Tyranny smiled a bit. "Jonah," she said with a bit more insistence. "It's me-Tyranny."

Jonah's head snapped up, his face overcome with delight. He ran from behind the counter and hugged Tyranny so tightly that her toes left the floor. She grinned widely.

"It's so good to see you, my dear!" he bellowed, finally putting her down. "How long has it been? Three, four months?" Then his face darkened. "You should never have come back, you know. Ever since you left, Rolf's anger has been terrible. Have you lost your mind? Why are you here?"

Before she could answer, he looked at Tristan. "And who is this nasty-looking character?"

"He is a friend," Tyranny told him.

Jonah looked Tristan over again, then gave him a nod. Tristan nodded back.

"You need spars, you say?" Jonah asked. He looked concerned. "Screechlings?"

"Three maelstroms at once," she answered. "We barely survived."

His eyes wide, Jonah ran one hand through his hair in disbelief. As he did, bits of shaved wood rained down. "No one has ever survived three maelstroms," he whispered, half to himself. "They have been far more active of late, and no one seems to know why. Do you have any idea?"

Tyranny shook her head.

Taking a deep breath, Tristan held his tongue. He knew very well why, but he also knew that now was not the time to speak of it.

"Do you have your specifications?" Jonah asked her.

Taking a piece of parchment from the pocket of his trousers, Scars handed it over. With a quick, automatic movement, Jonah swiveled the single lens down over one side of his spectacles and looked over the list.

"Hmm," he mused. "Five new spars, all of unequal thickness and length," he murmured. "This will take some doing. But if I put everything on hold, I can have them for you tomorrow morning. Say, two hundred kisa? That's at no profit to me, child. Given Rolf's attitude, you need to be gone from here as soon as you can." He swiveled the single lens back up into place.

Tyranny nodded to Scars. The first mate reached for the leather cinch bag tied at his waist, counted out a down payment of one hundred kisa, and handed the coins over to Jonah. After slipping them into the pocket of his apron, the shopkeeper looked back at Tyranny with concerned eyes.

"If you suffered three maelstroms, you must also require sails, then."

"Yes."

"That may be a problem."

Tyranny's face fell. "Why?" she asked.

"Because a new arrival named Ichabod is now the only sailmaker on the island," Jonah told her. "He paid hired thugs to kill the other two, so as to have a little monopoly of his very own. Things have changed since you were last here, Tyranny. There used to be at least some honor among thieves. But ever since Rolf took over, all that has gone by the wayside. Rolf gets a cut not only of everything Ichabod sells, but from many of the other vendors here, as well. The likelihood of you getting your sails and leaving here without him knowing are slim, at best."

Tyranny's face hardened, and she took a deep breath. "I have no choice. Where will we find this Ichabod?"

"He's always at the Wing and Claw. It seems he has become so prosperous that he can now hire others to do all of his work for him, including watching over his shop."

Jonah placed a caring hand on one of Tyranny's cheeks. "Be careful, my child," he warned. "Ichabod is as slippery and devious as they come. He would love nothing more than to cheat you."

Tristan had a thought. "I think the two of you should stay here," he said to Tyranny and Scars. "This Ichabod doesn't know me. We will have a much better chance of being successful if I go alone." Hoping for support, he looked up at the shopkeeper.

Jonah looked at Tyranny. "Do you trust him?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then I think you should do as he suggests. I know how much you like to handle your own affairs, but this time it seems the wisest course."

Tyranny turned to look Tristan in the eyes. As she did he gave her an encouraging look, telling her it would be all right. After a nod from his captain, Scars reluctantly handed Tristan the leather purse and the list of required sails. Tristan handed the list over to Jonah.

"How much should I expect these to cost?" he asked.

Jonah swiveled the single lens back down into place and perused the list. "Four hundred kisa would be fair," he mused. "But Ichabod is not known for being a fair man. Make it five hundred for a rush job, which this will have to be. But under no circumstances should you pay more than six, even to him." He handed the list back to the prince.

"Is there enough money here?" Tristan asked Tyranny.

"Barely," Tyranny answered. "It's all I have. You'd best leave half with me. If you come to any agreement with him, pay him a deposit only." Counting out three hundred, Tristan handed the rest back to her and tucked the purse into his vest.

"Stay here," he said. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He looked over at Jonah. "Where do I find this Wing and Claw?"

"Turn right on this street and keep on going," Jonah answered. Then his face puckered up with a look of distaste. "Trust me, you can't miss it."

Reaching behind him, Tristan grasped the hilt of his dreggan and gave it a quick tug, making sure its blade would not stick. Then he did the same with the first few of his throwing knives.

Saying nothing more, he turned and walked out of the shop. But the moment he set foot on the street he heard the door open again, and Tyranny appeared. She had a strange, searching look on her face. Quickly putting her arms around him, she gave him a surprising, soft kiss on the mouth.

"For luck," she said.

Tristan smiled back. "Don't worry," he said. "I want to get home too, remember?" Gently removing her hands from his shoulders, he gave them a final squeeze. Then he turned and headed up the street.

As he walked, he was increasingly hounded by whores, barkers, and thieves. Drunken men lay in the gutters, while others stopped to rifle through their pockets.

The Wing and Claw was a large, dilapidated building, constructed of the ubiquitous rose marble. The double doors in the front lay wide open. A black wing had been boldly painted on one of them, and a black claw on the other, as if daring passersby to enter. A rail stood just in front, with about a dozen horses tied to it. From inside came a combination of laughter, music, argument, and clinking glass.

After first looking around, he cautiously took the leather purse from his vest. Removing one hundred kisa, he placed them into his pocket so that if he was required to make a deposit on the sails, he could do so without revealing Tyranny's remaining cache of coins. With another quick look around, he replaced the purse beneath his vest.

Wasting no more time, he walked up the marble steps and went in.

The moment he passed through the doors, he knew he was in trouble.