"I think they're jealous, my Lady, or they fear you," he replied. "We are larger than the trading companies of all but House Eram, House Zalan, and House Tarn. If it weren't for the ridiculous taxes we have to pay to stay in business, we would be larger than all of them. I think they fear that a commoner owns such a large and influential trading company."

"Probably," she snorted. "But I'm not going to sit by and let Arthas Zalan threaten to jeopardize our company."

"Very good then. I take it that our reply to this proposal will be no."

"The reply will be 'go to hell.'"

Rallix raised an eyebrow and stared at his employer curiously. "You'll only anger them," he warned.

"So?"

"Ah. Yes, well, I'll see to it that your reply is sent off with the afternoon mail."

"Very good. Our business is concluded, Rallix. You have done well. Keep up the good work."

"Of course, my Lady," Rallix said smoothly. "Would you like guards for your carriage?"

"My man here can defend it well enough. Thank you for offering."

"It's my money too," he said with a slight smile. "Good day to you."

Keritanima nodded to him as he left, and she tidied up her desk absently. "His money too?" Azakar asked.

"Rallix owns ten percent of the company, and he doesn't receive a salary," Keritanima replied immediately. "It's his personal stake in making it profitable. He gets ten percent of all net profits earned as payment for his services."

"He accepted that deal?"

"Of course. Rallix is brilliant, and I give him free reign on everything but the most important decisions. So in a very real sense, this is his company as well as mine. Believe me, Zak, his ten percent is more than enough to make him very wealthy."

"How do you keep all this separate?" he asked in wonder. "I mean, you must live four lives all at once."

"Practice," she replied with a smile. "Lizelle is unique person, and to the city, she's just as real as the Brat is, or I am. She has a birth record, a tax record, even some arrests for minor lawbreaking when she was a younger woman. Her family is well documented, going back some two hundred years in the records. That they're all me is just a technicality, and it means that they can't be in the same room together," she smiled. "Personality wise, Lizelle is easy to play. She's a sober, quiet, no-nonsense woman that speaks her mind and doesn't talk about anything other than business. She's known as an economic raptor, keen and sharp-dealing, but that reputation actually belongs to Rallix. She's also reclusive, only occasionally leaving her country estate to check up on her business operations. She doesn't socialize, she doesn't play politics, and she doesn't flaunt herself or her wealth. That makes it easy for me to keep up her appearance."

"Wow," Azakar mused. "You're really good at this."

"It's why I'm still alive, Zak," she smiled. "Now let's get the payment delivered and get back before my stand-in gets herself in trouble."

The second attempt on Miranda was much more serious. Azakar carried her into the apartments just after dawn the next day, as Kalina brushed Keritanima's hair in the bedroom. Binter called the Princess in immediately, and Keritanima was nearly horrified into retching.

Someone had shot her.

The lead ball entered through her belly, but it blew a foot wide hole out of her side and back. She was literally shot from point blank range. Someone had put the muzzle of the gun against her gown and pulled the trigger. The entry wound was seared, her fur burned off, and the skin beneath tattooed black from the gunpowder driven beneath it.

"Zak, what happened?" Keritanima asked in a strangled tone, touching the Weave quickly and putting her hands to her friend's stomach. Healing energy flowed from her hands and into Miranda, causing the woman's back to arch as the icy cold of Sorcerer's Healing began to do its work.

"We were in the kitchens," he said in a worried voice. "She asked me to pick up a tray. There was this loud noise, and then the next thing I knew, she was laying on the floor while a tall Wikuni with gray fur ran away. I didn't even bother chasing him, Kerri, because I knew I had to get her here fast."

"You did the right thing, now keep quiet and keep your eyes on the door!" she snapped in reply, her entire concentration focused on rebuilding the savaged insides of her best friend's belly.

It was the hardest thing she had ever done. Miranda's life literally hung by a thread, and she had to carefully balance healing her against how much stress from the healing her body could withstand. The result was an agonizingly slow process that spilled so much of Miranda's blood on the carpet that it spread nearly three feet in every direction. She had to urge Miranda's body into producing blood to replace what she bled out as well as knitting together her shredded insides, and it drained Keritanima to nearly her limit. But she refused to give up, refused to yield. Miranda would not die like this! Not by an assassin's pistol in a kitchen! She gnashed her teeth and ignored her fatigue, putting everything she had into keeping Miranda alive long enough to complete the healing. But there was progress. Slowly, nearly imperceptibly, the holes in Miranda's belly and side began to shrink, internal organs began to mend themselves, tissues rejoined and fused, bones regrew lost mass. Keritanima was so immersed in the healing that she lost all track of time, so when she leaned back on her heels and blew out her breath, sagging so much that Binter caught her, she saw the horrid stain on the carpet and realized she was kneeling in Miranda's blood. Her dress had soaked it up, leaving it red to nearly the waist, and it was caked all over her forearms and hands. Azakar and Binter had been watching the door, Zak still there, and Kalina stood nervously as far into the room she dared come in. If someone threw open the door, they would see both Keritanima and Kalina, and their secret would be compromised.

But Miranda would make it. It had been incredibly difficult, the hardest thing she had ever done, but she would live. "She's going to be alright," Keritanima panted. "Zak, carry her into my room. Kalina, clean her up and put a nightgown on her and put her in my bed. She needs sleep, and alot of it. Don't let her get out of that bed for any reason," she said sternly.

"Right now, Kerri," Zak assured her, rushing over and collecting the unconscious mink Wikuni up into his armored arms, the greaves splotched with Miranda's dried blood.

"I'll take good care of her, Keritanima," Kalina assured her in an uncharacteristically gentle and compassionate voice. Feelings for others wasn't like Kalina.

Keritanima shrugged out of Binter's gentle grip and dragged herself to her feet, her face screwed up in a snarl of anger. This would not happen again! That they would dare attack Miranda in the Palace! Her anger began to fuel her power, boosting her reserves and making her feel strong enough to deal with the situation right now.

"Binter, come with me," she said furiously, shoving up the sleeves of her dress aggressively. "We're going to go kill someone."

"Yes, Princess," Binter replied calmly, picking his hammer up from the corner.

Keritanima threw open the door and stepped out. She knew she had to be a sight, with her bloodstained dress and her furious look, but she didn't care. She had not a whit of concern for what anyone thought or said about how she looked or what she did. This time, they went way over the line, and it was time to step on someone. She had a good idea how Tarrin felt sometimes when he rushed headlong to protect the others, taking all the risks to keep his sisters and friends safe. Miranda was her oldest friend, her best friend outside her brother and sister, and she wasn't just going to let this go. Not this time.