She forced herself to stand quietly as she revealed her last weapon. "The cook told me that you have a wife and three children in Bull Creek. I fear folk would talk. Your wife might be hurt."

"Folk always talk," he assured her. His fingers toyed with her collar. "My wife pays no mind to it. She says it is the price she pays for having a handsome, clever husband. Put them from your mind, as I do. They have nothing to do with what happens on this ship."

"Don't they?" she asked him quietly. "And if your daughter was taken by Chalcedean slave raiders, would you approve the same advice for her? To become wholeheartedly what they made her? Would you tell her that her father would never accept her back because she was no longer his 'virgin daughter'? Would it no longer matter to you how often she was taken, or by whom?" She lifted her chin.

"Damn you," he cursed her, but with admiration. Frustration glittered in his eyes but he released her. She stepped back from him with relief. "I will get the names from the Satrap," she offered him in compensation. "I will be sure he understands that his life depends on how much he can wring from his nobles. He sets great store on his own life. I am sure he will be generous with their coin."

"He had better be." Captain Red had recovered some of his aplomb. "To make up for how stingy you are with woman's coin."

Malta smiled at him, a genuine smile, and allowed a swagger to her walk as she left his chamber.»

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — Trader for the Vestrit Family

A FIRE OF BEACH WOOD BURNED IN THE HEARTH, ALMOST WARMING THE emptied room. It would take time to drive the chill of winter from the big house. It had stood uninhabited for weeks; it was amazing how swiftly cold and disuse changed a house.

Housework was comforting. In cleaning and restoring a room, one could assert control. One could even pretend, briefly, that life could be tidied the same way. Keffria stood slowly, and dropped her scrubbing rag back into the bucket. There. She looked around her bedchamber as she massaged her aching hand. The walls had been wiped down with herb water and the floor scrubbed. The damp dust and musty smell were gone… So was every trace of her former life here. When she had returned to her home, she had found that the bed she had shared with Kyle, their clothing chests and her wardrobe were gone. Drapes and hangings were missing, or slashed to ribbons. She had closed the door and put off worrying about it until the main areas of the house were habitable. Then she had come here alone to attack it. She had no idea how she would refurnish it. Other, deeper considerations had occupied her mind as she did the monotonous drudgery of scrubbing.

She sat down on the floor before the fire and looked around the room. Empty, clean and slightly cold. Rather like her life. She leaned back on the mortared stone that defined the hearth. Refilling and restoring the room and her life suddenly seemed like a waste of time. Perhaps it was best to keep both as they were now. Uncluttered. Simple.

Her mother ducked her head into Keffria's room. "There you are!" Ronica exclaimed. "Do you know what Selden is doing?"

"Packing," Keffria answered. "It won't take him long. He hasn't much to pack."

Ronica frowned. "You're letting him go? Just like that?"

"It's what he wants to do," she replied simply. "And Jani Khuprus has said he would be welcome, and that he can stay with her family."

"What about staying with his own family?" Ronica asked tartly.

Keffria rolled her eyes wearily at her mother. "Have you talked to him? I did. I'm sure you heard the same things. He is more Rain Wild than Bingtown now, and changing more every day. He has to go to Trehaug. His heart calls him to help the dragon in her quest to save the serpents."

Ronica came into the room, lifting her hems clear of the still-damp floor. It was an old reflex. Her worn gown didn't merit such care. "Keffria, he's still a child. He's far too young to be making these sort of decisions for himself."

"Mother, don't. I'm letting him go. It has been hard enough to reach this decision without your questioning it," Keffria repeated softly.

"Because you think it's the best thing for him to do?" Ronica was incredulous.

"Because I don't have anything better to offer him." Keffria stood with a weary sigh. "What remains in Bingtown to keep him here?" She looked around the empty room. "Let's go down to the kitchen," she offered. "It's warmer there."

"But not as private," her mother countered. "Ekke is down there, cleaning the day's catch. Fish for dinner."

"What a surprise," Keffria feigned. She was glad to shift the topic.

"Monotonous, but far better than nothing for dinner," her mother countered. She shook her head. "I'd rather talk here. As big as the house is, I still feel crowded at the thought of strangers sharing it with us. I never thought to see the day when we must take in boarders for the sake of the food they share with us."

"I'm sure that they feel just as uncomfortable," Keffria said. "The Bingtown Council needs to move swiftly at assigning land to the Three Ships families. Ekke and Sparse would start building tomorrow if they were granted a piece of land to call their own."

"It's the New Traders, still," Ronica replied, shaking her head. "They slow down all healing. Without slave labor, they cannot possibly work those huge grants of land, but they persist in claiming them."

"I think they merely try to make it the starting place for their bartering," Keffria replied thoughtfully. "No one else recognizes their claims. Companion Serilla has shown them that the language of the Bingtown Charter forbids such grants as Satrap Cosgo gave them. Now they clamor that Jamaillia must pay them back for the land they have lost, but as the grants were written as 'gifts, Companion Serilla says they are owed nothing. Devouchet lost his temper when they tried to debate that; he shouted at them that if they think Jamaillia owes them money, they should go back to Jamaillia, and argue it there. Still, at every meeting of the Council, the New Traders complain and insist.

"They will soon have to come to their senses. Spring comes eventually. Without slaves, they cannot plow and plant. Much of the land they took is useless for crops now. They are discovering what we told them all along. The land around Bingtown cannot be cultivated as they farm in Jamaillia or Chalced. For a year or two, it bears well, but once you have broken the clay layer with plows, it just gets swampier year after year. You can't grow grain in a bog."

Ronica nodded in agreement. "Some of the New Traders understand that. I've heard talk that many of them plan to return to Jamaillia, once travel is less dangerous. I think it would be best for them. They never really put their hearts into Bingtown. Their homes, their titles and ancestral lands, their wives and their legitimate children are all back in Jamaillia. Wealth was what lured them here. Now that they've discovered they aren't going to find it here, they'll go home. I think they only persist in their claims in the hopes of having something to sell before they depart."

"And leave us the mess to clean up," Keffria observed sourly. "I feel sorry for the New Traders' mistresses and bastards. They'll probably have to stay in Bingtown. Or go north. I have heard that some of the Tattooed are talking of taking ship to the Six Duchies. It's a harsh land, almost barbaric, but they feel they could begin anew there, without having to sign agreements. They feel that becoming Rain Wild Traders under Jani's terms would be too restrictive."

"When all who choose to leave have left, then those who remain will be closer in spirit to the original Bingtown Traders," Ronica observed. She walked to the naked window and looked out into the evening. "I'll be glad when it is all settled. When those who remain here are those who chose to be part of Bingtown, then I think we shall heal. But that may take time. Travel is not safe, either to north or south." Then she cocked her head at Keffria. "You seem very well-informed about the rumors and news of Bingtown."