Althea took a deep breath to reply, then clamped her jaws firmly. She followed Amber.

A brief silence fell. Then Amber laughed. "You see. You will not even tell me if my deductions are correct."

"Those things are Bingtown Trader business. One doesn't discuss it with outsiders." Althea heard the coldness in her own voice but could not repent it.

For a time, they walked in false companionship. The revelry of the Night Market reached them as distantly as a memory of better times. The wind off the water was cold. In these hours before dawn, spring was forgotten. The world returned to the dark and chill of winter. Althea touched the bottom of despair. She had not realized how much she had valued her friendship with Amber until it was threatened.

Amber took her arm suddenly. The contact made the intensity of her voice more compelling. "Bingtown cannot stand alone," she said. "Jamaillia is corrupted. The Satrap will cede you to Chalced, or sell you to New Traders without even a moment of consideration. He doesn't care, Althea. Not about his honor, or his ancestor's pledge or the people of Bingtown. He doesn't even care about the citizens of Jamaillia. He is so engrossed in himself, he cannot perceive anything except as it relates to him." Amber shook her head, and Althea thought she sensed a deep sadness. "He comes to power too young, and unschooled. He had great promise and much talent. His father took joy in his potential, and he charmed his teachers. No one wished to daunt that inquisitive spirit; he was allowed complete freedom in his explorations. No discipline was imposed on him. For a time, it was like watching an extravagant blossom unfold."

Amber paused as if remembering a better time. She went on with a sigh, "But nothing thrives without limits. At first, the court was amused when he discovered the pleasures of the flesh and indulged in them. Characteristically, he set out to explore them all. Everyone supposed it was but a stage of his growth. It wasn't. It was the end of his growth. Mired in pleasure, lost in all but the titillation of his own senses, he became ever more self-centered. Ambitious people saw it as a path to the future Satrap's favor; they began to supply his desire. The unscrupulous saw it as a pathway to power. They taught him exotic new pleasures, ones they alone could supply. When his father died abruptly and he was catapulted into power, the strings of the puppet were already fixed. Since then, they have only become more confining." Amber gave a mirthless laugh. "It is bitter. The young man who was never restricted by the walls of discipline is now choking on the leashes of his addictions. His enemies will rob his folk and enslave his lands, and he will smile as the dream herbs smolder in his chambers."

"You seem well versed in this history."

"I am."

The brusqueness of her answer cut off Althea's next question. She found a different one. "Why are you telling me all this?" she asked in a low voice.

"To wake you up. Appeals to the Satrap's honor, and reminders of ancient promises, will not produce results. The diseases of power have eaten too deeply into the Satrap and the influential families of Jamaillia. They are too busy saving themselves and gathering what scraps of power they can to be interested in Bingtown's plight. If Bingtown wishes to continue as it has, then it must find its own allies. Not just those of the newcomers who share Bingtown's ideals, but the slaves brought here against their will, and… any others who share Bingtown's enemies. The Rain Wild Traders must also step out from the shadows, not only to assert their rights but also to take responsibility for what they do."

Althea halted suddenly in the street. Amber took another step, then stopped and looked back at her.

"I need to go home, to my family," Althea said quietly. "All of what you say speaks to me, not only of Bingtown, but of my family's predicament."

Amber released her arm. "If I have made you see that those two things are connected, I have not wasted my time this evening. Another time, you will come to Paragon with me. And you will help me convince him that he must support my efforts to buy him."

"First I will have to convince myself of that," Althea cautioned her. She took satisfaction in knowing that Paragon had had the good sense to resist Amber's efforts. As much as she liked her, there had to be a better buyer for the Paragon than she. Althea added that to her list of concerns. She would discuss it with Grag and his father when next she saw them.

"You will be convinced, if you open your ears and eyes. Go carefully, Althea, and reach home safely. Visit me when you can. Until then, be aware. Consider all that troubles Bingtown. Notice all that seems wrong to you, even that which does not seem to involve you. You will reach the same conclusions I have."

Althea nodded at her. She didn't speak. It saved her from having to say she would reach her own conclusions. What was best for her family would come first.

"ARE WE GOING TO SIT UP ALL NIGHT?" MALTA FINALLY ASKED.

Keffria's reply was surprisingly mild. "I'm going to stay up until Althea gets home. I know you must be tired, dear. It's been quite a week for you. You can go to bed if you wish."

"I thought you told me that Grandmother would start treating me more like an adult if I acted like one." She kept an eye on her grandmother as she said this, and saw the small flicker of her eyes that said her barb had struck. It was time the old woman realized that she and her mother did talk together about such things. "I think if you are both going to stay up and talk to Aunt Althea when she gets home, I should, too."

"As you wish," her mother said wearily. She picked up the needlework she had set aside and looked at it.

Malta leaned back in her chair. She had curled her legs up and tucked her feet under her. Her back ached and her head pounded. She still smiled. It had been quite a week for her. She reached up and began to take her hair down. As she plucked the pins out and it cascaded darkly about her shoulders, she wondered what Reyn would think if he could see her like this. She imagined him sitting across from her, watching her hair slowly come down. He would tilt his head and his veil would move slightly when he sighed. He would toy with the fingertips of his gloves. He had confided to her that he found them more annoying than the veil. "To touch something, skin to surface, can tell one so much. A shared touch, skin to skin, can speak the words our mouths are not free to say." He had held his hand out, as if inviting her to touch his gloved fingers, but she had not moved. "You could remove your gloves," she had told him. "I would not be afraid."

He had laughed lightly, his veil puffing out with his amusement. "I think there is not much you would fear, my little hunting cat. But that would not make it proper. I have promised my mother that this courtship will be proper."

"Did you?" She had leaned forward, dropping her voice to a breathy whisper. "Do you tell me that to make me feel safe? Or to discourage me from attempting any impropriety?" She had let a tiny smile curl her mouth and lifted one brow. It was an expression often practiced in her mirror.

A slight movement of the lace over his face told her she had scored. That quick little intake of breath said he was both shocked and delighted at her boldness. But even better, past his shoulder, she glimpsed the dark scowl on Cerwin Trell's face. She had given a throaty little trill of laughter, contriving that her whole attention seemed focused on Reyn as she watched for Cerwin's reaction. Cerwin had snatched up a bottle of wine from a passing servant's tray and refilled his own glass. He was far too well bred to slam the bottle down on the table at his elbow, but it had made an audible thud. Delo had leaned over to rebuke him, but he had brushed his sister's remark away. What had he thought then? That he had been too timid in his suit? That he had missed his opportunity to have such a rare creature as Malta Haven smile at him like that?