The Satrap smiled bitterly. "I suppose that means they already know which of my enemies will bid for me."

"I do not know." Malta thought hard. "I think that you should consider which of your allies might offer a fat reward for your life. When the time comes, you should write a letter asking them to ransom you."

"Foolish child. That is not how it will be done. I will negotiate my own ransom with Kennit, issue him letters of credit and insist that he provide me passage back to Jamaillia. I am the Satrap, you know."

"My Lord Satrap," she began hesitantly. She firmed her voice. Truthfulness he had asked for. She would see what he did with it. "Others see your situation differently. Kennit will not accept letters of credit from you or anyone else. He will want your ransom in cold coin, and he will see it before he releases you. And he will not care who it comes from: nobles loyal to you, or those who do not wish you to return to Jamaillia, New Traders, Chalcedeans who might use you as a hostage-he will not care. That is why you must think, and think well for yourself. Whose fidelity is unquestionable? Who has both loyalty to you, and wealth enough to buy your freedom?"

The Satrap laughed. "The answer to that is frightfully simple. No one. There is no noble whose loyalty is unquestionable. As to wealth, why, those who are wealthiest have the most to gain by my being lost. If I perish, someone must become Satrap. Why use your wealth to buy the occupant of a throne when the throne itself could be yours?"

Malta was silent. "Then no one will ransom you?" she asked quietly.

He laughed again, and it was even more brittle. "Oh, assuredly, I shall be ransomed, and you alongside me. We will be ransomed by those who most need me to disappear, without witnesses." He rolled to face the wall. "We will be ransomed by those who cheered most loudly as my ship departed from Jamaillia. By those who conspired to send me off on this ill-fated adventure. I am not stupid, Malta. The Bingtown Traders were correct: there was a conspiracy, and it must have involved nobles and Chalcedean diplomats and even New Traders. They bit the hand that fed them, for each thought that once that hand was removed, each could claim the lion's share of the meat."

"Then they will be squabbling over that division even now," Malta hazarded. "It all comes down to a bargain. Grandmother always said, 'Look to see who benefits the most. " She knit her brows, ignoring the tugging of skin around her scar. "She told me that when you want to cut your way into a bargain that others are striking, you must look for the one who is benefiting the least. Shore up his interest, and he will take you as a partner. So. Who benefits the least by your being removed from the throne?"

"Oh, come!" He sounded disgusted as he rolled back to face her. "This is degrading! You would reduce my life and the fate of the throne to the squabbling of merchants." He snorted in disdain. "But what else should I expect from a Trader's daughter? Your whole life has been buying and selling. No doubt your mother and grandmother saw your brief beauty as a thing to be bartered away. Trader Restart certainly did."

Malta stood taller. She did not speak until she was sure she had control of herself. Her armor, she decided, was to be impervious to such taunts. "Merchants broker trade goods. Satraps and nobles broker power. You, noble Magnadon, deceive yourself if you believe there is a great difference in the machinations."

He seemed unimpressed, but he did not challenge her conclusion. "Well, then, to answer your question, all benefit from my absence. All the nobles with money or influence, anyway."

"Then that is the answer. Consider those without money or influence. There are your allies."

"Ah, such wonderful allies. With what will they buy my freedom? Sticks and stones? Dung and dust?"

"Before you consider how they will buy your freedom, you must consider why it would profit them. Make them see it is to their advantage to free you, and they will find the means." She loosened her cloak and sat down on the end of his bed. The Satrap sat up to face her. "So, think now."

The Satrap of all Jamaillia leaned his head back against the wall. His pallid skin and the dark circles under his eyes made him look more like a grievously ill child than a troubled ruler. "It's no use," he said hopelessly. "It is all too far away. No one in Jamaillia will rouse to my cause. My enemies are too many. I will be sold and slaughtered like a feast-day lamb." He rolled his eyes to stare at her. "You see, Malta, not everything can be solved with your Trader's ethic of buying and selling."

An idea suddenly blossomed in her mind. "But what if it could, Magnadon Satrap?" She leaned forward tensely. "If, with my Trader's ethic, I can save you and your throne, what would it be worth to me?"

"You cannot, so why even speculate?" He waved a lax hand at her. "Go away. Your idiotic idea of a stroll on a freezing deck has wearied me. I will sleep now."

"You will not," she retorted. "You will lie awake and pity yourself. So, instead of that, rouse yourself to my challenge. You say I cannot save you. I think I can. I propose a wager." She lifted her chin. "If I save you, I am saved alongside you. You will give me an appointment to…"

"Oh, do not ask to be a Companion of my Heart. That would be too humiliating. As well ask me to wed you."

A spark of anger flashed in her. "I assure you, I would not so humble myself. No. You will appoint me and my family as your representatives in Bingtown and the Rain Wilds. You will recognize Bingtown and the Traders there as an independent entity. To my family, to the Vestrits, will go the exclusive right to represent Jamaillian interests there." A slow smile dawned on her face as the full brilliance of her idea shone in her mind. With such an accomplishment, she could return to Bingtown. No scar or shame would be remembered next to such a coup. It would be the ultimate bargain, the best trade that any dealer had ever struck. Even her grandmother would have to be proud of her. Even Reyn's family might…

"You want all of Bingtown for yourself! That is a ridiculous wager!"

"Is it? I'm offering you both your throne and your life in exchange for it." She cocked her head. "Bingtown's independence is virtually a reality anyway. You would only be recognizing what already exists, and making it possible for Jamaillia and Bingtown to continue on friendly terms. Losing this wager would only mean that you had to take what is a wise course of action in any case."

He stared at her. "So I have heard it argued before. I am not sure I agree with it. But how will you regain my freedom and my throne for me?"

"Show me my profit, and I will find the means." She smiled. "Agreed?"

"Oh, agreed," the Satrap snapped impatiently. "It is a ridiculous wager anyway, one that you cannot possibly win. I may as well agree to it."

"And you will cooperate with me to help me win it," she pressed.

He scowled. "And how must I do that?"

"By striving to present yourself to our captors as I direct you to, and by agreeing with what I shall tell them." Excitement was building in her. The fatalistic defeat she had felt earlier in the evening had evaporated. So all she had left to her fortune was her wits. Perhaps that was all she had ever needed.

"What do you intend to tell them?"

"I am not sure of that just yet. But you started me thinking when you said there was no one in Jamaillia who would profit by returning you to power." She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I think we must discover a way by which the pirates themselves will profit most by returning you to power."