It began a few days before the first snowfall of the season. Thomas was down in the storage rooms taking inventory with Sebastian when Juan stuck his head in and said, "Trouble at the front gate."

Thomas blinked at him, pulling his head out of three shelves of canned tomatoes and beans, twenty bags of milled flour, before handing the ledger and pencil to Sebastian and following Juan. He shivered as he stepped through the side door to the colder air outside.

"What kind of trouble?" he asked Juan as they made their way up the slope toward the western entrance to the courtyard. He could hear raised voices, one of which he recognized as Cecile's, but he couldn't make out words.

"A Tinto merchant just arrived from Vinay del Zexay," Juan answered. "With a couple of Zexan Knights hot on his heels."

Thomas frowned. Tensions had been running high between the Zexan merchant guild and Tinto almost from the moment the Second Fire Bringer War ended, but he hadn't thought things were so bad that the Knights would be chasing Tinto merchants out of the country. He was almost to the courtyard, and the voices were getting sharper.

"Never been accused of such a thing! "

"Please - "

"Three separate reports!"

"He'll be here in a moment!"

Thomas, almost running, rounded the corner and saw Howell, a jewel tradesman from Tinto, shouting over Cecile's raised halberd at a young knight, who was shouting back just as loudly. He stumbled over a raised flagstone, and Cecile caught the motion in the corner of her eye.

"Look, he's right here. Stop yelling at each other!" She swung the halberd between them for emphasis. Thomas straightened quickly and hurried over.

"Tradesman Howell," Thomas said. "What's going on?"

The young Knight answered instead. "He's a cheat is what's going on. Three different buyers all reported he used shaved weights when selling his goods."

"I've never used shaved weights in my life," Howell growled. "Who are these buyers? I'd like to see them accuse me to my face."

"They made the accusation to the Zexan Council, as is proper," the knight answered. "If you want to know who they are, you will have to return with us to the city."

"Like hell I will! I've been trading this route for fifteen years and never called anything but fair. You go back and tell your masters they'll need a better dog than you to fetch me back."

At that, several things happened at once. The knight reached for his sword, Howell reached for the long knife on his belt, Cecile shifted her grip on her halberd, and Thomas, thinking haven't I done this before stepped in between all of the them and held his hands up.

"Enough!" he said. "Tradesman Howell has stopped here many times and I have never found him to be anything but honest. If you have proof of your accusations, show it."

The knight looked at his companion,who was slightly older and had so far not said a word. The older knight took his arm and drew him back a few paces. They held a brief, low-pitched argument, which the younger knight seemed to lose. He threw a dark look Thomas' way, and stomped back to their horses. The older knight returned to where Thomas and Cecile stood.

"We will leave him be for the moment," he said. "But I suggest that you keep him here until we return."

"Tradesman Howell is welcome to lodge at Budehuc as long as he chooses," Thomas said. "But he is also free to leave as he wishes." The knight scowled, so Thomas added, "This is not Zexan land. If the Council wishes to lodge a formal complaint, they know the proper procedure." At that, the knight tipped his head in something like acknowledgment. He gave a hard stare at Howell before turning and leaving.

Thomas took a shaky breath, willing his heart to slow down again. If the first knight had drawn his sword, Cecile would have used that halberd of hers to protect him and, and – Thomas took another breath. Cecile caught his eye and turned away, waving her arms.

"Okay, everything's fine!" she shouted to the small crowd that had gathered. "Everybody get back to business!" Martha, Thomas noticed with detached amusement, was collecting bets from some of the onlookers before they dispersed. Howell, he saw, was watching her too.

"Good head for business, that one," Howell said. "Did you know I used to try to get her to join me in the trade? Turned me down flat four times and on the fifth, told me that if I asked her again she'd set up a competing business and undersell me in every city until she bankrupted me." He chuckled at the memory.

That did sound like Martha. "She has family on the plains," Thomas said, still trying to get his heart back to normal.

"And you," Howell turned to look at him, "You have a better head on your shoulders than I gave you credit for. Not Zexan land? Learn something new every day." His gaze turned assessing, and Thomas shifted uncomfortably. "That was nicely done. Don't think I'll forget that you defended my reputation."

"It was nothing but the truth," Thomas said. He looked past Howell to his two guards and pack animals. "Will you be staying for a while? You're welcome to, but I understand if you need to move on quickly."

"Tonight and tomorrow," Howell answered. "I always planned to resupply here before heading back home. We'll leave the day after that. Here, you two! Stable those animals while I get us rooms for the night!" He nodded at Thomas and walked off.

Cecile came up beside Thomas and watched him go. "Do you think they'll be back before he leaves?" she asked.

"Depends if they have to go all the way back to the city," Thomas said. "If all they need are reinforcements from Brass Castle, then yes."

"Well," she said cheerfully. "We'll just have to hope for the best. See you at supper, Thomas."

He stayed until she reached her post again, then went to find Sebastian so they could finish the inventory.

Thomas woke the next morning to Sebastian's worried knock on his door. Yawning, he pulled on his robe and let the butler in. Sebastian bustled into the room, barely muttering a good morning before practically shoving a ledger under Thomas' nose. Pushing it away slightly so he could see the figures, Thomas recognized it as the inventory from yesterday. He looked at Sebastian in confusion.

"Not nearly enough," Sebastian said. "We're short on too many things. If we have a longer winter than usual, we'll run out of food before the northern roads open back up again."

"We knew that yesterday," Thomas said, still waking up and struggling to see what the urgency was.

"Yesterday we still had the southern roads. Why couldn't that merchant have gone straight back to Tinto and left us alone?"

"Sebastian!" Thomas said. "Howell has been good for us. There's a half a dozen merchants who stop here now because of he spoke well of Budehuc's trading opportunities."

"Yes, yes, of course," Sebastian rubbed his forehead. "I'll just be glad when he's gone and we can smooth things back over with the Council."

Thomas yawned again. "Was there anything else?"

"Oh! No, no. We can start in the second storeroom after breakfast." And with that, Sebastian bustled back out again. Thomas eyed his bed for a moment before deciding that he was too awake to go back to sleep. He dressed and went to see if Sebastian needed help making breakfast.

Thomas saw Howell from a distance that day, but was never close enough to speak with him. The assessing look the merchant had given him earlier bothered him. He wasn't sure what it meant, and now Howell seemed to be avoiding him. He'd just made up his mind to see Howell in his rooms after the evening meal, when he noticed Cecile waving to him from across the courtyard. As he approached, a dark haired man stepped out of the shadow of the outer wall.

Thomas stopped abruptly, then stepped forward again in greeting. "Sir Percival!"

"Master Thomas!" Percival responded with a smile. "Although I keep reminding you, it's just Percival now."

Thomas couldn't help but smile back. But, "I suppose it's not a coincidence you decided to visit right when we have a guest wanted by the Council."

Percival scanned the courtyard before answering. "I'm retired, so I'm not here officially. But, Thomas, this isn't like when Hugo was here. I have it from people I trust that there's good reasons for Howell to be taken back to the capital."

Thomas turned that over in his head. He knew Percival had no great love for the Zexan Council. If he was supporting them in this, it meant the charges against Howell were more than Tinto-Zexan rivalries. And yet.

"He's a guest here," Thomas said. "If you have something that shows he's guilty, I'll take that into account, but I won't give him up on your word alone."

Percival let out his breath in frustration. "I told Salome you wouldn't," he said. "I – look. There is something else, but I haven't been given permission to tell you. I can make it to Brass Castle and be back here before midday tomorrow. Will you keep Howell here till then?"

Thomas looked at Cecile. She shrugged, "We kind of owe him one."

"I was going to talk to Howell tonight anyway," Thomas sighed. "I'll do my best to convince him to stay another day, but if he really wants to leave, I won't stop him."

"It'll have to do," Percival said. "I'll be as quick as I can."

After Percival left, Thomas leaned against the cold stone of the wall and shut his eyes. He thought he was only there for a few minutes, but when Cecile pulled at his arm, telling him to get back inside where it was warm, the sun was almost at the horizon. He shivered. The courtyard was almost empty at this time of day, but when he looked over to the inn, he saw Howell standing by the door, staring back at him. A moment later, the merchant turned and went inside. Thomas shivered again, this time only half from the cold.

Howell took dinner in his rooms, so Thomas waited till he saw the dishes come back down before climbing the stairs to the inn's second floor. One of Howell's guards stood outside the door. He shook his head as Thomas approached.

"I won't be long," Thomas said. "I know you're leaving tomorrow morning."

The guard hesitated long enough for the door to open behind him.

"It's all right," Howell said. "Come in, Master Thomas."

The room was not small, but Howell had his goods lined up against one wall, making it feel narrower than it truly was. All of the candles in the room were lit, as though Howell had been expecting a visitor. He sat at the small table and gestured to the other chair. Thomas swallowed, suddenly nervous.

"So, Master Thomas. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Thomas looked at Howell, really looked at him. Below the fine cloth that marked him as a successful merchant, the man was solidly built, a testament to his days in Tinto's mines before leaving to found his own business. The long knife lying on the table was unadorned; it was meant to be used, not displayed as a symbol of his wealth.

Thomas abandoned his half-formed plan to approach the issue gradually. "Why were you so interested when I said Budehuc wasn't Zexan land?"

Howell tilted his head, "Was I? It answered some things that had puzzled me. I'd wondered how so many new stores had been approved by the Council so quickly."

That wasn't why. Thomas knew he shouldn't ask, not if he wanted to convince Howell to stay another day, but - "What happened in Vinay del Zexay?"

Howell raised an eyebrow.

"You've been going there for years. Why did they suddenly accuse you like that?"

"You think I did something?"

Percival's words flashed through Thomas's mind. "I think something happened to make them think people would believe it. You've built up a good reputation."

Howell leaned back. "If you have doubts, why didn't you let the Knights take me when I arrived?"

Because he hadn't had doubts then. "You're not the only Tinto trader to pass this way. If the capital is doing something, I'd like to be able to warn others so they aren't caught the same way."

Howell smiled to himself, "I don't think you need to worry about that."

"But -"

Howell stood. "I do appreciate your concern for my countrymen, Master Thomas. And as I said before, I will not forget what you have done for me. But it is getting late, and I must leave early tomorrow."

He'd told Percival he would try. "Perhaps you should stay another day. If you leave with this unresolved, you won't be able to come back. They'll just arrest you the next time you're in Vinay del Zexay."

"Or they will simply arrest me now." Howell's mouth twitched, and Thomas was sure he knew what he'd been trying to do. "No, I will leave tomorrow as I planned. Good night, Master Thomas." Howell held open the door and Thomas had no choice but to leave. He made his way back to his room slowly, despite the cold that had him shivering after three steps, sure he had missed something important.

The morning of Howell's departure, the sky was an oppressive dull grey. The horses' breath steamed as they were loaded with the goods bound for Tinto. Thomas watched from the inn's window as Howell moved around them, checking the bindings.

"Going to snow today," Martha said as she pushed a bowl of hot oatmeal into his hands.

"Looks like it," Thomas curled his hands around the bottom, grateful for the extra warmth. "Did he really used to ask you to leave with him?"

Martha snorted, "Asked? Begged like a child just weaned is more like it."

"You've known him for a long time, then."

"Almost twenty years."

Thomas tilted the bowl and swallowed some of the oatmeal, thinking. "Is he an honest man?"

Martha was quiet for a moment. "Honest as his type can be. He won't lie to your face, but he won't necessarily tell you the whole truth."

"He didn't cheat customers in Vinay del Zexay, did he."

"I'd bet money on it."

Thomas laughed, then sighed. "He did do something, though. Something worse, I just don't know what."

"That's Zexan business. Plenty of road yet between here and the Tinto border."

"Half the people here are Zexan."

Martha shrugged. "Do as you like, but you'd better do it quick."

Howell had finished his checks and was mounting his horse. His guards were already on theirs. Good reasons, Percival said. And from the night before, he never really answered my question.

Thomas was out the door before he realized he'd made a decision. "Wait," he called. Howell turned in his saddle, frowning. "Wait!" Thomas put his hand on the front horse's bridle. "Please. Stay until midday." Howell's frown deepened. "Or," said Thomas desperately, "answer me honestly."

Howell was silent. He looked down at Thomas, thinking. Then he sighed, "And what question would you like me to answer?"

"What did you do in the city? Did," Thomas swallowed. "Did you hurt someone? A Council member?"

Howell shook his head. "No," he said slowly. "No, I did not hurt a Council member. And now," he said when Thomas opened his mouth again. "I have given you an honest answer. Are you going to keep me here?"

Thomas wanted to. Something still wasn't right, but he had nothing but Percival's words. That was enough for himself, but not for Howell. The guards behind Howell were looking at Thomas, and if their hands were not yet on their swords, there was an air about them that said swords were a very distinct possibility if they didn't start moving soon. He had nothing to hold Howell, and they both knew it. Thomas let go of the horse's bridle.

"I doubt I will be back this way," said Howell. "Thank you for your hospitality these past years." He put out his hand, and Thomas reached up to grasp it. Half-formed questions flew through his mind, but in the end he simply said, "Safe travels to you."

Howell tipped his head in response and signaled his men to start. Thomas, feeling colder than the weather warranted, went back to the inn. Martha still stood by the window, his half-eaten bowl of porridge on the table beside her.

"I asked the wrong question," Thomas said to her.

Martha just picked up his bowl. "I'll go and fill this for you again," she said, and Thomas sank down into a chair. What was he going to say to Percival? Martha returned with more porridge, and by the smell she'd added extra sugar. He'd only taken a few mouthfuls when the clank of armor interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see Cecile bursting through the front door, cold air whirling into the room around her.

"Quick! They're being attacked!" she said, before she burst back out again.

Thomas' sword was in his room. He hesitated for a split second, torn between running to fetch it and following Cecile immediately. Concern won out over pragmatism, and he ran after her.

Howell was almost to where the road sloped down into the plains. Thomas could see a figure trying to pull him off of his horse. Two dark shapes were on the ground behind Howell. The guards. Howell pushed the figure away and reached down to his waist. The figure closed with him again, then moved sharply back as if pushed, before collapsing to the ground. Thomas saw Howell's head turn his way, then he spurred his horse away.

Cecile reached the bodies first. She moved to check the guards, so Thomas knelt by the third figure. It was the younger knight who had first chased Howell to the castle. He was out of his armor and was bleeding heavily from his left side. His eyes were unfocused and his breathing quick and uneven.

Cecile moved beside Thomas. "The guards are dead," she said. "Is he - ?"

"No," said Thomas. He found a knife, still sheathed on the knight's belt, and used it to cut the man's shirt so he could see the wound. "Go back and get -" There was so much blood, he couldn't tell where it was coming from. He pulled down his sleeve to wipe some of it away and pressed down on the place where it ran again. "- get -" The blood still seeped from around his hands and he pressed harder. "- get -" He couldn't think.

"I'll get Sebastian," Cecile said and ran back toward Budehuc. Thomas barely heard her. His hands were slick with blood, and he was finding it hard to hold them steady. His palms were warm from the blood beneath them, but the rest was beginning to go numb. He kept slipping away from the wound.

"Please don't die," Thomas begged. The knight's breath was getting weaker. "Please," he repeated.

A larger pair of hands suddenly covered his, and Thomas felt as if he had just plunged them into a bowl of warm water. Feeling returned to his fingers.

"It's okay, Thomas. I've got him," Percival said.

It wasn't. He could still feel the blood coming out.

"Thomas," Percival repeated. More hands on his shoulders, pulling him away. Thomas stumbled a bit as he stood, and Percival shifted into his place. The water rune on Percival's hand glowed as he focused the healing magic. After a moment, he looked up at Thomas and gave him a faint smile. "He'll live," Percival said. "Are you all right?"

"He's fine," Cecile said protectively, when Thomas didn't respond. It was she who had pulled him away from the knight, Thomas realized. "You're late," she said to Percival, as if the whole affair was his fault.

"I know," Percival said. "Let's get Lyle inside, and I'll explain." He was, Thomas noticed belatedly, wearing his knight's armor again. With help from Cecile, Percival got the knight on his horse and they set a course back to the castle.

After Lyle was safely in bed in the inn's best room – Sebastian had complained, but Thomas insisted ("Who else will be coming this time of year?") - and Juan and Muto sent to bring back the guards' bodies, Percival sat down across from Thomas at one of the inn's tables with a mug of hot cider in his hands. Cecile evidently decided that the castle could guard itself for a bit, because she planted herself by the door and glared at the back of Percival's head. He sipped his cider, unconcerned.

"Did you know?" Thomas asked when he couldn't bear it anymore. "Did you know Howell was going to be ambushed if I couldn't get him to stay? Is that what you couldn't tell me?"

"No," Percival said, surprised. "That was my fault. I didn't pay as much attention as I should have to my audience when I was at Brass Castle."

"He said he didn't hurt anyone," Thomas said, almost to himself. "I asked."

Percival's face went grim. "Did he," he said. "Maybe not the person he meant to. It was poison. It was supposed to go to one of the councilmen, but it ended up with one of his guards instead. He was Lyle's cousin. Lyle must have overheard me talking to Salome and beat me back."

"Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?"

Percival grimaced. "The Council was trying to deal with it quietly. If they accused Howell of trying to assassinate one of them, things would get ugly very quickly." He took another sip from his mug and added, "And we aren't ready for a war with Tinto yet."

Thomas closed his eyes briefly. "Yet?" he asked.

"It's coming," Percival acknowledged. "Salome doesn't think the more moderate factions will be able to hold out after the attempted murder of one of their own." He paused and gestured somewhat self-consciously to his armor. "I've rejoined the knights because of this. Lady Chris asked me," he added unnecessarily.

War again, Thomas thought. And he'd sheltered a murderer and let him go free. He rubbed his hands on his pants and tried to pull his thoughts together.

"Will the Council retaliate?" he asked.

"On you?" Percival shook his head. "You didn't know, and I intend to tell them that you saved Lyle's life."

"I didn't -"

"He could have bled out before I got there," Percival said firmly. "I can bend the truth for you on this. Let me."

He had to. They couldn't afford to fight the Council and winter at the same time.

"Thank you," Thomas said.

Percival grinned suddenly, "It's not entirely altruistic. A single supply line from Brass Castle is too vulnerable. If we can establish a second line from here, we'll be in a much better position."

"And Iksay would be the logical choice to be the main supplier," Thomas realized. Percival just grinned some more. They sat in companionable silence while he finished his cider.

"I'll send someone for Lyle," Percival said when he finally stood. "And compensation for his stay here."

Thomas rose with him. The guilt he felt for letting Howell go demanded that he refuse the offer, but he had a responsibility to the rest of Budehuc's residents, and they needed the money. So he said, "We'll make sure he stays well until then." He walked with Percival to his horse and then to the castle's entrance. Cecile followed behind them and took up her usual post off to one side.

As he watched Percival ride away, something cold and wet settled on his cheek. Thomas looked up. Fat flakes drifted down, dark against the grey sky. Out on the plains, the snow had already dusted the ground. The spot where the knight had lain would soon be covered as well. Thomas stood on the steps of Budehuc and let the snow melt into his hair and accumulate on his shoulders. A hush settled over the castle as the snow muffled sounds. The light from the inn's windows was cheery and warm.

Tomorrow, he would send a message to Hugo and ask if he would come thaw the ground so they could bury the guards. He'd never learned their names, Thomas realized with regret. He hoped Howell would tell their families. Tomorrow, he would discuss rearranging the storerooms to make room for military supplies with Sebastian. Tomorrow, he'd have to write a carefully crafted letter to Salome, offering the use of Budehuc without actually saying so or admitting that he knew what had happened at Vinay del Zexay.

"You're getting wet," Cecile said.

Thomas laughed, and shook himself to dislodge the snow. He tilted his head back and stuck out his tongue. The snow that landed on it was cold and pure.

Tomorrow, he would do all of those things. But right now, the world was being transformed into cleaner version of itself. Right now, tomorrow could wait for tomorrow.

Thomas spread his arms, and welcomed the snow.