. Nothing happened. The long muscles strained, she even heard their laboring breath, but whatever force the Salamander had, the cold iron resisted.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEverly braced their entire body against the wheel, and turned with all their might. In Tess\u0026rsquo;s eyes, it moved just a little. But that was only the dim and flickering light. Everly stepped back and looked at it, considering. Then they raised their hands to it, palms flat in its direction, as if against a windowpane\u0026mdash;not touching the iron wheel, but focused on it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t look, Tess.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Too late for that,\u0026rdquo; Tess said tartly. It felt good to be speaking again. And good to be acknowledged.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well then, step back a bit. This could be\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. uncomfortable.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess stepped back. She was contrary, but not a fool. Everly\u0026rsquo;s hands were still. But the room seemed suddenly warmer. There was a smell of hot metal. And a glow on the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s face\u0026mdash;coming from the wheel, which was the soft orange of a log on the fire, of a horseshoe cooling from the blacksmith\u0026rsquo;s hammer\u0026mdash;but the iron\u0026rsquo;s color was changing in the opposite direction, not cooling but heating: first orange, then red, heating slowly to white, as even the Salamander stepped back, palms still raised, and the dampness at the edges of the room began to steam. Tess felt sweat forming in the small of her back.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander dropped their hands. The iron swiftly cooled, back to red, to orange, to black. They both waited, silently, until the Salamander said, \u0026ldquo;Lend me your petticoat, please.\u0026rdquo; Tess undid the strings, stepped out of it, and handed it over. The Salamander wrapped their hands in the cloth before laying them on the wheel and trying again. The wheel turned, slightly, as Everly trembled with effort and then fell back. Tess saw sweat all down their face\u0026mdash;and tears?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Let me.\u0026rdquo; Tess stepped forward.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander said, \u0026ldquo;I was hoping I wouldn\u0026rsquo;t have to. I was hoping you wouldn\u0026rsquo;t come. I never summoned you, Tess Hocking. Remember that. You came of your own accord.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I did,\u0026rdquo; Tess said sturdily. \u0026ldquo;And this is all very mysterious, and a little bit frightening, and you have fire in your hands or something, and when we get back upstairs I\u0026rsquo;m sure you\u0026rsquo;re going to pretend none of this ever happened\u0026mdash;but for now, I am here, so just tell me how I can help, and whatever it is, let\u0026rsquo;s get this thing done.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Thank you,\u0026rdquo; said the Salamander\u0026mdash;and that was, in its way, the strangest of all the things that had happened so far. \u0026ldquo;The wheel should turn now.\u0026rdquo; Everly leaned back against the wall, looking more frail than Tess had ever seen them. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;ll have to do it. I cannot.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;We\u0026rsquo;ll do it together,\u0026rdquo; Tess said. \u0026ldquo;Just rest a moment.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m used up, Tess, and the moment is now.\u0026rdquo; Everly smiled faintly. \u0026ldquo;I know a lot of things, but not when the river will flood so strongly that the Old One comes down from the Hill to tell me it is time. If the waters aren\u0026rsquo;t forced to course through Riverside here below, they will flood through it above, and all is lost.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess swallowed.\u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;All?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The bridges, the island, the city itself. Gone.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But the rains have stopped! The water must go down soon.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEverly shook their head. \u0026ldquo;It won\u0026rsquo;t, Tess. It\u0026rsquo;s coming on from the mountains to wash us away.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So we just turn this wheel, and\u0026mdash;?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And open the sluices under the island.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Sluices under Riverside. Right.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;So the water goes under, not over, running free below us with a huge force, pushing all before it. That, at least, is the theory.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the still-overheated room, Tess felt a sudden chill. \u0026ldquo;The theory.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander said, \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve never done this before. Not that I can remember.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEverly was a creature of riddles. And so Tess knew, then, what they did not want to say.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Just tell me one thing,\u0026rdquo; she said steadily: \u0026ldquo;If we do this, and it works, will it not only keep Riverside from going under, but also just happen to flush out that stupid bridge, the dredging, the barges, the warehouses?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander smiled a feral smile. \u0026ldquo;Utterly. As if they\u0026rsquo;ve never been.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess smiled back. \u0026ldquo;Well that\u0026rsquo;s all right, then.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It will have to be, Tess Hocking.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Salamander came forward and kissed her brow: a paper-dry, warm kiss. \u0026ldquo;Tess the Hand. If this is what your hands are for, it\u0026rsquo;s a riddle even I couldn\u0026rsquo;t read. But you are here, you are the answer. And Riverside waits for us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Right, then,\u0026rdquo; Tess said.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe thought of one more dance with Kaab, of one more apology to Charlotte, of the papers left unfinished on her desk for the girl to find, of the view from her window and the stones on her street. \u0026ldquo;Right, then,\u0026rdquo; she said again. \u0026ldquo;Here\u0026rsquo;s to an uncertain future. And to Riverside.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe put one hand on the iron wheel, and then the other, and couldn\u0026rsquo;t help closing her eyes. There wasn\u0026rsquo;t that much to see, anyway. She felt the hot, dry heat of the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s hands overlapping hers, and their firm, warm body pressed up against her like a staff to give her strength, to keep her from falling, to protect her from whatever came.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Here\u0026rsquo;s to Riverside.\u0026rdquo; The Salamander\u0026rsquo;s warm breath rustled her hair. \u0026ldquo;To water and stone and air, and the fire that runs between them.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey turned the wheel together.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd the water came rushing in.\u003c/p\u003e","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe had a realization about Reza. Diane and Octavian cemented their alliance. Tess made an unsettling discovery. David Rook undertook a grave mission. Kaab honored one of her own.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003eWho\u0026rsquo;s Who:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess the Hand \u0026ndash; a talented forger working to keep Riverside safe\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah Heslop \u0026ndash; farm girl and brilliant\u0026nbsp;mathematician\u0026nbsp;trying to make sense of new opportunities\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.305","slug":"tremontaine-s4e07","audio":"","epub":"","mobi":"","pdf":"","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b182346b467920001f6c8bd","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 7"},{"id":"5b18239207839400014de76c","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":9,"title":"A City in Crisis","released_date":null,"released":false,"strapline":"","byline":"Karen Lord","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-11-07","body":"\u003cp\u003eOn any given summer\u0026rsquo;s day with a cloudless sky and a bright sun, one could stand at the tall windows of the Tremontaine House library and admire the order and beauty of the gardens below, with their neat ranks of angular boxwood hedges and the delicate disarray of just-budded roses over the arches and along the grass. Beyond them, the eye could trace a dancing line of willow trees down the grand, green slope to the river where the swan barge lay at dock, awaiting her owner\u0026rsquo;s command. Languid day-cruises and not-so-genteel night revelry\u0026mdash;the windows, the gardens, and the river\u0026rsquo;s banks had seen it all.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was sunny, it was summer, and just the night before there had been revelry indeed, but the view from the windows was unlike anything that had been seen for a generation or more.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe swan barge no longer lay tethered at the bank; in fact, all evidence of a bank had vanished. Muddy waters curled and oozed through the gardens to such a height that the lower hedges had become waterweed, dimly visible beneath the clay-tinted, soil-tainted water. The tops of the rosebushes still showed, trailing their petals in the drink, and there, amid their drenched and crumpled glory, bobbed the swan barge, an unwilling interloper. The barge\u0026rsquo;s lines had been tied to the willows with untidy haste and the unsettled currents nudged it from trunk to trunk in a dull, bumping rhythm.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCurrents at the fringe remained gentle, but in deeper water, nearer the spine of the river, the lie of the relatively placid surface was revealed by the speed of several floating objects\u0026mdash;a large branch, a section of wooden fence with a thick clog of grass and mud tilting it sideways, the stiff legs and bloated barrel-belly of a dead cow, and many more that could not be identified. The river was sweeping into the City, pushing before it the waste and soil of the northern farmlands, moving with inexorable purpose.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003ePassing the high, dry residences of the Hill, the river took a light tithe of one or two poorly secured skiffs and any vegetation or fence post surrendered by the sodden earth. The Middle City below would pay a higher price, according to the dictates of topography. The City Academy was close to Ambassador House, and both were a safe distance from the rising waters. The Fenton residence was situated in a district that was near to the river, but it was saved by having been built on a slightly elevated ridge of hard, impermeable rock. Many others were either too close to the riverbank, or set low on some half-sunken street whose slope welcomed new distributaries and eagerly poured the river\u0026rsquo;s bounty over thresholds, through courtyards, and down cellar steps.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSome fled to upper floors and higher ground, carrying what dry clothing and essentials they could snatch from the waters. Others fought back with elevated walkways of planks on rough trestles, dams of loose stone and brick to channel the flow away from doorways; rope lines for hands to grasp were strung from tree to tree in avenues whose torrents had become too high and strong for safe passage.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eUnsurprisingly, a few took it as an opportunity to make money. Two men lifted a woman, gown, petticoats, and all, with a chaste but firm grip at her elbows and set her down on her destination\u0026rsquo;s doorstep with all her garments dry, for which service she handed over a few minnows. Those who cared to spend a little more could commission a boat with one or two men to take it through the flood with pole or oars. Several kinds of craft plied their new trade on the City\u0026rsquo;s temporary waterways, from the sturdy rowboats for hire that had once been docked by the riverbank to cobbled creations, like the raft that looked as if half a barn door had been lashed to four small ale barrels.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe promenade along the riverbank was now a drowned marsh of mud and floating foliage surrounding a lonely, marooned bandstand. The bridge to the University was barely visible, almost covered in an accidental dam of flood-chased debris. Crossing \u003cem\u003ewas \u003c/em\u003epossible, but the process was dangerous and difficult, with large and small pieces of flotsam being constantly swept over the road\u0026rsquo;s surface.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe University was suffering the same plight as the Middle City. Pie shops and taverns near the river took a foot or more of water. Booksellers had already moved their stock out to drier lodgings, being more alert than the average shopkeeper to the risks that weather and river posed to their livelihood. Students made a game of the rising flood. There was a group on short stilts clomping through the streets in an impromptu carnival. One small but intrepid scholar had liberated a large tin washbasin to serve as a coracle, and closer inspection revealed his paddle to be a baker\u0026rsquo;s peel. He spun in rudderless spirals and made little actual progress, but this did not dampen his enthusiastic efforts. Most of the young men simply splashed through the flooded streets without a care. These early-morning shenanigans were clearly a carryover from the night before. Late that night, whether reveling, studying, or working, the residents of the University had become aware of the flood before the ways became too dangerous. Ground dwellers had already taken refuge in upper floors of lodgings or University buildings, and lectures had been canceled, so there was nothing left to do but play in the abundance provided by nature.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSoutheast of the University, around the Council Hall, the situation was far more serious. Justice Place was covered by a lake of turbulent eddies and stiff currents surging ever higher up the steps to the Council Hall doors. The river had taken over the eastern shore entirely and was rushing down to the sea with fragments of shattered buildings and the bodies of drowned unfortunates in its wake.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAcross to the west, the bridges to Riverside still stood above the waterline, but they descended into deep water on both sides, with the river running swiftly around their pillars. There was no chance of even an attempt to reach the island with rowboat or raft unless the boatman had a death wish or, more likely, had been paid a royal for his trouble and was trying desperately to earn it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIf someone dared a crossing, what awaited them? Riverside was not known for welcome at the best of times, and today was especially perilous. The river raged past its shores and swamped the access to bridges and docks, but it also took unseen and underground ways, bubbling up from cellar depths and ancient wells into alleys and byways, which then poured their burden into the main streets. The island had become a shoal in the center of the river, and every structure\u0026rsquo;s second story and above formed a new island to which the denizens now clung like ants boiling out of a submerged nest.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe southern tip of Riverside was a perfect crisis of confluence. The east and west branches of the river rejoined with a terrific shock of collision. Floodwaters poured out of the streets and cascaded over the island\u0026rsquo;s ultimate ridge into the froth and foam below. A massive spout gushed from subterranean depths via caves and tunnels out of the cliff face and into the main current beyond, the flow as broad and thick as if the very island had been uncorked and was now a free-running channel for the heart of the river. It was a bedlam of torrent and fall and tumult. Nothing could withstand it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNothing did. Farther down, where the first pillars and arches of the New Bridge once stood proudly near the expanded docks, there was naught but wreckage, ruin, and the boiling fury of a river fully unleashed. Within the bowels of the island, the unlocked gates that had freed the river stood wide apart, straining under the force of the torrent, waiting for the flood to drop and the pressure to ease so they could swing shut once more and resume their decades-long repose.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The swan barge has been safely secured at higher ground, my lady, but the waters are still rising.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane de Tremontaine waved a hand in casual acknowledgement and dismissal, intent on the composition of her note. \u0026ldquo;Keep close watch on it. What news from below the Hill?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Parts of the City are cut off, my lady, with no passage for horse nor man. We shall have to be careful of our stores for a little while.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe duchess gave her footman an incredulous stare. He quickly explained: \u0026ldquo;Ice and dairy, my lady. Those do not last long in summer, and supplies from the country have been unreliable for a while.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane sighed and delicately pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, willing away the oncoming headache. At least Tremontaine House was dry and undamaged and would stay so due to its fortunate location, her servants were all present and accounted for, and the debris and drama of the previous night had been tidied away. Tidied away! What a phrase to employ for the solemn and respectful removal of the body of Lord Galing from the grounds of Tremontaine where he had fallen, victim of the fatal exertion of an overtaxed heart.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian and Basil had quickly brought the situation under control, hauling the runaway barge back to safety with the assistance of two of her staff and the useless shouted advice of several other nobles. That would have been the end of it if Lord Galing had not stepped in to help (or, more likely, to show off for his lover\u0026rsquo;s attention) and dropped dead right in front of Asper Lindley, who promptly became hysterical. A physician was hastily summoned, but with one glance he put away his lancet, closed the eyes of the late Crescent Chancellor, and made the somber pronouncement.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd that was that, the end of the party. Diane hastily called for a cloth to be draped over Lord Galing\u0026rsquo;s mortal remains, which had already begun to exude the acrid scent of urine. Members of the Council gathered to look on and murmur as Lord Galing\u0026rsquo;s servants took up the body and carried it away to his residence farther down the Hill. Basil and Octavian took charge of the grieving, half-fainting Asper and escorted him swiftly to his carriage before he made even more of a scene. Most of the guests obeyed that human instinct to promptly remove themselves from any reminder of their own mortality, but a few die-hards remained for the entire saga, ruthlessly observing the events with unabashed avidity. Diane busied herself with those ladies who needed smelling salts and other restoratives before they could even attempt a homeward journey, then gently but firmly encouraged any who lingered to leave and ensure that their own homes and property were safe from the river\u0026rsquo;s ravages.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt had been a disaster of epic proportions, but now, knowing that there were plentiful crises to engage everyone\u0026rsquo;s minds, she was selfishly grateful. The only thing that could outpace drama was more drama. The gossips would not spend too much time attaching death and calamity to her party as long as the flood was giving them more serious things to worry about. Which reminded her\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Grayson, when I have finished my note of condolence, which I pray will be soon, send it with an arrangement of lilies to the Galing household.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Very well, my lady,\u0026rdquo; Grayson replied. \u0026ldquo;I will go organize the flowers, and await your summons when the note is ready.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane watched him go with a faint smile. He was still young, but so dependable, and growing positively intuitive. She must ask her steward, Duchamp, to see about giving him more responsibility and a small raise in pay. The fleeting, pleasant thought soon gave way to a frown and another sigh as she strove to pen some apt sentiment for the occasion, some kind recollection of Lord Galing\u0026rsquo;s life. Her uncooperative brain was filled with memories of the growing stink as the dead man\u0026rsquo;s sphincters relaxed, the tang of smelling salts, and the strong, clean savor of aqua vitae. Death was such an indignity, but there were worse ways to go. Dead in a lover\u0026rsquo;s bed, slumped on the privy, smashed to pieces by a runaway carriage\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane shook her head, corralling her wayward thoughts. She had not had much sleep, and it was so hard to concentrate. She smoothed her hand over her best mourning stationery\u0026mdash;ivory with wide black borders and the Tremontaine crest above all in pale gilt. Lord Galing would have appreciated the effort. It was a simple, small task that she could safely accomplish before she was forced to ponder the weightier matter of a Crescentless Council. Ah\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. so much to do, so many requirements of ritual and tradition to be satisfied in the selection and appointment of a new head of Council! How much of it, she asked herself, was she willing to engage in? And even if she were willing, would she be allowed to take part, or would her efforts be thwarted or ignored yet again?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe firmly gripped her quill, set the nib to the virgin page, and began.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Rafe!\u0026rdquo; Simone ran down the stairs to her brother, seized him by the arms, and looked him over anxiously before engulfing him in a hug. \u0026ldquo;I was about to come to you. Is all well at the Academy? How did you get here?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Easily enough,\u0026rdquo; he reassured her. \u0026ldquo;The roads between us and the Academy remain dry for now. Where is Father? I must\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Here,\u0026rdquo; Master Thelonius Fenton replied brusquely, bustling down the stairs in turn. His wife trotted a step behind, anxiously struggling to direct his arm into his coat\u0026rsquo;s sleeve. Rafe stared. Was his father going to hunt, to sea, or to war? He wore knee boots and breeches, a belted linen frock, and a loose coat of what appeared to be oiled sailcloth over all. Rafe opened his mouth to ask the natural question, then paused, agape, as the coat shifted and revealed a sheathed dagger on his father\u0026rsquo;s belt.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Trouble at the warehouses,\u0026rdquo; Master Fenton explained tersely. \u0026ldquo;Rumors of looting. I\u0026rsquo;m off with Larue, Larkin, and some others from the Confederation to assess the situation. You can come too.\u0026rdquo; He paused and looked critically at his son\u0026rsquo;s attire. Rafe had been dressing a little more neatly\u0026mdash;Reza\u0026rsquo;s influence, perhaps\u0026mdash;and the white linen and lace at his throat and wrists were hardly ready for adventure. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;ll have to change.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I would like nothing more than to assist you,\u0026rdquo; Rafe lied smoothly, \u0026ldquo;but I have my own responsibilities to fulfill.\u0026rdquo; He grew serious and sincere. \u0026ldquo;Many places have been completely flooded out, Father. We have a lot of spare room at the Academy. Micah and Joshua have already settled in three displaced pupils and their families, but more are coming to our gates asking for help. I only came here to gather some supplies and warn Simone not to come to classes today.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;But of course I\u0026rsquo;ll come help you, Rafe\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Absolutely not!\u0026rdquo; Mistress Fenton interrupted her daughter. \u0026ldquo;The roads are far too dangerous for any lady to be out, accompanied or not.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe grimaced as he watched his sister\u0026rsquo;s expression grow mutinous. He quickly stepped between them and took Simone\u0026rsquo;s hands. \u0026ldquo;We need you here,\u0026rdquo; he pleaded. \u0026ldquo;Take charge of our home and keep it safe for all of us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSimone rolled her eyes in frustration. \u0026ldquo;Nicely done, Rafe. Very well. Go be heroic, both of you. Mother and I will make sure the walls are still standing when you return.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMaster Fenton smiled at Rafe, but wisely changed the subject. \u0026ldquo;Get what you need and let\u0026rsquo;s go, son. I\u0026rsquo;ll walk with you for a while.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe\u0026rsquo;s eyebrows went up in surprise. \u0026ldquo;Aren\u0026rsquo;t you going north to cross the bridge?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Not yet. We took your warning and moved a lot of stock to the new warehouses on the east bank, where the ground is higher, and it\u0026rsquo;s probably as safe as we can manage for now. It\u0026rsquo;s the old warehouses on the west bank that are at greatest risk.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;A pity the new bridge isn\u0026rsquo;t finished,\u0026rdquo; said Simone. \u0026ldquo;You would have been able to nip across and visit the east warehouses in minutes.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTheir father\u0026rsquo;s face fell. \u0026ldquo;Ah. The new bridge. This flood will surely set construction back months and more. Nevertheless, that is not my concern at present. Salford said he would look into it, and I leave it to him and Robertson to determine what must be done.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMistress Fenton glanced at her husband with a worried expression that changed to become even more worried, if possible, when she turned to her son. \u0026ldquo;You \u003cem\u003emust\u003c/em\u003e change,\u0026rdquo; she fretted. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;ll catch your death of river fever or worse.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe backed away slightly, knowing that if he let his mother start fussing he wouldn\u0026rsquo;t leave until late afternoon. \u0026ldquo;I promise I\u0026rsquo;ll go upstairs directly and put on something more suitable,\u0026rdquo; he said quickly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSimone read his face and firmly took her mother by the arm. \u0026ldquo;Come, Mother, let\u0026rsquo;s go to the kitchen and pack some food for the Academy staff.\u0026rdquo; She paused in the doorway and called back over her shoulder. \u0026ldquo;Rafe, unless you brought a carriage, I don\u0026rsquo;t see how you can carry enough to feed even as much as twenty.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I know, Simone. I need only a few small things: soap, dried herbs for tisanes, and suchlike. As for the rest\u0026rdquo;\u0026mdash;he took a deep breath\u0026mdash;\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m going to ask for help.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKate tried not to think about the water lapping against her skin, drenching knee and hip and waist and turning her clean underclothes into a sodden mess. She tried not to think about what that water had touched, \u003cem\u003ewas touching\u003c/em\u003e\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. that dead cat floating in the alley two streets down, and the contents of the privies from the Brown Dog, which was now completely underwater, drowned from rushes to rafters.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere was much to be thankful for. Her second-floor lodgings were safe, though presently crowded with old Mistress Gable and her five retired rat-catching terriers who had lived right below her and, she devoutly hoped, would do so again after the foot-high floodwater had drained away. Her little house, with its excellent view of the river and the City, was enjoying its elevated site in utter comfort and dryness. She could have stayed there in peace and quiet and watched the flood from a distance. But that would have left poor Betsy struggling to save what she could of her fine crockery, dried herbs, and assorted bottles of cordials.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBetsy was tall, strong, and stubborn\u0026mdash;\u003cem\u003eher\u003c/em\u003e stays were still dry, Kate reckoned\u0026mdash;and she would not listen to sense. In the early morning, when Kate had stopped by to make sure she was well, Betsy was already hard at work and promptly enlisted her help to haul every scrap of merchandise and moveable furniture up the staircase. Kate kept an eye on the rising water and repeatedly protested that they should leave, but Betsy ignored her. Not until Kate was stranded on the stairs and Betsy was up to her waist in flood, holding one last basket of goods above her head, did the woman admit defeat.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s all we can do for now,\u0026rdquo; she admitted. \u0026ldquo;Never expected it to come up so high and so fast.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And now we can\u0026rsquo;t leave,\u0026rdquo; Kate said indignantly, pointing to the scant three feet of space left between the water\u0026rsquo;s surface and the door lintel.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBetsy grinned at her panic. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m not such a fool, Kate. Follow me.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFollow she did, through the mad disarray of the upper floor, up the stairs again to another level, and there Betsy took out a large key from her pocket, reached up to the ceiling, and unlocked an overhead trapdoor. She placed a chair below and invited Kate to step up.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Careful, and mind you step only on the rafters,\u0026rdquo; she said, boosting the smaller woman through the trapdoor with a firm push on her backside. \u0026ldquo;The rest wouldn\u0026rsquo;t support a cat.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKate cautiously pulled herself through and found the room brighter than she expected, radiant with sunlight coming through two small windows at each end of the attic. It was a massive space, spanning far more than Betsy\u0026rsquo;s herbary. Kate wagered there were three or four shops below the thin wooden boards that rode beneath the thick beams of the roof\u0026rsquo;s structure. She scrambled up onto the central beam and balanced herself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Go on,\u0026rdquo; Betsy said, coming up behind her and locking the trapdoor again. \u0026ldquo;Walk straight as that beam until you reach the window.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKate obeyed, her wet skirts swaying heavily as she shuffled along as carefully as she could, given her nerves and her slippery-wet shoe soles. Betsy followed, and the beam shook slightly with her footsteps. They came to the window and Kate fell against the wall in relief while Betsy leaned past her and opened the sash to its fullest.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Only a few feet down to that balcony, and then it\u0026rsquo;s stairs the rest of the way. Come, Kate, you can manage this easy.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKate gulped and nodded. \u0026ldquo;Right you are, Betsy.\u0026rdquo; She shimmied over the sill, dropped hard to the wooden balcony below, and looked around in awe. They were farther up the sloping street, only two stories from the ground on this end of the building, and the balcony\u0026rsquo;s stairs would take them to dry cobblestones below. But the view was what made her pause\u0026mdash;a panorama of anthill-like activity as people fled their streets and ground floors to move Riverside up and out of the river.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWell Street was a tributary all on its own. Water gushed through the tailor\u0026rsquo;s shop from back door to front door without pause or impediment. The tailor was leaning over his balcony, apparently captivated by the dancing froth below, as his neighbor, the shoemaker on Bakers Lane, laid down a plank and tied a banister of rope to connect their adjacent balconies. Spring Alley had more of the same on a larger scale: A narrow net had been drawn taut between two houses on opposite sides of the road, and a young man crossed it gingerly to secure more rope above it as a handhold. Beyond the visible nearby streets, the roofs in the distance were alive with activity. People escaped through their attic windows and trapdoors to flee to the next nearest property, spread out bedding to dry, or simply to gawk at their drowned world.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKate froze, staring in the direction of the Salamander\u0026rsquo;s place. \u0026ldquo;I wonder how the Salamander and his sister are doing.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBetsy huffed. \u0026ldquo;Better than us. Nothing catches them off guard, be sure of it! Come lass, let\u0026rsquo;s get you home and dry, and I wouldn\u0026rsquo;t say no to a hot toddy if you\u0026rsquo;re offering.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh, Esha,\u0026rdquo; Reza murmured.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe gently cradled her head to his shoulder and pressed a brotherly kiss into her hair. She accepted the embrace, but did not turn her gaze from the view beyond the windows.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Nature will have her way,\u0026rdquo; she said wistfully. \u0026ldquo;But oh\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. I do regret the roses. Diane gave me those cuttings, and they barely had a chance to root.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe two friends stood in the gallery of Ambassador House looking onto the grounds. Hardly any green was visible; the gravel paths had become streams of brown runoff pouring down the slope, and here and there, where the lie of the land was flatter, vast pools of muddy water accumulated. As far as disasters went, this was trivial in the grand scheme of things, but it stung Esha a little more than she cared to admit, to be reminded yet again how quickly one\u0026rsquo;s work could be swept away by fire or by water.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe shook off the moment of self-pity. \u0026ldquo;Mino needs your concern more than I do. One of the cellars has a leaking floor in danger of collapse, Sa-Anzu is fretting about his precious machines being swept out to sea, and about twenty people have come begging for shelter.\u0026rdquo; Esha looked slyly up at Reza as she concluded.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And I have told Mino she is to give them as much food and drink as they need, and send them on their way,\u0026rdquo; Reza replied, refusing to take the bait.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You told her that when it was only five people. We can do more; we \u003cem\u003eshould\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Esha, you have a kind heart, but please remember that I closed Ambassador House to the public because of the sickness in the City. After this flood, it will only get worse.\u0026rdquo; He paused and sighed. \u0026ldquo;But you do prick my conscience. Let me speak to Mino and see what can be done.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha smiled and clasped his arms in an easy, open gesture of respect and friendship. She tipped up her chin, pointing to some matter beyond his shoulder. \u0026ldquo;Look. The Goddess approves of your decision and is sending you a reward.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza turned and looked to see Rafe striding toward them. His tied-back hair and neat attire contrasted with his muddy boots, an attractive incongruity that warmed Reza\u0026rsquo;s heart\u0026mdash;especially with that charming mix of affection and determination in the young man\u0026rsquo;s eyes. He recognized that look. Rafe was working himself up to ask a favor.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Good morning, Your Highness, Mistress Esha,\u0026rdquo; Rafe said, his voice light but slightly breathless. \u0026ldquo;I hope I find you both well.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza ignored the faux-formality and enfolded Rafe in a long embrace. Suppressed excitement and more vibrated in Rafe\u0026rsquo;s body, but after a heartbeat or two he relaxed and leaned into Reza\u0026rsquo;s body as if slowly absorbing his calm.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;We are well,\u0026rdquo; Reza said softly, and he breathed a kiss near Rafe\u0026rsquo;s ear so he could delight in the return of shiver and tension between them. \u0026ldquo;And all is well with you on this unusual day?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe pulled back a little. \u0026ldquo;Yes\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. and no. I\u0026rsquo;m trying to do something and I realized I don\u0026rsquo;t have a fraction of the resources I need. We\u0026rsquo;re giving shelter to people displaced by the flood. The Academy has the room, but we don\u0026rsquo;t have much else.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha gave a low, marveling laugh and whispered \u003cem\u003eGoddess\u003c/em\u003e like a prayer. \u0026ldquo;Lord Reza, do I have your permission to organize supplies for Master Fenton\u0026rsquo;s use?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza nodded, his eyes still intent on Rafe. \u0026ldquo;Do so. Rafe, wait a few more minutes, and we will ride together to the Academy.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn less than a quarter hour, Reza had commanded and cajoled the despondent Sa-Anzu into taking charge of the subsidence in the cellar, instructed Mino and the household staff to erect a feeding station and temporary shelter outside the gates of Ambassador House, and summoned the honor guard to accompany him and a train of two wagons of supplies for the Academy. The driveway of Ambassador House soon became a busy concourse of people going to and fro about their duties, with Mino directing the kitchen shelter construction like a smug little general.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSa-Anzu appeared just before Reza\u0026rsquo;s departure to make his feelings known one last time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You are leaving Ambassador House in the hands of servants and slaves, while you go out into this pest-ridden city. Let \u003cem\u003eme\u003c/em\u003e bear the risk. Such an errand is beneath your status.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat was a bit much. \u0026ldquo;Esha is neither servant nor slave, and she has helped to run this household since long before your arrival. As for the risk\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It is fitting. Engineers see to the fortifications while soldiers ride to the battlefront,\u0026rdquo; Mino remarked as she walked briskly by.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza wanted to reprimand her for the interruption, but he was so diverted by the sour, incredulous look on Sa-Anzu\u0026rsquo;s face that he decided to let it pass. \u0026ldquo;What would you have me say? She is right. We each have work befitting our skills, and it is time to begin that work.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSa-Anzu grudgingly bowed and withdrew, seemingly more resigned than angry, except for the pointed glare he sent in Mino\u0026rsquo;s direction.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen Reza mounted his horse and held out his hand to Rafe, he was struck by how smoothly Rafe swung up behind him now, as if he had been doing it all his life, and intended to continue for years more. The thought startled him, not because it was strange, but because it thrilled him to his bone\u0026rsquo;s marrow with a kind of prescient joy. He would keep this moment in memory, the moment when the fact of Rafe\u0026rsquo;s presence in his life changed from something new, fragile, and uncertain to the steadiness of an untroubled heartbeat, or a walking stride\u0026mdash;almost unconscious, and yet essential.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe settled his arm about Reza\u0026rsquo;s waist, and Reza stifled the urge to cover Rafe\u0026rsquo;s hand with his own. Then, duty recalled, Reza urged his horse forward and began the journey to the Academy.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxnoom ground her teeth audibly at the sound of a young voice chirping orders to a team of servants. \u0026ldquo;Maas, remind me again why we are allowing this squeaking mouse to take over our compound as if it were her personal domain?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxmaas smiled and drank her chocolate before answering. \u0026ldquo;Esteemed cousin, you must notice that we sit here in comfort. Our garments and feet are dry and unsullied. I have not had to raise my voice once today, except to request another pot of chocolate.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxnoom nodded and replied with a touch of sarcasm, \u0026ldquo;Indeed, we are most pleasantly idle, but I do not consider that to be an adequate answer to my question.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHer kinswoman pursed her lips. \u0026ldquo;Then may this suffice: Cho has taken over because I told her to, and I told her to because she is competent. She is the most competent of her generation that I have seen in the Land and at home. I believe such energy and skill should be encouraged, don\u0026rsquo;t you?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxnoom huffed dismissively. \u0026ldquo;I believe you enjoy having someone else do the hard work.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Exactly. I have given her instructions, she has earned the respect of the servants, and I am sure that everything will be in order when I inspect the final results later today.\u0026rdquo; Ixmaas unbent a little and said, coaxingly, \u0026ldquo;Noom, be at ease. We are old, we have had our time. Let the young people take up the burden. This is the nature of things, of life.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxnoom took a moment to sip her chocolate. In the peaceful silence that followed, it appeared that she had taken Ixmaas\u0026rsquo;s words to heart, but then another burst of chatter wafted into the room and she stiffened.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I can still hate her voice,\u0026rdquo; Ixnoom stated stubbornly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxmaas sighed. \u0026ldquo;Yes, dear. Now stop listening to her and drink your chocolate.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxcho Moe was in fine form, directing the servants to divert the floodwaters threatening the Balam compound. Grain sacks filled with sand channeled the flow in a controlled fashion through the center of the peristyles and toward the perimeter drains. The trick, Cho knew very well, was not to dam the water but to gently guide it to new paths of lesser resistance. A few raised platforms were needed to maintain access throughout the compound, because you couldn\u0026rsquo;t force water to go around \u003cem\u003eeverything\u003c/em\u003e just for your own convenience, but she enjoyed the challenge and even managed to create a kind of pleasing aesthetic in the layout of her waterways and walkways.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe wished that Kaab and Koet were there to see the work in progress, but they had their own important duties down at the warehouses. She would have to be patient and reveal her masterpiece when they returned.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfter completing a brief survey of the Balam warehouse near the family compound, Koet had been satisfied that all was in good hands and their stock would suffer no damage. Now, he led a delegation of Kinwiinik Traders on a harrowing trek over the debris-choked northern bridge, which was looking more and more like a weir. Slowly, they made their way through the half-flooded streets of the University, and around the inundated plaza and isolated Council Hall. The journey was long, hard, and dangerous, but the decision to visit the new warehouses on the east bank had been unanimous by Balam, Cocom, and Chel, especially given the word that the Merchants\u0026rsquo; Confederation had already sent their own observers to the west warehouses.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet knew something about littoral construction, but even he was nonplussed by the vastness of water and strength of current thundering over the new docks. The new warehouses, at least, were perfectly sound, performing to standard and beyond. The emergency drainage systems were functioning, the water gates and barriers holding strong, and the machinery was safely stowed out of the reach of the flood. Even so, the warehouse employees were shifting merchandise to the higher levels as an extra precaution. Koet gave no orders, but simply allowed the men to do their jobs and took notes on what would be required for the recovery phase of operations when the waters subsided.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe wished that Kaab had come with him to share the cold, wet, grimy experience, but he couldn\u0026rsquo;t blame her for wanting to stay and keep an eye on the Balam compound. Trade was his primary responsibility, and she let him get on with it\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. just as he let her get on with her work of leading the spy network. He knew she didn\u0026rsquo;t tell him everything, but he decided to trust her to tell him what was needful for him to know.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKoet also decided to ignore for now the itch in the back of his brain that told him Kaab was up to something, something big, and he had no idea what it was.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s the garret or nothing, Mistress Symonds, so take your pick. Only the gods can drain these floodwaters now, and I have no other place to offer you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnna Chapman was at her wits\u0026rsquo; end. The audacity of tenants! If you took a ground floor lodging, you took a ground floor\u0026rsquo;s risk, and that included easy access for thieves, pests, and the river. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t lift the building higher with her own two hands, so what did they expect of her?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe miserable woman finally accepted the garret room key. Mistress Chapman turned to a fresh page in her ledger and wrote up the tenancy with quick, bold strokes of her quill. \u0026ldquo;Next!\u0026rdquo; she snapped.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA short man with greying hair and a harried expression stood before her counter. Mistress Chapman gave him a glance and scowled. \u0026ldquo;Stapleton, family of six. You\u0026rsquo;ll need space, of course.\u0026rdquo; She pulled open a drawer and unhooked a large key. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;ll be sharing it with flour storage, so mind where you put your pipe ashes and you\u0026rsquo;ll be fine.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe traumatized Stapleton mumbled something that might have been \u003cem\u003ethanks\u003c/em\u003e and was pushed aside by the next desperate customer, a man in clothing so muddied it was impossible to discern its original color.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Wait your turn!\u0026rdquo; Mistress Chapman barked at him, hastily scribbling the previous transaction in her book. She reached for her blotter and took a minute to breathe while she meticulously blotted the two new entries.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis was Riverside all over the island. All cellars and most ground floors were under water. Streets were becoming impassable. There was no sign of when the waters would abate. She hoped her friends all had someone to help them. Especially the Salamander and his sister, down in that strange, twisty hole of a place they called home.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA hand slammed the counter in front of her. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve been waiting in line an hour now!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe struck the hand smartly with her blotter and took satisfaction in the howl of pain it elicited. \u0026ldquo;And you\u0026rsquo;ll wait an hour longer! Next!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And that\u0026rsquo;s the last of it,\u0026rdquo; Madeline panted, heaving an armful of gowns into a chair and plopping herself down on top of them. \u0026ldquo;Thanks for your help, lass. Don\u0026rsquo;t know what I would have done without you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte shrugged in the half pleased, half nonchalant manner of embarrassed yet flattered youth, and set her own armload carefully onto a table beside a sewing basket. Madeline watched her shrewdly, observing the bleakness that lay not too far below the surface.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;How\u0026rsquo;s Tess these days?\u0026rdquo; she asked suddenly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte hung her head. \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know. We haven\u0026rsquo;t spoken much since\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. since the raid.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMadeline looked at her kindly. \u0026ldquo;Well, no need to fret. She\u0026rsquo;s got upstairs lodgings and a good deal of common sense. She can handle herself in this chaos, no worries. Most likely she\u0026rsquo;s helping the Salamander and his sister clean out the pawnshop before the flood takes everything.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes. Most likely,\u0026rdquo; Charlotte agreed listlessly. \u0026ldquo;Look, if you can spare me, I\u0026rsquo;d best get going. Got a few others I need to check on.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMadeline raised her eyebrows. \u0026ldquo;Be careful out there, Charlotte. I\u0026rsquo;ve never seen anything like this before, and I doubt I ever will again.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte looked at her with a hint of the old arrogance. \u0026ldquo;I can handle myself.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMadeline raised her hands in mock defeat. \u0026ldquo;Go on, then. Come back any time. I should have a stew cooking for dinner later.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe girl smiled at last at this promise of hot food, and then she was away to the window. She stepped up to the sill and onto a broad plank whose other end rested on the sill of a window in the opposite building. Where Kate had teetered on the rafter, Charlotte strode with confidence, testing the bounce of the plank like a skipping game and not a glance to spare for the churning, opaque water below.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRiversiders were experts at finding a semblance of order in chaos, and the new system of walkways was a testament to that. Charlotte went over wood and rope, from balcony to balcony and rooftop to rooftop, with an easy nod and hello to each resident she passed. She did occasionally glance around to reorient herself in the changed cityscape, but otherwise it was as simple as a cat\u0026rsquo;s stroll at midnight.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe came close enough to the river to see the site of the failed raid, and she made herself look in that direction, determined not to make a superstition out of avoiding it. What she saw was astounding. Crushed hulls, shattered poles, snapped ropes\u0026mdash;the site was a complete disaster zone. She raised a cheer that was meant to be heartfelt, but with the dull roar of the river in the background, it came out hollow and thin instead.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRiverside sloped up from center to south, and eventually she was able to walk dry-shod at the sides of the streets while the waters continued their churning race through the central gutters. She followed the flow to the southernmost point of the island. There, a lookout point provided a full panorama of both banks of the river with the estuary and ocean between. She slowly approached the brink, the sound of the waters increased to thunder, and an overwhelming awe that was akin to terror came over her as she crouched down and peered over the cliff. A massive, churning current was issuing forth from every cave, tunnel, and crevice in the south cliff of Riverside, like a dragon vomiting water at the ocean. Charlotte stared at it, mesmerized and motionless in utter fascination.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eA strange chill settled over her as she wondered what it meant.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFrancis Salford knew that some of his colleagues considered him to be almost tediously phlegmatic in the face of crisis. There was something charmingly human about vulnerability, and the way it roused protective, caring emotions in some, or the predator instinct in others. Nevertheless, he preferred to observe the trait rather than manifest it, no matter how much his coolness exasperated his friends\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. or perhaps precisely because they found it so irritating.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNow he had ample opportunity to witness a complete breakdown in the person of Moses Robertson facing his shattered dreams. Robertson\u0026rsquo;s sobs shook the small boat that carried them. The boatman kept a firm grip on his pole, steadying their craft at the edge of the capricious current, and stared with liquid, sympathetic eyes. Surely he had already seen many terrible things that morning, and yet he was still moved to compassion by the sight of a grown man wailing as if his own firstborn had been taken from him and dashed against the rocks.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eRemarkable. \u003c/em\u003eSalford tried to find something reassuring to say. \u0026ldquo;There, there, Robertson. Calm yourself. Things could be worse.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;How can you say that?\u0026rdquo; Robertson demanded between gulps and sniffles. \u0026ldquo;We are completely ruined.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford took a moment to survey the area. The wrecked columns of Robertson\u0026rsquo;s bridge dominated the opposite bank. On their side of the river, the focus of the Council\u0026rsquo;s passionate resolve\u0026mdash;the sacred oak they had vowed to protect at all costs\u0026mdash;was leaning precariously into the flood. The old tree had weathered many a storm wind, but even its ancient roots were no safeguard against such saturation and erosion. Docks and warehouses were swarming with teams of men securing stock and craft, and it was clear that the merchant community had taken a hard hit across the board. Salford had done much fundraising for the project, but managed to keep most of his own funds clear of the business. That would serve him well now, when there was so much to rebuild before trade could resume at normal levels. Desperate men borrowed quickly, with little attention to interest rates and repayment deadlines.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Ruin is relative,\u0026rdquo; he said quietly to his colleague. \u0026ldquo;We are indeed ruined, but so are many others. Ruin can be opportunity.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eForce majeure\u003c/em\u003e, he mused. An act of the gods\u0026mdash;unpredictable, unavoidable, beyond any mortal\u0026rsquo;s power. No one would expect them to complete construction, nor look for a return of monies from materials and machinery already purchased and lost in the flood. How fortunate that a significant amount had not yet been purchased, though the money had been obtained. Receipts were only paper, and ink washed away so easily in floodwaters. If he did his accounting carefully, he could ensure that everyone was satisfied\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. and no one would think to look at the increased totals in his personal accounts.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;We must get back,\u0026rdquo; the boatman warned. \u0026ldquo;The waters are still rising.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford nodded his agreement, and the boatman carefully pushed them away from the river\u0026rsquo;s fringes, back to the flooded streets of the Middle City. Moses disembarked, still sniveling, by the road to his lodgings, to walk the remaining distance. Salford\u0026rsquo;s own residence was, alas, not on such elevated ground, so he tipped the boatman a little more to carry him to his gate and prayed that the temporary walkways had not floated away.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat was when he caught his first glimpse of her distinctive silhouette, posed on an upper balcony against the bright blue sky. No other person in the City had that particular, peculiar combination of foreign and Landish, feminine and masculine garments. He blinked, she was gone, and he immediately doubted himself. It had, after all, been a very stressful day.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe second sighting was unmistakable. She leaned in a recessed entryway, her boots an inch deep in water, her right hand casually at her waist, her face in shadow but turned brazenly toward him. She continued to turn her head and stare at him as he passed by on the other side of the street.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve changed my mind,\u0026rdquo; he said quickly to the boatman. \u0026ldquo;Take me as close as you can to Greenglass Square.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDid she \u003cem\u003ewant\u003c/em\u003e him to think he was being observed, or hunted? He would not put it past her, and he would take the message at face value. The square was still dry, still busy, and full of the usual Middle City crowd that could yet move freely about their business. Better to stop, walk around in that crowd, and lose his stalker before he found himself cut off and cornered in the eerily lonely maze of flooded streets.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt would not do to forget that ruin was an opportunity for others as well. With the demise of the new bridge, there was little reason for Kaab and the Balam to see him as remotely useful. Kaab had entered the Land as a hothead; now, years later, she could sit across from him at a table and match his gaze with utter coolness\u0026mdash;but he dared not believe that she could not see the blood on his hands. He had moved with great caution after the Balam quietly executed Ixaavin for her part in Ixsaabim\u0026rsquo;s death, the caution appropriate to a man under a cloud of suspicion. If the Balam continued to deal with him in spite of his former ties to Ixaavin, that was self-control, not kindness, and he would never mistake it for forgiveness. He believed in keeping friends close, but enemies closer by ensuring that their interests and his were so intertwined that it would be suicide to try to remove him. Now he would have to come up with some other way to be indispensable to the Balam.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBecause even from a distance, he could see that Kaab\u0026rsquo;s hand had been resting on the Landish sword which had won her such repute, a sword that she had allegedly put away when she succeeded the dearly departed Ixsaabim and took up the duties and responsibilities associated with her position.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford nervously caressed the large ring on his right middle finger. Large enough for a poison reservoir, positioned for a swift backhand and a lethal scratch. He did not mind feeling nervous. It would not do to be complacent and unprepared.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Are you certain this is necessary?\u0026rdquo; Malcolm Deverin, Lord Ferris, foremost among the nobles at Council, had lost his enthusiasm for adventure and was starting to complain.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian glared sourly at Ferris, noting his puffy face, bleary eyes, and slurred speech. Clearly Lord Ferris was still feeling the effects of the Tremontaine party. \u0026ldquo;There was no need for you to come, Lord Ferris,\u0026rdquo; he said with edged courtesy.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Someone must keep an eye on you fools,\u0026rdquo; Lord Ferris grumbled under his breath, just loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to be accused of offering insult.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBasil, bless him, remained unperturbed in that reassuring way he had of being perfectly steadfast when he was convinced of a course of action. \u0026ldquo;We have already lost our Crescent. It would not do to lose our most essential symbols and records of government.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hear, hear,\u0026rdquo; said Lord Adrian Berowne with such hearty approval that Octavian smiled in spite of himself. He didn\u0026rsquo;t have a very high regard for Berowne\u0026rsquo;s intellect but he appreciated the man\u0026rsquo;s enthusiasm and social acumen. Furthermore, he\u0026rsquo;d managed to make Ferris shut up.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTheir mid-sized, motley crew consisted of nobles, bureaucrats, and household staff, all dressed in their hardiest gear. Octavian had opted to leave Solange safely kenneled at home, but in her place was his own footman, Roland, and Grayson on loan from Duchess Tremontaine. The dangerous passage across the bridge north of Riverside had made them equals in muck and misery, and even more strangely, as battle will do, it had also created a kind of generous team spirit in which Ferris stubbornly refused to partake. The result was that even Roland, a placid and forgiving man, was beginning to narrow his eyes at Ferris\u0026rsquo;s incessant grousing.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOn reaching the plaza, the group stood and stared for a long moment. \u0026ldquo;Green God\u0026rsquo;s taint,\u0026rdquo; Ferris swore, and for once that passed without eye-roll or comment given that it was entirely justified. The plaza before the Council Hall had been designed well, with drainage ditches and graded slopes, but even so it had not been made to handle such a large volume of debris and water in such a short space of time. The result was a lake whose rising levels lapped steadily up the steps to the Council Hall and piled up against the great doors of the entrance.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLord Lionel Chesney, the newest of the senior bureaucrats of the Exchequer, and the man who held the keys, shook his head. \u0026ldquo;Definitely not that way. We could take the stairs to the northeast side entry,\u0026rdquo; he suggested.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Lead the way,\u0026rdquo; Basil replied.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian grimaced. Really, Basil was \u003cem\u003etoo\u003c/em\u003e pragmatic and prepared; he had wrapped his legs in oiled leather gaiters and strode easily after Lionel through the shallowest parts of the flood. Octavian followed close behind in his squelching knee-high boots. He glanced back briefly and saw that Ferris had once more taken to riding piggyback on his long-suffering footman, who bore the burden stoically.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOnce they were inside, the scene was worse than Octavian had imagined. If they had considered the Hall to be at risk a day or two before, if they had arrived even two or three hours earlier, they could have spent a single day with many hands moving the records and paraphernalia on the first floor to the security of the second level. Now, with the water seeping quickly over the threshold, there simply wasn\u0026rsquo;t time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBasil recognized the problem at a glance. \u0026ldquo;We\u0026rsquo;ll have to improvise. Tell me, Lord Lionel, does the Hall still keep a well-appointed wine cellar?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Indeed it does,\u0026rdquo; Lionel grinned. \u0026ldquo;The last room of the second floor, set into the rock of the upper slope. I\u0026rsquo;ll wager it\u0026rsquo;s safe from flood a good while longer.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBasil nodded. \u0026ldquo;Then let\u0026rsquo;s move swiftly. We\u0026rsquo;ll need crates, empty barrels\u0026mdash;anything that can float, and lots of rope.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian enjoyed watching how men worked according to their inclinations and talents. Basil stayed slightly to one side, assessing the area with a silent frown, which was for him an indication of meticulous planning. Lord Lionel split his fellow bureaucrats and administrative staff into two groups: one to collect the documents and valuables to be preserved, one to salvage the requested materials. Some of the nobles assisted. The remainder scattered and, like magpies, brought their favorite Council Hall treasures to be saved: paintings, small sculptures, a delicate set of porcelain for serving chocolate, several decanters, and even an embroidered ottoman. As for Octavian, he chose to stick to Basil.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What are you planning? How can I help?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBasil pointed at the high walls of the room. \u0026ldquo;We\u0026rsquo;ll need to use ropes and counterweights to suspend a floating platform. I suspect we\u0026rsquo;ll have too much on the platform for it to float by itself.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian wasn\u0026rsquo;t a river man, but he knew how to tie a knot, and he became so involved in the construction of their floating floor that he forgot to look around him and see who was working and who wasn\u0026rsquo;t. When the empty barrels ran out and Lord Basil called for more, a voice that had been rather quiet for a very long while rang out peevishly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t be foolish, man. Some of that vintage is irreplaceable. You can\u0026rsquo;t simply pour it into the river!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWork all but halted as everyone turned to watch the confrontation between Lord Basil, soaked to his shoulders, and Lord Ferris, dry in every part. Basil opened his mouth as if to deliver a sharp response and instead turned to Lionel. \u0026ldquo;Seven more \u003cem\u003eempty\u003c/em\u003e barrels if you please, Lord Lionel, and please make haste.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Certainly, Lord Basil,\u0026rdquo; Lionel replied with a sly grin and a sidewise glance at Ferris, who stormed away, seething.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLaughing quietly, Octavian put his head down and got back to his task.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen the work was complete, the team raised a cheer. The heap of the treasures of Council rode safely in the center of the platform, covered over with various sheets of canvas and burlap. The gentle surge of the flood set the platform\u0026rsquo;s counterweights bobbing and periodically tugged the ropes taut, but all was safe and secure.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Well done, everyone,\u0026rdquo; Basil said warmly. \u0026ldquo;We\u0026rsquo;ve done all we can for now. Let us depart before the water traps us.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I agree,\u0026rdquo; said Lionel. \u0026ldquo;I must get a few personal items from my office, and then we can lock up.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian took a moment to empty the water out of his boots. He had just managed to put them back on when a burst of loudly creative swearing seized his attention. He rushed with several others to the open door of Lord Lionel\u0026rsquo;s office to see a still-snoring Ferris with his feet up on the desk, a decanter of excellent wine at his elbow, and an old Crescent Chancellor\u0026rsquo;s robe wrapped around him. Remarkably, the volume of Lionel\u0026rsquo;s cursing had failed to disturb his rest.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFor the first time in their long acquaintance, Octavian witnessed Basil Halliday actually, actively incensed. Basil seized the decanter and dashed the contents into Ferris\u0026rsquo;s sleeping face. When Ferris jumped up, sputtering and cursing, Basil snatched the robe from around his shoulders.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Not yet, Lord Ferris,\u0026rdquo; he said, his voice vibrating with quiet fury. \u0026ldquo;Not ever, by the gods.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAny rebuttal Ferris had hoped to make was quelled by the watching, judging faces of three levels of society framed in the doorway of the office. He choked back his words in humiliated silence.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLater, as they watched Lord Lionel lock the side door once more, Octavian leaned toward Basil. \u0026ldquo;Congratulations,\u0026rdquo; he murmured.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;For what?\u0026rdquo; Basil asked in confusion.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You are one of the few nobles in this Land who knows when to keep his head and when to lose it. I commend you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBasil smiled wryly as they descended the stairs. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve made a new enemy. Do you commend me for that?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian spread his arm wide, the gesture encompassing the twenty-odd men who had been part of the day\u0026rsquo;s adventure. \u0026ldquo;And several new allies, I believe\u0026mdash;so yes, I do commend you for that.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBasil shook his head ruefully. \u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s so much to be done. Selecting a new Crescent, recovery from this flood. We really don\u0026rsquo;t have time to indulge ourselves.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian felt the words rise up spontaneously and leave his lips with no check or censor from his cynical brain. \u0026ldquo;Whatever I can do to assist you, I\u0026rsquo;m entirely at your service.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was almost comical, how genuinely surprised and gratified Basil appeared to be at this declaration. \u0026ldquo;Thank you, Lord Octavian. That\u0026rsquo;s very kind. I\u0026rsquo;ll be sure to remember that.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Academy building had likely never seen such a crowd, not even during its prior incarnation as a brothel.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah soon realized that, for all his education, Joshua did \u003cem\u003enot\u003c/em\u003e know how to wrap a bundle of essentials neatly into a blanket, brew a restoring tisane, or hold a small baby for five minutes while its mother had something to eat. However, he proved to be a quick study and paid close attention to her instructions. It reassured her that she was now able to apply the principles of pedagogy beyond mathematics, but when she looked around at the Academy\u0026rsquo;s main hall, which now resembled a hostel or way station, she felt a chill settle into her chest.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Joshua, with Doctor Goodell\u0026rsquo;s death, and the river fever, and now this, should we even finish the term?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJoshua sighed. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re right. There\u0026rsquo;s been too much disruption and we only have a few more weeks.\u0026rdquo; He frowned at the edges of the blanket he was folding. \u0026ldquo;To be honest, with Goodell gone, I suspect the Academy won\u0026rsquo;t keep Rafe interested much longer. Still, credit where credit\u0026rsquo;s due\u0026mdash;he\u0026rsquo;s done well, better than I expected. But it\u0026rsquo;s not quite the dream he imagined. Don\u0026rsquo;t let that worry you, though. I can take a shot at running it, if no one else will.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah was not reassured. She knew beyond question that the Academy had never been \u003cem\u003ehis \u003c/em\u003edream. \u0026ldquo;But Joshua, what do \u003cem\u003eyou\u003c/em\u003e want to do?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJoshua\u0026rsquo;s hands stilled while he gave the question serious thought. \u0026ldquo;At first I wanted to help Rafe and find something to do after my studies. You know. Family sends you to the City to sow your wild oats and get an education\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. well, maybe you don\u0026rsquo;t know. Then the next steps are money, career, wife, children to support you in your old age. Lovers discreetly on the side if you will, but mostly you settle down and become a credit to the family name. I wasn\u0026rsquo;t sure about the career bit, far less all the rest of it. I knew I didn\u0026rsquo;t want to be in the City all my life. And Rafe\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; He looked over to where Rafe stood smiling warmly as Reza distracted a small child with a simple Chartili puzzle made of sliding wooden tiles. \u0026ldquo;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;I don\u0026rsquo;t think Rafe needs my help anymore.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I miss home,\u0026rdquo; Micah confessed. \u0026ldquo;Dead cows are floating down the river, and I\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo; She choked a little under the strange weight of nonspecific grief that had been with her since Doctor Goodell\u0026rsquo;s passing.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I miss home too,\u0026rdquo; Joshua said softly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey fell silent, and watched their colleagues move among the refugees. Anselm passed from family to family with grave concern and kindness in every lineament. Rafe had made himself into Reza\u0026rsquo;s shadow, standing by with blankets or bowls of hot beverage, which he proffered as needed, while Reza, rather like Anselm, spoke with kindness and listened with concern. A soft tone of voice, a particular slant of the eyebrows and steadiness of gaze\u0026mdash;Micah could read those signs now, although sometimes the separate pieces didn\u0026rsquo;t fit neatly and made her feel uncomfortable instead. \u003cem\u003eFaking it\u003c/em\u003e, Joshua had called it. She suspected Anselm was faking it a little.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It has always been our mission to serve the Middle City,\u0026rdquo; he was saying earnestly to a displaced shopkeeper.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe man did not look uncomfortable. Perhaps Anselm was more convincing than she realized.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Teach reading, writing, and arithmetic and I\u0026rsquo;ll send my boys to you in a hurry,\u0026rdquo; he firmly told Anselm. \u0026ldquo;No need for any of that other rubbish. A man should be able to read a contract, write a receipt, and keep accounts. Why waste his time with anything else?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnselm nodded and continued to listen intently, and Micah felt that chill in her chest again. No algebra? No natural philosophy? Was Anselm still faking it, or not?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe turned to ask Joshua what he would do if Anselm tried to take over the school, but Joshua, who had heard the same exchange, simply put his finger to his lips and shook his head very slightly.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Another time, pet. Let\u0026rsquo;s deliver this bundle to Mistress McCreary and her brood, and then we must boil water for a fresh brew.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAn uncanny sense of urgency permeated the Middle City. The high ground was busier than usual with pedestrians and horses. Refugees constantly passed by, some riding laden horses, some wheeling carts full of their possessions. Francis Salford did not know where they were going to, nor did he care, but he had never been able to abide large crowds, and the sight of them gave him an overwhelming desire to be in his own home, behind a closed door, where the disruption caused by the flood could not touch him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs for those brief glimpses of Ixkaab Balam, they meant nothing. Surely he had misread the implied menace in her stance. The Kinwiinik girl should be far too occupied with the state of the docks and the warehouses to worry about settling old scores. He walked east, toward the flood and the boats and the way home\u0026mdash;and there she was again! Across the square, standing perfectly still, the crowd revealing and obscuring her as it moved, she flaunted her hybrid foreignness, that strange mix of Kinwiinik and Landish aesthetic and approach that he found so unnerving. It was not the desperate mimicry of the Land-born Kinwiinik trying to fit in, nor was it the false veneer of polite imitation as flattery. She looked as she did because she had selected what worked and discarded the remainder, a strategy that he knew well and hoped never to see used against him.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe crowd closed in again, and when it thinned once more, she was gone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSalford moved on. He clenched his fist at his side and felt the reassuring press of the poison ring. King Street was safe, open and unflooded. Market Street was a little damp on the northeast side, but perfectly passable, and that led him to Yew Avenue, which was the new limit of the river\u0026rsquo;s reach. Boats awaiting hire queued along the avenue, their lines hitched to gateposts and fences of stately homes whose grounds and ground floors had been evacuated from the flood. And there, yet again, like a haunt or a curse, he saw Kaab on the other side, standing on the lower rail of a fence and gripping a spike for balance. Without even a glance in his direction, she quickly stepped along the fence and disappeared in the shrubbery between two residences.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHeart pounding, desperate at last, Salford rushed to the nearest boatman and spoke over any attempt at a greeting. \u0026ldquo;As close to the theater as you can, and be quick about it.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe boatman nodded assent as the merchant clambered in, then quickly cast off, and set the oars gently in the shallow water.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Wait.\u0026rdquo; Salford raised a hand to halt the boatman\u0026rsquo;s rowing. A white object marked the place where Kaab had been standing, and he was certain it had not been there before. \u0026ldquo;Bring us closer to that fence.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe boatman obediently lined them up alongside the railings and Salford reached up to detach a small sheet of paper, folded in half, with a neatly handwritten name on the front:\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eMaster Francis Salford\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eConfused, Salford sat back in the boat and unfolded the paper. The boatman quietly rowed into a cul-de-sac to make way for the traffic in the flooded avenue and waited for him to read the note. It did not take long. There were only two names on the paper.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIXSAABIM.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDAVID.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eDavid? David Rook?\u003c/em\u003e Salford hurriedly crumpled the note and dropped it by his feet, where the bilge water instantly turned it into a mess of running ink and soggy pulp. He straightened in his seat, turning his head to look frantically up at the walls on either side of the narrow cul-de-sac. There she stood, on a small balcony one story above; her hands rested lightly on the metal banister, and only her unsmiling mouth and set jaw were visible under the shadow of her hood. Everything in her posture, from her motionless hands to her wide, stable stance, spoke of calm patience. It infuriated him, but he knew how to goad her, how to bring her within reach of his hand and his poison.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;What are you waiting for?\u0026rdquo; he shouted at her. \u0026ldquo;You silly girl, you know nothing about this world. I have done more for the Balam than you ever\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe sentence would never be finished. With one precise swipe of a single oar, the boatman struck Salford in the back of the head and tumbled him over the edge. The figure from above swung down and dropped into the knee-deep water. Together they turned the boat over Salford\u0026rsquo;s stunned, prone figure, and sat hard on top of it.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab pushed up the large brim of her boatman\u0026rsquo;s hat and grinned. She clasped Sawayak\u0026rsquo;s arm approvingly and patted the hilt of the sword as if greeting an old friend. \u0026ldquo;Well done. My clothes suit you\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. but do I truly stand with such arrogance?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSawayak accepted the compliment and the teasing with a shy smile. \u0026ldquo;I try to pay attention, esteemed Ixkaab. I am honored that you chose me for this mission; I did not wish to fail you.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe boat was rocking beneath them. Muffled pounding and faint gurgling sounded through the wood. Kaab pulled her obsidian dagger from under the workman\u0026rsquo;s smock of her disguise and punched a few holes into the boat just above the upside-down gunwales. The two sat in companionable silence and listened to the noises get fainter and fainter. The boat stilled, but they did not yet make any move to stand and leave.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I like this boat,\u0026rdquo; Kaab said cheerfully. \u0026ldquo;Swift, with excellent buoyancy, and the hull is thin as bark. Not a river-ready craft, but a plaything for a manor pond or a town canal. They are putting anything that floats out in this flood. A pity that Master Salford did not select his hire more carefully. A few minutes more, Sawayak; let us make sure his silence is permanent. Ah, let us see now\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey righted the boat and looked down at the sodden lump of flotsam that was once a living man. With care, they maneuvered the corpse back into the boat, where it looked very much like a heap of wet clothes. Water immediately began to trickle through the punctured upper hull. Kaab dipped out some of the bilge water and the boat rode higher.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s a good, strong current running down Canal Street,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;We\u0026rsquo;ll set him loose there.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLeaving the cul-de-sac, they trudged unhurriedly through the water, guiding the boat between them. Kaab took her sword from Sawayak and placed it on her back under the smock, where it would draw less attention. They looked very much like many other last-minute refugees, getting the last of their goods out of their flooded homes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Ixkaab,\u0026rdquo; Sawayak said shyly. \u0026ldquo;Will it be publicly known that you executed the murderer of Ixsaabim (may she never be extinguished)?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab considered the true question before she replied. \u0026ldquo;Your work here will be known and applauded by the elders of the Balam family and by our most trusted spies, but we cannot proclaim it while we live and trade in the Land.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It is more than enough,\u0026rdquo; the young spy whispered.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eKaab smiled at the awe in her voice. \u0026ldquo;Do not be satisfied with these deeds alone. Many changes are upon us, and this flood is only one of the forces that are sweeping away the old order. You will play a part in what comes next. I trust you will do the family honor.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;As Xamanek looks to the north, to the night sun, this unworthy servant will give her blood that our honor may grow like flowers in your path,\u0026rdquo; the girl replied, her voice ringing strong and sure.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian traced the soft skin over Diane\u0026rsquo;s collarbone with a fingertip, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I wish you could have seen it, my dear,\u0026rdquo; he said. \u0026ldquo;Not only for Basil\u0026rsquo;s frighteningly attractive competence, nor even for the shaming of that oaf Ferris, but can you imagine me\u0026mdash;\u003cem\u003eme\u003c/em\u003e, of all people\u0026mdash;almost ready to swear fealty to Lord Basil as if he were a king of yore.\u0026rdquo; He gave a deep sigh.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane raised herself on her elbows and regarded him semi-seriously. \u0026ldquo;Why, Octavian. Do I have competition for your attentions?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian chuckled. \u0026ldquo;Not yet\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. and yet, it felt too good to be true. Is Basil really that honest, that lacking in self-interest? I thought the species had long become extinct.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane relaxed into her pillows and let Octavian continue his unhurried exploration of her topography. \u0026ldquo;Ah, but he is. He truly is. I once thought him too dull to become a force in Council, but he has steadily proven me wrong since then. Even the little tantrum you described\u0026mdash;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe laughed and writhed sensuously, and it was difficult to tell whether that was due to the image of a passionate Lord Basil or the deft play of Octavian\u0026rsquo;s thumb and forefinger about the tip of her breast.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hmm,\u0026rdquo; he murmured, choosing to take it as both. \u0026ldquo;His voice as he chastised Ferris\u0026mdash;\u0026lsquo;not yet,\u0026rsquo; he told him, \u0026lsquo;not ever\u0026rsquo;\u0026mdash;it was pure command. The room was silenced. I think Lord Adrian may have leaked a little in his pantaloons.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane giggled, but then again, was that from the humor of the situation, or the brush of his hand against the inside of her thigh? He gently teased her folds and found them softly wet, and her giggle transformed into a long, eager moan.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;The flash of fire in his eyes, like an avenging spirit of justice,\u0026rdquo; he whispered, fitting himself between her legs and feeling her ankles lock willingly around him. \u0026ldquo;The set of his lips\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026rdquo; He choked off briefly, unable to continue until he had completed his first thrust. \u0026ldquo;Oh, Diane, he was so \u003cem\u003every\u003c/em\u003e forceful!\u0026rdquo; Another, deeper thrust to punctuate his words and draw a cry of pleasure from his lover.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith careful angling of his hips and a steady rhythm, he gained from her an abandoned release and trembling surrender that only served to further inflame his desire. But when he expected her to lie in sweet exhaustion while he chased his own completion, instead she smiled brilliantly, rolled him smartly over on the broad bed so she was now rampant, and pressed herself over and around him with renewed energy. He clutched the bedsheets with both hands and gazed helplessly up at her, entranced by the bounce of her breasts and the light in her eyes as she spoke in a low, intense tone.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Lord Basil in the robes of the Crescent Chancellor, standing before the Council, \u003cem\u003eour\u003c/em\u003e avenging angel of justice and power and might. What do you say to \u003cem\u003ethat\u003c/em\u003e, my Lord Octavian?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe opened his mouth to answer and closed his eyes as a shout of rapture erupted from his convulsing body.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Yes,\u0026rdquo; he whispered, when he was finally able to speak sensibly. \u0026ldquo;I say\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. yes.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLord Arlen contemplated the spread of his long, pale fingers against the dark wood of his desk and exhaled slowly. Little by little, the tendons in his hands relaxed from the tautness of tuned wire to a softer, subtler cord. One hand reached languidly for the silver goblet of rich, red wine on his right; the other delicately caressed the ancient iron key on his left. In a single motion, he took up the goblet and drank deeply, and picked up the key for closer examination.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHe had hoped it might go otherwise, but there was more than one key for a reason: the risk of loss. He had given the Salamander a copy in all goodwill, but he knew now that he would never see that copy again.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis was also a copy, one of two remaining. The original\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;.\u0026nbsp;. he was not at liberty to even think of its location. He glanced at the book on his desk\u0026mdash;that same title which the Salamander had possessed, and read, and understood\u0026mdash;and drank a little more.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe level of flooding would have been catastrophic, had the gates not been opened in time to let the river through. Last time he had been present and resident on the island. This time he had been forced to rely on a proxy. He had worried\u0026mdash; yes, even he, Lord Arlen!\u0026mdash;about the unmaintained locks and levers and hinges. Apparently all had gone well, broadly speaking, although a price had been exacted.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd yet, for how long? Lord Arlen had never chosen unwisely. Salamanders were well acquainted with both fire and water, and he doubted that either could kill them completely. A tragedy that Riverside had remained ignorant of the treasure it had had in its midst. Would this Salamander return, or find another lair for their new awakening?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLord Arlen raised his goblet in a silent toast of gratitude and respect, and drained it to the dregs. He would keep watch over the years. He had time.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003chr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte came at last to the place her feet both longed and feared to go. Tess kept a spare key above the lintel in a crack between the bricks, and when no answer came to her knock, Charlotte opened the door and boldly crossed the threshold. She closed the door behind her and went from room to room, alert to anything unfamiliar, but all was distressingly ordinary. No sign of theft or struggle, no note of farewell, not even the scent of Tess\u0026rsquo;s perfume somewhere under the dank smell of the river.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe sat at Tess\u0026rsquo;s desk and idly fingered the tools of their trade: the quills, the bottles of ink, the stacks of paper and envelopes, and blank notebooks of every description. One quill had dried ink all over it. Careless of Tess not to have rinsed it. She must have been planning to return quite soon.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eCharlotte rested her head on the desk and let the first tear escape. She had searched everywhere and asked everyone, to no avail. Tess was gone, and there was nowhere else she could look until the floodwaters subsided, and nothing to do but wait. When drowned bodies chose to appear, they did so in their own time, and neither guilt nor love had the power to change that.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe curled her fingers around the ink-stained quill and cried.\u003c/p\u003e","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane invited her daughter, Honora, to a celebration, but the party was not necessarily enjoyable. Rafe overheard an unsettling conversation. After Dr. Goodell\u0026rsquo;s death, the future of the Academy was in question. Kaab and Tess had a reunion. The Salamander needed Tess\u0026rsquo;s help.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003eWho\u0026rsquo;s Who:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah Heslop \u0026ndash; farm girl and brilliant\u0026nbsp;mathematician\u0026nbsp;trying to make sense of new opportunities \u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha Jayasuriya \u0026ndash; a foreign courtesan with a spiritual relationship to the sword\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.306","slug":"tremontaine-s4e08","audio":"","epub":"","mobi":"","pdf":"","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b18239207839400014de76c","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 8"},{"id":"5b1823d885bbcd000125c31a","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":10,"title":"After the Flood","released_date":null,"released":false,"strapline":"A message from Binkiinha","byline":"Liz Duffy Adams and Joel Derfner","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-11-14","body":"","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe, Reza, and Esha organized relief efforts in the wake of the flood. Kaab took advantage of the chaos to deal with Francis Salford. Basil Halliday rose to the occasion. Diane and Octavian considered new opportunities in the wake of unexpected losses.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eWho\u0026rsquo;s Who:\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTess the Hand \u0026ndash; a talented forger working to keep Riverside safe\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah Heslop \u0026ndash; farm girl and brilliant\u0026nbsp;mathematician\u0026nbsp;trying to make sense of new opportunities\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.307","slug":"tremontaine-s4e09","audio":"","epub":"","mobi":"","pdf":"","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b1823d885bbcd000125c31a","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 9"},{"id":"5b18241d07839400014de76d","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":11,"title":"The Cacao Tree","released_date":null,"released":false,"strapline":"Dreams of foreign shores","byline":"Karen Lord","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-11-21","body":"","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOctavian worked to convince Basil Halliday to run for Crescent. Rafe had a series of strange dream. Kaab made peace with Rafe . . . and returned his manuscript. Charlotte helped to create a new legend in Riverside.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003eWho\u0026rsquo;s Who:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah Heslop \u0026ndash; farm girl and brilliant\u0026nbsp;mathematician\u0026nbsp;trying to make sense of new opportunities\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha Jayasuriya \u0026ndash; a foreign courtesan with a spiritual relationship to the sword\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.308","slug":"tremontaine-s4e10","audio":"","epub":"","mobi":"","pdf":"","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b18241d07839400014de76d","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 10"},{"id":"5b182479b467920001f6c8be","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":12,"title":"Set the Night on Fire","released_date":null,"released":false,"strapline":"The river has more to take","byline":"Tessa Gratton","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-11-28","body":"","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe process of choosing a new Crescent began. Kaab and Esha formulated a plan to expand Kinwiinik influence. Reza was forced to accelerate his departure from the City. Diane continued to use Octavian to pursue her political ends.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003eWho\u0026rsquo;s Who:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah Heslop \u0026ndash; farm girl and brilliant\u0026nbsp;mathematician\u0026nbsp;trying to make sense of new opportunities\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha Jayasuriya \u0026ndash; a foreign courtesan with a spiritual relationship to the sword\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.309","slug":"tremontaine-s4e11","audio":"","epub":"","mobi":"","pdf":"","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b182479b467920001f6c8be","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 11"},{"id":"5b1824bcb467920001f6c8bf","issue_id":"5b181f2807839400014de769","number":13,"title":"Onward","released_date":null,"released":false,"strapline":"New beginnings require difficult ends","byline":"Racheline Maltese","featured":false,"coming_soon":false,"background_image_url":"","icon_image_url":"","divider_image_url":"","divider_color":"","display_date":"2018-12-05","body":"","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003ePreviously on \u003cem\u003eTremontaine\u003c/em\u003e:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe process of choosing a new Crescent began. Kaab and Esha formulated a plan to expand Kinwiinik influence. Reza was forced to accelerate his departure from the City. Diane continued to use Octavian to pursue her political ends.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003ch3\u003eWho\u0026rsquo;s Who:\u003c/h3\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDiane, Duchess Tremontaine \u0026ndash; a trendsetting noblewoman with a mind for politics\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIxkaab Balam \u0026ndash; spy, swordswoman, and daughter of the Kinwiinik\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRafe Fenton \u0026ndash; scholar, lover, and revolutionary struggling to change the world\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eReza, the Chartili Ambassador \u0026ndash; a formidable military man nursing a broken heart\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMicah Heslop \u0026ndash; farm girl and brilliant\u0026nbsp;mathematician\u0026nbsp;trying to make sense of new opportunities\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEsha Jayasuriya \u0026ndash; a foreign courtesan with a spiritual relationship to the sword\u003c/p\u003e","sku":"com.serialboxpublishing.serialbox.article.310","slug":"tremontaine-s4e12","audio":"","epub":"","mobi":"","pdf":"","share_url":"http://serialbox.com/episodes/5b1824bcb467920001f6c8bf","item_price":199,"bundle_price":199,"subscriber_price":159,"header_bg_color":"","number_display":"EPISODE 12"}],"default_price":"18.99","current_price":"18.99"}