I wasn’t about to deny it; Shiv threw his runes with an explosive gesture of anger.

“Geris’ death was bad enough; torturing him like that went beyond any questioning or punishment. Whoever did that did it because he enjoyed it. I don’t want to end up in his hands; I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Aiten’s death was the worst, though, because it was magic that took his mind, and it’s a magic I can’t sense, I can’t counter, I can’t even begin to understand it.” Frustration edged his voice. “I might as well try casting the runes like my grandmother looking for answers by the fireside. If I could remember half of what she used to do, I’d give it a go. I’m that desperate!”

I laughed but bit it short when I saw Shiv was more than a little serious. He stared at me. “Don’t you cast the runes for fortunes in Tormalin? You must draw birth runes, if nothing else?”

I struggled for an answer. “I think my father’s mother did that when we were babies.” I sorted through the bones until one sparked a faint flicker of memory. “This would be it, yes, this one. The Calm, the Drum and the Earth, though I’ve no idea what it’s supposed to mean for me.”

Shiv gave a perfunctory nod but his thoughts had moved on. “I’m a mage and I’m a good one; I work for Planir because I think that’s where I can do most good, but if I wanted to turn my talents to studying my element, I could get elected to the Council inside a year on my own merits. Set me against these bastards from the far side of the winter storms and I’m as scared of their cursed sorcery as some lackwit peasant seeing fire conjured for the first time. I hate it, Rysh, I just hate it!”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t scared,” I said with a shrug. “Just thinking about having one of those bastards inside my mind again makes me feel like wetting my breeches. The thing is, though, you can’t let that hobble you or you’re giving them another advantage.”

“I do know that,” said Shiv with some sarcasm. “It’s just that’s the way I feel.”

“So don’t feel.” I leaned forward, sweeping the disregarded runes aside. “Lock it in a box in the back of your mind and don’t get it out again until you’ve got the time for it. As for the rest of it, why are you trying to square this circle all on your own? Halice and Livak know this town, they know a lot of people here; I spend every other season looking out information for Messire. There’s a double handful of things we could be doing instead of sitting here with our thumbs up our arses waiting for the Archmage to give us the self-same orders.”

“Livak seems to have decided that for herself.” Shiv’s tone was sour.

“Are you surprised? Now, I reckon she’ll concentrate on the black-leather troop; I don’t think she takes kindly to people putting a price on her pelt. I’ve been wondering about this second group, the ones who are trying to blend in a bit more thoroughly. How about I take this sword around a few of the dealers, see if anyone can point me in their direction? I’d like to know where they are, just for my own peace of mind. You never know, we might be able to use them against the other lot.”

“That’s a possibility.” Shiv looked thoughtful.

I stood up. “Right, then. I’ll see if I can get a scent.”

“Don’t forget what you owe me for this game,” Shiv called after me.

Viltred came bustling out of an open door as I headed for the outer yard. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

“To get a haircut,” I said mildly; I didn’t answer to him and besides, my curls definitely needed a trim if we were going to be spending much more time in this city. Just the thought of the vermin that would relish such a tightly packed population made my scalp itch. I could look for a barber while I made my way to the eastern wharves, I decided, where I should be able to find a merchant willing to ferry a letter to the Despatch in return for an appropriate coin or two. It felt good to be out on the streets, on my own; the sun was bright on the whitewashed buildings but a faint breeze was bringing in high clouds from the seas of the Gulf today. I’ve always hated inactivity; I’d drive my mother nearly demented on wet days when I was a child, according to my father. Walking down the streets I kept my eyes and ears open but not worrying overly much. Relshaz was an unfamiliar city to me, but I’ve seen enough new places in my years working for Messire. The garbage in the gutters is usually much the same.

My letter could wait until I had some news worth sending, I decided. Making my way to the goldsmith’s quarter, I began looking for a likely dealer to interest in the sword. It would have been easier if Mellitha had been available to ask for advice but I was confident I could manage. When a treacherous little voice whispered at the back of my mind, “You could always have waited,” I locked it back in that box I’d been telling Shiv about.

A couple of brawny lads propping up the door-posts of an auction house suggested there was more than silver gilt behind the stout grilles on the unshuttered windows. I walked up the street, stopping every so often to admire the wares on display in each shop frontage and found that theirs was indeed the richest array for a galley length in any direction. More importantly, they seemed to deal in any and every type of merchandise. I didn’t meet the intimidating stare of the guards, not wanting to get them up on their hind legs and barking; I simply went in and waited for someone to come and persuade me to part with some coin.. After scarcely a breath, a dapper little man in watered blue silk sidled up to me.

“Can I be of assistance? Are you buying or selling?”

“I was just passing and you know, I was wondering what you could tell me about this sword?” I smiled at him and did my best imitation of Camarl D’Olbriot’s countless generations of good blood and better education.

“A pleasure, sir.” The man had the pleasant knack of being effusive without being ingratiating. His eyes gleamed as I unbuckled the sword and handed it over.

“Now this is very interesting.” He actually sounded as if he meant it. “This insignia, it’s the House D’Alsennin.”

His Tormalin was flawlessly accented; it was a shame I’d never heard of the House in question.

“How very odd,” I registered aristocratic embarrassment.

The little man ran a finger over the crest embossed in the leather of the scabbard. “The House fell in the collapse of the Empire; it was extinct in the principal line some time before then, I believe, and what remained of the property reverted to a cadet succession of For Alder.”

A frisson ran through me that I couldn’t explain. Was For Alder an ancestral connection of Messire’s? I knew the family had several links to Houses that styled themselves “For” to show they had once held the Imperial Throne, but I didn’t think that was one of them.

I realized the evaluator was talking about the engraving on the sword.

“Delathan, yes, that would certainly fit, he was a smith working in the last years of the Empire. Tell me, Esquire, is this a family heirloom?”

“Of sorts, from a collateral line.” I repossessed the sword and made sufficient business of buckling it on and settling it on my hip again to avoid the little man’s eye. He couldn’t bring himself to stoop to further vulgar inquiry.

“What would it make at auction, just out of interest?”

He was polite enough to take me at my word, despite my distinctly unaristocratic appearance. “I would expect you would get offers upwards of two thousand Crowns. We could sell it for you, should you wish to part with it for any reason, but I’m honor bound to say we don’t deal in swords as a rule, so you might well get a better price elsewhere. We don’t really have clients looking for such things. If you take the second turn after the fountain on the Gulf side, you’ll find dealers who specialize in blades,” he added a little reluctantly.