As the carriage rumbled to a stop, Lark hastened out and down. "Good morn, Stroamyn."

"And to you." The guard glanced at the hired carriage. "You've not come to serve, not in that rolling ship. Are you a ladies' maid?"

"In a manner of speaking," Lark replied. "My mistresses wish to speak with Lord Korvaun. Know you one of the staff who can be trusted to carry that message to his master and no other?"

Stroamyn snorted. "In this house? You know grand folk can buy everything but discretion, yet by the luck-fall of Tymora's dice, it happens Lord Korvaun's not in residence."

"Can you tell me where he is?"

The guard gave her a considering look. "I'm not one to tell tales."

"Nor am I," Lark said firmly. "For that matter, I doubt anyone'll think to ask how I came by the information. Lord Korvaun carries so many magical trinkets he's probably come to think of them as commonplace. He'll no doubt assume my mistresses found him through a seeking spell or some such foolishness. His sort never think others can't drop coins as freely as they do."

Stroamyn nodded ruefully and tugged at the neck of his tabard, revealing a green tunic beneath. "One of Lord Korvaun's brothers asked me why I wear this several times a tenday, as if all men could cast coin away on ten tunics of every hue in a rainbow!"

Thus bonded by common disdain, they leaned heads together and talked. Stroamyn imparted the address of Lord Korvaun's new and very exclusive club, as well as the password Helmfast servants gave that establishment's doorguards. Lark thanked him, left best wishes for Rosie and the children, and hurried to give Stroamyn's directions to their hired coachman.

"We're off to Dock Ward," she told the Dyre girls as she climbed back into the carriage. "It seems Lord Korvaun's an early riser."

Faendra winced. "Father'll be livid when he gets the bill for this."

"I've my own money," Naoni said firmly, the first words she'd spoken since they'd left home.

The other two joined her in silence until the carriage stopped outside a ramshackle warehouse not far from Redcloak Lane. As Stroamyn had warned, a heavily armed guard stood grimly at its open door-a tough old sailor who kept his hands on ready weapons. The tattoo of the Ice Dancer stood out clearly on one brawny forearm.

Lark knew that mark well; sailors from the Dancer had frequented the dockside tavern where she'd been born and raised.

Perhaps her mother had entertained this man. Perhaps…

Cheeks flaming, she forced herself to look away from the man's impassive face as she followed her mistresses through the doorway and up the stairs.

Four men were lounging in the open-to-the-rafters room at the head of the stair: Korvaun Helmfast, Taeros Hawkwinter, and two others. The one who wore a glittering black cloak was exceedingly pale, his long, narrow face framed by lank black hair. The other was a small man with neatly shorn brown hair, mild blue eyes, and well-cut but simple brown garments. Lark assumed his cloak was the fall of rose-hued gemweave hanging on a peg beside more familiar cloaks of blue and amber.

They all looked up, and then rose, as the three women stepped into the room.

"Mistress Naoni," Korvaun said slowly, his eyes only for the red-haired woman at the fore. "This is a most unexpected pleasure."

"Perhaps you should hear me out before saying so," she replied quietly. Lifting her chin, she added, "You hired a man to follow us. I insist on knowing why."

Korvaun frowned and took two quick steps toward her, hands rising, before he caught himself and halted. "A man's been following you?"

Naoni frowned. "You pretend to know nothing of this?"

"'Tis no pretense, Mistress," Korvaun replied grimly. "I hired no man to follow you. Unless…" He glanced at Taeros.

The Hawkwinter lord shook his head. "No. I followed our plan."

Naoni's face darkened as she looked from one man to the other. "Plan? Tell me."

Korvaun nodded to Taeros.

The Hawkwinter lordling sighed. "Actually, it was Lark we wanted followed." His gaze went to the maidservant's face then swiftly away again. "I didn't hire a man. We thought an alternative might be… less conspicuous."

"Ezriel," Lark murmured. "The elf at the Notch." She stared at him incredulously. "You thought an elf would be less conspicuous serving in a South Ward inn?"

Taeros shifted uneasily from one foot to another. "I had other reasons for my choice."

Lark stared at him for a moment. When the answer came to her, she burst out laughing. This fool thought to distract Elaith Craulnober with a pretty elf female! Ye gods, did all men keep their brains in their codpieces?

"I fail to understand your amusement," Taeros said stiffly.

"Really! What a large surprise!"

"Lark," murmured Naoni in gentle admonition.

The servant nodded to her mistress and put away her grin. Indeed, now that her first mirth was spent, she found this more troubling than humorous. If she was correct about Hawkwinter's motive for hiring Ezriel, it meant he'd seen a link between her and Elaith Craulnober.

Naoni shot Taeros and Korvaun both pointed looks. "Right, then, why were you watching Lark?"

Korvaun gave her a small bow of apology. "This requires more than a little explanation. Won't you sit? Perhaps take refreshment?"

"I'd be grateful for some ale," Faendra announced. "I'm as dry as Anauroch."

As the brown-clad man drew a tankard for Faen, Lark took her mistresses' half-cloaks and hung them on the empty pegs beside the glittering nobles' gemweave. Her gaze lingered on Lord Hawkwinter's cloak. Its amber gleam was as cold and bright as a certain pair of mocking elven eyes.

Staring at it, Lark suddenly knew how she'd fulfill her bargain with Elaith. If Taeros was wearing his silver charm, she'd have it off him before she left this room. Schooling her face to a servant's expressionless calm, Lark took a seat beside Naoni.

"Ere we continue," Korvaun was saying, "allow me to present my friends Lord Roldo Thongolir and Lord Starragar Jardeth. Gentlesirs, I give you Mistresses Naoni and Faendra Dyre, and Mistress-Lass Lark."

Roldo and Starragar stood, bowed to the three common-born women with no hint of mockery, and resumed their seats.

"As you know, we lost a friend when the Slow Cheese came down."

"Lord Malark Kothont," Faendra murmured, almost wistfully.

"Yes. Had he been slain by a blade or mage's spell, we'd have avenged him forthwith, but how does one take vengeance on a building? The only satisfaction left to us is to ferret out why the collapse befell."

Naoni leaned forward. "When you learn the cause, you'll avenge your friend?"

Lark wondered at the excitement in Naoni's voice. When had her elder mistress developed an interest in vengeance?

Perhaps she was thinking of Master Dyre's mutterings about the Lords digging new tunnels to spy on dissenters. If she could win these lordlings to her father's cause, that would certainly cast aside shields between Naoni Dyre and Lord Korvaun Helmfast.

"Yes, we will avenge our friend," the black-clad Lord Jardeth said suddenly, his voice as dark as his garb. There was a faint ripping sound as he shifted forward in his seat. Lark saw that the trailing hem of his black cloak was uneven, as if pieces of gemweave had simply fallen away.

Korvaun gave Starragar a swift, quelling glance. "For now, we seek only answers. A second building fell, a fine townhouse in North Ward. So far as we know, these buildings were unrelated except for their owner, an elf of considerable means and power: Elaith Craulnober."

"Again, what has this to do with Lark?" Naoni demanded.

"She was at Craulnober's recent revel," Taeros said quietly.

Lark met his eyes. "I'm surprised you recognized me, milord. Most men of wealth don't look closely at a servant until she unlaces her bodice."