It was not quite dawn when Alise awoke. She doubted that she had been asleep more than a few hours. She opened her eyes at the slight creak of her cabin door opening and held her breath, and only then realized that a soft tap at her door had been what wakened her. 'Are you awake?' Captain Leftrin asked quietly.

'I am now,' she said and drew the bedcovers up to her chin. Her heart was hammering in her breast. What did the man want, coming to her cabin in the darkness before dawn?

He answered her unspoken question. 'Sorry to intrude, but I need to get a clean shirt. The local council wants to talk to me, right away. Apparently they've been watching and waiting for me to dock. A runner came to the ship late last night with a message. Says they need to finalize the contracts for moving the dragons as soon as possible.' He shook his head, more to himself than to her. 'Something's up. The whole thing smacks of someone trying to beat someone else to a prize. This isn't like the Council at all. They always like to pretend there's all the time in the world and keep me tied up bargaining until I have to take their terms or run out of ready cash.'

'Move the dragons as soon as possible?' At those words, her mind had frozen. She sat up in his bunk but kept the blankets clutched to her. 'Where are they moving them so quickly? Why?'

'I don't know, ma'am. I expect that when I meet with them, I'll find out. The word they sent was that they wanted to see me as early as possible. So I have to be on my way.'

'I'm going with you.' The moment the words were out of her mouth, she realized how forward they sounded. Nothing he had said had even hinted he might welcome her company. And she hadn't asked if she might accompany him, she'd announced it. Was her new-found ability to make decisions for herself suddenly going to get her into trouble?

But he only said, T thought you might want to. Let me get some things and clear out of the cabin so you can have your privacy. I'll fry a couple of extra pieces of bread, and set out a coffee mug for you.' He moved about the cabin as he spoke, taking a shirt from a hook and scooping up the box that held his shaving razor and soap. She could not help but notice that what Sedric had said was true. The shirt was one he'd worn several days ago, and she'd never seen it washed or dried. She found she didn't care.

As soon as the door closed quietly behind him, she sprang from the bed. Suspecting that her day might involve climbing a lot of steps if not ladders, she dressed in a split skirt and boots as if she were going riding. The blouse she put on was a sensible one of thick cotton. She added a nut-brown jacket of sturdy duck and belted it securely around her waist. There. She might cut a rather mannish figure, but she'd be ready for anything the day handed her. The captain's small mirror showed her that her days on the river had multiplied and darkened her freckles. And her hair was baked to orange and near as dry as straw despite the sun hats she had been wearing. For a moment, the sheer homeliness of her image daunted her.

Then she squared her shoulders and straightened her small mouth. She hadn't come here to be admired, but to study the dragons. Her fortune was not and never had been in her face. It was her mind that counted. She narrowed her eyes at the mirror, thrust her chin forward, snatched up a plain hat of woven straw and jammed it on her head.

She found Captain Leftrin alone at the galley table. Two steaming mugs of coffee waited there. His back was to her as she entered and he was frying thick slices of yellow bread on the galley stove. A sticky pot of treacle and two heavy earthenware plates awaited the bread. As Leftrin turned to slide a slice of bread onto each plate, he smiled at her. 'Well, that was quick! It always took my sister half a day to get dressed to do anything. But here you are, all ready to go and pretty as a picture to boot!'

She was shocked to feel a blush rose her cheeks. 'You are too kind,' she managed to say, and disliked how formal a response that seemed. She wished that Sedric had not put it in her head that it was inappropriate for her to encourage the captain's rustic flirting. It is just his manner, she told herself firmly. It's nothing to do with me, and she took her place at the table.

It seemed they were the only two people astir on the boat. She took a sip of the coffee. It was thick and black and had probably been kept on the ship's stove all night. There was no cream to tame it with so she followed the sailors' previous example and generously ladled treacle into it. It tasted like sweet tar then instead of just tar. She trickled threads of syrup over her fried bread and ate it while it was hot. They breakfasted with more efficiency than manners. Leftrin cleared the table, clattering the plates and mugs into a dish pan. 'Shall we go, then?' he invited her, and she responded with a nod.

They left the galley together, and he offered her his hand to disembark from the ship. As they had put out no gangplank, this required a small jump from the scow to the dock. Once she had landed safely, it seemed only natural to accept the arm that he offered her. As they strolled down the docks in the early morning light, he gestured to the boats they passed, telling her their names and a bit about each one. Tarman was the largest vessel by far. 'And the oldest,' he told her proudly. 'When they built him, they didn't spare the wizardwood. The river has eaten thousands of boats since he was launched, but Tarman takes the river, rocks and acid flows and snags, and just keeps on splitting the water.'

When they left the floating docks, it was to step from them onto a wide path of beaten earth. The ground gave strangely under her feet. 'It's a leather road,' he told her. 'It's an old technique. Layers of tanned hides over logs, and cedar branches and bark in the thick layer over that, then more hides and finally ash and then a layer of earth over all. The rot process is slowed and the wood-and-leather layers have some buoyancy. It doesn't last forever, but if they didn't do something, this road would be trodden to mud in a few weeks, and soon after that water would seep up and fill it in. May not look like much but it cost Cassarick a pretty penny to make it. And here we are at the lift station. Or would you prefer the stairs?'

There at the base of an immense tree was a spiral staircase that wound up and around the tree's trunk. She craned her head back and saw the lowest level of Cassarick above her. Beside the staircase as an alternative was a flimsy looking platform with a woven railing around it. A long woven cord with a handle dangled next to it. 'You pull the bell pull and if the operator is at work, he sends down the counterweight to lift you up. It costs a penny or two, but it's faster and easier than the staircase.'

'I think I prefer the stairs,' Alise decided. But she wasn't even halfway up before she regretted her decision. The climb was steeper than it had looked. The captain gamely accompanied her, grunting softly with each step. When she reached the first landing and looked around her, she suddenly forgot her aching legs.

A wide platform circled the tree's huge trunk. The vendor stalls that backed up to the trunk were just opening their canvas curtains. From the central platform around the trunk, a spider web of suspended boardwalks spread out in various directions toward other trees and the platforms that circled their trunks. Although the boardwalks had railings woven of vines, they sagged in the middle, and there were visible gaps in the planking. 'This way to their Traders' Hall,' Leftrin told her and putting her hand on his arm, he guided her out onto one of the walks.

Four steps out, she felt giddy. The planks thunked musically under their feet. Leftrin didn't bother with the flimsy rails and seemed unaware of the gentle swaying of the bridge. She glanced down, gasped at a glimpse of the earth far below her, then looked to the side and felt suddenly ill. The bridge sagged under their weight and she was stepping down the planking and certain that she was going to fall at any moment. Leftrin put his hand over hers on his arm. 'Look ahead to the next platform,' he told her in a low reassuring voice. 'Get the rhythm of it, and it's just like climbing stairs. Don't look down and don't worry about what isn't there. Rain Wilders have been building these for over a hundred years now. They're our streets. You can trust them.'