"Jamaillia would be foolish to give Bingtown up to Chalced. What other province yields such a rich harvest to the Satrapy?"

"Perhaps they believe it is better to yield Bingtown as part of a bargain than to simply lose it to the Chalcedeans as a conquest of war. Chalced grows stronger and more warlike. Internal strife and Northland raiders paralyzed the Six Duchies for years. That kingdom used to keep Chalced occupied. In the years since the Red Ship Wars, the Six Duchies have been occupied with rebuilding. Chalced has become a powerful nation, rich with slaves and ambition. They push to the north, in border skirmishes. But they also look south. To Bingtown and its rich trade. And the Rain Wild River lands."

"Lands?" Reyn gave a snort of contempt. "There is so little…" He halted his words abruptly, recalling to whom he was speaking. "They are fools," he finished succinctly.

"On the ship, coming here-" For a moment, the woman seemed to have sudden difficulty speaking, as if she could not catch her breath. "I was held captive for a time in the captain's quarters." He waited, then leaned closer to capture her soft words. "There were charts in his room.

Bingtown Harbor. The mouth of the Rain Wild River. Why else would he have such things, if he did not intend to use them?"

"The Rain Wild River protects its own," Reyn declared boldly. "We have nothing to fear. The secret ways of the river are known to none but our own."

"But tonight, there are many of you here. Representatives from many Rain Wild families, I am told. If they were taken hostage in the plundering of Bingtown, can you be sure that none of them would reveal your Rain Wild secrets?"

Her logic was relentless. Suddenly, small inconsistencies made sense. Why else allow the Kendry through the blockade and into the harbor? "They would have allies among the New Traders here," he said half aloud, thinking of all the new folk who had just come ashore as well. "People whose ties to the slave trade in Chalced are as strong or stronger than their links to Jamaillia. People who have lived amongst us and learned enough of our ways to know that both Bingtown Traders and Rain Wild Traders would be gathered here tonight."

"If I were you, I would not be positive that there were not such folk among the Bingtown Old Traders as well," she pointed out quietly.

A trickle of cold suspicion ran through him. Davad Restart. Of course. "If you knew of this plot, why did you come to Bingtown?" he demanded of her.

"Obviously, if I had known, I would not have come," she retorted. "I have only this evening gathered enough of the pieces to grasp the whole picture. I am telling you this not only because I do not wish to die, but because I do not wish to see Bingtown fall. All my life, Bingtown has been the center of my studies. I have always wanted to come here: it is the city of my dreams. So I connived and begged to get the Satrap to allow me to come. Now that I am here, I do not want to be a witness to its death throes, any more than I want to die here before I have fully comprehended its wonders."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Act before they do. Take the Satrap and his Companions hostage, yes, but keep us safe. Alive, he is a bargaining chip. Dead, he is the spark that ignites the fire of war. Not all the Jamaillian nobles can be involved in this. Send a message out somehow, to alert those who are loyal to the Satrapy. Tell them what is transpiring here. They will mount an effort to aid you, if you promise to return Cosgo unharmed. There will be war with Chalced, but eventually, there is always war with Chalced. Take the time I have given you by this warning, and secure the town as best you can. Gather supplies; hide your children and families. Get word to the folk up the Rain Wild River."

He was incredulous. "But you say it is most likely that they will act tonight. There is no time for any of that!"

"You are wasting time dancing with me now," she pointed out acidly. "You should be getting the word out right now. I suspect there will be incidents in the streets tonight. Fires, brawls, whatever it will take to ignite riots in the city. It will spread out to the ships in the harbor. Someone, intentionally or by accident, will give the Chalcedeans an excuse to attack. Perhaps they will simply receive a message that the Satrap has been killed." She looked unerringly into his veiled eyes. "By morning light, Bingtown will be burning."

The music was ending. As he and his partner slowed and then stopped, it seemed prophetic. He stood a moment in the silence, her hand still in his. Then he stepped away from her with a bow. "The others are gathering outside, in the gardens. We should join them," he suggested. He gestured to the door.

As if someone had literally tugged his heartstrings, he turned and looked across the room. Malta. Walking away with her hand on Cerwin Trell's arm. He could not simply leave the gathering like this, not without a word. He turned back to Companion Serilla. "Just outside the doorway, there is a pathway that goes to the east. It isn't far and the lanterns will all be lit tonight. Will you be comfortable, walking alone? I shall join you as quickly as I can."

Her look said it was unforgivably rude. But she said, "I am sure I shall be fine. Do you think you will be long?"

"I hope not," he assured her. He did not wait to see what she would think of such a vague answer. He bowed again and left her by the door. The music was starting again, but he cut swiftly across the dance floor, narrowly avoiding the whirling couples. He found Malta sitting alone. When he stood before her, she looked up quickly. The sudden light of hope in her eyes could not quench the fear that was there. «Reyn-» she began, but he cut her off before she could apologize.

"I have to go somewhere. It's very important. I may not be back this evening. You'll have to understand."

"Not be back… where? Where are you going? What is so important?"

"I can't tell you. You'll have to trust me, just now." He paused. "I'd like you to go home as soon as possible. Would you do that for me?"

"Go home? Just leave my presentation ball and go home while you go and do 'something more important'? Reyn, this is impossible. The meal has not been shared, the gifts of our kinship have not been offered— Reyn, we've only shared one dance! How can you do this to me? I've looked forward to this all my life, and now you say I should hurry home, because you've found something more important to do?"

"Malta, please understand! This isn't something I chose. Fate doesn't respect our wishes. Now… I have to go. I'm sorry, but I have to go." He longed to tell her. It wasn't that he didn't trust her. It was her family's connection to Davad Restart that worried him. If Davad was a traitor, it was important that he believe their plot was still secret. What Malta did not know, she could not accidentally betray.

She looked up at him and her eyes flashed darkly. "I think I know exactly what it is that is more important to you than I am. I wish you joy of it." She looked aside from him. "Good evening, Reyn Khuprus."

She was dismissing him, as if he were a recalcitrant servant. He doubted she would heed his advice to go home. He stood still in an agony of indecision.

"Excuse me."

The jostle was deliberate. Reyn turned. Cerwin Trell glowered at him. He held two glasses of wine. For a moment, Reyn's control teetered in the balance. Then something like despair clutched his heart. There wasn't time. He could stay and pursue this squabble now, but it could not be resolved. If he stayed, by morning they might all be dead.

The hardest part of turning and walking away was knowing that by morning they might all be dead, no matter what he did. He did not look back at all. If Malta had looked stricken, he would have had to return to her. If she had been simpering at Trell, he would have had to kill the boy. No time. Never any time to live his own life. He left the Traders' Concourse and plunged into the torch-tattered darkness outside.